hello i can't stop watching the greatest showman or listening to the soundtrack oh my GOD i can't believe how much i still love zac efron.
i've said this already but hey if y'all like my writing then check out my story "Breakthrough"!!! it's not a fan fiction, i'm aware, but it's one of my favorite things i've written.
also i'm in the mood to write some Luke Hemmings fics bc i love my boy so much and i've been shoved up his ass extra lately ever since they began releasing music wowie
vote & comment! [also vote & comment on "Breakthrough" if you read it, which i hope you do hehehehe]
_______________________________________________________________
Chapter 38
City Girl's POV:
"I wish you could come with me," I found myself saying for the dozenth time today, sighing as I turned my head to see Harry propped up against the headboard, offering me an encouraging smile.
"You can do this, love," he assured, shifting forward to sit next to me, feet touching the hardwood floor of the guestroom in Xavier and Gina's house. "I'll be right here when you get back—we all will. Remember that."
His words were accompanied by his left hand lacing with my right, feeling the metal of his cool rings against my warm skin, enough to send a mild shiver up my arm. The two of us were at my brother's house, the weekend after we made up after that ugly fight that still made my throat tighten when I thought about it. After Harry and I had gotten past that dispute, making up with lots of head spinning kisses and toe curling sex, I had decided that it was time for me to put all my demons to rest and sit down with my father.
Harry and my fight had been settled. Now it was time to confront the ultimate source of it.
So Harry, being the amazing guy he is, joined me in coming to New Jersey for the weekend so I could go to the prison and talk to my father, and my family was more than happy and willing to accomodate us. The guest room I normally stayed in by myself now had Harry in it too, and the knowledge of him being here after everything was said and done put me slightly at ease. Somewhat.
"I'm just—" I paused with a sigh, rolling my lips into my mouth before admitting, "I'm scared. I've spent so long being mad at him. . . I don't know how to be anything else but that."
"You forgive," Harry said softly, his lips tugging into the same encouraging smile that hinted at the dimples in his cheeks, squeezing my hand. "And then you go from there. Baby steps, sweetheart."
I let out another deep breath, nodding as I took in his words before leaning forward and pressing my lips to his. He returned the soft kiss and I took a breath before pulling away, smiling at him as I murmured a thanks before standing up, ready to go.
Going down the stairs, I saw Xavier and my mother in the living room, with Gina being out of the house because she had taken Felicity to a playdate. Upon her gaze landing on me, Mama immediately stood up from the couch and made her way towards me, a prideful smile on her face as she pulled me into a hug. "I'm proud of you, baby," she whispered, squeezing me as the pleasant and familiar scent of my mother enveloped me comfortably.
Xavier gave me a hug too, and you would think I was being sent off to war or something the way my family and Harry were reacting, but I couldn't bring myself to care. To me, it was a big deal; I was finally agreeing to having a conversation with my father after eight years of avoiding him, to face him and clear the air and maybe, hopefully, let go of the anger and heartbreak that had been a heavy cloud over my head for so long.
My grip on my steering wheel was tight as I drove, knuckles whitening with the radio playing music for some kind of distraction. My stomach was twisting uneasily since I woke up earlier this morning, never ceasing the uncomfortable movements and only intensifying as I got closer to the prison.
By the time I got there, it was like static in my mind, all thoughts flying out of my head as I absently and numbly walked inside, going through the process of walking through a metal detector and signing in and receiving my visitor's pass. Unlike being escorted to the single infirmary, I was taken to the room where all the inmates met with their visitors, and just as I entered the room, I saw my father entering through another doorway on the opposite side, separated by glass.
My throat worked nervously as his eyes met mine through the smudged glass, my mind unable to even acknowledge the few other inmates talking to people, and I sat down on the last seat by the wall as Dad did the same, wearing the grey jumpsuit with silver handcuffs tying his wrists together. I hadn't seen that sight since I was fifteen.
There was a smile on Dad's face as he sat down on the seat on the other side of the glass, my own lips pressed together as we both reached for the respective phones hung on the wall. "Hi, sweetheart," Dad greeted, a cautious smile on his face as he held the phone with both binded hands.
Though my throat was dry, I subtly cleared it before answering, "hi." I shifted in the hard plastic chair. "How are you?"
"Good, fine," he responded a bit breathlessly, and I think he may be in the same uncomfortable yet mild state of shock as I was in. "I'm glad you're here." I managed a small smile, left hand mindlessly playing with a thread at the hem of my shirt under the table. "I'm so—I just don't know how to properly express how sorry I am, Vera."
