Wish from a shooting star (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 7 (The message)

Harry's Pov:

I'm not keen on receiving visitors, especially unexpected ones. We have a ring doorbell installed, but the visitor chooses not to use it. Instead, they are banging on my door with an unnecessary force.

I open the app on my phone, only to discover that I can't access the camera feed. I put my phone down and get up onto my feet, stomping along the corridor as the knocking continues. "All right! I'm coming!" I shout.

I'm still furious as I twist the handle and open the door, preparing to give the unwanted visitor a piece of my mind. But all my anger just melts away as soon as I cast my eyes upon him.

I have never met the man before and yet he seems so familiar to me. Like he is a long-lost relative who'd suddenly and unexpectantly walked back into my life. I struggle to find the words to address the old man, eventually stuttering my greeting, "Can I help you?"

The visitor's smile widens as he speaks in an amicable yet somehow chilling voice. "Hello to you too, young man. It's a pleasure to meet you again."

Again?

He holds out his hand which I take after only a second's hesitation. I expect his palm to be cold but I get surprised by the warmth of it. "I'm a salesman of a rare kind. Not many people know about me, but I have a few books with me that I think you would love to read, or at least, know a little more about them."

"No, I'm oka-"

"Why don't I come inside and tell you more about these books? I have this particular one that I'm sure you'd be interested in. You must've heard of it already."

"If you say so." I shrug my shoulders. "Come in," I say nervously. I move to one side, allowing him to pass and watching as he marches down the wood floored corridor. I try to call out to him and tell him where to go, but it seems like he already knows his way around my home, as he immediately walks into the living room, leaving me to follow him inside. "Take a seat."

And so, I do.

"The book I have here for you is a book you already know, word from word, you just don't realize it," he begins, and I'm already starting to feel uncomfortable around him. "It's about a boy, a little naughty one if you'd ask me," he laughs at his own joke and takes out an old book from his bag.

The book looks magnificent. I've never seen quite a cover like that. Although, there is no title or author's name written on it, and I find it a little strange.

"The boy at the beginning seems to be happy," he starts to describe the story. "He has a few good friends, his parents love him, and he loves them. He loves his life. Well, loved. Unexpectedly, he's forced to switch schools. Why? Because he and his best friend cannot behave themselves. Drinking alcohol at their school at such young age. Which one was it... tequila, am I right? But it wasn't their fault, not entirely. High schoolers forced them to-"

"I'm sorry, what's this books called again?" I interrupt him.

"Oh, I thought you would already know the name by now." He keeps a smile on his face, but it's obvious it's forced. "But anywa-"

"I thought you were a salesman," I stop him from continuing once again, not bothering to apologise this time.

"Indeed, I am. The best one you can find," his voice is full of confidence.

"You said not many people know you. What makes you think you're the best one out there?" I have so many questions, but he doesn't look like someone who is willing to give me an answer. It doesn't bother me as long as I can make him leave.