Guns & Roses (Larry Stylinson)

A Day's Work

Okay, I am very nervous and excited to post this chapter. A LOT happens in it, some good and some bad, but I hope it's not too cluttered or overwhelming. I just got a bit too excited!

Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse, death, suicidal thoughts, violence, sexual misconduct, and gun use. Please read carefully!

Also, this chapter is nearly 7,000 words because I felt like you guys deserved it.

I love you all and cannot wait to read your lovely comments 💕

Chapter 36:

Harry and I spent most of the day arranging different floral orders, him constantly teasing me or fixing my arrangements when I wasn't looking. He really had a talent in floral arrangements, and I didn't think I would ever understand how he can spot a mistake, even the smallest flower out of place, within a millisecond.

I kept my promise to make us lunch, and I ended up using Harry kitchen to make something. He had a lot of vegetables, so I did the best I could with what he had. I ended up making some quinoa bowls and was thankful that he found it quite appetizing.

After lunch, Harry continued on arrangements while I milled about the room, looking through the picture books he had on various weddings and birthday parties he did designs for. Still, I noticed that the funeral binder was missing. Was it still in the basement?

"Where'd this one go?" I asked, trying not to seem too interested in it.

I remembered the way his house looked as Wesley and I roamed through it. The living room was completely trashed, and Harry's binder was discarded on the basement floor. It was unusual to witness.

I glanced back at Harry and noticed the way he grew stiff at the question, hand paused while reaching out for a flower and his eyes full of fear. I raised an eyebrow, setting down the wedding book I was looking through and walking back over to his side.

"Harry," I voiced, laying my hand atop of his and watching him seem to snap back from wherever hid mind took him. He flinched but allowed me to hold his hand. "I saw the living room the first time you watched Wesley at mine. The table was shattered, glass was everywhere, and the photos were broken. I looked around." I decided to be honest with him. I had to know what happened that day. "The binder was in the basement."

"It's still there," He whispered with a shaky voice.

"Why? Why not go get it?" I questioned, and he quickly shook his head.

"I don't go down there."

What was that supposed to mean? Why wouldn't he go down to his own basement? How did the photo book even get down there if he doesn't go down there?

"Harry, are you afraid of the dark?"

Even if it seemed like a childish fear, I could understand it, and I would punch anyone who made fun of Harry for it. The dark wasn't ideal. You couldn't see enemies in the dark until the flash of their gun went off.

"No," He said. "The dark's not the problem. It's the basement."

"The basement? Why?" I wondered, but the pieces were already coming together.

The first time Harry showed me the basement, he was hesitant to go down there. There was a step completely broken in half that never seemed to get fixed. The binder full of funeral arrangements was sitting opened on the basement floor. He completely freaked out the first time we went down there together, and he yelled out Zander's name in fright.

"What did he do?" I asked, too intensely. My grip tightened on Harry's hand as I tried to remain calm in the face of the information just now being presented to me. "Harry, what did Zander do?"