My Sunflower | L.S

They say when the sun sets, sunflowers face each other. But what if there was no other sunflower to turn to? What if each sunflower had been plucked out, leaving one to its misery, lone and terrified, with no kind of its own, a cruel world in its waiting, the sun never shining again?

It dies.

A part of Harry died the day his father first raised a fist on him, then another part when his mum passed. A part went along when he slept with his boyfriend for the very first time. He did not say no, he did not say yes either. Then went a part when the fickle thing that hope was crept into him the first day he moved in with his boyfriend Carl, away from his father and the town he despised truly, wishing for a better tomorrow, only to have it torn away from him with broken glasses of a beer bottle piercing his skin the very night because he didn't serve Carl his beer chilled. He died completely when Carl collapsed in front of him, face twisted inhumanely, mouth dripping foam.

Or

When the weight of the world crushes Harry beneath it, he finds himself rescued by an alpha who ran out of sugar.