"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."
Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man under Socialism.

My mother had not made any single attempt to have a conversation with me regarding what she saw yesterday and what sign it gave her. Of course I know she took the whole thing completely wrong.

But, as much as I hate to admit it, the night was a haunting one. The kind that drops into the world of ridiculous yet appealing fantasies.

"We would absolutely love that." Gemma's father bursts. I wanted to recall what he was referring to but I was too lost in my own thoughts.

"That's great to hear then." My father acquaints.

"Well, then we should probably plan the whole trip now." What trip?

"Indie, sweetheart Gemma must be in her room." Gemma's mother smiles at me, understanding how uninterested I am.

"Yeah, go on. Its upstairs on the left." Her father explains with a smile. "Your father and I have to take a lot of time now." My father laughs along with the others and I just stand there looking at the them.

I nod and waste no time in exiting, not understanding anything they had said. Iris could not come along, she had a class or something, which I doubt. My mother however, for the first time, did not want me to come along which I think I know the reason for. But of course, my dad had something crawled up his pants that he argued for no damn reason.

I take cautious step up the stairs, as I was told. Also remembering how Harry would be somewhere around this place. I have no desire to see him after all that.

I turn to the first door to the left, the door not closed completely. Tapping my knuckles against the wood, I wait only to receive no answer. Curiosity leads the way and I slowly push the door further, almost afraid to catch something I shouldn't.

The room is oddly something a girl wouldn't like to have. But I won't be the one judging. I'm sure she wouldn't mind me looking around. The room is neat and the same combination as the rest of the house, black and white. The furniture had a black and white leather, the shelfs were black, fancy white lamps. Paintings hung to the wall which was rather fascinating, bookshelf which I was curious to go through but I won't. A wrapped up leather notebook placed on the table with huge head phone aside. I really did not expect her room to be this kind.

I walk forward towards the wide window and admire the view you get to witness from here. I could sense water running in the bath room and kill time looking out the window.

There is a click, a silent sigh of relief leaves my mouth. I was going to leave, i'd rather be between the incomprehensible conversation than stand here unwelcome.

"You have got quite the view." I speak as the door opens, tearing my eyes away from the windows. My breath hitches in my throat after acknowledging who stood there. A frown forming between his eye brows as he sees me almost as confused as I am. I try not notice how he had pajamas hung loosely down his waist and a brown towel hung from around his neck, his hair damp.

"You could have knocked before coming in," He advises. "Just some manners you know."

I narrow my eyes at him, "I did." Of course we are back to 'Harry'.

"Well, you were real close from seeing things you shouldn't yet." He smirks.

"I thought this was Gemma's?" I think he meant his left.

"Why the hell will this be a girls room?" He lefts a hanging corner of the towel, rubbing against his hair in an attempt to dry it out.

"I don't know." I shrug. "Your dad told me the direction. I think he meant his left." I really have no need to give an explanation. I take a few steps to exit the place and look for Gemma but Harry's statement pauses me.

"Gemma.." He speaks, "She isn't home actually."

"Oh."

I make my way to drawing room where our parents were seated. After asking for a glass of water, she explained me the direction and the placement also telling me to make myself at home. After pouring myself a glass of water, I settle on one of the stole on the counter of their kitchen. Taking small sips of the cool liquid, I occupy myself by looking around and observing. My attention is diverted to the footsteps sauntering closer. I momentarily take prodigious sips of the water.

"Where is your sister?" The voice speaks from behind.

"Aa, she had a class or something."

He wears a white shirt and the same pajamas I saw him previously and I had never liked white on any guy as much as I admire it now. He nods and grabs a dark red apple from the fruit basket.

"Wanna come along to the market?" He stuffs his mouth with the apple after speaking.

"No, thank you." I don't gave myself a chance to decide, it only disappoints me in the future. His chewing slows down and a hint of frown forms on his face. He then settles on the stool on my left, keeping a corner of the counter between us in addition of a good estimated distance.

He offers me an apple but I refuse, wanting the orange instead but not saying anything.

"How many restaurants have you been to?" He asks.

"Harry, I'm living here for quite long. I think I've been to almost all of them." I answer, "Why though?"

"Dunno, just curious." He says with a mouthful and speaking again after finishing. "but have you been to Starbucks?"

"No Harry, I have not." I sarcastically answer making him chuckle as if he already had the knowledge of my reaction.

"Alright, how about T.G.I Fridays?"

"Seriously!"

He laughs, "I'm kidding."

"Zucca?"

"Yes, that is the best." I point out and Harry nods along.

And with that he names various other restaurants that I have been to many times,

"You haven't been there have you?" Harry smirks. "You have never been to Mr Falafel." I decide to lie just to avoid the embarrassment but it was too late.

"Unbelievable!" He lifts his hands up before dropping them on the kitchen counter. "What are you doing in this life, Chandler?"

"It's only one resturent." I roll my eyes but a smile forces itself on my lips unwillingly.

"How about," He bites the last that was left of the apple and I wonder where the hell did all that go. After tossing it in the bin behind him, he turns towards me to continue his sentence. "We go there tomorrow night."

I frown and flash a mocking smile, "What makes you think I'll agree?"

"The fact that I told you, not asked if you wanted to go." He grins.

I open my mouth to say something sarcastically instead his phone rings in his pocket. He answers the call, smirks, before leaving. I leave briefly, also discovering that Gemma had never left.

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&&&& who has see or are going to see the boys!?)

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