obdurate (adjective): stubbornly refusing to change one's opinion or course of action
How come I've never seen that gif before? Whaaat?
Noelle's POV
It's been over twenty minutes and still neither Estelle or Harry has come back yet. My fingernail taps anxiously on the surface of the shiny desk, but this does little to ease my mind and the thoughts that are racing through a mile a minute.
"He'll be fine," Royce assures, us being the only ones left in the room. Arthur and Klara decided to go down to the snack room to get some grub. I declined their invitation, knowing that Harry would need me when he returned.
I've seen him storm off like this before; he gets so frustrated and doesn't know what to do with all his pent up energy. I have a little more faith than before that he will take deep breaths and think about his choices before taking any sudden actions, but who is to say that he doesn't break from this news.
An abrupt amount of angst boils over in my stomach as I start to think about Des. I am all for Harry giving him another chance because I believe that he needs that father figure in his life, even if he doesn't want to admit it out loud, he does. But if Des is only going to put more stress on Harry's mind and take two steps back every time he gets his head over water, then maybe cutting off ties with him wouldn't be the worst thing. But as of right now, I don't want him making any decisions in this state and regretting them.
As much as Harry will want to tell me that he isn't going, he's going.
I won't let him stay here and be forced to deal with guilt if his father doesn't make it through surgery.
"I don't want him to just have to be fine all the time," I voice, hiding my head in my forearm. My right elbow is propped up on the taller desk beside me, fingers working magic against my temples. "There's no recovery from all this," I stress to Royce. "Harry says he handles it, but I don't think he ever really does. I need to go to him."
In that moment I stand to my feet and head for the door, but Royce stops me. Pulling me back by my forearm lightly, he shakes his head with a pleading and sincere look. "Let them talk. Estelle is good with comforting people. Let her do what she does best."
I scoff and fall back down into my chair. He wouldn't be saying that if he knew that the reason behind multiple of Harry's major stressors is her and the lies she has very good stamina for keeping. I've been on the receiving end of her words and the way she manipulates them to make bad things sound somehow acceptable. It's hard to say no to her.
Another ten minutes pass by and I can't remember the last time that the clock seemed to drift ever so slowly in a circle. It feels like ages have surpassed us when the door across the room finally opens, only peaking agape at first before being opened wider. I straighten up in my seat, pursing my lips and preparing for the unexpected when I'm disappointed.
Arthur and Klara.
"Is Harry out there?" I ask and they look serious as they enter the room.
I'm convinced that this room is haunted; every time we've solved a case or found out a terrible detail that goes along with the master plan, it's been within these four falls. The walls that absorb lies and watch betrayals and falsehood. No one can step foot in here without feeling the weight of it fall on their shoulders.
"I haven't seen him." Arthur frowns, his accent deep and low due to the somber mood present.
"I'm tired of giving him space. I'm going to find him," I determinedly speak, set in my ways as I stalk past the threefold holding opposite approaches. I know Harry better than anyone else here, and I know that he shouldn't have to be alone. Obviously, something is not right; that's why it is taking so long for his return. I don't want to let him sit and dwell about whatever Estelle has told him so far.
My shoes clomp on the floor as I pass Arthur and Klara, heading for the staircase exit instead. The echoing of my feet pounding off the cement doesn't last long as I hear hushed voices that pause me. Stopping in my ascension, I grip the handrail and slow my movements, using caution not to make much noise as I take on another step. At the base of another set of stairs, I look around the corner to see Harry sitting beside Estelle.
A breath of relief slips delicately past my lips as I see that neither of them are yelling or using hurtful words. They almost look peaceful; similar from behind, so to say. His hunch is way more prominent than her intentional leaning forward, and from the way she fiddles with her hands and stares off, I can sense the slight tension lingering in the air between them.
Easing into a crouch, I hug the rail with my arm and sit on the first step on the floor above them. I can see through the bars as Harry looks down at his feet; I wish I could go down there and bring him comfort, even if just a small hand squeeze, but I can't break their moment, especially so abruptly.
"What?" Harry stands up so quickly that I swear I see air whoosh with his hips. I am about to stand up and run to him when I refrain, letting him have space, just not too much. "Do I know him?" he continues, my ears struggling to hear Estelle speak.
I think I hear her whisper, "You do."
Who does he know?
"Who?" Harry gasps, eyebrows so tightly scrunched. My stomach swirls at his expression; so frantic and unstable but he also looks frozen on the spot and numb. Harry's mouth is agape when he twists his fingers through his hair, staring down at Estelle with such intensity I even shrink back.
"Nate. Nate Muller." Estelle responds and I frown before a painful memory shoots through my body and electrifies my nerves.
