last part to the story. enjoy chapter turdy seven.... ew bye
1 week later...
Usually he would have been perched on the tattered slide besides me, complaining about the rough edges and the way the jagged metal with the chipped paint would dig into his jeans and tear the seams. And eventually I would have scolded at him for picking at the hole and only enlarging the tear.
'I'll just get a new pair,' he always said, but he never did. He wore those goddamn jeans that faded in colour, that continued to tear, yet he effortlessly looked flawless in them. And he was only one of the few that could pull it off, and something as simple as washed jeans are never thought the same. It all reminded me of him, and as the days go past I can't say it gets any easier. The pack is stable, although there is no Alpha each and every person relies on one another.
I managed to meet them, all of them. The pack was fairly small and exceeded my expectation. I had waited to approach hundreds, maybe even thousands of people, but only came across fourty or so. They asked about Harry, my relationship with my father. Some were in disbelief, some angered at the thought of having a human in their territory. But it was all understood.
It's horrific to think just how relieved they were to hear the news of Dave's death. Yet how enraged they were to hear of Harry's death. Both Alphas gone — nobody left to lead the pack.
John was gone. Possibly forever, or possibly temporarily but I didn't have an ounce of care in me. His wolf became unstable, craving the feel of pure human. I remember Harry telling me how he had 'harassed' previous co-workers, and my mind wondered with horrifically negative ideas of just what he had done. He was responsible for the lives of those three innocent women, as well as Harry's. May it be childish for blaming him, but if he hadn't sought out to contact the Elders then Harry could have possibly — with great chance — still be alive.
And so I sat aimlessly, swinging my feet and fiddling with the Opal stone chained around my neck. It was weightless, carried no life but a heavy amount of guilt. Nothing weighed me down but my misery, and I was succumbing to the bubble of self-torture. Suffocating in my own emotional pain was the only comfort I could find. Comfort in knowing that I could feel something after all these events, where the two most important people in my life were killed; one was innocent, and one was a whole different person. Someone completely opposite of who he really used to be.
Normally I would acknowledge the beautiful way the new season was beginning to form. The rain was less frequent, the wind was slightly a lot less cooler, and flowers were beginning to blossom over the defrosting branches on the trees. Everything was coming to life again after such a dreadful time. The Oak trees with their fauna, which had been hibernating during the Winter, were now awakening from their deep sleep. And as I do notice the changes, I've simply lost the emotional aspect of processing the beauty of it.
Now it's just a physical thing. All I do is see what is happening before me. Any emotion for it is gone, long, long gone. It's an odd concept to be numb. I can't feel the numbness, which is how I know it's there. I stare for the longest time before I do something, not hesitating, but just not having the motivation to do it.
He's just not alive anymore.
I'd rather live my life knowing that he's walking on this Earth, healthy and alive, than knowing that he's in some coffin or morgue; dead.
But I won't have that contentment because that's what he is. Dead.
The thought of knowing that his death has more of an impact on me than my own father is a little worrying. But piecing the puzzle together, it definitely makes sense. Those days where he had forgotten me, it wasn't forgetting. He was just in another place. His own daughter wasn't his main priority. He never ever mentioned his own family. But how peculiar it is to think that the way he used to speak of my mother, in such passion and adoration... makes me think just how much of that was really true. My father is gone and I don't feel any remorse for it.
The wind suddenly picked up, blowing the shrivelled leaves and sending them whirling in the air and off to a new location for them to rest. My hair continued to blow in my face, and after having to brush it away and tuck it behind my ear it was rendered useless. I gave up on keeping myself kept and just stared down with a frustrated sigh.
If he were here he would've laughed. Playfully scolded at me to have worn the beanie he bought for me.
"Your hair looks like shit," he had said. When I glared he smirked, and left without a single word. The next time I saw him was when he tossed a simple black beanie onto my desk and walked off without a word.
The wind blew even harsher, the creaks of the old swing set became a lot louder but I thrived hearing the familiar eerie sound. Although the area was dead there was some life behind it. The melancholy aroma lingered, but the memories created here mixed with that sadness — balancing it out. I only wished to know what Harry and his mother did here, wished to know what event brought them to escape to this place. What they talked about.
The simplicity of Harry made me wonder, it intrigued me. All these things I wanted to know but now I'll never get the chance to and there's nothing more distressing than that realisation.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's never coming back.
I tightly grasped the Opal and snapped it from my neck, holding the pendant out in front of me.
"You lied," I whispered to myself, staring at the slate stone before clutching it in my fist. I threw my arm back as far as I could and tossed the necklace — watching the chain swing before it clattered and rolled on the wet bark. I stared at it, how it barely revealed all under the bark and branches. It was just there, almost tormenting me to the point where I felt guilty.
