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I woke with a start in my bed and looked around the room wildly as I took in familiar surroundings. The bright moonlight from outside the circular window shone down on the floor on the other side of the bed. I was cold, freezing in fact, what with deciding to sleep in the nude for close to ten hours.

I panted for breath like a staggering mutt from the streets. I didn't know what woke me up, whether it was a nightmare or just a spontaneous lapse of fright. Either way, I felt so scared and my heart was beating so belligerently inside my chest that it would be a while before I could faze back to sleep.

I laid back on the bed, trying vainly to gain some air. I forced my body to relax as I slid back underneath the thick, feathery covers. While my breathing regulated itself automatically, I sensed another presence in the room.

I held my breath, waiting for whatever killer or masqueraded man to slink out of the shadows. I knew better than to believe old nursery tales about stalkers hiding among the cloaks of shadows, but it still frightened me to no end, despite my older age.

The thing leapt out. "Ahh!"

I could've sworn I jumped a meter in the air. I was that tense and on edge the entire time I waited for it to coax itself from the shadowy corner.

"Harry, you devil," I sighed in relief. His wide grin just became wider.

"Oh my God, Louis, your fa-ace!" he guffawed, clutching his stomach.

I pulled up as serious a face as I could've mustered, although I felt the tips of my ears growing white-hot with embarrassment. Unfortunately, Harry noticed and stood laughing so hard that he became mute. I just buried my head shamefully in the covers.

"How and why are you in here, Harold?" I said once the laughter died down. "Dahlia has eyes behind her head, and I doubt you just crept through the window."

Harry wove a hand at me in dismissal. "Ach, she was a piece of cake. Really, she succumbed pretty quickly to my charm."

I snorted, but didn't say anything regarding his ways of getting what he wanted. What I did consider was why he bothered showing up here. Why he took so big of an interest in me, a spoiled-rotten member of the Elite.

"And in reality, I think she likes seeing us two—" Harry pulled really close to me, "—together."

I was confused. Partly because it seemed that Dahlia actually talked to Harry, whom she didn't appear to like as much the first time she encountered Harry. "Why would you assume that?"

"No, no, it's not assumption. She said so herself. 'Sir, you are quite the gentleman. And Louis does seem to like being around you quite a lot these last few days.'"

"I don't know how you derived the conclusion that she likes seeing us together, when clearly, she said that I like being around you," I said.

"So you like being around me, then?" he said, suddenly drawing closer me. "I can see I had some influence on your choice of night-wear."

"What night—?" Oh, that's right. My choice to sleep naked. "Oh, yes. Damn you, Harold."

He broke out into laughter again, which, strangely enough, brought a smile to my face. It was odd being with someone so carefree about life. I honestly didn't have the slightest care when someone in my family was happy, because all they were happy about was themselves. Investing big bucks in the American stock market, getting a shiny new tea set from the local shop, receiving a handmade doll from a relative . . .

Nobody ever became happy around me, or because of me. Nobody even wanted to know how I was doing. And if they did, it was all part of a vague and apathetic routine.

"Hey, Lou," Harry said as he sat on the bed, brushing shoulders with me. "You should come meet my mum and dad on the lower levels. They'll love you, really."

"Yeah, I just have to go to breakfast . . ." It's not the prospect of food or eating, it was just having to plunge back into a boring routine with some rather boring people.

"OK, so change into your poor clothes and look for me on the stern end of the deck after your breakfast thing. And could you try sneaking something? I'm pretty famished, having to wait for a whole bloody hour for you to wake up," he muttered.

I smacked him on the arm. "Why were you waiting for me to awaken, then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I-I just find it intriguing . . . when you're asleep. You look more, I dunno, at rest."

Now that was something I found pleasantly peculiar. I produced a warm smile. "Is that so?"

He scoffed. "Whatever. Just . . . hurry up and go mingle with your rich bitches." Harry planted a kiss on my forehead before standing up. He hurried out of the room before I was able to say anything else.

----

I stroked the creases out of my clothes absentmindedly as I walked down the velvet carpet to the dining room. The place was not as densely populated as usual, so that signaled my earliness. Lovely. More time to suffer if that mistress of Guggenheim was there to criticize me about some unruly body part of mine or something of the sort.

Her neck was almost begging to be wringed with my bare hands. I swear to God, if I ever got the opportunity . . .

