The following day, I drove to my parents' house. It was time we had a proper conversation.

I jogged up the few steps to the front door after parking my car, hesitating slightly before I pressed my thumb against the doorbell.

The door opened just as I began tapping my feet, hands in my pockets just as I started second guessing.

"Hello, Sir," the maid greeted me, a professional smile on her face.

I politely smiled back. "Are my parents home?"

"You just missed your father," she said. "But your mother is resting inside."

I nodded, stepping inside the familiar air. I inhaled the same rich scent of wood, and a hint of cinnamon spice.

"Would you like me to show you to the living room?"

I shook my head. "I remember where it is."

The maid flushed and scurried away before I could say anything else.

I scanned the first floor, from the round table at the landing and the chandelier to the wide windows that gave a great view of the garden at the back.

I didn't particularly miss the place, but I did miss what I could have had. What the child would soon have.

My heart clenched and I finally tore my gaze away from the garden, almost overwhelmed from the memories it gave off. The endless birthday parties, charity events, they all came back to me and I shuddered. I definitely did not want that back in my life. All the expectations, the business man's son. The boy who would have to take over the company soon.

I shook the thoughts away and finally moved towards the living room.

My mother sat at a couch, a book in her hands. No one else could pull off elegant-casual like she could.

She flipped a page just as I stepped in, and she finally looked up.

Her eyebrows raised a little and she put the book away before straightening up.

"Nate, I wasn't expecting you."

I swallowed. "Just thought I'd drop by."

"Of course," she said. "Sit."

I took a seat, staring down at my shoes.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled. "Are you still addicted?"

"It's not an addiction."

"Of course," she said, but it was obvious she didn't believe me. I could see the little glitter in her eyes.

I huffed to myself and took the cup from her hand with a quiet thank you.

"Where's dad?" I asked after taking a sip.

"Working as usual."

I rolled my eyes. "And you expect me to believe you when you say you're changing."

My mother shook her head. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?"

She sighed, smoothening down invisible creases on her skirt. "He is looking for better assistance. Your father has always been independent and I'm sure you've noticed, so he never thought to ask for more help. With the baby on the way..." 

"Why couldn't he have done that when I was a baby," I said, cringing when I realized how selfish it sounded.

My mother answered anyway. "We were young and foolish. We didn't expect you so early and we panicked."

I looked away from her gaze and tried not to project the pain that I felt seeping into my chest.

"Would you like to see your room?" she asked, placing her cup of tea on the table.

I shrugged.

"Come. I'm sure you've missed it, your apartment is too small."

I rolled my eyes but stood up anyway. "My apartment is just fine."

She shook her head and we began walking out of the living room.

"Have you thought about our offer, Nate?"

"A little. I have been busy."

She didn't look convinced. "It would mean a lot to us if you considered it."

"I am thinking about it. I just don't know if I'm ready yet, but maybe with the baby around...I would really like to be there for him. Or her."

She beamed. "You think the baby is a boy?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I don't know. Do you?"

"They say a mother always knows, but I'm not sure yet. Maybe."

"I don't mind if it's either."

My mother stopped walking, so I did too, turning to look at her better. "You're going to be a great brother, Nate. I know it."

Her eyes were tearing and I stood there uncomfortably. I wasn't the best when it came to crying women, or crying people in general.

"Thank you," I managed.

She gave me a shaky smile and placed a hand on her stomach.

We resumed our walk and started climbing up the stairs. "You just had to pick the hardest room to get to."

I felt a little guilty. Just a little. "That was the point."

"I hope you know that we're sorry, Nate. We might be showing it the wrong way, and I think that may run in the family, but we truly are."

"Okay," I said. "Just don't expect me to move in tomorrow."

"The day after?" she asked hopefully.

I chuckled. "Maybe not that soon either."

She smiled. "At least now I know you're actually considering it."

I found myself smiling back, maybe I should give them a second chance.

We finally made it to the attic, and my mother had to rest a little while by the staircase before we carried on.

I found the thing string hanging from the ceiling and pulled at it, the stairs unfolding down. I began to climb up just as I had as a child, almost forgetting there was someone right behind me.

I emerged from the hole and pulled myself up until I was standing in my old bedroom. It looked the same. Someone had come up and cleaned it up a bit, but otherwise it was the same. My posters were still intact, somehow. My bed was in the same corner just not as untidy. My desk with all my belongings was up against the wall facing my bed, and so on.

Except when I turned around, there wasn't a gaping hole on the wall.

The piano was back.

I felt a flood of emotions. A mixture between happy and sad. I didn't know what to think or how to react.

Slowly, I found myself walking almost in a daze towards the piano.

I traced my fingers against the polished wood, over the keys and the visible strings at the back. I carefully pulled out the stool, and took a seat on the leather cushion.

