Bed of Roses | H.S.

Prologue II

Rosetta Akahana Malik, 7 years old.
Harry Edward Styles, 16 years old.

The sun has already set. A flock of birds flew in the sky, the chirps of their lullabies hung like tranquility in the air but the atmosphere spelled it otherwise. While the sky is blue and bright, everyone wore the weather black. A color for mourning loss.

"Mommy?" 7 year old Rosetta whispered to her mother, her arms tightly clasped around Grizzly—the brown-colored teddy bear she received from her foster father. She stayed seated where her mother has told her to when they arrived, fiddling with Grizzly's fur while she counted the birds flying from afar.

Her blue and innocent eyes stared up at her mother who seemed to gloomfully exchange pleasantries with an old woman with graying black hair, tears leaking at the corner of both their eyes. The black-haired woman stopped speaking and turned to her child, she smiled tightly with soft eyes of admiration for her daughter.

"Yes Rose?" Her mother's voice was hoarse, like she haven't spoken in days.  She crouched down and fixed the bobby pins on her hair.

"Everyone's wearing black today, Mommy! Where's daddy? We both love dark colors!" Rosetta giggled, innocence twinkling in her eyes. "Oh Mommy, have you brushed your hair yet?"

She noticed how messy her mother's hair is so she reached out to brush the stray and crumpled strands away from her mother's face. Then, her gaze scanning the room, she searched for her father, the absence of his familiar form casting a shadow over her innocent joy. She knew he loved the color black too. "Where's Daddy?"

Lips trembling, heart heavy with the weight of an unspoken truth, her mother's gaze met Rosetta's, the unspoken agony mirrored in their shared embrace. She reached her hands out and held Rosetta's face. She looked so confused, like something's very wrong is happening, like something's missing. Her mother's heart ached and she tried so hard not to let her tears fall.

"Daddy's not here baby, he- he's in a better place now. Better than here." she whispered, her voice a fragile echo in the midst of a silent ache that threatened to consume them both.

"W-What? But... Where is that? I wanna go there too." The little girl stammered. Her lips formed a pout, the rosy hue of her cheeks intensifying as a surge of confusion and longing enveloped her.

"You're n-"

"Ayato?" A deep voice pierced the stillness, pulling her mother's attention away, tears hovering on the brink of her lashes. She stood gingerly and dusted off the imaginary dirt from her jeans. A silent armor against the vulnerability threatening to engulf her. Rosetta's eyes followed the direction of the man's voice and they captured a guy who stood almost 6 feet.

Daddy?

"You're in no state to tell your daughter what happened." He declared, his voice a low, resonant baritone that echoed with an unspoken understanding, a guardian's instinct shielding them both from the raw edges of the truth.

"B-But I..."

"Come on Aya, don't let your little girl see you cry, don't want to break her heart in such an early age, do we?" The man's gentle smile held a touch of sorrow towards Ayato, a shared understanding of the fragility of the moment, a hand running through a messy heap of his curly hair. His gaze shifted to Rosetta, her bluish brown eyes a mirror of both innocence and a depth that seemed to fathom more than her tender years should allow. His towering frame, reminiscent of her foster father yet distinctly his own, spoke of a silent kinship that stretched beyond mere resemblance.

The man stood tall, his towering presence casting a protective shadow over the space. Rosetta, with her small frame, gazed up at him, her eyes searching the contours of his face for traces of familiarity. He looked too young to be her father yet the echoes of resemblance were undeniable. He was as tall and fit as him. And his chestnut curls cascaded gently over his shoulders, a testament to a shared lineage that transcended the nuances of appearance. While her daddy's curls were shorter and lighter - almost blond, the resemblance remained, a silent thread that connected them across the expanse of time and absence. The girl shyly pouted her lips at him and took some steps forward to meet him.

"Rose, this is your Uncle. Uncle Harry." Her mother's voice croaked, a tender hand rested fleetingly on Harry's shoulder, a brief connection before she turned to face Rosetta, her lips forming a fragile smile that barely masked the ache within. A single tear slipped down her cheek, the unbidden evidence of a sorrow too deep to conceal. With a determined sniff, she pivoted away, her voice a strained whisper that found solace in Harry's presence, "H-Harry, I'm just going to talk to mother, please take care of my baby."

Harry whispered back a yes. When she was already gone. Crouching down to Rosetta's level, he found himself ensnared in the depth of her gaze, the innocence of her doe-like eyes an unspoken echo of the turmoil that resonated within him. The trembling warmth of her small hand, nestled within his own, offered a silent reassurance that transcended the confines of language, a fragile lifeline amidst the turbulent sea of emotions.

"Daddy? Is that you?"
A poignant silence enveloped the room, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. "No, flower. I'm afraid daddy's not here anymore," he gently intoned, his voice a soothing balm amidst the silent cries that enveloped the hushed corridors of the funeral home.

"B-But... You're my daddy. You look like daddy! If he's not here, where is he?"

Dressed in a somber black dress that accentuated her vulnerability, she peered up at the towering figure before her, his features a confusing reflection of the beloved father she had lost. Confusion etched its way across her delicate features as her eyes locked with his piercing green orbs, a stark contrast to the familiar blue eyes that had been etched into her memory.

"I'm his little brother that's why I look like him." He whispered, his voice a fragile tether in the midst of her swirling emotions. A tender ache gripped his heart as he gathered the words to convey the unspoken truth. "Daddy's in heaven now, you know that place, right? God decided to take him up there because his mission here is already done, because he's a good person." His voice, laden with a gentle solemnity, wove a delicate tapestry of reassurance in the wake of her father's absence. "You can't go there yet because you still have a lot of missions to complete here," he continued, his gaze a steady anchor amidst the tumult of her thoughts. "Look, right now he's watching you from heaven," he carefully imparted.

She wanted to cry but she summoned the strength that her father had always seen within her, a resilience that now echoed in the quiet resolve etched across her delicate features. She knew her foster father will always be watching her and she remembered him calling her strong girl, and not all little girls cry. So she had to be strong for him. With a determined sniff, she brushed away the tears that had dared to slip down her delicate cheeks. Her gaze, remained locked onto the emerald eyes that observed her and she whispered.

"Oh... Can I call you daddy then?"

"W-Well, I guess you can Rosetta. But just for now, okay? I'm too young to be called like that." A sad chuckle bubbled up Harry's throat. His reply lingered in the air, a fragile connection between them, offering a brief haven in the midst of sorrow. "You can also call me Uncle Harry, alright? Or just Harry, I'll be your bestest friend." His gaze, softened by an unspoken kinship, lingered on her, a silent promise woven into the fabric of their shared grief.

Rosetta nodded. A gentle warmth bloomed within Rosetta, a fragile bud of comfort that unfurled in the wake of Harry's reassuring words. "Uncle Harry... or just Harry," she repeated, the syllables a tentative embrace of the bond that threaded its way between them. The room, enveloped in a quiet melancholy, seemed to exhale with the unspoken understanding that bound them, a tentative bond forged amidst the ashes of loss and the quiet promise of a tomorrow yet to unfold.

The promise of a best friend, a companion in the vast expanse of her loneliness, kindled a spark of solace within her, a flicker of light in the encroaching darkness of her grief-stricken world.