as it is || harry styles au

bonus epilogue

make sure you've read the epilogue first!

tw // mention of rape

h a r r y

—   8   y e a r s  l a t e r   —

Jamie was silent on the ride home from school for the second day in a row. Once we got home, just like yesterday, he walked right past his mum on the couch, all the way to his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

     Camden, on the other hand, ran right up to his mum and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. Her eyes were on me the whole time, thinking the same thing I was.

     We'd had enough of his silent treatment. Today was the day.

     "Hey, sweet boy." She kissed Camden's cheek right back. "How was school?"

     "Good." He shimmied out of his mum's arms and walked over to the kitchen table to do his homework. His routine was homework, play outside the with neighbors until the sun went down, then come inside for dinner and try not to fall asleep at the table.

     I sat down beside my wife and tucked her under my arm. The second I heard her sniffle, I pulled her up, told Cammy we were going to go fold some laundry and brought her upstairs to talk (another year had passed where he didn't question the laundry excuse, so we stuck with it).

"It's my fault."

The sound of those words from her mouth made my stomach turn.

We'd been through this scenario hypothetically for years. This was the first time it wasn't hypothetical. We were late to the punch, and now Jamie knew who his biological father was—or more so what he was.

     Some punk ass kids of bratty ass parents Ivy and I had gone to high school with asked him at school what it was like to "be the son of a rapist". Jamie had been confused, and rightfully so. He ended up getting in a fight, and after it got broken up, one of the kids said they weren't talking about his dad, they were talking about his biological dad. The one he knew nothing about because Ivy and I had been waiting for the right moment to tell him.

     He was sent home early with no other disciplinary action. Since then, he refused to talk and chose to stay locked up in his room.

     That was two days ago. I wouldn't let him rot away in his room and in his head any longer instead of talking it out with us.

     "How is it your fault, Ives?" I asked. "There's two of us in this partnership, remember? Maybe we waited too long, maybe we didn't. But now it's time he hears it from us and not those dumb ass kids."

     Her eyes fell shut, and I took that moment to bring her into me, touching my lips to her forehead. "He's gonna be okay. We'll make sure of it."

     She squeezed her hands against my sides, and whispered a faint, but strong, "Okay."

     "I'm gonna check on Cammy's homework, then let him play outside with the neighbors. I'll make sure Len can keep a close eye on him for us."

     Len was the dad of one of Cammy's best friends in the neighborhood. We watched his kid when needed, and he did the same for us. Camden was eight—old enough to be street smart. We weren't helicopter parents in the least bit, but we preferred someone always be in earshot of him.