|20| So Maybe She's not Over it

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┌──── •✧• ────┐"You fucking bitch!"└──── •✧• ────┘

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┌──── •✧• ────┐
"You fucking bitch!"
└──── •✧• ────┘

"You okay?" Henry asked as he and Valentina stood in front of the gate that towered in front of Valentina's house.

"Ask me again when we get to the door." Valentina answered, opening the gate and starting the walk up the path, the blonde following after her holding two large trash bags of the clothes that had accumulated in his bedroom.

"What are you gonna do if you know who is there?" Henry continued.

"I've decided I'm simply going to ignore them and pretend they don't exist." Valentina explained, stopping in front of the door.

Henry watched as Valentina paused, her hand hovering over the door knob. He knew she was scared of coming back here, even if she didn't want to admit it.

Every time Valentina stepped into her house, she was reminded of her mother. She hated being reminded of her mother. It pulled her back down into a place she tries so hard to crawl out of.

Henry shifted the trash bags he was carrying to one hand, and grabbed Valentina's with the other. "I got you." He nodded reassuringly.

Valentina nodded, squeezing his hand. With one final breath she turned the knob and opened the door, revealing the grandness of the inside.

They entered the room, silence enveloping them. Valentina let out a relieved sigh, realizing no one was there except for her and Henry.

The two made their way up the stairs and into Valentina's room. "Finally." Henry sighed, dropping the heavy bags onto the floor.

"Don't be such a baby." Valentina rolled her eyes.

"Says the girl who made me carry both bags of her clothes." Henry fired back, jumping onto the girl's bed and leaning back on his hands.

"What else are boyfriends for if not to carry things?" Valentina shrugged, making herself comfortable on the floor.

"So you're only dating me so I'll carry things for you?"

"Exactly."

"Harsh."

Valentina chuckled at Henry's mock hurt. "You'll
get over it." 

Henry flopped back onto the bed, landing on something hard. He winced and sat up, searching for the culprit. He raised an eyebrow in interest as he picked up the black sketchbook that rested on Valentina's bed.

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