When Wednesday's eyes feathered open, she didn't feel the relief of a full night's rest. Instead her stomach was cramping as the lack of eating caught up to her, hunger pangs gnawing at her insides. Her limbs and head felt heavy and when she started to sit up, the aches became apparent very quickly. She'd once again slept the whole night through in her clothes and it was a trend she was worried was quickly becoming a pattern.

Confusion enveloped her as she hazily tried to piece together the events of the day before, working backwards from what she could remember. Being guided to bed. Harry holding her. Lying on the cold floor. Panic. Her nanna. She closed her eyes, wishing it was all some kind of lucid dream. But when she opened them a minute later, she sighed. This wasn't a dream. It was real. And she hated it.

But as she glanced around the room, something felt different. The piles of clothing had vanished and the bottles lining her bedside tables had disappeared. The room looked relatively tidy for the first time in weeks and she furrowed her brows as she looked around at it all. Had...Harry done this whilst she'd been asleep? She listened for any sign of him in the house, but nothing caught her hearing and so she rationally assumed he'd left to go home the night before, after helping her into bed and cleaning up her room. She made a mental note to send him a text, thanking him for his help. Maybe she'd go out and buy him a gift too, to show how much she appreciated him for the night before, when she could muster the energy.

Standing up on her wobbly legs, she headed to the bathroom down the hall. If there was one thing she needed to do first, it was brush her teeth. Taking a quick look at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, Wednesday had to blink to make sure she was actually staring at herself. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than ever as they stared back at her in all their dark purple glory. Her usually chubby cheeks seemed hollowed out and slightly gaunt and spots had sprouted up throughout her entire face. Her long brown hair was greasy and limp in the loose bun atop her head. She looked unhealthy.

She quickly finished, unable to look at her face any longer than necessary and turned towards the stairs, padding down. It only dawned on her halfway down that she hadn't spoke to her mum since she'd called to tell her the news and with a wave of intense shame, she knew she'd have to rectify that as soon as possible.

Turning her head to the kitchen, she noticed with a furrowed brow that the door was closed. The faint sound of noise was coming from within the room, but she couldn't make out what it was. Was that...the washing machine? Taking a step forward, she turned to the living room as she approached the doorway, immediately noticing the lack of rubbish and takeaway boxes. Instead, the room smelt clean, even from where she stood, and the throws had been folded onto the sofa, the coffee table wiped clean of any wine spills or marks.

Had Harry cleaned the entire house? Looking back to the kitchen door, she walked towards it timidly, wondering whether Harry was on the other side of it. As her hands wrapped around the handle, she pushed it open and peeked her head around, slightly deflating when she realised there was no-one in there. But as she stepped into the room, she saw that the noise she'd heard had indeed been the washing machine, spinning around with a fresh load. In fact, at the end of the room next to her dining table, were various drying racks full of her own clothes that had been washed and were still damp. The counters had been cleaned and Wednesday noticed the faint smell of strawberry detergent in the air.

Looking to the clock on the wall, she realised it was coming to ten in the morning. Confused, she realised Harry must have been over this morning as well, to continue cleaning. She felt guilty that he'd felt the need to do it for her and wished she hadn't left such a mess. Embarrassment filled her at the fact he'd now seen first-hand and up close how she'd spent the past week, eating endless takeaways and drinking until she couldn't think anymore, all whilst he'd been living his best life in the Caribbean.

The sound of the front door opening pulled Wednesday from her thoughts as she whipped around to see Harry's reddened face reappearing, the blue beanie on his head keeping his curls hidden. Her eyes lowered to see the multiple paper shopping bags in his hands as he squeezed through the door with the bags in tow, noticing the faint Waitrose label on one of the items at the top of the bag.

He'd gone food shopping for her.

It was only when he'd shut the door and turned back around that he looked up to see Wednesday staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. Quickly placing the bags back down, he took a few steps forward to her, his eyes instantly furrowed as he searched her face for a hint of what she was feeling.

She was sure her appearance told him that she wasn't doing her best—after all, it had even scared her how different she looked. But despite the agony of why he was there in the first place and the sadness of it all, she couldn't help but let a little smile creep onto her lips as she looked back to the bags.

"Did you go food shopping for me?" she asked quietly, though a hint of humour laced her words.

Rubbing his neck as he looked back to the bags too, he smiled at her sheepishly.

"Yeah. I noticed there wasn't...much...in the fridge, or the cupboards and thought it would be one less thing for you to worry about if I went and got you some stuff."

Wednesday nodded in understanding, but she could feel the tug of a smile on her lips and the burst of warmth in her stomach at his kindness. He was so unnecessarily and unconditionally caring, that she wondered how on earth he was real sometimes. It broke her heart.

"I stayed over last night, on the sofa. I cleaned up and did some of your washing, I hope you don't mind. I promise I didn't go anywhere near your...delicates," he finished timidly, clearing his throat after with a small cheeky grin that made Wednesday let out a laughy breath.

"Thank you," she smiled back, looking to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. Her smile started to falter, as the reality of the situation came crashing back down to her. "I'm sorry that you went through all this trouble for me. I know I...I don't really deserve it."