Immediately I dropped from my position and ran until I was where the necklace had landed. I crouched down, brushing away all the dirt from it and held it tightly in my palm. I felt the familiar knot rising in my throat, the familiar burning in my eyes, the feeling I've become so familiar with that is now my ultimate destruction.
"You lied," I repeated, choking on a gasp as my entire body rattled and shook. "You lied and now you're gone."
I bit the inside of my cheek, tightly shutting my eyes; refusing to breakdown into endless of tears that I've allowed myself to do so. The fear of confinement, being alone for so long is eating at me emotionally. Of the boys it's only Niall and Liam whom attempt to make contact with me, and even with that it's very little. It's all my fault.
I was the one who killed Harry.
I was the one who plunged the blade deep inside his chest.
I was the reason why their best friend was dead.
Regardless of the facts, no matter how much I explained how I had no control over myself it was still my fault. My shoulders sagged, fingers feeling numb as the necklace weighed my weakened hand. I didn't realise that fresh tears had fallen until it shed down onto the back of my hand.
He's dead, and I'm the one who killed him.
"No you didn't."
I almost fell back at the new voice from behind me. I managed to drag myself until I was standing, brushing away twigs and whatever filth lingered on my clothes. Quickly wiping away at the fresh tears I cleared my throat and turned myself around. But I was in no way prepared to see who was standing in front of me.
"Miss me?" He asked with a nerving quirk of his lip. I stared at him, mouth agape and trembling, wide eyes, and hammering heart. He was pale, with a reddened nose and cheeks. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his thick coat which has been left unzipped. And he was breathing heavily. He was breathing. I tried to speak but the knot only tightened and rose, cutting off my speech. I suddenly felt faint, like everything was buzzing around me. Everything was moving so fast. I slightly shook my head, swallowing harshly, but never could I avert my gaze away. "Cat got your tongue?"
"You —" I pointed to him with a shaky finger and finally I gasped. "Harry?"
"The one and only," he smirked.
He hesitantly stepped forward seeing as I was paralysed, frozen in place. He made it a few steps forward before I whined and shook my head which made him stop in his tracks.
"No."
"Cass..."
"No," I shook my head. "You —"
"Are supposed to be dead, right?" The words were said from his mouth before I was able to form them. "Yeah," he nodded to himself, looking away, "It's funny how that worked out, innit?"
I didn't realise how close he was until he bent his knees to gain my attention. My vision was hazy, completely dumfounded with the realisation that he was alive. He called my name once, twice, and a third time but I didn't reply. Because physically I couldn't.
"Please say something. Don't shut me out," he whispered sounding so in pain.
"It's... my fault. It —"
I was cut off with the feel of his lips crashing against mine. His hand held the side of my cheek, thumb brushing lightly against my skin as he carefully - hesitantly - encased my upper lip with his. I was motionless, continuing to watch him as his brows furrowed seeming confused at my lack of response. His hand dropped to my chin where he pulled at my lower lip. Finally I had shut my eyes tightly, fighting the tears that inevitably fell down my cheeks.
He pulled away for a moment until I felt his warm hand snake across my back to pull me against his chest. Something about his action had triggered my emotions as I broke down into quiet sobs against his chest. His arms wound across my waist as he buried his face in between the crook of my neck. Everything about him seemed too real, his scent of the regular cologne he always uses, the warmth his body produced, but most of all the heavy beating of his heart.
So many times I had dreamt it, but nothing could ever feel as real as this moment right now.
"I don't want you blaming yourself for anything," he whispered, kissing the bare skin of my neck. "I don't want you living with that guilt because of something you couldn't control."
Reluctantly I pulled away from our embrace and subconsciously my hands raised to grasp his shirt beneath his coat in between my fingertips. I tightly held the thin material as if I feared he'd slip away again. That he'd leave me. The tears seemed endless, and the cool wind only bit at any sensitive skin of mine. Harry looked down at me and smiled, he was always so beautiful.
"I thought you'd be here when you didn't answer the door to your apartment," he mused softly, staring into my eyes and then down to my lips. He looked away from me, smile fading as he did so. I stared up at him, watching as his facial features formed a grimace at something unknown. "I need to talk to you," he whispered, still not looking into my eyes, "And I'm not sure if you're going to like it."
-
I refused the cup of tea he offered, the idea of a 'warm welcoming' was completely diminished the second we stepped into his home. The atmosphere was cold, both physically and metaphorically. As we made our way to his flat he would steal occasional glances, attempting to smile which I didn't return. Confusion and disbelief were two very prominent emotions that coursed my mind.
How is he alive?
