eight

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why's he so pretty

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HANA

Out of all the words I could've possibly expected her to say, they're the last.

I'm incredibly confused whilst Harry just looks... lost, almost, like he's contemplating his entire life. I suppose his entire life just changed, though; the man he thought he was his father has no relation.

This poses the important question of: who is Harry's real father?

"What?" he whispers, so quietly I almost don't hear it even though I'm right next to him.

"I'm sorry - I know this is... a lot," she shakes her head, clearly very emotional about the whole situation as tears beginning to tumble from her eyes.

"How?"

"I fell out of love with your father, long before you were born," she explains evenly, "I regret it - well, aside from you - but I cheated on him, just once, and then I found out I was pregnant. Your dad didn't know he wasn't the father and I was too scared to tell him. He was happy he was going to be a dad. When you were one he started noticing things that weren't adding up, little things. You were four when he found out, a year before he made me leave, that's when he started hitting you; the first time was the night he found out you weren't his. He hated looking at you, even though he loved you, because it was a reminder that I'd cheated and lied," she elaborates, my brain struggling to comprehend and process all of this new information, so I can't even imagine what Harry is currently thinking.

He pauses, trying to process this insane situation quickly, too quickly for his brain to handle, "Who's my dad?" he murmurs, his gaze still wide and dull.

"He's the man I'm engaged to," she answers hesitantly. Well, this just keeps getting better. "You have the exact same eyes and hair as him, he's really lovely," she enthuses, although this is clearly not the time for any joyous ramblings about your partner when you've just messed up everything your son knew about his life.

I don't say that, of course.

"So you left me and fucked off to Italy with a guy you fucked once and made a baby you didn't want?" Harry scoffs, beginning to feel all sorts of intense emotions flowing through his body.

"I did want you, Harry. You may not have been planned with him but never for a second didn't I want you."

"Except when you left."

"I told you - I was forced—"

"And that makes it fucking okay, does it? No, it's not okay! There's no excuse for leaving me with him when you knew he would only get worse! Fuck you!" his voice raises and becomes shaky as he stands, pushing his chair backwards carelessly as he storms from the room.

I don't hesitate for a second to follow him, catching him barely a few steps from the door and trying to hold him still, but he's breathing heavily and his eyes are practically black as he's completely overcome with hurt and betrayal and probably a lot of anger.

"How can she do that? How can she disappear for three years and come back and tell me this shit and think it's okay? How can she try to excuse this? I need to breathe, I need to cool down," he rambles, still pushing past me as much as I'm trying to stop him.

"Okay, where do you want to go?"

"Showers," he breaths out shortly, spinning in the direction of the showers and finally shaking me off, although I just chase after him again, memories of the last time he was like this flooding through my mind.

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