#harry updates

Y/N was busy packing her bags to return home. But there was an unsettling icy feeling in her head that was sending red signals to her body. Harry laid on his back, scrolling through his instagram. “Y/N, if we are ever meant to be apart, will you forget me?”, Harry asked, a lump settling in his throat. “We have been together since what? Freshman year of high school? How can I forget you after everything we have been through?”, Y/N snorts, but Harry looks lovingly at her. “Don’t tell me, are you breaking up with me?”, she fake gasped for Harry to catch on. Harry snorted, rolling on the bed. “Yeah leaving you would be like pigs flying”, he smiled at her; as she rolled her eyes. “Did you pack your bags?”, Y/N asked him. “Well, yeah”, he rolled over again to avoid your gaze

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It wasn’t a sunny feeling that always hit her like home would; it felt gloomy. Like the Sun was hidden behind the clouds for forever. Soon enough, both of them found Y/N’s mom, who had come by to pick them up; a foreign smile on her lips. Like a smile that wasn’t supposed to be there; a smile that didn’t have anything to do with the world.

Y/N walked to her mom, while her mom helped her get the luggage.

“Y/N honey, I am sorry, but we need to visit Harry’s family tomorrow”, Y/N’s mother spoke with a constricted voice. Harry’s presence seemed vague now and Y/N’s smile was slowly slipping away. Y/N did notice her mom avoiding her, a little too much, and her father couldn’t really bear the sight of her; breaking down every time he noticed her.

She did have a hunch over what it was all about; but she didn’t want it to be true; even if it is the truth.

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The tomorrow came soon enough. And Harry’s family stood there, dressed in black. Anne looked like she saw a ghost when she saw Y/N come in and Gemma could barely constrict her sobs.

It was then that Y/N’s smile had slipped away completely and she noticed, Harry’s hand had turned cold.

A picture of Harry with a bright, warm smile hung over with incense sticks and candles around it. She had always thought Harry didn’t belong to this world; but she never wanted him gone from this world.

“We didn’t think, you’d come for his first death anniversary”, Gemma spoke as Anne looked like her voice was captured; like she couldn’t let those words out.

Death anniversary? But he had been with her all the damn time. He had been there in the shared apartment. He had been on dates with her. He had been in classes with her. Both of them were fulfilling their own dreams for goodness sake.

So, when did he die?

Now, it all seemed to dawn over her.

His presence had been an illusion she had created in her head.

She had tried to get away from the grief, from the reality that he’s no more by her side. His last text, last call everything resting in her phone, and memory. She had no absolute idea what they were teaching in university. She would pass by coffee shops and remember him, holding her hand in cold nights. Their first date was still fresh like flowers in her head. It had been a date in some indie artist’s concert, on a cold December evening, where he forced her hand into his pockets when he saw how cold she was. Their last day together, however, was a blur.

She wasn’t smiley or cheerful. She was brain frozen.

To be honest, it felt like being woken up from a good dream; being woken up when the best part was about to come. However, it’s just a dream. It’d always be a dream.

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She walked to his graveyard later on.

She stood in front of it, for a while, looking at his name. He died young. Like every other poet’s grief. The blue swallowtail butterfly, with its ancestral memories, flew around them, to eavesdrop on their conversation, as it stared at a beautiful nineteen-year-old boy; the same that Y/N seemed to see, in his black shirt, and jeans, and a waiting look on his face.

“Are you hungry, Harry? I know you hadn’t eaten anything since morning”, saying so, she placed a Chinese bag on the graveyard and got out a small plate. “We are fifty-fiftieng, since we are two broke college lovers”, she chuckled and Harry seemed to smile a bit at that. She used her fork to swirl the chowmein, since she didn’t know how to use the chopsticks.

“Harry, they say spirits don’t feel. But since you promised me forever, do you still love me?”, Y/N asked, packing up her trash. “I have been in love with you; and I guess I always will be, but when will you return back to me? I might move on; get a new partner; have a child… but it doesn’t matter at the moment. Are the angels in heaven kind? And if I look up to the sky, will I find you in the constellations that we named? I am not a poet like you are, but I want even the sky to know that you’re a sight for my eyes only. I know you’ll come back to me in one or the other form, till then, will you love me?”, she asked the unmoving stone, willing it to return the boy she fell in love with; the boy she planned her future to be with.

Harry spoke. But his voice didn’t matter anymore and it all came as a blubbering mess of wind.

What did he have to say anyways?

The blue swallowtail witnessed her walk away, as it started pouring heavier than ever. It witnessed Harry’s soul writhe in grief, for neither could he sob, nor could he scream. He seemed to bring the rain to her heart; as she soaked herself in his seemingly tears from the sky.