Nate. Fred's son. Vivid memories of Arthur and Nate in the file room play like a sped-up film in my mind. The threats; the assault he gave to my cheek; the blackmail he had on Harry; I forgot about all this drama while I was away and now I'm unpleasantly reminded that just because I left, that doesn't mean that our problems did.
"Shit," I mutter to myself, feeling assaulted and violated all at once again. It seems silly to be so scared of Nate when I tolerated Amon for months, but with Nate, I get a sinister vibe that not even Amon could top. Nate intentionally wanted me uncomfortable; he wanted me to feel threatened and scared. And it worked when he assaulted me in this exact staircase.
"He's your brother, Harry," Estelle reiterates and I freeze, a choke lost on me. Suddenly, I feel like a hurricane has torn up my insides. How the hell can that be? Harry's sibling died when his mother di- . . . but Anne didn't die. Therefor, a sibling could have possibly not died. Which means, Nate could so be Harry's biological brother.
Holy shit.
"I don't believe you," Harry speaks, louder than before and much more flummoxed. "Why would my mum allow a scumbag like Fred Muller to watch over her child? It doesn't make sense why she'd do that."
"Why do you think Des has stuck around Fred throughout the years?" Estelle asks lightly, treading carefully on such a risky topic. "Fred was a close friend of your father, who would do anything for him. When Anne's uncle tried to kill you three, she knew keeping Nate would be far too risky. He needed to be put in a house that no one would suspect."
"And that was that?" Harry retorts angrily. "Just like that, she threw him away like she did me? It's funny how history keeps repeating itself," a scoff falls from his hurt lips and I frown. "Why did she even bother having children if she couldn't raise them herself? Does Nate even know or is he just as oblivious as me?"
A deeper memory flashes through my mind this time. Nate circling me with a devious grin on his face, repeatedly trying to convince me that Harry was lying about some bold truth. Could he have known back then that they were brothers? Why would he go after me if he knew Harry was his own flesh and blood? "So he doesn't know either," Nate had chuckled, his green eyes such a gross comparison to Harry's.
I should have seen the signs but it was impossible to put the pieces together out of such a whim. If Nate really is Harry's younger brother, that explains why he's gotten out of trouble before; but why would he blame such things as burglary on Harry?
My head hurts. This is so overwhelming.
Every time we get past one problem, four more topple over us. I can't even imagine how Harry must feel having his whole life a strung-out lie. From the time of his birth, he was lied to and given false information to keep him quiet. That he even has the strength to trust me is beyond my knowledge.
"Were you the reason why Nate was in the file room?" Harry claims, looking down at Estelle. "Arthur told me everything; from him working undercover to spy on Nate to the files and seeing Noelle in there." I gulp at the mention of my name. "Why was Nate in there exactly when Noelle was?"
"I didn't put them against each other if that is what you're claiming," Estelle gawks, offended. Something in her tone is flighty, not very reassuring. She sighs. "He's known for a while now. I couldn't keep it from him."
"But you could hide it from me? The one you claim to be like a son to you?" Harry belittles, hands thrown to each side in exasperation.
"Nate was nosy, always coming to me and I don't know how he suspected it, but I had to tell him. With you, I could keep up your parents' secret. Neither of you were supposed to ever figure out about the other."
"So once again," Harry shakes his head, "I get burnt for being the decent one. The one who believes what people tell him. Why does this always happen to me? What am I supposed to do now with a mobster wanting me dead? You know that I can't do this to Noelle."
His last sentence comes out shorter of breath, more hopeless. I see the wear and tear on his soul, the way he looks so down and doubtful about everything that he could crumble into tiny specks and fly with the wind.
I don't understand what he means when he said that, but I get the feeling that Nate being his brother wasn't the first big reveal he was told about before I came down. The numbness that has taken over my body is the only excuse I have for not springing out of my hidden location and demanded they explain why someone wants Harry dead. I can't even think the thought without feeling a sharp blade twist in my gut.
"It's so unfair that I am the good son and yet I am the one with the target on my back when Nate has done nothing but try to wager off his crimes on me, practically sexually assault Noelle, and then get away with all of it unharmed!" Harry yells, his voice bouncing off the walls.
I swallow back the fear engulfing me as to how he knows about my interactions with Nate when I never spoke to him about them. Arthur. Arthur must have said something about it to Harry in the time that they've become friends. I hope this doesn't send them back to old times. I don't want Harry to slip back into his old habits, and I can see from the worry in his eyes that he is worried about that himself, as well.
"That's why we need to fix this mess," Estelle chirps, attitude opposite of Harry's. "You need to go to California without raising any suspicion and find out who knew about Des and if they know about you or Nate."