My throat worked at his words. Wow, guess we were diving right into it, then. Which, I think, was good in a sense. Might as well get it out all of the way sooner rather than later. "You all. . ." Dad sighed sadly, looking tired and defeated and guilty. "Your mom and you kids—you deserved better. I—"
"Why did you do it?" I muttered, my voice quiet yet firm as I asked the question, effectively causing Dad to press his thin lips together. "How did you get to the point where you thought selling drugs was a good idea?"
Dad's expression fell, his brows drawing together in almost helplessness and Adam's apple bobbing rapidly in his throat. He looked pained, and the cynical part of me thought good, then you'll know what I felt like for the past eight years. But I kept my lips pressed together, silently waiting for him to answer as I drowned out the conversations everyone else in the room was having.
"Work wasn't doing going well," he finally said, his tone quiet and ashamed though he kept his gaze even with mine. "We were losing more money than we were making and I got desperate. Found myself a dealer and we worked out an agreement to do it together."
I inhaled sharply at his words, even though I knew the reason why he did this in the first place. Mama had told us after getting it out of him, telling Xavier and I how Dad's pharmaceutical company wasn't doing well at all and instead of selling FDA approved drugs, Dad had turned to the more dangerous, addictive kind that landed him in prison for life without parole. But actually hearing it from him first hand sent my heart thudding almost painfully in my chest, grip on the phone tightening exponentially.
Swallowing inaudibly, I found myself asking, "what happened to the other guy? The one you made an agreement with?"
Dad's lips pressed together, gaze flickering away from mine for a moment as he hesitated in answering me. But when his eyes met mine once again, he confessed, "he's dead." The phone almost slipped from my hand. "Couple of years ago. He got killed in a yard brawl."
The breath expelled from my lungs sharply, eyes widening despite my want to appear neutral as I stared at the man on the other side of the glass. I didn't know that, and although I'm unsure if Mama or Xavier knew and didn't tell me, it didn't matter in the moment. There was a serious expression on Dad's face, but the look in his eyes; tired, regretful, and just sad spoke volumes and was enough for my eyebrows to draw together as I felt the familiar burn in my eyes.
God, I was not about to cry in a prison. In that moment, I knew exactly why I felt the tears coming—because the man Dad had been working with was dead. He was killed right in this prison. And I had spent the past eight years practically ignoring my father's existence when, God forbid, it could've been him who got killed. Hell, he was just in the infirmary because someone had fucking stabbed him. Dad was lucky to be alive and right now, I was coming to the realization that if he was the one who had gotten killed, or if the stabbing was fatal, then I would've permanently lost my father without speaking to him for years, or without him knowing that I forgave him.
I clamped my mouth together, hoping to get rid of the dryness in my throat as I met his gaze. We were silent for a few moments as my mind raced and I willed the tears in my eyes to stay in. Finally, I took in a shaky breath, swallowing once before saying in almost a whisper, "I'm glad you're okay."
Dad blinked, looking taken aback and genuinely surprised at my words, and when at first I wouldn't have cared how he felt, all I could feel now was guilt. Guilt because this was the first time in eight years where I was sincerely showing him that I cared. "Vera—"
"And I forgive you," I interrupted, locking my gaze with his as those words left my mouth so he knew that I meant them. Truly, utterly meant them. And as soon as I did, I could feel a weight lifting off my shoulders and chest, and it was like I could breathe again after being unaware that I had been suffocating for so long. I didn't even notice a tear had slipped my eye until I felt the salty taste on my lips. "I'm sorry that I didn't come see you. I'm sorry that I spent so long being angry at you. But I do forgive you, Dad." My lips tugged into a smile, noticing the look of utter disbelief, relief, and hope that was taking over my father's features. "I forgive you."
Dad's lips parted as I noticed the way his grip tightened on the phone, eyebrows drawing upwards slightly as my words registered in his mind, and I waited until he let out a breath accompanied by a soft, "oh!" He then began smiling, mirroring the expression I wore and I could feel my heart beginning to pick up its pace in excitement and relief, watching as Dad leaned forward. "You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," he responded, and I was surprised at how easily I felt a happy tug at his use of the term of endearment. "I'm just—" he paused, his smile widening, features relaxing into relief. "I'm so happy you're here."
I didn't expect for it to feel so good to finally see my father and smile at him for the first time in eight years and say, "I'm happy I'm here, too."
