PARKER | Dark H.S. AU

i. untitled

Copyright © zylgnagnaba 2014

The tiled floor beneath Harry's bare feet is cold, the shivers creep all the way up to his shins. But the frigid sensation is nothing compared to the hollow in his heart. He is lost, confused and there's nothing he can do about it.

It is like this for Harry each day he wakes up for the past three years. With the recurring sick reminder that he lost someone important and special, no person could ever fathom how excruciating it is to be tortured by the memory of how you lost that someone for every fifteen minutes.

The aid of all the tattoos inked on his body, the photos of the people tied up with the crime they committed, the bold name written on the board; are all leading up to the unbearable memory he has to endure during the cycle. Every fifteen minutes, he forgets. Every fifteen minutes, he remembers. From being calm, he can build all the emotions such as longing, rage, fury and vengeance all at once on every cycle.

He may forget all the beautiful things he shared with the person he loves, but he will never forget her shattered frame laying on the floor, motionless and dying. Her angelic and innocent face tainted with sullenness and remorse. He will always be reminded for every fifteen minutes that Charlie was more worried about him than her own self that very moment.

His name being that her last word before he closed his eyes makes the agonizing throbbing in his chest double times over. He remembers the anxiety underlying in her utterance. Charlie loved him.

And he can't forgive himself for losing his consciousness instead of coming for her rescue. It was the plan, but it never came true. Charlie was gone and it was partly his fault. He couldn't forgive himself, but he can't forgive the people behind her being gone permanently.

He had to deal with the heart-wrenching pain for every fifteen minutes, every day of his life on the past three years and he wonders why he is still able to survive.

Yanking him out from these reeling thoughts in his head are the few loud knocks coming from behind the door of his flat. Harry's brows pull together, lips pressed tightly in a very studious way. His bare feet pad towards the door and he decides to peek through the peep hole before he opens the door.

It wasn't a routine but Harry is smart enough to be cautious of his movements. He doesn't know what is coming for him, but he knows he has to be careful.

A brunette man stands behind the door, clad in a red tee. His hands are buried in the pockets of his dark tight jeans. His head turns from left to side, waiting patiently for him to open up the door. Harry presumes that the man is only around his age.

Harry steps back and asks himself who this person might be. From the looks of the dreary and bland apartment, he isn't one for inviting guests in his humble abode. With that in mind, he opens the door just the slightest crack, enough for him to catch a glimpse of the man and for the man to just see a side of his face- the other side overtaken by the deep shadows inside the dim threshold.

Harry's brows arch up once the man heaves a despondent sigh. He straightens up, alerting himself when the man reaches for his back pocket just in case he has weapons with him. But Harry grows puzzled when the man retrieved a small piece of paper that he soon realizes is a photo.

"Harry," The man says and extends his arm to show the photo to Harry -- a photo of the man with his name labeled below and his relation to Harry.

Liam, Harry's cousin.

The tension on Harry's face muscles loosen up at the realization but he remains inquisitive at the person. Even if he racks his brains off of all the memories that includes the person in front of him, he couldn't redeem any.

"Can I come in now?" Liam asks. By the way he sounded exhausted, this happens every time he visits him, Harry noticed. But Harry wonders why he still wastes his efforts, Harry's hopeless.

Harry pulls the door wider and steps aside. He doesn't say anything until his supposed cousin is already inside his flat and finds his own way to the black sofa. The more Liam shows familiarity to his surroundings, the more Harry's trust builds up for him.

"Well...? Are you just going to stand there? Dude, we need to talk." Liam tells him with incredulous eyes. Harry couldn't even deny the fact that his cousin intimidates him. He is a bit certain that Liam had this effect on him even before his brain got jumbled together.

With quick, yet cautious steps, Harry advances towards him and plops down only inches apart next to his cousin. His tongue swipes across his lips as he props his elbows on his thigh, clasping his fingers together in front of him. His eyes fixed on the floor, waiting for Liam to speak.

"Harry, you don't know how many times we had this conversation before..." Liam trails off, sighing and facing the side of Harry's face. "I really want to go back to London but I promised Aunt Anne I wouldn't unless you're coming with me. So can you please come back home... with me?"

Anne. A lump is formed in Harry's throat when he repeats the name in his head. An unexplanable emotion grows on his chest at the familiar name and he hates his self for not remembering who that person is, not even the least her face. He could only assume that by the weighing in his shoulder when the name was mentioned is that she is his mother.

Nonetheless, he is still isn't convinced to go back home, wherever home is to him may be.

"I can't." Harry speaks within a heartbeat, no hesitation and with conviction. "I'm not yet done here." His voice is grave and rough as the words leave his lips.

Liam exhales and scratches the back of his head, frustrated at Harry's resistance. He remembers the first time Harry woke up in the hospital, his head was wrapped up in thick bandages so as his broken ribs. It pained him to see his cousin's frail body lying on the white hospital bed, but it was much more painful when Harry was clueless who Liam is in his life.

It had been years of convincing Harry to go back to England with him; to have his family take care of him; to start a new life there with them, but they were of no use. Harry is still adamant to stay whatever his reasons were.

Liam is still clueless of what makes Harry stay in Spellborough, a small town somewhere in Chicago, when all that he ever needed is back in London -- his family, his friends, and his business.

Harry's memory is a jumbled up mess so Liam always wondered how he was able to fend for his self when he is barely able to retrieve it every fifteen minutes. Liam's concern also includes the massive amount of inks on Harry's body that seemed to grow over the years. He clearly remembers him only having one star tattoo hidden beneath his shoulder, and now looking at his body that's almost covered in black inks blows him away.

"I know you won't remember this conversation after a few minutes but I won't give up, Haz. I'll keep coming back here until you're ready to come home with me." He reassures Harry with the faintest of smile he could grant him. If anything, Liam is already fed up with Harry always turning him down but he isn't just going to give up. He prays that one day, a bolt of lightning will hit Harry's brain and he'd finally decide to come home with him.

"Don't worry. It'll be soon, I promise. Soon as I'm done here, I'll be the one knocking on your door for you to come home with me."

*****

First chapter! :')

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Dedicated to @danielastyles_ fo being the first to comment on the book. Hahah I love youuu xx

-- Glyz <3

PS: SPELLBOROUGH is a fictional place I got from name generator. Aha!