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btsqualityy · 2 years

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Could you write about “Kinsley being angry and then crying for Brooklyn going to Hawaii & not telling them in front of Mins & Kims or whoever present” ? The whole mama bear thing

Drabble day! Drabble day! So for me, Brooklyn's Hawaii getaway and all the shenanigans she got in. Also, with Kinsley punishing her for leaving the country unexpectedly.

"Kim Jina, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Kinsley screamed through the facetime call and Brooklyn cringed from the sheer volume of her voice. After Brooklyn had surprised Namjoon and her grandmother on their vacation to Hawaii, the two of them figured out that Mason and Kinsley had no idea where their youngest daughter was. Of course, they had to let them know and all hell broke loose.

"I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal," Brooklyn shrugged. "I am 18."

"You don't think getting on an airplane and flying 15 hours away without telling anyone wasn't a big deal?!"

"Brook, you're pregnant," Mason added. "You can't do long flights like that."

"I'm barely six months!" Brooklyn shot back. "I'm fine to fly until I'm in my thrid trimester!"

"Who the fuck told you that?! Google?!" Kinsley hollered.

"Kinsley, take a walk," Mason stated firmly and Brooklyn could tell that her mother had thrown the phone down before she heard footsteps retreating. Mason then picked up the phone, sighing heavily.

"Brooklyn Alea Kim, I am disappointed in you," he said. "Not only did you put yourself and your child at risk, you interrupted your grandparent's vacation which they don't get many of."

"She's fine Mase," Namjoon spoke up and Brooklyn could see her grandmother smacking Namjoon's arm.

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn offered.

"I know you don't really mean that but I forgive you," Mason chuckled. "Give the phone to your grandfather." Brooklyn did as instructed, handing the phone off to Namjoon. "I'm sorry Dad."

"No need to apologize, she's fine," Namjoon assured him. "And she can stay here with us because I don't feel comfortable putting her on the 15 hour flight back hom ewhen she literally just got off of one."

"Me either," Mason admitted. "If you and mom are sure, she can stay."

"I'm sure!" You nodded and Mason nodded.

"Alright, talk to you guys later," he said. "I have to go deal with my wife."

"Oof, good luck," Namjoon whistled before hanging up the phone.

................................................

"Kins," Mason called out as he walked into their bedroom, where he found her pacing the floor. "Princess."

"Don't 'Princess' me," She snapped. "These damn kids are going to give me a heart attack."

"You know how Brooklyn is," he said as he stepped in front of her, stopping her pacing. "She's a free spirit."

"She's pregnant," Kinsley deadpanned.

"She's 18."

"She's pregnant," Kinsley repeated. "Am I the only one who's remembering that fact?"

"No but I do think you should calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down?" she echoed. "My baby, who's carrying a baby, got on a 15 hour flight and no one knew! What if something had happened?"

"Kins," Mason called, noticing that her eyes were becoming wet. "Baby."

"What if something happened to my baby?" She whispered before bursting out into tears. Mason immediately pulled her into him, allowing her to soak his shirt as she cried.

"Baby, I know you were worried but she's ok," he told her. "She's with my parents and she's ok."

"I know but the fear hasn't left my body yet," she mumbled into his chest. "I can deal with a lot of things Mase, but I'd die if anything ever happened to my babies."

"I know and that's why you're such an amazing mother," he said. "Brooklyn might not understand it yet but she will, because she's so loving just like you are."

"I hope baby boy does this shit to her," she muttered petulantly, making Mason laugh loudly.

"Take a few days and then make sure that you talk it out with her, alright?" He said and Kinsley nodded her head.

................................................

"Brook, honey, we have a surprise for you," you said a few days later and Brooklyn looked away from the television up at you.

"What is it, grandma?" She wondered and just as you went to open your mouth, the doorbell on the hotel room rang.

"I'll get it," Namjoon called out, rushing to the door and opening it.