"Wednesday," he began, taking a step forward so that he now stood right in front of her and looked down with a gaze that was so piercing, she felt her cheeks get a bit hotter. "You're my best friend and I would do anything for you. No stupid argument or disagreement will ever change that. Okay?"

She bit the inside of her lip, still not quite believing that she was worthy of his kindness. But she looked back to his narrowed eyes and forced a small smile, nodding.

"Plus, you know you would do the exact same for me if it were the other way around," he added, reaching his hand forward and finding hers, his fingers rubbing hers soothingly. The contact made her breathing hitch, only noticeable to herself.

"Always," she replied, knowing that that was true. She knew that she would walk over hot coals in a second, if she thought it would make him happy.

Her hand remained in his for a few seconds, both of them stood silently, before he let her go and cleared his throat, taking a step back towards the bags. Wednesday noted his cheeks were still flushed from the outside; it must have been cold.

"I'm going to cook us some breakfast. What do you fancy?" he asked, piling the bags onto the counter and beginning to take the various items out.

Wednesday felt the hunger pangs in her stomach and the nausea of having not eaten in over 24 hours swirling around her tummy. She didn't want Harry to feel like he needed to cook for her too, but she also knew if she didn't eat soon, she'd most likely end up back on the kitchen floor.

"Can I have..." she began, biting her lip to think about it. Harry turned to her, waiting with a small smile for her choice. "Dippy eggs and soldiers please."

His lips turned up quickly, his eyes matching the wideness of his smile as he raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Good choice. Dippy eggs and soldiers it is."

She matched his own grin, feeling something other than sadness for the first time in a long while. Mentioning that she was going to have a quick shower whilst he prepared the food, she went back upstairs and turned on the water, stepping into the warm stream with a sigh of relief. Unconsciously, a few salty tears slid out and mixed with the stream of water, but Wednesday didn't mind too much—everyone knew crying in the shower didn't count.

After stepping out and ringing out her hair, throwing on fresh clothes from the pile that had been placed down onto her desk by Harry, she picked up her phone and unlocked it with a shaky finger. Scrolling down her contacts list, she hesitated before taking a deep breath and hitting call on her mum's name, bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Wednesday, love, is that you? I've been worried! Are you okay? What happened yesterday?" her mum immediately asked as she picked up, not breathing between each individual question. Her voice sounded nasally, like she'd been crying, and it only made Wednesday feel even worse.

"Hi mum, I'm sorry about yesterday...I...I took the news hard and well, I'm sorry for going AWOL on you and making you worry. I promise I'm okay."

That last sentence was a lie and she knew it; she wasn't okay. In fact, she'd not been anywhere close to okay for a long time. But right now, her concern was solely on her mum and how she was feeling. She'd have time to work on herself later.

"Oh Nessie, I just wanted to know you were safe and okay. I was stressing all night. But I'm glad you're okay. Is Harry there with you?"

"Yeah, he came around last night and is still here this morning," Wednesday nodded. "He already knew...about nanna."

"Well after the phone call yesterday when I couldn't get a hold of you, I messaged Anne to let her know the news and asked her to tell Harry too. I assumed he'd come around right away after that, you know how he is."

"Yeah, I do..." Wednesday replied quietly, pushing her damp hair back. "How are you mum? I'm so sorry."

She felt her own voice quiver as she asked, her eyes filling as she realised that her mum had lost her husband and mother within the space of a year. Sometimes, she wondered how the world could be so cruel.

"I'm...I'm trying Nessie," her mum quietly replied, though her own voice was breaking from the threat of tears and it made Wednesday feel helpless.

"I'm coming back up soon, to be with you. You shouldn't be alone through this and all of the planning to come."

Wednesday didn't know that was her plan until the words left her mouth. She'd been so desperate to escape after Christmas, pining for her own personal space again, that she'd wished away quality time with her family. Time that could have been spent with her nanna, bonding and catching up. She knew if she dwelt on that guilt, she'd never forgive herself though. So, this was her way of making it up.

"I'd like that, thank you love," her mum replied, a small cry ending the sentence that made Wednesday's eyes close sharply.

A few minutes later, after the call had finished and she'd waited until the redness in her eyes had faded, she went back downstairs to the smell of toast wafting through the air, her stomach grumbling instinctively.

Watching as Harry stood at the hob, taking the eggs off of the heat, she sat at the kitchen island and followed his every movement. Even though he was wearing a thick black hoodie, she could see the muscles in his back working as he was faced away from her preparing the food. A second later her turned to her with both plates in his hands and in her still dazed state, she wasn't quick enough to avert her eyes from staring at him.

Furrowing his brows slightly, he shot her a small smile before placing the plate down in front of her and his own on the opposite side of the counter. He'd made exactly what she asked—in two egg cups (that were toy story themed because she was a child at heart) sat two boiled eggs and on the side, were cut up pieces of buttered toast. As she observed how incredible it looked, her stomach loudly grumbled, loud enough that Harry looked up to her quickly with amazement in his eyes.

"Well, I think you're definitely ready for this," he grinned, before cracking open his own eggs with his spoon as she followed suit.

