Til Kingdom Come [Harry Styles- Bk 4]

ch.72

"Get a room," Des teased. Everyone began to laugh casually.

Harry leaned up on his elbows and I kissed his forehead. I began to get up off his lap and he held a hand out for me, helping me stand. As soon as his fingers touched mine, he tensed up, as though afraid his temper might randomly rage through him and cause him to hit me again. 

I kissed his hand, pressing my lips to his knuckles, hoping to calm him down. He wasn't going to hit me or Des or anyone again. His anger had boiled over and he was free from its chains.

"Harry, I trust you," I whispered to him. He stood up carefully, watching my eyes all the while.

"I know," he acknowledged softly, rubbing my wrists. They had healed almost entirely.

We turned to face the crowd. Gemma took a step toward Harry. Her arms were folded over her chest as she eyed him down. She only cleared his shoulders, but she had a way of looking down at Harry.

"I'm watching you, Styles," she warned.

Harry nodded in acceptance. "I know."

Gemma punched his shoulder casually. Harry grinned. Gemma turned to me briefly.

"All I want is for you two to be happy, to be safe," she urged, staring at Harry's fists. I kissed Harry's hand.

"If he uses force again, I'll have to call Officer Angie down to punish him," I winked.

Gemma curled her hair around her finger and laughed.

"Teach him a lesson, Angie," she smirked. 

Harry laughed lightly, then his eyes met Des and he grew silent. He walked toward Des. Des stood up straighter, out of habit. I stood there, of to the side, watching them make ammends.

"Nothing I say will ever amount to a strong enough apology, but I still hope you forgive me, son," Harry whispered, watching Des' eyes slowly. He emphasized "son."

Des stood up straight. His bruise had faded to a yellowish-brown color.

"What kind of a son doesn't forgive his father?" Des asked quietly. 

Harry bit his lip, reacalling how many decades it took for him to forgive his father-- better yet, how he never truly forgave him until this moment.

"I love you, Desmond," Harry gasped, tugging Dessy in a bear hug. Des smiled. But Harry wasn't only speaking to Des, he was speaking to his father, too. Des patted Harry's shoulder. My chest ached. I've never seen them speak or hold each other like this, but it was absolutely beautiful.

J.D. let his journal plop down on the couch and he joined Harry and Des' hug.

"Don't forget the other son," J.D. teased. Harry laughed and ruffled J.D.'s neatly matted brown hair. Farah stood close to me. Darcy came over and kissed my cheek. The three of us girls stood together, looking up at Harry and the boys.

Harry turned around as he glanced at us girls.

"Well don't just stand there all pretty, come hug your old man," Harry laughed huskily. Darcy and Farah ran to him, adding to the twins. For a moment, I couldn't even spot Harry in the mix. I just knew that he was the tallest-- barely. Des and J.D. matched his height already. Darcy's head of blonde curls stuck out from the mix and Farah's tiny body kept jumping until Harry scooped her up again. 

Farah ran up to Harry and hugged his waist, gripping him like a human leech. He patted her back and she looked up at him. He scooped her up into his arms and kissed her cheeks even though she was in middle school already and far from her baby days. I squinted and saw that she was wearing one of Dracy's old training bras.