Abducted By Styles [IN RE-EDITING]

Epilogue

Light spring breeze, the scent of rain and fresh flowers in the air. Nothing could ever compare to the feel of today, the loud clatter of laughter being heard from inside the household. Everyone is filled with pure happiness today.

Well, everyone but Marcel.

He clutches an old, nearly scrunched up newspaper article in his young hands. He's been reading the same article for weeks and weeks, not at all getting bored of the words on the paper. Looking down at it, he lets out a shaky sigh.

Disappearance of Harry Styles and Princess Caroline Weston of Courgeous- Case Closed.

Thirteen years ago, Princess Caroline of Courageous went missing. She was last seen by royalty in the previous two years, and sighted by commoners at small-end motels and gas stations with a nearly 6" foot man.

The man is said to be Harry Styles, who allegedly abducted the Princess the day before her wedding in the May of 2015. Suspicions in the media say that the Courageous Princess and Styles were having a secret affair as star crossed lovers. An intimate friend of theirs, Niall Horan, went missing two years later as well with no trace of being dead or alive.

Thirteen years later, and the king and queen of Courageous are not willing to speak of their daughter's disappearance with Styles. They specifically wished for the search to be discontinued, as they think Princess Caroline will not return, dead or alive.

"We have searched every region in the UK, and no one reported to spotting the two lovers after that," An official tells Channel 7 news, "We know as a fact that they can't be in North America because we would have been notified from the airport. We are sincerely sorry to conclude that Harry Edward Styles and Princess Caroline Ann Weston are most likely dead, and we have no evidence to continue the search."

Marcel quickly looks away from the piece of paper and closes his eyes. He didn't even bother to look down at the photographs of his parents, it was too much for him. Why would they leave him all alone like that? Is there even the slightest chance that they might still be alive? If they are alive, do they ever think about him? Numerous questions infiltrate his mind, but he knows whether they're dead or alive, he still loves them.

Marcel walks all the way to his mother and father's shrine, which is placed right beside his Uncle Marcel's grave. He sits down on the soft grass. Leaning up against his parents' stone, he smiles up at the sky. "You know mum, once when I was six, I had a dream. There was an angel and she said you told her to tell me that whenever I missed you, I should talk to the moon. To this day, I still do...I hope you hear me, mum."

"Oh and dad, Aunt Lucy gave me something she found in your room. The dark green bandana." Marcel chuckles softly as if he remembers the old thing. From his pocket, he pulls out the soft fabric and twirls it between his fingers. Just the thought that this very bandana was once wrapped around his father's head makes him smile to himself. After all, everyone would gush about how much Marcel resembled his father- the proof in the deep chestnut curls and infamous dimples.

Marcel's blue eyes, well, those were something special to him. The evidence of his mother, Caroline Ann Weston, giving him the life which he embraces to the maximum.

Opening up his notebook, he begins to scribble down a few ideas for his story. Lightly colliding the back of his head with the stone, he groans. None of these ideas were as great as he imagined them to be. At thirteen, he was an extraordinary poet and took a great liking in writing novels.

Marcel hears an outburst of giggles from behind him. "Hey, Marc, Marc, guess what dad is doing right now, come on you've gotta see this!" The voice is far too familiar to him. Light blue eyes, hedgehog-like sleek brown hair, pearly white teeth showing as she grins, it's Gracie Tomlinson. Her rosy cheeks are flushed as she catches her breath from running all the way from the house to here.

To be quite honest, Marcel always thought that she was pretty and had a lovable personality, even if she was a year older than him.

"What did Uncle Lou do this time?" He laughs, remembering how a few weeks ago, Uncle Louis tried to amuse Uncle Liam and Aunt Lucille's baby, Felicity. He blew bubbles in some milk, which made the baby giggle, but at one point he blew too hard and the milk splattered everywhere. Aunt Eleanor was mad at him for days.

Once Gracie catches her breath, she starts laughs loudly. For some odd reason, when Gracie laughed, Marcel found himself having the odd tendency to grin really wide. He blushes at the thought of having a crush on her. "Dad stuck baby carrots up his nose and made a face and George tried to do it too! It was hilarious!" George was Gracie's six year old brother who constantly felt the need to crack jokes just like his father.

"Must have been funny." Marcel laughs along with the girl in hysteria. She wipes stray tears of laughter, plopping down next to him.

"Whatcha doin?" She asks, knitting her eyebrows together and chewing her bottom lip as she reads the words in his notebook in concentration. Marcel's heart begins to flutter, realizing that there is little distance between both their hands.

"Uh, it's for my story." He tells her and she tilts her head in, looking at him carefully for elaboration. Marcel's breathing becomes irregular, noticing that their faces are only inches apart. Gracie leans back again oblivious and Marcel sighs silently. More than embarrassment, he feels relieved that she wasn't going to kiss him. He didn't know how to anyway. Maybe next time.

"What's your story about?" Gracie asks unexpectedly, still looking down at the writing scribbled down in the notebook. Without her seeing, Marcel slips the article about his parents between the pages at the end.

"I don't really know exactly, this are just fragments of the story that I need to put together." He mumbles shyly, blushing. Gracie looks at him, a thin smile adorning her impeccable features.

"What's the title?" She pushes further, dying to know even the littlest thing about Marcel's story's. And of course, Marcel didn't want to disappoint.

"The title is, uh...it's..." He trails off nervously, his heart pounding recklessly as he lays his head on the warm stone of his parents' shrine, praying for an incredible idea to dawn on him. Suddenly, he lifts his head and his soul is filled with so much confidence and security, he knows exactly where this story will lead him. He smiles, looking Gracie right in the eye.

"Abducted by Styles."