33 // Handy Manny

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a/n: y'all remember that show?

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I make my way down the stairs, feeling as if I'm carrying a backpack filled to the brim with a heavy weight of guilt. I walk straight into the living room, taking a left to walk down the hallway. The hallway was lit up by lights that looked a whole lot more like lamps hanging down from the ceiling. I guess I'm just used to lighting that looks a little too identical to boobs.

I stop in front of a closed door, the wood stained a darker brown color. Softly, I knock, hoping Jess wasn't asleep still. It was almost noon now, and she had a flight home to catch in a few hours.

After waiting for a few seconds, the door swings open, revealing an exhausted-looking Jess, her hair in a messy bun on the side of her head, her front pieces hanging out. She closes her eyes as she lets out a sigh, causing me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"I cannot wait to sleep on the plane," she says in a breathy voice before opening her eyes to look at me. She finally realizes that I'm standing there waiting for her to let me into the room, and she jumps a little. "Oh shit, sorry. Come in."

She moves out of the way for me to walk through the door into her room and I see piles of her clothes scattered across the unmade bed.

"What time is your flight again?" I ask, internally wondering why her clothes were laying everywhere and not packed in her suitcase.

"Like 3," she says walking around me and lays down on her bed on top of all the clothes. "And before you say anything, I know I should be packing, but I just don't wanna leave this place."

"What do you mean?" I ask, sitting down on the corner of the bed where there happened to be an empty spot.

"I just..." She sighs, sitting up. "This house is a literal dream." She takes a look around, smiling at what she had to see around her. "The house just...has that kind of vibe. You know?"

"Yeah, I get what you mean," I agree with her, nodding.

I knew exactly how she was feeling. The soul of the house almost seemed like a piece of Harry's soul had been sprinkled in every corner, it was so close to identical. I could describe it as vintage but also modern, which is also how you could describe Harry. Between the posters on the walls of bands from the 70s and the guitar sitting in the corner of his bedroom, you could tell Harry made this house his space. He filled it with things he loved, not even thinking twice about what anyone else would think. This house was Harry's. And I loved it.

"So..." She sighs again. "Are you excited about London?"

"I mean, yeah, but..." I trail off, looking at the floor instead of at Jess.

"But what?" She asks, assuming that I wasn't going to continue that sentence. And she'd be right, because I wasn't exactly sure what came after the 'but'.

"I don't know." I sigh. I look over at her, feeling a lump of guilt gather in my throat. "Are you sure you're okay with me going? Are you going to be okay?"

"Lils," Jess laughs softly, "Harry and I already had this conversation. I called Jackson and ensured that he would be there to help me if I needed anything. Besides, you need to stop worrying about me and start focusing on yourself." She gives me a soft smile. "Are you okay with this?"

"I think so," I say hesitantly.

"Why not 'yes, of course, absolutely'?" She sits up straight, turning her whole body so she was completely facing me, showing she was listening. "Talk to me. I'm all ears."

"It's just..." I sigh. "He wants me to meet his family in London. And I feel like that's a pretty big step in our relationship. Not that it's a step I'm not willing to take, its just...nerve-wracking. I mean, his family's opinions matter so much to him...and what if they don't like me."

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