17 Made Mistakes

⋆44༄ The same thing

Welcome back folks! First things first, for those who haven't received a notification: I published a Harry Styles book named "CLEAN", please add it to your libraries if you're interested. This book will be coming out after 17 series. I'm already working on it :) No, this is not the project I've been working on. That thing is still a surprise, and its course is not even clear to me yet. We'll see how I'll announce it (hopefully with some luck, it'll be the way I wish for it to be).

Now the chapter! One of my personal favourites as well. Enjoy it. Once again, thank you for reading Xx

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Over the last couple of hours I came to a valuable conclusion. If Will, the most complex human being this world could have ever created, was able to put his defensive mechanism aside and verbalize his feelings, so could Nathan. He was the only person left on my list with whom I needed to reconcile. Well, excluding my mother, of course. I still haven't forgiven her for the harm, which could have been intercepted, if only she had told me the truth.

If only I had known, Will wouldn't have gone so far into withdrawing into himself.

Knowledge is powerful, but understanding where you stand, is even more mighty, therefore, I made this demented, yet warranted decision of coming here.

I knock on the door and wait. The breeze, delightfully warm, slips gently through my hair. It ripples through the flared bottom of my sheer dress and sporadically billows the fabric to one side. I love this frock. It's creme in colour and has a dainty, floral pattern to it, just as dainty as the straps that reside on my tanned shoulders.

The door opens, and I'm momentarily bombarded with a sweet smell of vanilla. Someone must be baking.

"Um . . . Hi." Nathan strives to process my occurrence at his doorstep. "You alright?" he asks, hand grasped on the handle.

My eyes slide from his signet rings to his face. "Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

He hesitates briefly, but then lets go off the handle and gestures for me to walk inside. I nod my head as a thank you and saunter into the house. The corridor loses the brightness of the day as Nathan closes the door behind him.

"The living room's empty. Let's go there," he offers, and brushes past me.

I follow right after him. His black slider clap against the floor.

"Oh, hello!" His mother shouts from the kitchen when she catches a glimpse of our figures.

I freeze in my spot, then take a sheepish step backwards to meet her gaze. "Hello." I wave my hand. The morning after Nathan's birthday party comes unbidden to my mind. My cheeks turn red.

Mrs. Fall wipes her hands on the grey apron that she's wearing. It's dusted with flour. "How are you, sweetheart?" she says to me, meanwhile checking on the baking goods in the oven. Seconds later, she emerges by our side and briefly locks me in her arms. "It's good to see you."

Nathan remains silent.

"I'm alright, Mrs. Fall, yourself?" I ask out of courtesy, because deep down, I'm dying to speak to Nathan and get this conversation out of the way.

"Yeah, not too bad. Not too bad." She smiles at me, then turns her head towards the kitchen. "Can I offer you something to drink?" Her eyes slide back to my presence.

Nathan raises his eyebrows, letting me know that I should give her an answer.

"I . . . I'm okay, but thank you." I force my lips into a genuine smile, even though I'm clunky certain it turned out awkward.