"Hi," Daesung smiled and Brooklyn whipped her head around, knowing that voice anywhere.

"Dae!" She squealed, getting up from the couch and rushing over to the door where Daesung had just walked inside. She threw herself into his arms, making him chuckle as he hugged her back. "What are you doing here?"

"Your dad cleared my schedule so that I could come out here to spend time with you," he explained.

"Really?"

"We thought it'd be good for you two to spend some time together before the baby comes," Namjoon added.

"Plus, you're kind of cramping our style here Brook," you joked, making everyone laugh.

"You know you're on your mom's shitlist, right?" Daesung murmured to his girlfriend.

"It's worth it, to be able to be here with you," Brooklyn smiled before leaning up and kissing her boyfriend.

"Who do they remind you of?" Namjoon whispered to you.

"Kins and Mase," you replied, smiling as you watched Daesung give Brooklyn a little eskimo kiss. "They're too cute though."

"As much as I hate to admit, they are," Namjoon sighed.

"Come on, grandpa," you chuckled, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the bedroom.

................................................

"You scared the shit out of me, you know that?" Daesung muttered later that night. After arrangements had been made for him to fly to Hawaii, Namjoon had set them up in a hotel room of their own.

"I'm sorry," Brooklyn murmured, pressing light kisses to Daesung's bare chest.

"We have a son coming Ji, you can't be reckless like that."

"I hear you."

"But are you listening?"

"With how you just fucked me, it's a little hazy, not gonna lie," she laughed, making Daesung laugh as well in spite of himself. She suddenly gasped then, grabbing Daesung's hand. "Look, he's kicking."

"Wow, he's a strong little thing," Dae chuckled in surprise. "I can't wait to meet him."

"Me either," Brooklyn replied, smiling when Daesung leaned down and kissed her baby bump.

#btsqualityy drabbles #adult brooklyn #drabble day 2

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moonlight-drawn-by-dawn · 3 years