After a few minutes spent in a silence Wednesday didn't quite know how to fill, eating their food and drinking their glasses of fruit juice that he'd placed down, Harry looked up to her inquisitively. The crease between his eyebrows had reappeared and his face was solemn, hinting to Wednesday that the time had come for an actual discussion of everything they had so far managed to ignore.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked softly, chewing on his toast and looking to her with an imploring glance.

"Shit, I won't lie," she replied with a laugh devoid of humour.

That was the best she could do, without fully laying bare how awful she was coping. Truthfully, she knew her current state had been cumulative, a dark storm brewing for months that, where once she'd managed to keep it tamed and at bay, had well and truly spun out of control now.

"I don't blame you. Your nanna was such a wonderful lady. And I know how much she meant to you."

Don't cry Wednesday. Don't cry.

"She did," Wednesday nodded, finishing her current bite and debating whether to say what she wanted to say next. As she looked up and saw his gentle gaze, she willed herself to find some strength and go on.

"Just before I left home to come back for Christmas, we had a really nice talk. And she opened my eyes to a lot of things."

Harry took this in thoughtfully and Wednesday knew he was holding himself back from asking what they discussed. She noticed him shift on the chair, internally debating what to say back as his eyes searched the table in front of him.

"We talked about you too."

At that, he looked up at her, a slight hint of shock on his face as his eyes widened. To that, Wednesday sent him a smile that she hoped would relay her apologetic tone.

"You did?"

Wednesday nodded her head, licking her lips in slight nervousness.

"She told me to say sorry. And said that life was too short for petty arguments."

Harry didn't reply; but from his pained expression, he seemed to know which territory they were heading into and felt uncomfortable at the prospect.

"She was right," Wednesday added quietly when he'd not responded, though she sat up a bit straighter, hoping it would keep her determination strong.

"Wednesday, you don't need to do this. It's over now, no harm done," Harry responded, looking at her with a hesitant gaze.

This seemed to be just as hard for him to acknowledge as her, but she knew what she needed and wanted to say. Shaking her head, she looked up to stare at him directly with an earnest expression.

"No, I do need to do this Harry. I was awful to you and said nasty things out of anger and spite and it wasn't fair. And I've felt terrible about it ever since. But sometimes, I'm just so stubborn that even when I want to apologise, something inside stops me. I know that's not an excuse for being a shitbag of a friend. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm..." Wednesday hesitated, swallowing slowly. "I'm sorry. For everything."

He smiled sadly at her words, nodding as he took in what she'd said. Although he hadn't wanted to get into it, he seemed to understand how much it meant for her to say those words and how hard it had been.

"Thank you," he replied honestly. "And I'm sorry too, for not being a good friend either. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm just as stubborn and couldn't bring myself to call you and it made me miserable for the majority of the trip away."

Wednesday let go of the breath she'd been holding and though her body still ached from the weight of heartbreak, something in her soul felt a bit lighter, like a weight had been lifted.

"Well, look at us being proper adults," Harry chuckled awkwardly, grabbing another bite of toast as she laughed too, the air around them holding the type of delicate tension you would only ever find after a heavy conversation.

They finished their meals in comfortable silence, Wednesday impressively clearing the plate of all food before going to wash up. She even sneaked a handful of biscuits from the pack he'd bought that were laying on the side, surmising that she was making up for all the food she hadn't eaten in the past day.

As he stood against the counter, watching her make them each a cup of tea once she'd finished, he spoke from behind her, taking the opportunity of her being faced away to ask the question she'd hoped he wouldn't bother to ask.

"Wednesday, when I found you on the floor yesterday...what'd happened?"

He waited patiently for her to respond and she wondered whether he'd noticed her body tense up as the words came out, her arm momentarily stopping as she processed the question. Guessing that he already had an idea of what had occurred, it seemed he wanted to hear her confirm it in her own words.

"I, uh...I had a panic attack," she replied, so quietly she wasn't sure if he'd heard when he didn't immediately say anything back.

Before yesterday, she'd only ever had two panic attacks in her life. The first had been a freak one-off incident after one of the band's shows in Australia—the elevator she'd been in after coming back to the hotel had shut down with her trapped inside and her panic at being stuck inside such a confined space had spiralled extremely quickly. Thankfully, she'd been rescued quickly by the hotel concierge and talked down from her frightened state.

The second had occurred the day after her father's funeral and had been utterly terrifying to Wednesday in the sense that it had been completely unprovoked. Whilst sat on the sofa at her mum's house, watching Friends reruns to numb out the events of the previous day, her chest had started to tighten and ache. Within seconds, she'd been battling for breath, convinced she was having a heart attack and going to die. It ended with her mum frantically ringing the non-emergency ambulance as she paced around, whilst Wednesday was sweaty and struggling to focus on anything other than the fact that she was sure she was dying. Even after the attack ended, her anxiety had been on high alert for the following day, confining her to her bed.

Eventually, the doctor who answered the call explained that it had been a panic attack, probably brought on by the stress of her dads passing and that grief manifested itself in weird ways. This was just one of them.