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.
@RANDOM28lol contacted me with a story idea where they asked if they could write the poems in the story.
I didn't feel like I could write the story they wanted me to but I asked them to send me one of the poems.
The poem inspired me. ❤ So I suggested another concept of the story and they agreed.
All the poems in the story are written by the talented @RANDOM28lol.
Harry has lost his voice. He has been mute for years. Ever since his family was brutally murdered in their home. He suffers from PTSD and survivor's guilt. Thinking that not allowing himself to talk somehow honor the death of his family. It's a lonely life. He has no one to talk to. Doctors and therapists have given up on him. He writes poems as a way to express how he feels.
He also writes at work. Running the gossip section of The Sun is something he despises but he's a journalist and he needs a job. No one tries to talk to him at work either. It's his own fault. But he hates how they go silent and then whisper about him as he enters the newsroom in the mornings. He keeps to himself. Until the new sports journalist catches his eye. Beautiful. Blue eyes. Wonderful smile. To his surprise, the man knows sign language and he's also determined to talk to him.
Life as he knows it changes. It's scary. Will he be able to actually overcome his trauma? Be something more than a bystander of his own life?
Warnings: Trauma, death.