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Elaina Basset

It's been nearly two days since Harry's father appeared at his front door.

I haven't given him the chance to shut down over it, texting and calling to keep him distracted and ask how he is. I haven't seen him in person since that morning, but it's only because he's been busy organizing for his work trip that's happening in just a few days.

I'm trying not to think about that trip. It makes me nervous. He'll be gone for five days, in a dangerous situation...and I'll be stuck here.

If anything happens to him, he'll be in a whole other country. He keeps saying that he'll have Niall, but that just makes me think of the both of them getting hurt.

Stop thinking about it.

I got off the phone with Harry twenty minutes ago. I asked him how he's doing. He told me he's getting through it. I then asked what he was doing tonight and he told me that he and Niall are gonna have a guy's night.

I was worried when he first told me this, because I just imagined him getting drunk and sad over his father. So, I texted Niall, and I asked him to give Harry a fun night where he can forget about everything else...just for a little while.

After thinking about it, I'm glad Harry's taking a night to just be young again with his best friend. I think he needs it.

It's 9:30 at night. I've been painting for most of the evening but I decided that the sun going down was my cue to call it a day. I came inside after putting everything away and went straight to kitchen, my stomach empty and begging for something to eat.

The thing about staying with Zayn, is that he doesn't have chips or junk that you can just grab and eat. You gotta make something if you're gonna eat. I suppose that's not a bad thing, but it sure is an inconvenience sometimes.

I decided to throw together the easiest thing I could think of, preheating Zayn's vintage oven as I begin to saw through a baguette to divide it into smaller pieces. I don't feel like fruit and veggies right now. I feel like heavy bread and cheese.

I start loading some brie onto these little baguette slices, hearing steps coming from the stairs at the same time. I look over my shoulder to see Zayn heading into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Were you asleep?" I ask, continuing to assemble my food.

"Yeah." he chuckles. "I just woke up."

I smile as he reaches into the cupboard, grabbing two glasses. He then goes into the fridge, grabbing a pitcher of fresh strawberry lemonade that he made, sliced strawberries and lemons floating around in the liquid. He pours a glass for him, and one for me.

"How has your day been?" he asks me, sliding my glass over and looking over my shoulder to see what I'm making.

"Pretty mellow." I answer, bringing a piece of brie up to his mouth for him to take. He grabs it with his fingers, popping it into his mouth as he keeps his eyes on my snack.

I sense him looking, so I look back and furrow my brows. "What?"

"Did you put olive oil on the baguette?" he asks and I look back down at the bread already adorned with cheese.

"Shit." I murmur. He laughs and steps in, taking over as he goes into the cupboard for the oil.

I let him do it, knowing the snack will turn out better if he's the one making it anyway. Plus, I know he loves to do this stuff. I sit down at the table with my lemonade.

With his back to me, Zayn speaks. "Did you hear about Harry's dad being in Milan?"

I try not to have much of a reaction to that, even though hearing it made my chest tighten.

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