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Sneak Peek : Recompense

So I decided to pull an old piece from the archives that I kept hidden for the past three years.I’m thinking about reviving it for the incoming year. As I was editing, I had the thought of transforming this into a Madrugada prequel (though the main character’s name is different in this version). At this rate, I know Cecil’s story will never be told within the story and I kinda regret not having the proper place to write it within Madrugada. Poor guy doesn’t get a break and deserves to get some form of happiness. Anywho, let me know your thoughts! If it’s a yes, then I will work on bringing this into frutition.

~~~

May 1923

The flowers bloomed with a soft fragrance as the sun shined bright. Folks were busying the streets, shopping, and talking. Children played with friends, running about with small toys at hand. The wind was light, giving the right temperature for the London atmosphere. People were beginning to find hope again.

There was still a lot to fix up since the war. The troops were in anguish from all they faced on the frontlines. One, in particular, was Colonel Robin Davies, a man who was of great power. If this were five years ago, there would be people honoring him as he walked down the street, hoping for another win with his strength. Now, he walked down the crowded streets of London but merely watched others with curious eyes as strangers went about their business. There were no shouts of recognition or triumph surrounding him.

A book was at hand, a pencil too. The young man was walking to the small park not too far from his home. He was hoping to find some sense of peace. Instead, his ears consumed the noise of people, people who weren't affected.

Some beggars were asking for money, needing to fill their stomachs. Like many, Robin ignored the cries, not wanting anything to do with them. There were also young boys trying to sell newspapers, raising their voices in the hopes someone's ears would perk up having an interest in the news. More often than not, people barely took a look at them, not caring to worry themselves for a while. Robin wasn't like that. He needed to worry, be alert.

He went by the stand, taking out some loose coins from his pocket, taking the folded papers without a word. The young man said 'Thank you' to which he didn't receive a reply. Robin continued to go to the park, destined to do something with his life again.

Recently there were times he'd stay in his room all day, looking out the window watching others. He would go to the gatherings he was invited to, but there wasn't much to do, no one cared to converse with him, not that he'd blame them.

Sitting down on the bench, he took in his surroundings. Green was the dominant color in his vision, specks of brown and red. The sky was crisp. Clouds open widely, dancing in a slow rhythm. Birds were flying from one tree to another, in search of finding food for their young-ins.

His fingers opened the book, looking at previous works he'd done. They all looked the same, some a little more detailed than others. Life was mundane now, a repeat of itself. As he placed the pencil on paper, he thought how nice it would be if things changed for him.

He thought about it for a bit and left the beginning stages of his new work, only to start an even newer one.

He remembered one of the gatherings he'd have to go to in the future would entail a baby's dedication. Though he wasn't exactly close with the parents anymore, he wanted to do something nice for their child. Maybe the child wouldn't judge him based on misconceptions.

He then decided to draw a babe and mother. There was nothing more beautiful than that to him. He's seen so many dies that new life is what he needs to see.

He sat there, in concentration for about twenty minutes, pencil on the pad, ignoring all that's around him. When he finished, the sun was beginning to hideaway. Many people left and went back home, into the warmth which was lost as time went on. Robin rolled his neck a little before heading back to his place, wanting nothing more than sleep.

He avoided others as he walked briskly, not wanting anyone to acknowledge him.

Without realizing it, he ended up bumping into someone. Someone he didn't care to see.

"Robin, old chap! It's been some time since we've seen you. How are you?" Harry looked at his oldest friend, Christopher Watkins. His dark blue eyes shone with happiness, not that he didn't have anything to be happy about these past couple of years.

Robin just stared at his friend for a moment, allowing a small smile to don his face.

"That's a good mate. Hopefully, you haven't forgotten about Saturday, right? Melissa's been missing you." Unconsciously, Robin clenched his jaw. He wanted to comment on the innocent words, but couldn't. Instead, he nodded, raising his book to indicate he was working on something.

His friend nodded, the smile never leaving his face. "That's a good mate. Don't forget to look sharp. You know how she gets." Robin gave a half-hearted nod, deciding he should leave. He waved at his friend before walking off, not letting the latter give him a proper goodbye.

He didn't realize until he reached back his home that he was seething anger. It was the way he slammed his door. His things all around the floor that made him realize. He wishes he could scream, let all the anger come out.

He can remember what happened like it was yesterday. He decided to go to the war, entering the ranks like his father and grandfather. He knew it was much riskier due to how escalated the war became, but he wanted to follow tradition and make his family proud.

Before he left, he remembered leaving his beloved, Melissa, along with his good friend Christopher before heading off into the train. Robin remembered telling her how much he loved her, and the minute he got back, they'd get married.

