Omnipresence ♾ Zarry

v.

Harry's dreams are plagued by unnecessary realism. More often than not, he wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, completely disoriented. He can't quite place himself in the correct time and space continuum in the immediate aftermath. Some nights, he's stuck in a memory in the dream, something that happened ages and ages ago. Even as he's living the dream, he knows it's a memory, his brain putting two and two together and telling him it's alright. But other times, Harry's dragged through a pit of deja vu and images his mind concocted on its own, like that one dream with Zayn and their imaginary son. Harry barely remembers them when he wakes up. He's left with little recollection, apart from the horrible fucking feeling of emptiness and something simply missing.

It's grief playing tricks on him, not letting his mind rest and always reminding him of the cruel reality in the form of little shows of what could've been. Harry supposes it's the same with the things around the house. He knows the house is probably haunted because strange things have been happening ever since he and Zayn moved in three years ago. But now Harry's started to notice a peculiar pattern in the hauntings. Most of it is centred in the study or their bedroom. Book fallings off of shelves, pictures off of walls. Noises of someone moving around downstairs in the dead of night, with Jolene in the bedroom with Harry. It adds onto Harry's watch mysteriously appearing in the study and the glass of wine falling off the island.

There are only three viable explanations for that. The first is obvious - Harry's going absolutely batshit crazy. The second is that perhaps his dead husband is haunting him. And the third is that it's just the old ghosts having a fucking blast. Harry sincerely hopes it's the third one.

Apart from the uninvited guest in his house, Harry starts to slowly get a grip on his life again. He goes on walks every morning and then does yoga. He writes two articles for Rob at last and even starts to tentatively continue the work on his next book. He's not quite there yet, to go out and meet people though. The looks of pity from the funeral would surely make a reappearance and he doesn't need to be asked "How are you doing really? Do you need any help?" fifty fucking times in an hour. Jolene is living her best life, being spoiled like crazy and that's about it.

Instead of an abortion, Harry schedules a normal appointment with his doctor. He's a bit embarrassed about coming back after the slight fit he threw but he gets through the appointment just fine. At fourteen weeks, his baby is looking healthy and perfect. When he catches a glimpse of them on the screen for the first time, he cries and wishes the love of his life, the person he created this life with, was right there with him, holding his hand.

Harry had started spending more time in the study. He didn't want to disturb the place at first but he feels more connected to Zayn there. His sweater that he often wore when it got chilly in the room was still hanging off the back of the chair. There is a small notice board stood up in one corner of the desk with Zayn's hand-written notes still on it. Harry found comfort in the room, even with the occasional unsettling occurrences.

He's sitting at the desk with his laptop, typing up another article, this time a review of a new song by some up and coming band. It's not the warmest in the room so Harry's got a small blanket thrown over his shoulders. There is a cup of steaming green tea on a stack of papers. And then he smells it - cigarette smoke.

Harry thinks he's making it up, his mind trying to connote reality with imagination but it doesn't go away, even after a few seconds. He checks to see any windows open nearby, but everything is shut tight. This can't be fucking happening. It's impossible. Harry's hands start to shake and he stands up abruptly, throwing the blanket off his shoulders. He walks to the front door, grabs his coat and keys and leaves the house.

The influx of fresh air calms his insane heartbeat down at once as he walks to the small park around the corner. This can't fucking be real. He must be going insane. He should probably get grief counselling or just see a psychologist. Brains are more powerful than we realize and Harry's now chemically imbalanced brain must be playing tricks on him. Or there's a vent somewhere that he never noticed and a neighbour was smoking, or someone outside on the pavement.