Finer Things // h.s.

Rome

A/N: So, this is a very long, but very needed chapter. The visuals of Rome make me so happy!

August 29th, 2016:

"It was just a week will you let it go already!" I shout at James as he stirs the veggie stir fry. I take a long sip from my glass of wine and throw the glass in the sink when I finish it, not caring if it breaks.

"Yeah well, Tilly, you can't fucking run off like that. You have commitments. Also, not sure if you're aware but you have a dishwasher." He snaps back at me, taking the glass and placing it in the dishwasher. I look at him and feel myself getting angrier. This is the fifth time since I've arrived home from New York that we've had this argument. I apologized for lying to him numerous times and he's forgiven me, but he continues to bring it up whenever there's a slight tension in the air and it's making me feel claustrophobic.

"This is my house! What the fuck are you even doing here if you're just gonna argue?" I say back at him as I sit on at the kitchen bench, holding my head in my palms, feeling myself become saddened, missing Harry.

"I'm fucking making you dinner." He says back at me and I look up to him, standing to my feet as I slam my fists on the bench in anger.

"I'm capable of that myself. Don't you have lines to go through or something instead of picking an argument every five seconds!" I say as he takes the cooking pot in his bare hands, dropping it to the floor of the kitchen as he lets out a yelp, the heat burning his hands. He runs to the tap and I stand up, going to him. I place a hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him.

"Don't Tilly! Fuck sake!" He yells and I step back, afraid at how loud he yelled. I stand still watching as he runs his hand under the cool water of the tap, cursing under his breath. I look down at the mess of veggies and a thick red paste spreading over the floor.

"James..." I say and he turns to me, his hand red from the burns.

"Oh, Tilly shut up! Seriously, you can't fucking-" he says but I cut him off.

"Fucking what huh? I'm trying to help. Why is it that I can't take a week off? I had two weeks spare after Paris, so I went to somewhere I've never been because I'm fortunate enough to do so! I got a plane with my best friend, who yes, I shouldn't have lied about but I had fun with him and speaking of Paris, James, you're such a hypocrite! You fucked off to Paris just to see me, don't give me a lecture about commitments and being mature." I shout at him as he stares at me with a clenched jaw.

"Fuck this, I'm going out for a smoke." I say taking my bag and a cardigan, hearing James call out my name, but I'm not interested in speaking right now.

"Oh and don't bother about cleaning anything up, I can do it." I say shutting the door. 

You shouldn't let him speak to you like that. 

I step into the elevator and walk out the lobby of the building, stepping out onto the street and feeling the cool summer air brush over me. I take a deep breath and walk down the boulevard, hailing for a taxi to take me anywhere but this place.

The taxi drives for half an hour before he stops at the beach and I get out, hearing the waves roll into the tide as they embrace the shore, leaving again. I take out a cigarette and light it with the silver flick back lighter Dad got me for Christmas.

I miss home.

I take out my phone as I lean over the white fenced railing looking out onto the ocean.

6:07pm:

Tilly: I miss home.

Gemma: Home misses you. Everything ok?