He remembered her crying, begging him not to go. Melissa was afraid he would die, he wasn't.

He remembered talking to Christopher, "Take care of her" he didn't realize his friend would do more than that.

He was off for three and a half years. Sometimes when he could, he would write, never receiving anything back.

For three and a half years, he held onto the thought of starting a family with Melissa to help him survive.

When he finally reached home, not without wounds, he envisioned she would jump into his arms, but she was nowhere to be found.

He wanted to ask where she was but couldn't. Others realized he had that thought but chose to ignore it.

It wasn't until he went to see his friend when he saw the truth. The love of his life and his oldest friend got married, even had a child together.

The only thing he could do was stare in shock. He heard their excuses, thinking it would be better if they had gotten married because Melissa didn't believe he was alive anymore. What about the letters he sent her?

He knew the truth. They fell in love as he was away. Once you turn your back, others are out what you have.

He was shocked, angry. He couldn't show it though, he wanted to but couldn't. He just did his best to lose touch with them, much to their dismay. Robin knew they both pitied him, seeing that as the only reason they reach out to him. Anyone reached out to him was because they pitied him.

It was since then he gave up a bit but tried to fulfill his life in another way. He couldn't head back into the army, not yet. Instead, he stayed inside his home, living off what he inherited and the little the government gave him for his heroic work.

He began to grow out his hair, long curls forming. He would mostly have a harsh look on his face, avoiding people as a whole.

He needed something out of life, but he hasn't found it yet.

Saturday came quicker than he planned.

He focused so much on the painting that he hadn't realized how the time passed. He wore a nice suit, in contrast to his regular button-down shirt and slacks.

He neatly combed his hair. Since the end of the war, he had grown out his hair. There wasn't anyone for him to impress anyway. He shaved clean, but that was normal. He didn't care for a beard.

He reached the house of his longtime friend within no time; it was twice as big as the place he lived in, but Christopher had a family, so it wasn't as if he didn't need it.

When he rang the doorbell, he saw the blue eyes of Christopher, happy as ever.

"Robin, you came!"

Robin knew his friend was surprised because he usually would refuse to go out to social events. Before the war, he would be the one to make the party.

He smiled at his friend, subtly gesturing he wanted to come in.

Christopher took the box which encased the drawing he had.

Robin walked into the grand home and was surprised by how many people were there. Most were young families, but many were single women.

He looked around before seeing Melissa. His eyes wandered on her glowing face, red hair woven in an intricate braid, holding in her arms a baby. There was a ghost of a smile crossing his face. He then thought about how it would be if she married him, and that was their child.

Without him even realizing it, she walked towards him, his mind still away.

"Robin! It's great to see you again. How are you?" He looked at her surprised, before recovering with a smile. He was glad to see her again, even after how awkward everything was for him in the beginning.

"This is Josephine. Josey, this is your Uncle Robin" The mother turned from him to her daughter, a cheerful 5-month-old baby how started to grab things within reach. "Would you like to hold her?" Robin nodded, never really having the experience before.

With stable hands, Robin held the little girl. She had her father's brunette hair and her mother's hazel eyes. His hand touched her soft cheek delicately, afraid to break her. The baby took his finger and held onto it. He felt like there wasn't anyone else around except him, Melissa, and her baby.

Sometimes, he wished he could turn back time.

If he had to choose, he would still be boxing, fighting for his country. He would come back to a worried Melissa when he appeared to her with a bruised lip or a black eye. He may have had the advantage of not seeing the horrors that the war had to offer.

Within minutes, he came back into the real world, hearing Christopher calling his name. "Robin, mate, there's someone I want you to meet." There was instantly a bad feeling in his gut hearing that.

He gave the baby one last smile before giving her back to Melissa. Walking cautiously towards Christopher, his guard instantly came up.

Christopher put an arm around him, leading him into another corner of his big house. That's when he saw her, his worse nightmare.

She was tall, blonde, and beautiful. There was an odd look in her eyes. Although she held a smile on her face, she seemed a bit detached. Robin hoped this interaction wouldn't be too long, but he knew it would already be short due to him.

"Robin, this is Francesca. Franny, this is Robin, the guy I told you about." Told her about, what about him? He wasn't even told about anything!

"Hello, it's nice to meet you." She gave her long, thin fingers for him to shake, to which he took and shook hands with him, not without giving a polite smile.

"So Robin, I heard you do art. What kind of pieces do you do?" Was she serious? If Christopher told her all about him, he could've at least added that he was mute. His teeth gritted together, and out of spite, decided to use sign language to give his answer.

She looked confused at his "gestures", his signing, leaving to complain to Christopher about this 'flaw' he had.

Robin was beyond mad when the woman left. How dare Christopher humiliate him? What did he do so wrong that he was made to look like a fool not once, but twice?!

