THE ARCHER ➵ l.s

| 1 | azalea

HI GUYS. IT'S ME. I'M BACK. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THREE MONTHS I'VE SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED THE FIRST CHAPTER TO A NEW STORY. 

I think it was totally worth it, and i hope you guys will think so too. I first want to start off by saying that there's a possibility this will be a darkkkk fic. depending on where i go with this and how you guys feel about those type of themes (bc i love u guys and i want u to be comfortable) it may get real dark. for now, it's just soft-dark, but there's still ominous elements. 

second, updates are going to take a while. i'm sorry that i'll be keeping y'all waiting but there was no way i was going to post two chapters at once without it taking me forever. in the future, i may do that once i've published a couple of chapters but for the time being; you can expect updates to take a month or two. 

that's about it. make sure you show some love once you get to the end, it'll get me motivated. don't forget to leave a vote, comments are ALWAYS always appreciated. 

This chapter contains character deaths and rape/non con elements. 

I've got this anxious feeling,
But it goes away for a minute when I'm with you breathing.

Cry Baby, The Neighborhood (2015)⎯

The rain pours through clouds, dampening the grass and dusting the sky. Harry always thought the gloomy weather was beautiful. Many beg to differ, but he likes it. He likes the smell after, he likes the murky sky, the somber vitality, and the silence. Oh, he loves silence. It can sometimes be overrated, but he could never hate the stillness after the precipitation. The worms escaping from the dirt to enjoy the moistness and the birds chirping after hiding in the trees.

Harry loves the rain.

He doesn't know if it's possible to love it right now, though. He didn't know his aunt very well. He knows she spent a lot of time with him as a child, she was a nurse and at the time, his parents were very concerned about his condition. More specifically, what he even was. He knows who he is, though. He is a boy, he knows it. It's on his birth certificate, it proves so on his face; Even though his appearance does seem a little androgynous.

He knows he is a boy. He's positive.

Harry didn't know his aunt very well. He knows she was an astounding woman, prestigious and won every reward possible. She used to flaunt her money when she was around, buying him anything he wanted, even dresses. Desmond was persistent that Harry was a boy, therefore he shouldn't be wearing clothes or being so flamboyant and feminine. She didn't listen to his complaints, though.

Harry knows that his aunt had money, he remembers she defended him when it came to the confusion surrounding his gender, but he didn't know who she was. That's all Harry can think about during the reception, how he didn't know who his aunt was. She seemed like a big part of his life, yet he didn't understand her. He didn't know her personally, he knew her ambiguously. He knew as much as she offered.

During committal service, Anne holds onto his hand tightly as she cries into her tissue. She's ruining her eyeliner, causing the ink to run down her cheeks in jagged streaks. Harry supposes she should be crying like this; her sister was taken unfairly. She passed from sepsis.

Harry's eyes scan the area. The guests are unfamiliar to him, all wearing black gowns or suits and paying their respects to Christine. He wore his own lapel, courteously bought by his father, but it wasn't comfortable on the boy. His nipples were awfully sensitive, irritated by the fabric of his shirt. He's unable to scratch it, one of his hands clasping his mother's and the other holding a bouquet of flowers.