Unforgettable

43.

"There you go being sappy again" I say, deflecting with humour like I always do, but I do wish I could be as open and affectionate as him with my words sometimes.

That intimate moments with big emotions and words didn't intimidate me so much.

"So" he says, sounding curious "You gonna tell me what's been bothering you today?"

I purse my lips, pulling them to the side, deciding if it's something I actually want to talk about or not.

Normally, I'd say absolutely not, but I always have the urge to share things with him, it feels safe and while I've always liked to keep things to myself, he's the one person I don't want to keep things from.

This is something I really don't like to think about though, that I like to keep pushed far far back in my mind, it's excruciating to remember.

I clear my throat, deciding to just come out with it "It's my mums anniversary this week... On the 19th, the date she passed away"

"Oh Joey..." he sighs solemnly "Is there any I can do? Did you want to do something that day? Or we can just do nothing, if that makes you feel better" he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I shrug my shoulders, keeping my voice quiet "Wouldn't know what to do really, I always just try and ignore it. It's by far the worst day of the year... Hurts to think about"

"Did you want to talk about it? You haven't really spoken much about her passing away... Or what happened. You don't have to, I'm here if you do want to though. I promise not to wrap you in cotton wool over it" he says earnestly, and I don't think he realises how grateful I am for how understanding he is about that, being caring but also understanding I don't want to be treated like glass that will shatter any second over it.

Can I tell him? I haven't spoken about it since I told Finn when we became close as teenagers, I only ever gave Dylan vague bare minimum details and she never cared to ask any further.

I take in a deep breath, holding it before I let it out slowly and my voice becomes quiet as I try and open that little box in my brain I keep the memories stored away in.

"I didn't actually get to see my mum the day she died..."

"What do you mean?" he urges gently.

I purse my lips, sighing "My mum had cervical cancer, it was too aggressive by the time they found it. She only had six months."

Harry doesn't say anything, thankfully, I think he knows I don't need him too, just presses his lips to the top of my head and hugs me tighter.

"So... I was on school holidays, and I'd spend everyday at the hospital when she was in hospice at the end, I'd painted her a picture and there was this local art show in my town, so I entered it because I really wanted to win it for her, she always loved my art so much" I clear my throat, swallowing down the tightness in it, and stare at his hands in front of me trying to focus on something.

"I was at the art show with my nan, my dads mum, the day she died... Mum just took a turn, they couldn't revive her - most ironic part was my painting won in my age group, and I wish it never did. Wish I never entered it - hated that painting after that day" I say solemnly, feeling guilt and hurt grip firmly at my insides again, it feels unbearable.

This is why I never talk about it.

Harry still stays silent, and now I'm wondering if it's just because he doesn't know what to say or he's worried if he talks I'll close up from talking about this again.

"Part of me thought she did it on purpose" I say, sounding lost in my head "You know... So I didn't have to be there when she passed, and then another part was so angry... Because she didn't wait for me" I blow out a trembling breath, clearing my throat again as I sniff, and wipe my nose quickly "But really, most of me just fucking hated myself and my stupid art, because I wasn't there when she needed me the most and I'll never see her again, can't say goodbye or tell her that I uhm... Tell how much she meant me"