Skipping Rocks and Falling in Love - Harry Styles fanfic

PART ONE.

This was most definetly not the only time I had come to this certain lake. Infact, I had been here only so many times I could practically close my eyes on the spot, yet still would be orally competent of memorizing every corner, and recognizing every beautiful characteristic that marked this land and labeled it a living beauty. 

Now I know what you're thinking? Why? A question in which everyone asks and desires a decent yet descriptive answer in return; however my answer is quite simple and doesn't require much description or thinking really. 

I regularily came here to reflect. To escape from my own problems. To find peace with myself. To find happiness. This place gave me exactly that. Ever since I had moved in with my foster parents my daily life consisted of downward spirals, and our relationship began to be comprised of  nothing but raging disputes.

But the thing is,  I never seemed to understand why. Why it was so hard to love and open up to my foster parents. Why we just never got along. Why I was never able to have that typical mother-daughter, or father-daughter relationship that everybody else was able to have. It perplexed me beyond belief. But what was once a mystery to me all along, finally became crystal clear. Much more translucent than the transparent waters which continued to glisten in front of me. 

I just couldn't let go of my past. It was impossible.

Ever since I found out that I was abandonned at birth, I had repeatedly been convincing myself that my parents hated me for doing so. I made myself tolerate unbearable pain for a reason that wasn't exactly evident. But you really couldn't blame me. After all, what else was I supposed to think? When the most important people in your life, who are supposed to love you, care for you and nurture you decide to abandon you. It made me feel unavailing.

useless

unwanted

unimportant

The ceaseless list carries on.

I made myself suffer over assumptions that I didn't even know were true or not. I constantly replayed them in my mind. I made myself and those around me suffer with me as well. But today was the day I realized that maybe there was another purpose for their doing. Maybe  their was a tiny spark of hope that served worthy to prove that I once meant something much more to my very own parents.

A warm tear gradually escaped from my peircing blue eyes, rolling down my lightly toned cheeks. It was a heart wrenching tear. A tear which was composed of pure heart-ache. As much as I was trying to remain optimistic and look at the luminous facet of matters, I couldn't help but remember that as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, there still remained a slight possibility that I was really abandonned out of complete and utter resentment.

My father was a nice man. Maybe calling him nice would be considered a HUGE understatement. My dad was one of my most favourite people ever. He cared for me, taught me how to ride my first bike, and the most golden memory of all was when he taught me how to skip rocks on this very lake. I can still remember his instructions and teachings almost as if he was standing right beside me carefully helping me step by step. I remember his gentle head and hand motions he used whenever he would instruct me. His enthousiasm even when I didn't get things right on the first try. The way his strong arms of steel would firmly wrap  around my tiny waste to carry me on top of his shoulders while under his secure grasp. Whenever he let me sit on top of his shoulders, I felt like I was floating on top of the world. Like I was invincible, capable of doing anything. We did everything together. He used to tell me stories about exciting, yet very brave and nobel men, and every sunday during the summer  we used to come near the lake while practically devouring our ice cream sundaes. My dad was like my ultimate super hero. My personal protector. To me, he was valiant enough to take down an army of soldiers, and tall enough to reach the moon and hand it to me in just one try. But most importantly, he had the biggest heart. Big enough for him to without a question, or any sign of hesitation supply me with every ounce of his life, time and love to make me happy. And he always did. I always admired that one quality that my dad possessed. If there was one of the thing that I envyed the most about my dad, it had to be his eyes. My dads eyes were something special. A mixture of a deep ocean blue, and a beautiful shade of green. A colour in which probably wasn't even discovered, or identified by  human scientists. It was truely remarkable. They were just indescribable in every way that not even a picture of them could even outline how absolutely unique they were. Indescribable. Even during my youth, I always fantasized about having eyes like my father.