Like a Lost One ||
@mpxharper
backdated to HalloweenÂ
Harper had become like an absolute darling to Arawn and having heard about what had happened and how toxic his mother had been shocked Arawn, but then again he hadnât been all too surprised. It was almost like he attracted the crazy ones in his life. Nevertheless, the god aimed to be the better parent in Harperâs life, despite his initial decision to stay out of his kidâs lives in general. Harper seemed to genuinely need that, at least one supportive parent.Â
The Celt, however, was a sucker for romance and loved tragic and romantic stories so when Harper mentioned his own tragic love story cut short by life and his mother, Arawn was intrigued. The dead should stay dead, that had been Arawnâs logic, but for one night a year, the samhain, arawn could allow the resurrections as long as his rules were followed. He adjusted his jacket, waiting for Harper at the park nearby.Â
âI have something for you. You know itâs against my morals and rules to bring the dead back, but heâs agreed to follow my rules,â he stated. âSo, let me be the supportive father and give you this one thing,â he added. âFollow me.âÂ
Although they had only met again recently, and that Harper had spend the majority of his life terrified of his father, Arawn was treating him well. It was so different to how he had been raised, with his mother never so much uttering a compliment in his presence, that sometimes Harper wondered whether he truly deserved his fatherâs attention.
âWhat do you mean? Rules?â he asked in confusion, still following his father down the corridor and to one of the empty apartments. He knew the sting of death too well and, truth be told, there was only one person that Harper would give anything to resurrect. However, even the thought of it was so farfetched, so perceivably impossible, that he was afraid to even imagine it.
But Arawn opened the door though - Harper was frozen.
He was right there in the room, so solid and so present, it was like time itself had rewind. Rather than the sickly, frail figure heâd last seen, the boy before him was tall with warmth in his smooth complexion. It seemed that death had treated him well, because the Junkai before him looked exactly like he did at Harperâ graduation.
The delicate tattoo on Harperâs arm stung for a moment, as though recalling that very day. He thought it was a hallucination, some trickery of the light, until he saw the matching ink on Junkaiâs arm. âD-Dad?â Harper choked back his tears, looking up at Arawn, âWhat is this? Howâ?â
















