CLOSER | H.S.

48.

Harry's pov.

"Maybe we'll find a brand new ending, where we're dancing in our tears."  

Lost Stars - Keira Knightley

-

"Honey?" I heard the sweet voice of my soon-to-be wife call for me and instantly cringed.

"Yeah?" I answered her, wondering what would possibly make her want to talk to me. I stared down at the sheet of paper I was working on, drawing lines and trying to make something solid of my ideas.

I saw her entering my home office with the corner of my eye, already with her night gown and holding a large box on her tiny hands. I looked at the clock, it was past eleven.

"Your mum brought a few things for your birthday party", she seemed excited. She loved a good party, one of the few things we had in common.

I brought my gaze to her and the old box she was holding. I wondered what those could be, coming from my mum. A bomb? That wouldn't be so bad, given the fact that Angelina's the one holding it.

"What is it?" I asked, clearing my throat. My voice came out deeper because of the long hours I spent in silence working.

Angelina walked towards my table and carelessly threw the box over my table, the sound telling me it was heavy.

"Be careful", I scolded her. "This is still an office."

"Sorry", she said automatically, pretty sure she didn't even notice her apology. I didn't care.

I would normally not have any interest in anything connected to my mother, much less a gift. But as I caught a glimpse from the inside of that box, my curiosity sparkled immediately.

I was a bunch of old photo albums. I haven't seen those for over ten years.

My heart told me to look at them, my brain told me to not.

"Leave", I told my fiancé. If I was about to give in to these photos, I wouldn't want her to watch.

She scowled but silently left my office, closing the door behind her. The silence was peaceful once she was no longer in the room, and yet I felt bothered.

I got up and walked around the table until the box was in front of me. The albums smelt of mould, it was obvious that no one has touched them since I left - until now. I was surprised my mother didn't get rid of them.

With the box on my hands, I sat on the floor in the open space. My office was also a small library, with a comfortable carpet that I often lied over to read.

I turned the box completely around and threw everything on the floor, coughing when the dust hit my nostrils. Horrible feeling.

The albums were so familiar to me, even the blank covers with only a solid colour to garnish them. I knew exactly which photos of which occasion was inside a certain album. For example, the big beige velvet album had our entire vacation to Anguilla in it, where my dad got me and some of my friends a mini buggy for us to drive through the clear sand all day and get our ten year old bodies a sun burn. Towards the end of the album, we were all red-faced idiots smiling to the camera, including dad. Mum had a perfect tan, she looked nice when she was younger and didn't use eye shadow to go everywhere.

A red one had mixed occasions in it, so I decided to open it after. The first picture was of my mother posing with her ridiculously expensive dress dad got her, with a giant smile on her face. She looked young, way younger than on the trip. The dress was marvellous, I recognised the occasion because of it. She was also very happy, on the second picture posing with my dad with his hand around her waist... I wondered when did it go so wrong.