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I hope you guys vote for these chapters! Big big twist coming in these chapters, the truth is out! 

Holding him, I felt like even though it was temporary, I was taking all his pain away. I was helping him forget the pain of his father, the mystery he was on. It was an amazing feeling for me to be able to do that, have that power for him.

I knew nothing of the topic of suicide, why a dad would do it, knowing what would happen to his little boy, knowing that he had no one. I couldn’t understand. It made it harder to comfort Harry, what could you say to someone who has gone through something so painful? You're sorry? Sorry didn't cover it, sorry wouldn't fix his pain, or heal him. I just had to do what my heart was telling me, and support him. 

He rolled out of bed, pulling on his boxers and nothing else. He walked out, leaving me in bed. I knew as soon as we stopped the pain hit him again, and I knew he was hurting more than ever.

I gave him time, and shimmed on my underwear and bra. I found him in the kitchen, zoned out, leaning against the counter. I walked over to him; he met my eyes, expressionless. I frowned, and kissed his chest. I put my hands on his hips, kissing his throat. He tipped his head back, letting my lips roam. I reached up on my tippy toes, kissing his lips.

“You know,” I said quietly. “I don’t know anything about suicide, in the technical sense. But I understand why you would be so mad at him.”

“You do?”

“He left you, and that’s something you have every right to be mad about. It’s okay to be mad.”

“Is it? It feels like I shouldn’t sometimes. It feels like I should just love him despite what he did. But I’m so fucking mad.”

“That’s okay, suicide is just… it’s a last resort and I think people in that situation forgot the ones they love."

He scoffed. "How? How can anyone forget about their fucking child?"

"He was hurting,' I said gently, rubbing his hips with my thumbs, going back and forth. "Harry... it's like... the only thing I could imagine is like when your foot falls asleep."

"What are you talking about Finley?"

"When your foot or hand falls asleep, all you can think about is how painful it is, how uncomfortable it is. It doesn't matter what you're doing, you keep stomping on your foot or shaking your hand to try to get that feeling back into it, make the pain go away. Right?'

"I... I guess?"

"So maybe, just maybe, his depression was like that. Anyone who took their own life clearly battles with depression. Maybe he kept shaking and shaking his hand out, stamping his foot, but couldn't get the feeling back, he couldn't make it stop so it was all he could think about."

"And to make it stop..."

'To make it stop he did the unthinkable, because all he could see was his own discomfort because it was so incredibly heavy on him." I kissed his chest. "He loved you but I think that he was caught up and confused with everything. You can be mad for now."

"I'm so angry Finley, so angry I don't even know where to put it all."

I frowned, kissing his warm skin again. "Maybe this would be good to work the rage out. Maybe this will help, and you can heal. Rant to him, write a letter, break plates, stomp around, break anything you need to, get that anger out. You can't harbor it forever, or it will eat away at you. It'll become your own hand falling asleep, your own discomfort."

"You think?"

I nodded. "I think when this is all said and done with, you can mourn again, and find peace with what he chose to do with his life, and sadly yours."

"Do you think he knew?" he whispered. "Do you think he knew the impact he'd have on me?"

"I think he tried not to think about it. If he wanted out of the world so badly, he wouldn't want an excuse not to do it, you were the excuse."

“I never came to terms with it.” His voice was soft. "I still don't know how to accept that he's gone. It hurts."

“You’re going to be okay.” I whispered, kissing his skin again. “You are going to understand this one day,” I moved my lips around his chest, his torso. “You are going to heal from this, and one day remember him with a smile.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do,”

"Have you ever lost anyone Finley, ever?"

I frowned. "No, I haven't but I don't think what I'm saying is any less true. I know I don't know much about suicide but... I know what it's like to care about you Harry. It's not something little."

He leaned down and locked my lips with his, pushing me onto the counter. He ran his hands down my thighs, lifting my leg to lace it around him. “Thank you for helping me.” He exhaled sharply. “With everything.” His eyes trailed my body, I was suddenly very shy.

‘I-I’m going to get d-dressed.” I took a breath. He nodded and helped me hop off the counter. I hurried into his room to dress, and put myself back together. I sat beside him on the couch, rubbing up and down his arm.

"I wonder where we go when we die." he said quietly.

"It depends on what you believe I guess."

"I don't know if I believe in the whole Heaven deal."

"To each his own,"

"I wonder if he knows how pissed I am."

"Maybe one day you'll see him again and ask, or maybe one day you'll find enough piece that you won't even need to ask him anything."

"I don't even know," he breathed out. "That's why it's the worst, it's just... he's gone, he left, took his life, took everything with him, every secret and thought. I'm a sitting duck, hoping to understand and searching for answers."

"I think that's how a lot of family left behind by suicide feels. It's just like being left in the dust." I kissed his warm bicep. "I can't imagine. I wish I could help you more Harry, I really do."

"Don't... Fin... you help a lot more than you know." he said softly. I nuzzled closer for a moment, and he got up, going to the piano. 

“He said that after I finished the song, I’d know what to do.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “I know where I need to go.”

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