I rested my head in between my hands and sighed loudly. I wanted to know what happened, whether the blade had killed him in the first place. Watching him now, blinking, breathing, moving, it all seemed so surreal. And I could do nothing but be completely ecstatic that he's alive. Though for some odd reason I'm unable to physically express that.
"I don't want you to overthink this entire thing. I'll tell you in the simplest way how I'm alive —"
"A part of you died, didn't it?" I interrupted him. He stared at me with wide eyes, curling his bottom lip over the upper before sighing loudly.
He knelt forward from the couch, fidgeting his fingers. It was a common nervous gesture he subconsciously did. He fiddled with the silver rings around his slender fingers before meeting my gaze, "An Opal blade is lethal to wolves. However, it has no impact on those associated with witchcraft. So you're right, a part of me died. My wolf died then, but I... did not."
"What kind of nine lives bullshit is this?"
"I'm letting you know what the Elders had told me. It's not easy to kill witches or wizards." His lips slightly curved into a smile, "If I weren't a hybrid I would be considered dead right now. Whether Dave or Ren were aware of this or not is beyond me but," he shrugged, "I'm here."
Immediately I stood from my seat and almost ran to him. He held me with open arms as I tightly held him close for the second time since I saw him. He smelt so heavenly, felt extremely cold as I trailed my fingers over his nape. He shivered beneath my soft touch, breathing heavily against my neck in short puffs of warm air.
"Does anybody else know about you?" I whispered into his ear, curling my fingers beneath his overgrown hair and tugging lightly as I began to slowly caress his scalp with my fingertips.
"The boys were the first I saw. Zayn has also been informed. But... nobody is to know. The pack, John, Ian, nobody. I can't stay here any longer, I can't live in the city or London in that matter. If they found out that I was live God knows that they'd do, what they'd do to you or the others. I would never be able to forgive myself."
He breathed out heavily, straightening his posture as he pulled away from our embrace to watch me. Almost hesitantly his hand raised to softly caress my chin and with his thumb he pulled my bottom lip.
"Elijah has offered to share his connections with people in Edinburgh." I began to pull away which he noticed and tightened his arms around me. I looked away in disbelief as he tried to grasp my attention, "It's secluded. Beautiful. Far from here. It would be safer for us all."
I averted my gaze to him, watching the twinkle in his bright eyes before muttering, "What do you mean by us?"
"You and me. Niall, Liam, and Louis too. New city, new chapter. We can live normally, or at least a lot more normal than how we are now. The packs in that area are hidden, they won't know of our existence. Cass... I'll feel so human. Not like the monster I've become, or was. You don't have to accept my offer, just... what have you got to lose?"
I pondered for a moment. Watching his hopeful expression made my stomach churn. He was so positive about this, but I knew, I just knew that no matter where we went trouble always seemed to seep its way through the cracks. These past months have been the most torturous, the most thrilling adventures I could ever imagine. I've learnt so much, not only the history of these not-so-mythical creatures but so much about myself.
"There will be offices there, definitely willing to accept you as a columnist or journalism. You're great at what you do, whoever they may be it will be their privilege to have you under their office. That being said... it's all your choice. We can all be safe, stress free, and —" He paused for a moment, just staring at me with a stolid expression, "and happy."
His offer was so overwhelming and as he watched with anticipation as I thought about it I decided to break him out from his misery with a nod of my head. He cocked his head to the side, looking so adorable with flushed cheeks once he registered that I was agreeing with him. Harry gasped a little, watching me with fascination before holding the sides of my face.
"You serious?" He choked a laugh.
I shrugged with a nod. "I have nothing here. My father... is dead. I have no family. I don't want to work at Metro if John is in office, I can't bear to look at his face anymore. I'll resign first thing tomorrow and then after that, it'll be just us. And the guys."
He playfully rolled his eyes, lightly pecking my lips once and chuckled. Soft mutters of disbelief escaped his lips and he wouldn't stop shaking his head. "Bloody hell. I never— God, I love you so much," he whispered before crashing his lips onto mine.
His words weren't a shock to me as I would have assumed. Instead of replying I smiled whilst we kissed, feeling the way his soft lips furiously moved against mine. His fingers gripped the hem of my top and pulled it up, disconnecting our lips for a second to pull the material over my head but even then it proved to be a difficult task. The button of the long-sleeve tangled in my hair earning laughs from Harry and I as we both — with great struggle — tried to release the unkept strands.
Once managing he tossed it away, leaning forward once more with a steady laugh. And it was at this moment once we confessed our love for one another that the only place I would ever feel happy is with Harry. He was the structure of my life, the stability I needed when everything felt frail and weak. Maybe it was wrong of me to believe that being dependant on a person was an invitation to trouble, but the promise of a greater life ahead seemed so fulfilling — so honest.
THE END.