Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

PROLOGUE

                                        PROLOGUE

 

                 “Speak now; or else for ever hold your peace”

It was not his fault, then. The words were spoken, thus neither the priest nor the rest of the guests should’ve been so surprised when a tall, outstanding figure stood up from the very back of the church, silently, going unnoticed until the very moment. It was not a surprise to Chrissie, either, he assumed, watching as she slowly turned around sighing, recognizing the deep voice even before she’d spotted him there.

She knew he would come.

For a whole minute, the church was lost in silence, the thumping of his heart seeming louder than anything he’d ever heard before, and he was sure Chrissie could hear it from the altar, even despite the several rows of benches placed between both of them; was sure she could feel the desperation floating through his nostrils, the fear exhaled along with the air, the incredulity.

But above it all, he was sure she could feel the anger. Harry was angry.

Disappointed? Sure. Hurt? Obviously. But mostly, angry. After all, she’d taken it to another level. Had completely ignored him for the past few years of their lives and dared to take a step forward without asking him for advice. How could she, after so long? How dared she break their main rule after two decades of accomplishing it successfully?

Harry felt like a dagger was being buried into his ribcage, cutting through the several layers of muscles and organs and whatever else was inbetween until it finally tore off the skin, coming off through his chest. He could nearly taste the blood of betrayal lingering on his tongue, swallowing it dryly before turning on his heels and opening the humongous wooden doors with nothing else to be said. He couldn’t bear stay there anymore.

If there was anything he could’ve done to possibly ruin the ceremony, that was it. He felt sated.

The sound of the heavy doors being closed echoed around the silent room once Harry left; he could hear the buzzing of the murmurs from outside, knowing everyone was indignant enough to curse him to death, but not bringing himself to care a bit about it at all. He wasn’t expecting to be praised once he decided to go to that wedding with the one and only purpose of ruining it, anyway.

So he just leaned against the wall, pride taking over him almost as much as anger was doing it itself, burying his hand into the inside pocket of his suit and dragging out a pack of cigarettes, taking one for his own use before putting it back inside without even averting his gaze from the horizon line. He kept his focus trained on the setting sun as he ignited one end of his cigarette, steering it toward his lips and inhaling the smoke, letting it spread around his mouth before he finally released it, repeating the same movement giddily as he paid attention to the mix of orange and pink and yellow and lilac he’d call sky.

It was beautiful, actually, how the colours mixed above the line he was fixedly staring at, the clouds being painted by light tones and painfully slow undoing themselves, spreading across the wilderness until there was only a thin reminder line of what once they were. It drove Harry crazy, how perfect that was; how perfect that whole day seemed to be. So he inhaled smoke again, letting it out almost instantly this time, as if his anger could puff out as quickly as it. It couldn’t.

He closed his eyes, letting the breeze hit his skin, wanting nothing but to feel something refreshing blowing through him, but not even getting that. The breeze was summer-like warm, comforting, it should be, but wasn’t. He remembered clearly the hot days when summer was on its best, just like today, turning the skies into paintings he would forever keep inside his memories, when all he did was appreciate the view and run all over the backyard of his childhood house, play hide-and-seek with Chrissie, drip sweat and smudge his clothes with dust until the sun was nearly gone, just then lying down on the grass beside her and staring at that same sky, that same blur of colourful sensations he’d always adored.