Upon approaching the dining table the Tomlinsons sat at regularly, I realized that she was there. Luckily, she was too deep in conversation with Mother about something exciting that she didn't see me. Father, on the other hand, scanned the entire room until I showed up on his radar. That was when the red flags went up.

"Ah, Louis. Come, come," he said invitingly. Well, good, at least he didn't announce it to the whole damn ship.

"Good morning, Father." A valet immediately strutted over and filled my glassware with water and set down a bowl of vegetable stew with an oven-baked biscuit.

As his arm stretched across the frame of the chair I sat in, I knew there was something on his mind in need of transferring into mine. "Louis, I am disappointed."

My spoon, one in a dozen of others situated around the chinaware I ate food from, almost clattered to the plate. That single phrase was a phrase one would never want to hear from parent to child. It was a phrase that screamed, You did something that will shame you and your family and that everyone will hate us for.

"Wh—?"

"Louis, I invested large sums of money into Mr. Guggenheim's gold mine in the state of California in America. I am on the brink of losing every penny's worth of my investment because he thinks that I cannot control my own child." He went on, keeping a low tone as his scolding attacked me. "Therefore, I cannot control part of his precious gold mine. I expected more of you when his mistress tested your tolerance the previous days. You were taught to manage your temper and control your emotions, yes? That is the reason for my disappointment."

I was speechless the entire time his words flooded my brain. But amidst that, I felt a bursting bubble of anger explode in my stomach. He was disappointed because of his near-loss, not because of how his child was acting. Although I didn't dare express myself aloud, the anger from my bowels caused my eyebrow to twitch slightly.

"Don't disappoint me any further," Father said before turning his back on me. His eyes flickered between mine and the woman across the table.

My eyes reverted from his annoyed expression down to the bowl of lukewarm stew before me. I had lost my appetite almost completely, while guilt and anger filled my stomach instead. But since I had nothing else to do, I began to take in small spoonfuls of the stew just to appear normal.

 The atmosphere around my portion of the table calmed pretty quickly. Father's words still stuck in my brain like mold to wood, but they were of a low priority considering that the chances of condemnation from that woman were slim to none, therefore requiring little motivation to keep my emotions at bay.

The food weighed like a stone at the bottom of my stomach. Ech, it wasn't that great anyways. But as soon as the thought passed through my mind I instantly felt guilty. Harry said he was famished this morning because he didn't eat anything. It wouldn't surprise me if he hardly ate at all while on the ship, or ate small tid-bits of whatever here and there.

Taking the napkin, I kept my guard up and senses alert as I moved the rolls from the basket to the cloth under the table. I folded the napkin over the bread and tucked it into my pants pocket. At least no one but the waiters could've noticed, and they don't tattle. Better than the mistress or worse, my parents.

"Mother, may I be excused?" I asked politely, trying to look innocent. 

"You may, dear," she said, hardly turning her head from the conversation with the mistress.

Placing a hand in the pocket with the stolen biscuits so the bulge wouldn't be so prominent, I left the saloon and exited out to the decks. The morning sun made the freshly waxed floors glow an iridescent white. I had to momentarily shield my eyes away from the blinding white just to keep my eyesight in check.

Keeping my head down and avoiding all eyes that seemed to pore through me, I headed to our mutual destination as quickly as possible. It was an overall good choice to meet on this side of the ship, where almost nobody ventured to. The bow of the ship was where all the activity was, and where everyone was itching to get the first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty in New York.

As expected, the population steadily declined the farther I went in the opposite direction the ship traveled. Crowds of commonfolk quickly dispersed into the occasional couple or solitary individual looking out distantly into the vast Atlantic. I finally felt comfortable enough to raise my chin up and walk without shame.

Huh, to think that a First Class individual would feel shame while going to meet someone from the streets . . .

I thought it quite odd, but it was more understandable whenever one would be friends with Harry. He radiated an aura that made you question if God made a mistake for putting him at the bottom of the social hierarchy. His intelligent mind and wittiness were probably the only factors that determined his and his family's survival. It was a good thing he was on God's good humor.

The silence stirred me from my thought process. Rarely was there any silence in my life amidst all the parties and formal dinners and chit-chat. I came to appreciate times whenever it was just me and the wind.

