Timeless [h.s]

Thirty three

Styles

"I turned 21 on October 15th 1636 and after Gaston killed the original Harry Styles, I have not aged a single day." Her words were an endless loop inside my mind, even after I drove as far away as possible, going to an old park my mother used to bring me whenever she wanted to unwind away from home. There was not a single known soul around me, and yet I saw Charlotte's face in every woman that dared to walk by.

I wanted to believe her as much as I wanted to believe she was lying. The idea of her being a pathological liar, someone who needed psychiatric help, it would quiet down my small, practical mind. If there was a rational and expected explanation to her tale, I wouldn't have to feel as if I was the one going insane. The worst part about the entire situation was knowing that deep down, to some extent, I believed her.

Time had always been a pretty well shaped concept inside my head. We were born, we lived and peaked, and at some point we died. I was accustomed with the idea of a finite amount of years, with the knowledge that one day there would be no trace of me in the world, not anymore. Charlotte's mere existence was the undeniable proof that our most basic concepts weren't trustworthy.

The idea of her living through centuries without ageing one day was absurd and yet wonderful all at once. The things she had seen, the places she had been, the people she had met; she was living history, right within my reach. Obviously her condition wasn't just the most amazing thing to ever happen during human evolution, it was also the biggest burden someone had to carry. I couldn't even begin to fathom how many losses she had suffered through her life, how many times she had to move before people noticed how young she seemed.

She wasn't just Charlotte, the closed off, amazing girl I met during a college party. She was once queen of England, and if we weren't living in such conventional modes, she'd probably still have a claim to the throne. The mere thought of how much power she had terrified me and overwhelmed at the same time.

I was in love with her, even though I was furious at her, furious at what I had to endure because she hadn't told me the truth before Gaston attacked me. What a fucking pathetic name, I thought to myself. I had no idea how he looked, which colour were his eyes, if they were menacing or deceiving. Not knowing who was my enemy alarmed me. He could be around, casually watching me as I sat down against the large trunk of a tree in a random park. I was afraid he'd kidnap me, but deep down I knew he wouldn't.

He was obsessed with Charlie, that much I could tell. I was just a nuisance, someone who looked like a ghost from their past. Someone he had killed before and he probably would do the same if necessary.

"Fuck Harry, what did you get yourself into?" I mumbled lowly, running my hands through my hair wildly, wondering what else I could do. Oliver was involved in it too, fuck, if anything she said before was truthful, Sean knew about it.

He was Oliver's best friend, which in the immortal world was probably code for someone who actually knew the truth. It angered me, but I knew it wasn't his place to tell other's secrets. Thinking about all that went on behind my back without my knowledge, it made me want to punch something, maybe someone.

My feelings were all over the place, my insecurities heightened, my fears dominating me. I wanted to help Charlie, to be there beside her, but my self preservation instincts wouldn't allow me, not after finding out so much in a short expanse of time. Aside from the life or death matters, a tiny part of me worried about who she'd see after leaving that atelier. I was hoping she wouldn't seek Oliver's aid and presence, but I knew that was something plausible.

I hated him and I definitely didn't trust him, but I was not blind. He had something to offer, something I would never have. He understood precisely what she went through these years of loneliness and death. If they weren't able to somehow stop Gaston, he would live forever just like her. I would age and look old enough to be her grandfather, meanwhile he would look like a fucking underwear model forever. It annoyed me greatly, but I knew he was also in love with her; more than that, I knew she could be happy beside him if only she tried to let me go.