Post by Princess Cliche on Sept 25, 2012 17:45:28 GMT -5
Title: Duplicity
Rating: T
Warnings: Character Death
Word Count: 1465
Forty days, 960 hours, 57,600 minutes, 3,456,000 seconds, and 38 hours worth of Twitcams was how long it was since she had been kidnapped. Harry was at a loss. He needed Sophie, he needed to able to hold her and tell her that everything would be okay, that no one or anything was ever going to hurt her again. But he couldn’t. She was gone, and he was empty.
He held himself together the first day. Maybe she had just forgotten to tell anyone where she was going, though it was unlike Sophie to do so. She had an irrational fear of getting lost and so felt the need to notify her family, or a friend of where she was going.
The next day, though, the investigation began. First they turned to Harry, the boyfriend, of course, was always suspect in situations like these. But he had a solid alibi, having been with Louis the whole day, shopping for a ring.
Then the family, who was out of the country, and was as lost as Harry was. They were easily taken off the list of suspects.
So it had to be enemies, the detectives theorized, and began asking about people who hated Sophie. All the boys stared at them stupidly as they did so. People who personally met the girl couldn’t bring themselves to hate someone so cheerful, helpful, and genuine. She had no close enemies.
But then there was all of Harry’s ‘fans’ who hated her because she was dating Harry Styles, and they weren’t.
There was no way to narrow that list down.
They gave up hope of it being a simple kidnapping for ransom after the second week. The unsub would have called by now, the detectives said.
Well, Harry thought, the detectives said a lot of bullshit.
It quickly became a waiting game, for any sort of lead. For even the smallest grain of a trace.
Harry kept replaying the last time he had saw her over and over.
The last time he spoke to her, dropping a hint about a surprise on accident.
Nothing was even the slightest bit suspicious on her end, so Harry figured she hadn’t just left, without goodbye. Especially if her family had no idea she was missing either.
After the first night, Harry began doing hour long Twitcams, begging for her back. Pleading, sobbing, shaking, cursing, ranting, and hoping against hope that whoever took her had a heart.
There was nothing. The number of people watching his Twitcam began to dwindle quickly, as the true fans couldn’t stand to see him in such pain, with nothing being done about it, and the haters of Sophie not quite caring.
His friends watched him carefully, talked to him slowly, encouraged him to eat, to continue with life.
Harry couldn’t find it in himself.
The detectives told him to stop with the Twitcams, and informed him that they could just causing Sophie’s situation to worsen, if the unsub wasn’t just a kidnapper, or was a delusional fan.
But Harry couldn’t stop himself. Sophie wasn’t with him, and it killed him.
He would have been okay, if they had broken up, or she said no to his question that he had planned for her that fateful night, but no.
She was gone.
Possibly from this life.
He turned to drinking, to all his friends’ dismay.
Then that fortieth morning, he received a call.
They found something, but weren’t sure just what it was yet. Harry couldn't care less, he hopped in his car, wearing a pair of sweatpants with last nights pizza stain on them, a wrinkled shirt, and a pair of glasses hastily thrown on to hides his tears.
He got to the scene, and that’s when his world started to truly unravel.
Too much blood, no way she’s alive…
No body was recovered…
No proof of the person who did this…
They found tons and tons of blood. Harry became dizzy at the sight, and was escorted out where he had a breakdown in the backyard, on his knees, hands behind his head, double over as he wept for Sophie. He wept for their past, and for what had cruelly been snatched from them—a future together.
As he did, the day of the kidnapping unfolded in his mind, wondering what he could have done to change this fate.
“Lou, come on! We need to go shopping!” Harry had exclaimed, frustrated with his best friends show of calling Sophie and informing her of when her and Harry’s date would be at.
“Bye, Soph! Your boy toys losing his cool over here,” Louis joked, sending Harry a wink, and hanging up the phone.
Harry rolled his eyes, not impressed, and took his phone back.
They spent hours (well, Harry, not so much Louis, who was only there for support) agonizing over what ring to pick. With the jeweler warily eyeing the two boys.
Harry had finally found one that he thought Sophie would like, and that he could feel proud of having picked out for her. It was a ring with diamonds going around it that formed X’s and O’s. It was perfect for Sophie, because she always hated not having Harry around to hug and kiss her. At least this was a symbolic way.
The jeweler hadn’t been sure he was serious about getting it, but once it was purchased, Harry felt the world had been lifted off his shoulders, until he realized she still needed to say yes.
Then it all came crashing back down on him.
Normally, on any other date, he would have called and made sure plans were still on. But he was so nervous as he began getting ready, that it slipped his mind to do their daily routine.
