GREEN (RL Harry Styles fanfic)

82. Yellow Brick

"Come sit up front with me Harry," Hank bellowed from the opposite side of the car. "It'll be nice for the girls to catch up and I'll give you the tour."

Liv smiled at me, pleased her father seemed to take a liking to me already. I held the door open for her mum and then took my spot shotgun. I glanced in the rear view mirror as I fastened my seatbelt and twisted my face up at Liv. She giggled at my obvious nervousness and blew me a kiss.

Thankfully Hank carried the conversation pointing out his high school and making sure to tell me the Packers played on the field there while Lambeau was being built. His tour was indicative of someone proud of their town. He pointed out the old pickle factory, which I had heard Liv mention nostalgically when she spoke of home. He took the long route to show us how large the trees had grown at Liv's aunt's house since the last time she was there. He insisted I try a burger at Kroll's, which apparently had two locations, but he explained Kroll's East had better service and a quieter crowd. I was thankful he didn't ask me much other than if I had caught any preseason games and my opinion on the draft picks. I wasn't opposed to small talk, it meant the weightier conversation would be put off longer.

We pulled up to a modest home midway down the road with siding painted in a soft butter yellow. A grey brick exterior supported the closed in front porch, the same grey as Wisconsin winters. Hank pulled the car up the driveway and parked just outside a screen door on the side of the house. I glanced in the side mirror and caught a glimpse of Liv's mum, Kathryn. She was twiddling her thumbs, a nervous gesture often referenced but I don't think I had actually seen anyone twiddle until now.

"Well, this is it," Hank said unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling the keys from the ignition. His voice was still full of the same pride he'd had during the drive.

"It's not a fancy hotel or a California mansion, so I hope you're still comfortable," Kathryn said in a voice as shaky as her hands.

"It's lovely. Reminds me of the houses back home in Cheshire Mrs. Taylor," I said truthfully, but with the intent of putting her at ease.

I opened my car door and stepped out onto the pebbly blacktop. I then opened Liv's mum's door, much to her surprise, and helped her out of the car.

"Please call me Kathryn," she insisted with a slight smile. I seemed to always have a way with mums.

"Alright," I smiled and nodded back.

Hank gave us a tour of the inside of the house pointing out just as many random facts as he had about the town. Like the crown molding in the bedrooms he put in by himself, or the squeaky step on the stairway to leading to the basement. We came to settle in the kitchen and the end of the tour.

"I'll go put your bags away," He said before disappearing back into the hall. I got the feeling he always liked to keep busy.

Liv and her mum sat down at the kitchen table. I could tell from how easily they took their seats that they had their places; likely the same seats they had throughout Liv's childhood. I took a seat next to Liv, assuming her father's seat would be across from me. The table was a light stained wood, perhaps maple and showed definite signs of age, but only from being well used, not abused. It must've been in the family a while. My thumb found a groove in the tabletop and I traced it's lines. My mind wandered as aimlessly as my fingertip. I knew we were here to tell Liv's parents, but we hadn't really discussed how we'd go about it thanks to our time apart. I suppose even having a carefully laid out plan doesn't always work either. Prime example, how my family found out the news.

My thumb was halted from retracing the pattern for the hundredth time. I blinked in rapid succession to mentally rejoin the real world and found Liv's hand clasped over the top of mine. I looked up from her hand and saw her chuckle.