Let Your Good Heart Lead You Home (Zarry AU)

Part 22

Any sane person would see that this can only go wrong, but then again, Harry isn't particularly sane. Nobody is, he believes. We all have some insanity in us. Anyone in denial would call it love. That love could be for another person, or maybe a hobby. Either way, if things get out of hand, you're doomed. There's nothing left to live for and you become unstoppable in your destructive tendencies, because what matters anymore?

Insane, is what it is.

Harry likes to believe he lacks this particular weakness, but that makes him think it must be a weakness of its own; believing you don't have one. It scares him that he doesn't know his own biggest weakness, just like he doesn't know his innermost desires. Why are humans so incapable of knowing themselves? He wishes he had the answers so he could do everything right and not waste a single moment of his incredibly short life, but as fate would have it, he's left grasping in the darkness.

At least there's one answer waiting for him. Just a few more minutes in the subway and a short walk until he's at the crime scene. He has his usual equipment with him, minus the spare clothes. There are still many things that can happen that he isn't prepared for, but he just has to think quick and act fast.

The subway slides to a stop and once Harry's through the doors he makes sure to go through all the facts in his head. The murder took place a few days ago so there shouldn't be too much police presence in the area. If there was, Harry would either have to go home and try another day or risk it. He doesn't like taking risks, so that really isn't such a hard choice. Also, it's situated in a quieter neighbourhood, which means he really has to watch his steps.

It's only August, but the nights are already growing colder and Harry has to zip up his hoodie in order to stay warm. The amount of pedestrians decreases as he gets closer to his destination, until he's the only one left, walking under the trees and trying to stay out of sight as much as he can.

It's obvious which house it is, with the yellow tape covering the door. There are no police cars around, and it's too quiet for there to be an investigation going on. He puts on his gloves as he makes his way to the front door, inspecting it closely. The window seems to be smashed in just enough to fit your arm through, so Harry does, carefully trying to avoid the jagged edges of the glass. The door opens with an audible click, and he retracts his arm as fast as possible and slips inside.

Harry gets out his flashlight, taking notes in his mind for possible escape routes as he looks around. He mainly keeps his focus on the floor so he doesn't disturb any of the evidence and reveal that he was here, stepping over the yellow crime scene markers that have been placed near a few drops of blood. Never has he been in this position; seeing what's left and what happens after he's done with one of his targets. This is what someone else left behind, someone who might even still be near.

He has considered the possibility that this might be a trap, that he's walking into danger, but it just doesn't feel that way. It feels like he's supposed to be here, and he's not discouraged when the living room and kitchen appear to be void of clues or messages. He's oddly calm; his breathing and heart rate steady, and his eyes sweeping over every inch of the floor, occasionally looking up to inspect the rest of the room. He's inspected the living room and kitchen twice now. There's one place left to go.

Upstairs.

It's like a strange parallel to what has happened in the past. This time it's not the shouting and shattering of glass leading him downstairs, but the silence and promise of answers luring him upstairs. He's not scared or shaking. He's not a little boy anymore. The suspense is weighing heavy on him as he climbs up the stairs, and it's almost as if the air is waiting with him, his breath deepening with every step.

There are only three doors; one belongs to a cupboard, one to what Harry assumes is a bathroom, and then the bedroom. His choice is obvious enough. He closes his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for a possible disappointment. It's happened before that his hunch was just that - a hunch and nothing more, leading him to dead ends. He doesn't want it to be a dead end.

''Please,'' Harry whispers to himself, opening the door wide and freezing in his tracks. On the wall facing the door is the image of a lotus flower, an intricate design consisting of many strokes - long and shorter ones - that form a beautiful image, stunning in its simplicity. There's a certain ambience in this room, like Harry's standing in the remnants of an old ruin. Something tangible in the air that makes you fall silent.

Harry walks along the side of the bed placed against the wall so he can take a closer look. The sheets have been removed, probably by the investigators. The Artist probably stood on the bed so they could reach the wall. When Harry points his flashlight at the bedframe he sees tiny splatters of blood. It doesn't look like it's from a struggle; possibly from after, when they painted on the wall.

He has an indescribable urge to reach out and touch the wall, right where they touched it. This other person who may be like Harry. Strangely enough, it doesn't really bother him that they could be his enemy, out there to get rid of the competition. Because now that he's standing in this room, he feels good about it. He's not looking at the work of someone dangerous, but of someone who knows what Harry knows.

This world is corrupted. Someone needs to make a difference. What if they could do it together?

Harry sweeps his flashlight over the flower, looking for any kind of clue. He feels his stomach sinking when there's nothing and he's about to cry out in frustration when he turns around and sees it. A message. He didn't see it at first because his back was turned to it - it's how he entered the room.

In order to read it fully he needs to close the door. He tries to point his light at the words but his hands are trembling and his heart seems to have expanded to every part of his body, pounding away. The first part of the message is an address, something he vaguely recognises. If he remembers correctly, it belongs to a diner he's been to a few times. The second part is a time and date.

It's tomorrow. At 12 pm.

''Oh-'' Harry stumbles backwards and sits on the bed, staring at the message on the wall. They want to meet him. What is he going to do? The police know about this, it's risky. If he goes and gets caught, his life will change forever. He'll lose everything. Everyone. But also if he doesn't get caught, his life might change forever. There's a person who will know the real him and support him in that, maybe even do it with him. Why else would they go through all this trouble? And they might need him. They knew Harry would come here. This is something big he can't ignore, an opportunity he can't just pass up. He has to check it out.

Before he leaves he takes one last look at the lotus, and much like a flower does, hope blooms in his heart.

It's happening!!! You guys have been so patient bless you. Next chapter will be up on Sunday!

Hope you have a lovely weekend xxx <3