*****
When I got back to my brother's house after visiting my dad, I entered the house with a box of doughnuts from Dunkin' Donuts, a wide smile on my face as I locked the door behind me and caught the attention of everyone in the living room. "Hi, guys," I chirped, dropping my bag on the floor next to the sofa as I set the box on the coffee table, before moving join Harry on the arm chair. It was a seat only for one, but I sat on his lap, feeling his arm instinctively wrap around me as I did so.
"Doughnuts!" Felicity exclaimed happily, rushing forward as Gina opened the box for her daughter, giving her the strawberry sprinkled one on a napkin.
My family were all giving me pointed looks as I wrapped my left arm around Harry's shoulder, catching sight of the questioning look he was offering me as well. "Honey," Mama spoke up, prompting me to look at where she sat across the room. She was leaning forward, an eager and anxious expression on her face. "How did—how'd it go? Visiting your dad?"
A small smile tugged at my lips at the mention of my father, which I wouldn't have ever believed to happen if this was eight years ago. My brother easily noted my expression, eyebrows raising in suspicion as I admitted, "really good. I—we made up. We're good now."
The looks of surprise mixed with disbelief and relief on their faces was almost comical as I felt Harry's arm squeeze me. Mama's hand was against her chest as she checked, "really? You're—you're fine? You've forgiven him? You're okay?"
She looked so utterly relieved, to the point where I feared that she might burst into tears, and I let out a soft breath before getting up from Harry's lap and crossing the room. Sitting on the other side of my mother, I watched as she faced me, dark eyes widened slightly as I took her hands in mine and squeezed. Laughing softly, I assured, "yeah, Mama. We're okay." To lighten the mood, I tried to joke, "now you won't have to force me to go see him. I'll go on my own when I can."
Sure, it would be something to get used to. After eight years of refusing to see him, I was going to try and make an effort to visit my dad, to make up for the time where I had been pissed off. It may be awkward or weird at first, but I was determined to make it work. After acknowledging the reality of the possibility that I could lose him in prison, I knew that I didn't want things to be as strained as they were. I wanted to make them better, to finally be rid of the anger I've held on to for so long and rebuild my relationship with my father. It wouldn't be the same, I knew, but at least there would be one.
Mama let out a breath, "oh, thank God, honey," she praised before pulling me in for a hug, which I returned with a light laugh as I looked at my brother over my mom's shoulders. Xavier was smiling at me as well, leaning forward ever so slightly to press a kiss to the top of my head before Mama and I pulled away. She smiled at me, her hand cupping my cheek and I could see that her eyes were glassy. Clearly, this was an emotional day for all of us. "I'm proud of you, baby."
I chuckled softly, returning her smile. "If you guys hadn't pushed me, then I never would've gone to see him," I truthfully said, smiling at my mother, brother, and sister-in-law gratefully. I then turned my head to the right, eyes locking with a pair of brilliant green ones, who were watching me in silent awe as I reaffirmed, "all of you."
Hours later, when dinner was served and eaten and the dishes were put away and everyone had retreated into their own rooms for the night, I was in the room after having just changed into my pajamas. Walking out of the bathroom as I rubbed the lotion on my hands, I saw that Harry was on the bed, leaning back against the headboard as he busied himself on his phone, though he put it away with a smile when his eyes flickered up to meet mine.
I returned the smile, walking towards his side before sitting down right on his lap, legs folded on either side of the Brit as Harry's hands lightly came up to my hips. "I'm so proud of you, love," he spoke, his deep voice soft and genuine as he looked at me with the prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen. "Makin' up with your dad. . . It's wonderful."
My fingers curled around the silver necklace he wore, using it to pull him forward as I pressed my lips against his. Harry returned the kiss instantly as I murmured, "thanks," before pulling away slightly, brushing my nose against his as I looked up at him through my lashes, "but I really don't wanna talk about my dad right now."
As expected, Harry picked up the hint easily as the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk, fingers digging into my hips as my heart picked up excitedly. Even though I was straddling his lap, where I could feel the obvious tent in his sweatpants underneath me, Harry was still a few inches taller than me. He looked down at me, green eyes darkened while lips brushed against mine as he rasped, "yeah? What do you wanna do, then?"
I couldn't help my eyebrows raising cheekily, tone matching as I smirked, "you."
A low groan escaped Harry's throat as he instantly leaned forward to capture my lips in his, and I knew I didn't have to tell him twice.