And there he was. Looking out into the sea as the British flag whipped in the wind above the ship's wake a hundred feet below. Of course, I didn't know whether he knew of my presence and just make me approach him or whether he was oblivious to it.

"Harry," I said. It came out more like a strangled choke for help.

I was glad he turned around and heard. I really didn't want to call out and sound abnormal again.

"Hey Lou. You ready?" he said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Yeah, and I got these for you if you'd like." The bread still felt warm in my hand as I held out the stolen goods to him.

"Oh my God," he murmured with excitement, lunging at the bread. He snagged one and deeply inhaled the rich smell of butter and wheat before taking a bite. "If this is how luxury tastes, then it sure tastes good."

I couldn't help a chuckle as Harry marveled at the quality of the bread. In my mind, it was just bread. Nothing more. But as I saw the delight in his eyes increase with each bite of the bread, I realized it was a treasure for Harry. A piece of hope that he still resided in God's good humor, on His good side.

"Come on, enough of your fawning and moaning," I said, tugging at Harry's sleeve.

----

Eventually, after walking downstairs for what felt like hours on end, we were one one level above steerage and the boiler rooms. There was so much commotion going on all at the same time, and I quickly became claustrophobic from the narrow halls.

"Here we are," Harry said. I didn't even have time to glimpse the room number before being hauled inside roughly.

The inside was . . . extremely small. About the size of a closet, to be a bit more precise. Two almost tiny bunk beds sat against opposite sides of the white-washed walls, and a tiny sink and mirror was situated in a tiny crevice in the back of the cabin. I was surprised how they even managed to get their luggage through the door.

"Lou, this is my mama—" he gestured to a rather tired but friendly looking woman leaning against the bunk bed frame, "—and my pop is probably out for a smoke. You reckon he's burned his stomach yet, mama?"

The woman smiled wryly and nodded. "Always did tell him to stay away from the stuff. Gets what he deserves."

For a moment I was struck by dismay at her blunt honesty. Nobody would ever outrightly speak out against another person in their family unless they were absolutely, without a doubt, a horrid person. Smoking was nothing bad, my Father did that as well.

Harry's mother looked at me and noticed my appalled face. "Oh, I'm sorry if I frightened you with my disrespectful talk, dear. I love the man, I do. But sometimes consequences are the best medicine if nothing else can cure his appetite for a pipe. My name's Anne, by the way. The 'e' on the rear there is silent. Don't bother with the 'Mrs. Styles' or 'madam', or even 'ma'am'. You're family now ever since Harry's taken a liking to you."

"Ma," Harry whined. His ears began burning cherry red.

She chuckled, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Oh, Harry here constantly speaks of you, Louis. It's actually pretty cute, don'tya think? Yeah, you blush there right along my Harold. Anyways, would you like to join us for lunch 'ere? Nothing fancy, we're just poor folk havin' a jolly good time aboard Her Majesty's Ship."

Titanic is a Royal Mail Ship, I thought. But I didn't get the chance to correct Anne as she and Harry led the way to the dining room.

"Um . . . don't we, you know, prepare for lunch first?" I stuttered.

"Oh, never! Ya come as you are all the time, nobody's judging." Anne smiled at me warmly while we entered the low-ceilinged room. I found it to be exactly the same room I got "wasted" the night before last. And was I surprised to remember even that minor detail.

"Here we go. Yes, uh, can I get the roast beed and gravy please. Thank you, sir."

"Yeah, I'll be taking the Buoillon soup please. Thank you."

"Can I just have some boiled . . . uh, vegetables, please? Just some boiled vegetables will be fine, thank you."

Anne and Harry looked at me strangely. Harry even had an eyebrow raised. Obviously, they nor anyone else they could've known ever wanted just plain vegetables. Whenever they got the rare chance to obtain meat, they did. I was spoiled enough to get it whenever I wanted, however.

"You're a strange lad, you know?" Harry said.

I sighed dramatically as I folded a paper napkin without looking up. "You like this strange lad, don't ya, mate?"

Every stranger seated all around us roared with laughter, and Anne's laugh was so high-pitched that it was the only one I was able to pinpoint. Eventually, everyone in the dining room was laughing just out of the sheer pleasure of it. I joined in too, and I never felt better about doing so.

All I was forgetting about was how short-lived it was.

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