He was enticing in every way. The way his body moved swiftly around the ring as I watched him from behind the bar. He was the best. And the best never loses.
When Blake Anderson gets a job as a bartender at the local fight club, Chargers, she meets...
a/n: it's been a hot minute. i'm a liar i know. im sorry. anyway. happy harry's house. and i hope this chapter doesn't hurt you as much as matilda.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dear Diary,
Disappointment in life is bound to happen, you might not always expect it to come in the most fearsome waves but somehow it always tends to find it's way back to you. Life is hard and never gets easier. I found that through so many struggles in my time here and I don't think I regretted a choice I made. I don't regret meeting him, I don't regret letting him follow me to the bookstore, I don't regret our fights, challenges, or the way we loved each other without a single thought at all. He was my house, and our love was my home. I want to go back to that. I want to go back to the simple daydreaming in the daylight that my life used to allow. I wanted him to call me little freak again and take me to a sushi restaurant that played good music. I wanted to stay up late night talking with the haze on the horizon. Drinking grape juice in a cinema or continuing to keep driving even with no satellite. It's not the same as it was, Harry as my boyfriend, but he was the love of my life, and I don't regret that in the slightest.
So I wish to dream, welcoming us home.
***
"Daddy?" My voice came out cracked and hurt just out of pure emotion.
I was shocked, dehydrated, and honestly convinced I was seeing things. There was no way this was happening. My mind and brain must have started to deteriorate. I must have a high fever and my enzymes have started to denature. There is no way in hell that he will-
"Hi, sweetheart."
Speak.
His voice came out just as I had remembered it. Soft, and no lace of any evil inside his tone. His face was solid, but somehow still warm. It was almost as if he was looking at me with disappointment. Like I had failed him by not knowing he was still alive.
His skin was flush and obviously alive, his eyes were the same green that I remembered so vividly as an eight year old child.
I was never allowed to see his death, his funeral was not open casket, the last time I saw him he was alive and well.
"But what- you-. You're dead." I stumble over my words, my eyes looking frantically around the room, focusing in on each person's gaze to try and find answers. Everyone was looking at us with different facial expressions.
"Unfortunately, I'm not." He shrugs, taking a step forward like his death meant nothing. I suppose it didn't to him, because he didn't actually die.
There was no expiration date for him in my heart. Two men that I thought would never ever betray me. Until one did.
"But what-" I started but then cut myself off to stare into the eyes I haven't seen in eleven years. I was eight. Second grade. Now I'm in college and I still remember him so clearly, he has barely aged. His scruff is a little fuller, his eyes have some slight crinkles around the edges, his hair is now a salt and pepper, but he still looks the same.
