Sunflower, Vols 1-5

Sunflower, Vol 1

Exhausted. Y/N was, simply put, exhausted.

Over the past two years, she had graduated college, gone on to live in three states, and worked four different jobs - all within what she thought was her dream career field. She was able to sign her own apartment lease, pay her own living expenses, and even have her own health insurance. Her friends and family were always telling her how proud they were, how excited they were that she was finally getting everything that she had always worked so hard for.

But somewhere in that time, things started to fall apart. Instead of actually using her degree, she was scheduling meetings and getting lunch for a horrible boss who spoke down to her. Instead of making change in the world, she was making changes to file names. Instead of going out with friends, she was going home to spend the evenings alone. It's not that she expected to be doing anything too big right away, but the way things were going, it was likely she would be stuck on lunch duty for at least a few more years, and that's just not something Y/N wanted for her life.

So she ended up back in her hometown – the one place she promised herself she would never land again. And in some sense, she still hadn't landed there. Y/N had been back for some time already and nobody even knew. If the world didn't know, then it wasn't necessarily happening. If this was merely a pit stop before something bigger and better, then this temporary situation wasn't even worth reporting on. It wasn't a failure; it couldn't be a failure. It was just a speed bump that she would gloss over in interviews until she had become so successful that this time period didn't even matter anymore...she hoped.

It was a Monday night and exactly three weeks to the day since she had moved back home. Frustrated with no response from job applications, Y/N decided her emotional and physical exhaustion warranted a visit to the neighborhood bar. She needed to get out of the house and feel a little less trapped, even just for a few hours. Her hair was a bit of a mess and her eyes were clearly sunken with fatigue, but she gathered her things and headed out anyway.

Y/N had visited the bar a handful of times in years past, back when drinking alcohol legally was still new and exciting. It was small and cozy, tables made from dark wood and covered in a thin layer of typical bar stickiness. She figured it was the kind of place that college kids would visit during winter break or the small number of young professionals in town could go to blow off some steam after work. Essentially, it was the perfect place to be invisible and drink cheap alcohol.

The place was mostly empty on the random Monday night. A handful of people sat at tables, most quietly chatting and sharing snacks. Just one person was sitting up at the bar itself. The lights were dim enough that it was difficult to make out individual faces but bright enough to see to the other side of the room. The wooden counter was freshly wiped down with a rag, and the stools rested on legs that weren't entirely even. It was comfortable and quiet, and Y/N felt like she could finally breathe for a moment.

"I'll take whatever cider you have on ta-" Y/N didn't finish her sentence before looking up and seeing a familiar face in front of her.

His rich brown hair had grown a bit longer, shoulders a bit broader, and there was a dusting of stubble around his chin - but there was no mistaking the boy in front of her. She could recognize those deep green eyes anywhere.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm going to have to see your ID." Harry gave her one of his signature smirks, dimples just barely coming through.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Hi Harry. You know we're the same age, you knob."

He gave a bit of a chuckle before turning to fill up her glass from the tap. The sight in front of her was nothing new. Y/N had seen Harry handing out beer plenty of times, but only when it wasn't legal yet, only when it made him just dangerous enough to get the attention of the pretty girls at school. And up until now, Y/N had always refused. This time he wore a white collared shirt with the first two buttons open revealing what looked to be a tattoo. It wasn't so dangerous anymore, but Y/N couldn't quite shake that familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach - the same one she got when he offered her drinks in high school.