oo.4 | the Styles'

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part four
of
EPILOGUE

➜➜➜

JULY, 2018, LONDON,

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JULY, 2018, LONDON,

TOMBSTONE OF H. STYLES, STANDING IN FRONT OF IT IS, Elliot AND Irene Styles.

"When I first heard I had another brother I couldn't quite believe it," Irene says. "Then I heard you were dead and I was sad, as its human for people to feel sad when someone dies. But then I read the letters and I realised, I'd met you before and I remembered you. It hurt so much more. Like a hole, no amount of crying will fix."

"I'm happy you're my really my big brother," she says crouching down and wrapping her arms around the cold stone.

"I miss you too, Harry," she whispers and tears leak from her eyes.

"Brother, Harry. I saw you once, and you saw me. That one time at Aldertree when I was waiting for our sister, Irene. I wish I'd spent some time with you too, Harry. I wish you weren't dead. I can't believe this universe, why is it so fucked up? We all met without knowing we were related? How mad is that, huh? I really wish we could've had time together, there's so much I would've done with you, said to you." Elliott says, opening his copy of the book to the most worn out page, the fourth letter. His favourite.

Elliott's tears stain the page, again. "It's too late to know you, brother. I was too late."

The Styles siblings spend the day at Harry's grave telling stories with hobnobs and coffee.

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1ST FEBRUARY, 2019, LONDON,

TOMBSTONE OF H. STYLES, STANDING IN FRONT OF IT IS, Eddie AND Elizabeth Styles.

"We thought we'd come for your birthday, son," Eddie says and a sadness overtakes him. He struggles to breathe and takes out his inhaler.

"Ed, don't force yourself," Elizabeth says, squeezing his shoulder. "Harry. I'm so sorry, you waited so long for me come, and I'm thankful for that second chance you've given me. I-"

"Harry. I'm sorry. We're sorry. We could've gone back for you, when we sent your younger siblings to Aldertree for the day, we could've taken you too. But honestly, we were irresponsible. We hadn't saved enough and if we'd taken you, we couldn't have raised El and Ren the way we'd have wanted to. They're wonderful kids, Harry. I don't know how many times I can apologise, son, because I'm sure no amount of 'sorry's' will ever close this weight I feel. I... I... You trusted me and I failed you, son." Eddie cries.

"I love you," Elizebeth whispers to her son, Harry's book opened to the twenty-ninth letter. "I'm here now."

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