Oh Darling | Harry Hook x OC |

XXXIII. Reunion

~ Harry's Point of View ~

It was a long way from the palace to my old home in the Isle of the Lost.

I borrowed a boat from the docks and left an apology note for the owner and promised to return it the next day.

The trip took a while but I finally got to the Isle before the sun came up. It was still dark by the time I was securing the boat onto the docks, much to my liking.

I pulled down my hat a bit in order to hide my face as I made my way through the ghost town of what I used to call home. I walked down a cold alleyway and turned a few corners until I reached a dead-end that had a small tombstone at the end of it. I headed towards it and knelt down, examining the old thing.

The tombstone had every detail of a real one would have, a name, a date of birth and death and a skull facing right. My father made this himself- the only thing wrong with it is the direction which the skull is facing.

I turned it to face forward and heard a few clicks before the mechanism underneath it unlocked and shifted into a stairway that led to an underground passage. It was dusty and filled with cobwebs, indicating how long it's been since someone has been here.

I went down the passage, pressing my fingers along the walls until I felt a crooked, uneven part and pushed it.

That led to the oil along the sides of the passage to be lit up in flames, guiding me even further down the underground.

"So dramatic." I scoffed, pulling out a cigarette from my pocket and dipped the tip onto the flame.

Smoking was never a vice of mine, but I felt like I would be needing one tonight.

It's been 8 years since my father passed away from old age. He died peacefully, or so my sister told me. I always imagined him lying on his deathbed and asking my sister where I was.. because I wasn't there the day he died.

"Fuck.." I stopped and leaned against the wall when I felt a wave of pain wash over my head. It felt like my brain was beating and I could taste metal. "Goddamn it, not now."

"Harold?"

My blood went cold at the mention of my name at the last turn of the hall, where my father's gravesite sits waiting.

It was the voice of a woman, a very familiar woman. I never thought I'd hear that voice again.

I took in a deep breath and rounded up the corner, only to see my mother in the flesh.

"H-Harold.."

She was in a white gown which made her look immaculate under the moonlight that flooded in through the holes on the ceiling as she stood next to my father's grave. Her long, curly brown hair that resembled my sister's cascaded down her shoulders like waterfalls down the rocks. And her eyes, those auburn orbs that contrasted my cold silver ones, still held the same warmth as they did a long time ago.

I narrowed my eyes at her and took a drag out of my cigarette. "The hell you doin' here?"

Her eyes widened as she was taken aback by my words. "I-I was.. um." She cleared her throat and composed herself. "I was just visiting your father, as I do every night. And I figured you'd be here so-"

"You're lying. The entrace's covered with years worth of dust- no one's been down here for a while."

It took her a minute to answer with a look of hurt in her eyes. "Yes, my love. I just thought I would find you here tonight since, well, it's his birthday."

The endearment stung like hell and made my blood boil.

"I'm surprised you even remembered. But you really shouldn't be here." I walked over to my father's grave and crouched down to put out the smoke on his headstone.