Daddy Unknown

Chapter 24

Harraël was the last of the five Bones members to be picked up by the transport management had sent for them. Once the car arrived, he couldn't even pretend to be excited for this trip because he simply wasn't. The past two years had been a drag without some quality studio time with his best friends; jamming, writing, recording, generally giving the fans something to be excited about. Though now that the time was here, he had reluctantly packed a suitcase.

His luggage was being carried into the trunk by the driver, and he joined the rest of the guys in the backseat of the SUV. He hadn't even bothered properly greeting his band mates. The minute he got in, he turned his face to the sky high structures beyond the window. The others blamed his sour mood on the fact he wasn't a morning person, while Finn knew something else was going on. He was there, after all, when he'd delivered the news to him yesterday. He'd seen the outraged, broken reaction. It had showed him a whole other perspective, one he now respected.

The tall buildings lining the road blurred, becoming a blank canvas for Harry's straying thoughts. His gut churned as it dawned upon him he wouldn't see Moira nor Oliver for the next couple of months. He'd miss seeing her face when she laughed at thing he didn't find funny in the slightest, or cried during RomComs with ridiculously bad actors. He'd miss the moments she was acting affectionate with him or seeing her interact with her son. But most important of all: he'd miss her.

Tears burned his eyes as he pictured her reading the letter he'd left on her pillow after she'd fallen asleep last night. Knowing Moira, she'd be pissed off with hurt. He was aware that leaving for a while, was equal to completely abandoning her in her book. Oversensitive? Yes. But did she have reason to be oversensitive? Again, yes. Blinking a few times, he forced the tears away; refusing to let them escape. He wasn't one to cry. And it would only make matters worse, he had to get over himself. Within three months, he'd be back home and all would be well. There was no point in worrying if there was nothing he could do about it. With that in mind, he got ready for the 7-hour and 21-minute flight to Stockholm.

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Sleeping was no option the first night. He paced back and forth in his room with his phone in hand, scolding himself for being so stupid. How on earth had he ever thought it to be a good idea to leave a letter instead of give her a physical goodbye? He sat on his bed, waiting for either Cade, Finn, Heath or Isaac to storm in and tell him to go the fuck to sleep. Their rooms were right next to his, and there was no doubt they could hear him moving around.

To make things easier, they would alternate between sleeping-buddies with every hotel. On this trip, the rest slept in pairs while he was the chosen one to have his own room. And since they would stay in the same hotel for three months, he was lucky.

In vain, he tried calling Moira. But it was no use. All he heard was her voicemail. An hour and eight useless attempts passed before he concluded she really didn't want to talk to him.

The following morning, he was lying on his bed on top of the comforter, staring at the clock. He'd just woken up and it was 07:00 in the morning, meaning he'd only gotten three or four hours of sleep.

This was how things went for the next month: wake up early, eat breakfast, pretend to be a happy camper, write, lunch break, jam session, record, eat dinner, worry/try to sleep for the rest of the night.

Saying it was a depressing routine would be an understatement. He no longer went out with his mates, his social network antics went downhill, interacting with the fans was hard when all he could see in his female admires were little bits that reminded him of Moira. His lyrics were gloomy, his music sad. And worst of all, he had to force himself to get out of bed and not stay locked up in his room all day.