becoming {h.s} | {b2}

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

n. i felt that it was important that i post today. partially, i'm hesitant to open up with what one direction means to me. after all, i can imagine that most all of you feel similar feelings; you're here, aren't you? but on the other hand, i know that there are a million and one things that i feel about them that you all feel too, and maybe you can't put it into words. maybe you can't say that you made wattpad in 2012 after hearing that it was a place where you could be creative and write and your first thought was to write about the band that you had fallen in love with two years prior. maybe you can't express that feeling of going to college and knowing nothing and no one and not knowing anything about this big, new city that you were living in, yet you held your phone close to your chest as you blasted one direction music and old videos because in a time of change and uncertainty, one direction has always been that home, familiar sensation. so let me say this: no matter where i go, who i meet, or what i do, one direction will always feel like the familiar home that will welcome me back regardless of how long its been. i've met so many of my closest friends through one direction, and to that, i can only say thank you. i wish this chapter was more action packed, but instead, i hope it makes you feel good. happy ten, i love you all, so much.

— CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN —

september, year three.

From the moment I did it, I knew that moving in with Fitzy was the best thing that I could have done for myself. From the first moment that I walked in the front door and he told me I could have his dresser and the bed—all the while reorganizing his clothing to ensure that it all fits in the closet and profusely proclaiming that he would prefer to sleep on the couch to the bed that he bought for himself—I knew this was the best thing for me. Both of his offers, I turned down. Quickly, I realized this was hardly a compromise. It's not like I brought that much clothing over to begin with—presently, it all fits in my suitcase with a bit of overflow—and I've found that I quite like sleeping on his abnormally comfortable couch every night.

Something felt stagnant about living with Harry and Kiera. I'd be naïve if I said that I didn't feel it affecting their marriage as well as my relationship with the both of them individually. Very quickly it became apparent to me that aside from moving out, I had no other options. Part of it was selfish. A great part of it was selfish, actually. Only recently had my relationship with Kiera begin to take full form as we indulged in each other like sisters, giggling and gossiping as we talked about hospital drama. Selfishly, I was not inclined to give that away. My relationship with Kiera is tethered and unwavering. Forever she will be in my life as a part of Harry's. Internally, I know that means that I have to find the best way for our relationship to flourish.

Moving out seemed to really be my only option; moving in with Fitzy the best of the limited prospects.

September is always an odd time for me. Interns begin looking for more concrete living plans if not already arranged, finally hitting their stride in the program and finding confidence in both themselves and Seattle around them. Though, three years removed from the program I'm not inclined on living with a hostel of them. It's one thing when it's my house—Harry's house—and I'm taking them in. That feels good and welcome and I appreciate it being on my terms. It's another thing entirely when I'm squatting with them. Suddenly the last three years feel nonexistent—my residency that is more than halfway complete—is reduced to shifts longer than Rapunzel's fictional hair.

Everyone here loves you, Addington said to me while I was still in my first year as a resident. At the time, the words just felt like this great compliment. I remember the way that I could feel this warm sensation in my chest—a sort of validation of my efforts of kindness.