the riddance || harry styles

prologue

this is the prologue for my fanfic 'the riddance'. the story is an au (set in an alternate universe) involving harry styles.

all ideas are my own. please share my story, but do not copy.

© jawbreaking07

as awlays, enjoy x.

• • • • •

The ring was beautiful. It was more than a simple adornment meant to be worn on a finger; it was art.

He turned the ring over between his calloused fingers, examining the way the setting sun poured over the shallow lacerations, causing the ring to illuminate as though it was studded with millions of radiant diamonds. 

On the widest part of the ring was a small cross, its design etched in with the upmost delicasy. Running his thumb across the warm metal, the young man felt the intricate lines twisting and intersecting beneath his skin. His curious eyes absorbed the little deatils of the ring; the gothic style of the cross, the embriodered link of chains that ran along the side.

The ring's shiny color was partially tarnished  from years of hiding away in storage, small specks of black  residing in the crevasses of the ornate design. The thick silver metal showed signs of wear, infusing the ring with character and stories of times long ago. 

The late afternoon sunlight penetrated through the glass windows in the guest bedroom, the heavy yellow rays skimming the outline of his masculine body. His dark shadow waited beneath him, the long mop of curls on his head spiraling out in an untamable medusa-esque fashion. His shadow hid the secrets etched on his skin, though the few that knew him well would know that his tattoos were not just important to him; they were a part of him. The collection of ink on his body told his story, and although the black v-necks he wore usually concealed the art on his torso, most days- like today- his adorned arms were exposed for the world to see.

He turned the ring once more, his olive green eyes devouring the beauty of the small trinket. Without thinking about it, he put the ring on his left pointer finger and smiled as it glided  past his knuckle under light force of his push. The small dint on the inner side of the ring dipped in, pressing against his rough skin. The ring was immaculate.

As he wiggled the silver curio off from where it rested at the base of his finger to take it off, the harsh crack of a slammed door sliced through the silence of the small house. The rigid sound carried to the guest bedroom where he stood upstairs, his senses sparking to life and burning with adrenaline. He knew what was happening before the frail voice of the old woman downstairs warned him.

"My child!" She shreiked, her voice tainted with fear, "They comin'. They nearly here. Outside. They outside!"

His heart shattered into fragments to hear the old woman in such distress. Her breathless cries were like daggers in his chest. The pain in his heart swelled until it filled his stomach and his lungs, and as he ran down the stairs to meet the elderly lady, he felt as though he was going to pass out.

He arrived at the foyer in a matter of seconds and took in her presence; her frail body was draped in front of the heavy wooden door as though she was trying to defend the inside of her house from what was coming. He knew well that her fragile body was defenseless in her old age, especially against the powerful people that were headed here now.

"Bess!" he cried, the words falling from his mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" He stooped down, kissing the old woman on the cheek, his tears staining her powdery white skin. It pained him to know that he had to leave, but he had no choice. Both of their safety depended on him leaving, and while he didn't care what they did to him, he wouldn't let them lay a finger on Bess.

He frantically rushed down the hallway and grabbed his army green bomber jacket from where it hung on the coat rack. He felt the pockets to make sure his wallet and other belongings were still stowed safely inside. "When I come back, I'll protect you, I promise. Stay safe, Bess, I know you will. I'm so sorry. I-"

"I know," she interjected, not having his apologies. She knew the situation was out of his control. He was a more than a good kid, and even in her old age, she loved him like the son she never had. "Now, get out, you has to get out, child!"

He reached out to grab her frail hand and held it in his. He had never been one with words, and as he held her small, dark hand in his, he thanked her silently for everything, and she understood him. Even Bessie- a woman whose strength was admired by everyone who knew her- had tears welling in her deep chocolate eyes.

"They gotta be close, child," she said finally, her plump bottom lip quivering. "You can't stay, you has to run. You listen to me now. You run. You use your strength and smarts, and you goin' to be okay. Don't be scared, child. You the light, don't let them take yo' flame."

He nodded his head, and pressed open the screen door with his back. Despite his vision being clouded with heavy tears and his legs threatning to refuse to move, he forced himself down the stairs onto the brittle grass. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but when Bessie nodded, he knew it was his time to run.

"You gon to be okay, now," Bessie called after him. "Things are getting real dark real fast, okay? But you the light- remember that, Harry."

Harry stole one last look at the litle woman standing in front of the doorframe, and then sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him into the wooded forest in front of him.