Legacy // H.S

38.

'No reason to get excited

The thief, he kindly spoke'

*

'I missed you!'

Zayn and Babz have returned from their hiatus from the team since his father's death, both deciding they're ready to not only continue with the heist, but to also prove themselves in the face of pain. He looks aged, the weight of grief sitting heavy on his shoulders, but he still manages to stand tall.

I know what grief feels like. I identify with it in ways I wish I didn't. I recognise sleepless nights, anxious nail biting, constant foot tapping. All of it is familiar to me. An old friend, perhaps, because these are symptoms that have somewhat calmed in the months since my own father's death. They haven't entirely disappeared, and in truth, part of me wishes it never will, because at least it serves as a reminder of the man I lost. But with time, and I suppose with distractions, it became manageable.

That's not the case for everyone, though. Grief, I've come to learn, is a bag that you wear on your back that often looks the same as everyone else's, but inside is an entirely different selection of objects and memories that tie you to a person that is no longer alive. We carry all of it with us, leaving pieces of it behind each time we step out the door, until one day, it doesn't feel so heavy anymore. It's still there, still sat over your shoulders in case you need somewhere to put something, but eventually, it isn't a burden. It's simply a part of you.

He hasn't mentioned his father, but I see the way he holds him close. The rings they all wear, something that started as a simple gift from Zayn's dad, all seem so much brighter these days. I find myself staring at Harry's when the sun catches its reflection, as if he exists all around us, too. Zayn is playing with it in moments of silence today, something he probably assumed no one notices, but those of us that understand the feeling of losing a parent do.

All of us have moments like this. I make sure I wear pieces of jewellery my father made every day, rarely taking it off. Babz has her tattoos that were created in memory of both of her parents. With Harry, I suppose it's different, because he doesn't keep memories of his father to never forget him. He holds onto things to spite him. This entire heist is a constant reminder of the man he hated, but by going ahead with it and succeeding, he's proving that he can do everything his father couldn't.

Zayn steps towards me, wrapping his arms around my body in a hug. I smell his scent – a musky aftershave he's always worn, but somewhat muted compared to usual. Almost like it's lingering on his shirt from some time ago, and not fresh with intent. 'My girl, I missed you more!' A quick kiss placed on the top of my head, laughing as I squeeze him tight.

Babz taps my shoulder, pulling me away from her husband for a reunion of our own, the both of us swaying as we embrace each other. 'And you! God, I was losing my mind without you!' I tell her.

She smiles, kissing my check and lifting me in the air. 'We'll run away in the sunset, just you wait,' she says, her hand holding my shoulders. 'I hear you've been busy. Proud of you. Always knew you could do it.'

I laugh at her statement. 'When we first met you actually hated the idea of letting me in the team,' I remind her.

She rolls her eyes. 'I was testing you. Keeping you on your toes. That's all.'

'I suspect you'll take credit for all my work, then. On account of the test, that is?' I question.

She laughs with me, lightly tapping my arm as she holds me closer for another embrace. Perhaps it is Babz that I am most grateful to have met over this year. Someone that has become not just a friend, but a sister. There are never any doubts about her love and support for me, and for that, I will always be grateful. A family is what I was looking for when I accepted Harry's proposition last year, and he's given me one without even second guessing it. He's done that for all of us, I think, but he hardly knows the impact of his actions.