Roses [h.s]

Chapter 5

I wake up early. Not birds chirping as the sun rises early but early enough for Chloe to be suspicious of me.

"Wow, the bear has emerged from hibernation." She said, sipping on her coffee.

"Ha, ha." I mock her sarcastically, pouring myself a cup of tea. No matter how annoying Chloe can get, I'm grateful to have her here with me. She's always around to talk to and makes this house just that little bit more comfortable. I shudder at the thought of what would've happened to me if she hadn't been here when I got back. As soon as I'd gotten off the plane, Chloe was the first friendly face I saw, standing with a sign that said Mads on it with a big smiley face. We hadn't been super close as kids, but sometime before I left, something changed and we would see each other almost every day, as though we suddenly realised how much we had in common and wanted to make up for lost time before I left for New York.

"What are your plans for today?" Chloe asks, sliding a piece of buttered toast towards me.

"I'm gonna go practice a bit and Harry's coming over." I say, taking a bite of the toast. Chloe's face breaks out into a large grin and she looks as if she's going to burst into song.

"Told you, you'd end up getting back together. What are you guys going to do? Do you need me to leave?"

"Ew, no. We're friends Chloe." I say slapping her softly. She raises her arms, feigning innocence. "He's just gonna help me unpack some boxes."

"Alrighty then. But if you need anything, I'll be in my room." She says sauntering off exaggerating her movements in an utterly ridiculous manner that makes me chuckle.

After I finish my breakfast, I change into a loose long sleeve top and some dance shorts and then head over to my little dance studio. It used to be a second lounge room, but when I started to get serious about my dancing, Mum, the Styles' and me, set about stripping it and turning it into a dance studio, complete with a wall of mirrors, barres and a stereo in the corner. I often end up spending more time in here then I do in my own bedroom. After mum died and I got back, I basically lived in here, blasting music and dancing until I could barely breath, and was so fatigued that I wouldn't have to think about anything. This room is my solace, the place where I can safely vent all of my emotions. I'm sure there were a few times when I slept in here because I was too tired to walk down the hallway to my room, after spending hours just dancing.

In the corner of the room are a few low shelves holding CD's, shoes and everything else I need to practice. I walk over towards it, pick out a CD, and grab my foot thongs. I slip them on and then stretch for a few minutes in silence. When I'm done stretching, I put the CD in and begin practicing jumps.

After jumps, I change to turns, probably my favourite thing to do. When I was younger, I used to love turns because they looked beautifully simple, now I love turns because they are so difficult. You have to coordinate all the different parts of your body; the head has to snap quickly, the arms have to be strong but look soft, the supporting leg has to be straight, toes are pointed, back is straight. And by concentrating on all those small things, there is no time to think about anything else. I begin with pirouettes; singles, doubles and then triples. After that, fouettés. I turn until the room around me becomes a blur and my limbs struggle to move sharply and keep in time.

Taking a break, I have a sip of water, and sit with my legs spread out to the sides. Grand Piano by Nicki Minaj plays loudly through the room, and in my mind, I envision choreography that fits perfectly with the sound of the piano and violins. After the song finishes, I get up and put my phone down in the perfect position to record, before starting the song again. I let the music flow through me and just dance. I don't think about what I'm doing, I just do it. I put all of my feelings about Harry into the dance and express them all in the movements. I dance until the music stops - finishing right on the last note - and breathe out. There's silence for a moment before claps echo throughout the room.

I turn around to see Harry leaning against the wall, clapping with a smile on his face. I hastily roll down my sleeves and stop the CD.

"How long have you been there?" I ask, walking towards him.

"I watched the whole routine. Chloe let me in and I was going to talk to you, but you started dancing so I just watched. You've improved a lot, you have to teach me sometime."

"Sorry you're a bit hopeless." I say, and it's pretty true. When we were younger, I tried to teach Harry a few moves, but he was horrible, continuously tripping over his own legs.

"Yeah, I am, aren't I?" He says, smiling down at me. "So ready to unpack your boxes?"

Part of the reason why I asked Harry to come and help is because he's the only person who knows the memories as well as I do and hopefully that makes it easier when it comes to sorting through things. Maybe I'll feel a little bit less alone if he's by my side.

"Let me just have a shower first." I rush over to my bathroom, leaving Harry to make himself comfortable.

I take a quick shower, washing away all the sweat from my body and hair. With a towel wrapped around me I step into my room and almost scream when I see Harry sitting on my bed.

"What the hell, Harry?" I yell. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry, I didn't know where to go, so I just kind of wandered. I didn't realise you were going to be in here. This was your mum's room." He states, looking down at his fingers. His smile is gone and he doesn't try and meet my eyes. We stay like that for a moment in complete silence. A tear rolls down Harry's cheek and he doesn't bother to wipe it away.

"She was really proud of you." I say softly. "She went and watched Dunkirk in the cinemas about eight times and bought almost every piece of your merch."

Harry doesn't even crack a smile. Nothing. He just sniffles and looks up at me. "Yeah and I didn't even come to her funeral."

The silence intrudes yet again and all I can do is stare at Harry. All he can do is stare at his fingers. About a minute later he stands up, wipes his cheeks and gives me a small, half-hearted smile.

"I should let you get changed." He says, getting up and walking out, closing the door behind him.