True Colours

Every ending has a new beginning

Possible trigger: death of a family member, vague description of a dead body

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Harry has finished his last yoga class for the day and says goodbye to the participants with a smile. Still smiling, he goes to the windows of the room and lets his gaze wander over London, opening one wide open and closing his eyes as the wind flows into the room and through his hair.

Tonight he wants to drive to the sea with Louis for two days. Something that especially Louis deserves after being stressed about exams for the last few weeks. It was a little gift from Harry for him, especially since he has finally hired another yoga teacher and so he can take some days off too.

Everything is so good. Their first apartment together is beautiful and they have made a real love nest there. Harry is completely happy.

And so he thinks that it's Louis calling him and without looking any further, he presses the phone against his ear.

“Hi my love,” Harry chirps.

“No. It’s Gemma.”

To make sure he hasn't misheard, he briefly holds the phone away from his face, reads the name on the display and then holds it to his ear again.

"Um, hi. I wasn't expecting a call from you," Harry says, frowning and looking out the window without really seeing anything.

He already has a dark premonition without being able to name it and the next words confirm his gut feeling.

“Father died last night.”

No matter how hard he tries, Harry can’t process the words, his brain simply refuses to do so, only his hand tightens harder on his phone and his mouth falls open.

“Are you still there Harry?” his sister’s voice sounds far too composed for this serious news. How is that possible anyway?

"What… how?"

“Dad had lung cancer. One nurse found him dead in bed during her rounds this morning.”

“But… he must have been sick for a long time? How… how do you die of cancer so quickly? I don't understand?" Harry blurts out.

Gemma sighs. "Of course he's been sick for a while, Harry."

Her tone hits him so hard. As if Harry is a little boy who doesn't understand the simplest things and he doesn't know what bothers him the most out of all of this. Everything feels so unreal.

“He... he was sick for a long time? And you didn’t tell me anything?”

“Would you have cared?”

“He was my father Gemma! Of course I would have been interested if he was terminally ill! I… I’m his child too, no matter what.”

“Father didn’t want us to tell you anything. It was his wish. You can’t blame us for following it!”

Here the first tears finally begin to run down his cheeks, which had already been burning in his eyelids. It hurts so much and he feels so betrayed. Yes, the relationship with his father was difficult and Harry no longer wanted any contact. And yet... along with his father, the childish hope died that there might be a reconciliation after all. Harry never realised how much hope he had until it was ripped away from him and it was definitely gone. His father is no longer alive.

“I see you have nothing else to say. If you want to see him one last time you can come to the hospital. He’ll be there until the undertaker picks him up tomorrow morning.”