I swallowed, then began playing a few pieces I had memorized by heart and somehow still recalled. I was a bit rusty and could only remember simple tunes like "Twinkle Twinkle or "Mary Had A Little Lamb", but I found myself smiling anyway.

"I had them bring it up again the other day. After you left."

I turned around, remembering that I wasn't alone.

It was strange seeing my mother in my room. She was rarely ever inside the same time I was, and everything suddenly seemed out of place.

Yet it felt good to have her here. To see me in the only place I used to feel safe inside.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

She smiled and her eyes teared up again as she placed a hand over her chest.

I felt a lump form in my throat as well, but I swallowed it down quickly.

She walked over to me, the floorboards creaking beneath her, then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Thank you."

I wasn't sure why she was thanking me, and a tear started rolling down her cheek.

I didn't know what to do, but when she suddenly bent and wrapped her arms around me, I let her.

She began shaking and mumbling things I couldn't understand, but from what I gathered I placed my arms around her as well, knowing it should help.

Contrary to what I thought, she only began weeping harder and I was so taken back I couldn't think of anything to do that could help her.

"Mom," I tried.

"I'm sorry," she pulled away and wiped at the tears on her face. "It's all my fault."

I couldn't say anything, because maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't.

"I'll visit more often," I said awkwardly. "Would that help?"

She nodded rapidly. "Yes."

Smiling, she stood up and patted the area around her eyes. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Yeah, sure."

I stood up and left my room with a quick final glance, following my mother down the staircase again.

~

"Nate?"

I stood outside of Ian's apartment door after he had opened it a few inches.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

I blinked. "Can I come in?"

Ian did not look pleased, to say the least.

In fact, he looked depressed, with circles under his eyes and everything.

"Yes," he said stiffly.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he snapped.

I frowned. "Look, you have no right to get mad at me. You're the one who initiated the kiss."

"I know," he muttered raking a hand through his hair. "That's why I'm angry. I'm angry at myself."

"Forget about it," I said. "It never happened."

"But it did!"

"Don't you think I feel guilty too?"

He shook his head. "You don't have a boyfriend."

"He's my best friend," I almost yelled.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know," I muttered, moving to leave.

"Wait," he said. "Tell me why you're here."

"I don't know."

He frowned. "Will you stay?"

My heart thumped. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't want to be alone."

"I get that, but I don't think it's a good idea if we hang out together...alone."

He brushed me off. "Stay."

I bit my lip but nodded and joined him on the couch.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked.

"Okay."

He played a movie and we settled down again.

I wasn't paying attention to the movie. I was too busy thinking.

I thought about Devin.

An image of his smiling face flashed in my mind and I winced.

I quickly pushed all thoughts of him away and thought about Ian instead.

He was sitting too close to me. I could feel his thigh against mine and see his hand rest against his leg, remembering the way it felt against my skin.

I liked it.

My throat constricted at the thought.

I was confused, I tried to convince myself.

I couldn't like Ian in that way. He was with Devin.

"Are you feeling okay?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried hard to stable my breathing as much as I could. "I'm fine."

"Why did you really come?"

"I told you-"

"I want to know the truth."

A crashing sound came from the TV screen and I flinched, momentarily distracted.

I turned my attention back to Ian. "That is the truth. "

He still did not look convinced.

I remembered the conversation I had with Tom the other day.

Should I invite him?

No.

Yes.

I wanted him to come.

I hated it. I hated what happened.

But I didn't hate Ian.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh," he said. "No. It was my fault."

I frowned. "Last time you said it was my fault too."

"I wasn't myself last time. I shouldn't have said that about you...it's obvious you regret it as much as I do."

Do I?

Yes, I do.

What is wrong with me?

"Are you free this weekend?" I blurted out.

"I think so. Why?"

"Jesse and Tom are going on a camping trip. I thought you'd like to come with..."

"Nate-"

"You owe me."

He frowned. "What?"

"I sang with you on stage in front of everyone, remember?"

He groaned. "Are you serious?"

I shrugged. "You said you'd do anything."

"But why do you want me to go?"

"I don't want to third wheel! Besides, we need to fix this," I gestured between us.

There was a moment of silence before he said, "Fine."

I blinked. "Really?"

He nodded. "I want to fix this too. But isn't it too cold?"

"That's what I said. Apparently those two are cool with being weird."

He chuckled, then sobered pretty quick and said, "Thank you."

I frowned. "What for?"

"Because you understand."

I gave him a smile. "Sure."

Helloooo!
*insert Adele joke here*

I should be studying but demotivation and stress so here I am. Again.

And omg we're at 45k reads and I have 200 something followers. Wtf. When did that even happen?

Question: favorite TV show?  I absolutely LOVE How to Get Away With Murder. Oliver and Conner for life.

Thank you for reading! :D