"So I'm doing this to help Nate: a person who has done nothing but shit on me?" Harry retorts.
"No, you're doing this for Noelle. To keep her safe. Again."
As if on cue, I cough at the sudden direction their conversation has turned; Harry's eyes shift up toward my perched body on the step, enlarged with shock at first before simpering back to their previous worried look.
Estelle twists to look, too. Standing from her spot, she takes the steps up to my crouched body and leans against the wall.
"I'll let you guys discuss this on your own," is the only thing she says before exiting through the door I came through. My ass hurts from sitting for so long, so I use the rail to help myself up before stepping down slowly to Harry.
"You heard all of that?"
"Yeah.." I nod. "Well, most of it."
"I can't believe this," he sighs, falling against the wall. His mouth opens and closes multiple times, words lost on his tongue and racing through his head instead. I feel the same adrenaline from everything I've heard.
Instead of speaking, I walk up to Harry's side and wrap my arms around his torso. The rapid beating of his heart continues to thrash against his chest for a few minutes, my fingers rubbing over the waistband of his jeans to soothe him into a calmer state.
"I'm sorry this keeps happening," I tell him. We're both drained from today and it's not even noon.
"I'm sorry that no matter what I do, I can't keep you safe." Tracing the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, he stares into my eyes with such adoration and honesty, I have to gulp. Harry's such a beautiful person, soul and all. "I just want to keep you safe. That's all.." he trails off, letting out a soft, stressed sigh.
"You know you make me feel safer than anyone else," I remind. In his arms is the safest I'll ever feel, right now and forever. I wish he'd stop underestimating my sacrificial love for him. "You can't let this bring us apart, Harry. I'm not going anywhere. Even if I am confused as hell, I'm still here for you."
"I didn't know that Des had so much history," Harry's eyes flutter up to glance around the concrete stairwell. My chin rests above his ribs as I continue to sweep his perfectly rigid features in awe of how handsome he looks even when in the worst circumstances.
I think of something to say before speaking. "He has kept a lot from you, but I think he did it in hopes of finishing this whole mess before you found out. He needs you, baby. More than you even know. Like right now, for example. You're the only person who can save him from the mess he's created."
My words wrap around his head and I feel his fingers grip my hip and pull me closer. This has been such a heavy few minutes. It feels like years have passed and aged us within the hour, but in reality our hearts and minds are just trying to catch up to reality.
"You called me baby," Harry quirks a small smile.
I roll my eyes. "Is that the only thing you heard?"
"It's the only thing I want to comment on."
"Okay, I'll allow that for right now." I smile, although it's forced. The weight on my shoulders is all too much to simply give a meaningful smile. We have so much to do and so many problems to face; it's all a huge bit overwhelming.
"Thanks, love," Harry softly speaks, my cheeks turning slightly red. Retracting from my grip a bit, he slides his palm into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. His screen saver flashes with the time: ten 'til noon. "Shit."
"What?" My eyebrows scrunch at his pursed lips.
"We're going to be late for your mum's house."
The reminder comes crashing down on me. "I forgot about that," I rub my palm over my face, groaning internally. After everything, I don't have the strength to talk to her let alone get along with her. "Give me your cell. I'll call her and say we couldn't make it."
"No," Harry pulls his phone away as I reach for it. "We can still go."
"Aren't you exhausted?"
"Yes," he lets out a breathy chuckle. "But I'd rather kill two birds with one stone."
"You're sure?" I cock a brow, pulling away to study his face.
"Yeah. We can still make it if we leave now."
Five minutes later, I'm feeding Harry directions to my mother's house; the home I grew up in. I haven't been there in months, the old memories sure to spark up something in me that I'm too numb to react to. We didn't tell anyone about our leave from the department; with all the information in need of processing, I'm sure they'd understand given the situation.
Ten minutes late and covered in snowflakes, Harry and I make it up the sidewalk and to the front door. My bedroom window can be seen from the front entrance, my teal curtains stripped and packed in a box somewhere in our garage as of now that I no longer live here.
Harry squeezes my hand, a forced smile on his face. My mother could react one of two ways to seeing him; either surprised and pleasant, or displeased and annoyed. It isn't her say who I date, but I know she'll have a problem with Harry seeing as though he worked on my case.
Throwing away the words she'll most likely toss at me, I bring a shaky hand to the wooden door and knock lightly. When the door opens, I don't see what I had suspected.
Sorry for the late update, but I've had a tough two weeks and was sick for a butt-ton long time. Please don't forget to vote and leave your thoughts below!
Goal: 190 votes and 155 comments before next Tuesday for an early update.
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