"I'm sorry, Robin. I didn't want to make you go through that experience. I know after everything, you've probably don't care for relationships like that. Melissa thought it would be best for you to move on."

His eyes opened wide at the last statement. Did Melissa want him to do that, to move on? She sounded as though she wanted to forget about their relationship. Robin gave his old friend a small nod before deciding to take his leave; he didn't care to see how they'd react to his painting.

He sulked down the now dark streets, his mind fuming. Instead of heading back home, he went to the place he once considered a haven.

The boxing gym was one of little lighting, many would usually come early in the morning to do what they need to, but Robin didn't have any time for that. Taking off his suit jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and tied his hair before looking for a spear pair of boxing gloves.

Without hesitation, he started to punch. It was slow at first, but when he thought about things that got him upset, his punches became faster, more powerful. His breathing became more ragged, and he lost everything in the motions.

It wasn't until he collapsed from the burning in his lungs when he stopped. It was years since he practiced, so he should've expected that to occur. He coughed a few times, his chest moving fast, trying to catch his breath.

After a few minutes, he thought it would be best to go back home, sleep away from his emotions. He realized a while ago that burying his emotions became his new thing.

When he arrived home, he was surprised who he saw standing by his front door, his father. Edward Davies stood tall and proud, waiting for his son's arrival. Robert was almost his exact image, except for his eyes. Robert got his sea-green eyes from his mother.

As Robin reached his front door, he noticed his father looking at him, eyes softening. The young man remembered even as a child his father never looked at him like that. There was pity in his father's eyes, and he hated it. He didn't need his father to feel sorry for him because of what happened.

"Hello Robin, it's good to see you again." He shook his son's hand firmly. Robin only looked at his father, giving a smile to indicate how good it was to see him again.

As they both entered the warm house, Robin sensed that something was going to happen. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but he did have to brace himself.

"How are things for you, son?" This time, Robin resorted to using sign language to get his words across. There's only so much the face can express.

I'm doing well. Things are going normal for me.

His father nodded, having learned the language to make up for the lost time. There was an awkward silence between the men, not sure of where things would be heading.

"Robin, I know the war ended years ago, but I do hope you know as a Colonel, you still have responsibilities to the country as a whole." The younger man nodded in agreement, he had been through a lot, but there was more to protect the country from.

"As you know, in recent years, there has been a stark conflict with our colonization in India. Since the war began, we've been facing much more rebellion from the Indian people trying to take back the power we now have. Since the end of the war, we as a government thought that there should be more reinforcement down in India, regulating the people."

Robin took the words in, not sure of what he had to do with anything.

"Well, son, I know as of recently you haven't done anything too significant in your life. Your mother and I thought that maybe a change in the environment would help you out. We were thinking, that you can go to India and lead one of the regiments. You won't have to do a lot, only give orders and make sure everything's running smoothly. The most you may have to do is see whether someone decides to rebel against the crown and figure out how to deal with it. Would you be willing to do so?"

Robin was stunned. Since the war, there wasn't a day he ever thought his father would ask him to run a regiment of soldiers. In another country, no less. His legs began to shake, forcing him to sit by the nearest chair.

How would he be able to do half of the things his father wanted if he was incapable of physically giving orders? How would any subordinates respect him with a lack of voice?

He looked at his father, disbelief almost showing through his eyes.

"Of course, you don't need to give me an answer right this minute, but I do need one by next week. Come home and let us know. Your mother misses you." With that, his father decided to take his leave.

Robin stayed put on his chair, contemplating what his father just told him. He never expected to be asked back into the army so quickly, but who was he kidding? Did they expect him to run a regiment? He won't have any respect from the men.

Then again, his father was right; he did need a sense of a newer environment. He couldn't stay here, not with his past always there to haunt him.

But how would he live there, would he be put into quarters with all the other men?

There were too many questions on his mind. A headache started to form in his head; he needed to sleep on it.

The only thing he knew now was that there was a chance of renewal in his life.

If Robin knew what was good for him, he would take it.

#original character #original story #original writing #london #1920s #historical fiction #boxer #mute character #love loss #soldier #possible cecil story #possible madrugada prequel #cecil #for now it's robin davies #im an idiot i dead left typos in 😬

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bumbershots · 3 years

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet.

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

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