And an hour later, Harry was at the restaurant, wondering if this was how it always felt, getting stood up. Or if it was worse, since he had been planning on proposing. He sighed, knowing this wasn’t like Sophie at all, and called her for the millionth time that night. Yet again, there was no answer, and Harry was beginning to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.
He called Louis, who thought it was strange that Sophie hadn’t shown, since she had sounded so enthusiastic about it over the phone earlier that day.
Harry went to Sophie’s house, wondering if maybe she was sick.
He knocked on her door, but there was no answer.
That was strange, considering her car was in the driveway. He frowned, and called her Mom. Maybe she had decided to go visiting or shopping with some family.
“Harry?” Susan asked, concern in her voice. The whole family knew what he had planned for tonight.
“Is Sophie with you guys?” He had wanted—no needed, to know.
There was a pause, then,” No, we all thought she was with you, since she hadn’t been answering any of our calls since this afternoon.”
And that’s when panic was cued.
He explained what had happened, and her mom was equally as worried. None of that sounded like the Sophie they knew.
They talked for an hour, Harry leaning against the stoop of her doorway, miserably, before agreeing maybe she would show up and have a reasonable explanation tomorrow.
So Harry forced himself to lay down in his bed, but sleep never graced him that night. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity, staring at his phone, wishing it would light up and let him know that Sophie was calling or texting. Anything.
But it never did.
“Harry, come on,” Liam murmured quietly, trying to help the younger boy somewhere he could grieve in private.
Harry shook his head, tears cascading down his face, his eyes blank with shock, grief. He was shell-shocked, and didn’t give a fuck what the paparazzi said or did at this point. He wished he had it in himself at the moment to tell the press to fuck off or to just simply flip them off, but he didn’t.
Liam sighed, and stood there, unsure what to do, until he noticed that Louis, Zayn, and Niall were quietly talking to the reporters. He was confused, angry, and disappointed. How could they do that to Harry? Then he realized that one by one, the paparazzi and press turned away from Harry , focusing on instead on the case of Sophie, and not the case of Harry and Sophie.
The other boys joined Liam once they were done, and the four began a vigil with Harry. After all, he would do the same for them, and he would need all of their help to pull himself out of grief someday. He needed to know they were there for him.
Rating: T
Warnings: Character Death
Word Count: 1465
Forty days, 960 hours, 57,600 minutes, 3,456,000 seconds, and 38 hours worth of Twitcams was how long it was since she had been kidnapped. Harry was at a loss. He needed Sophie, he needed to able to hold her and tell her that everything would be okay, that no one or anything was ever going to hurt her again. But he couldn’t. She was gone, and he was empty.
He held himself together the first day. Maybe she had just forgotten to tell anyone where she was going, though it was unlike Sophie to do so. She had an irrational fear of getting lost and so felt the need to notify her family, or a friend of where she was going.
The next day, though, the investigation began. First they turned to Harry, the boyfriend, of course, was always suspect in situations like these. But he had a solid alibi, having been with Louis the whole day, shopping for a ring.
Then the family, who was out of the country, and was as lost as Harry was. They were easily taken off the list of suspects.
So it had to be enemies, the detectives theorized, and began asking about people who hated Sophie. All the boys stared at them stupidly as they did so. People who personally met the girl couldn’t bring themselves to hate someone so cheerful, helpful, and genuine. She had no close enemies.
But then there was all of Harry’s ‘fans’ who hated her because she was dating Harry Styles, and they weren’t.
There was no way to narrow that list down.
They gave up hope of it being a simple kidnapping for ransom after the second week. The unsub would have called by now, the detectives said.
Well, Harry thought, the detectives said a lot of bullshit.
It quickly became a waiting game, for any sort of lead. For even the smallest grain of a trace.
Harry kept replaying the last time he had saw her over and over.
The last time he spoke to her, dropping a hint about a surprise on accident.
Nothing was even the slightest bit suspicious on her end, so Harry figured she hadn’t just left, without goodbye. Especially if her family had no idea she was missing either.
After the first night, Harry began doing hour long Twitcams, begging for her back. Pleading, sobbing, shaking, cursing, ranting, and hoping against hope that whoever took her had a heart.
There was nothing. The number of people watching his Twitcam began to dwindle quickly, as the true fans couldn’t stand to see him in such pain, with nothing being done about it, and the haters of Sophie not quite caring.
His friends watched him carefully, talked to him slowly, encouraged him to eat, to continue with life.
Harry couldn’t find it in himself.
The detectives told him to stop with the Twitcams, and informed him that they could just causing Sophie’s situation to worsen, if the unsub wasn’t just a kidnapper, or was a delusional fan.
But Harry couldn’t stop himself. Sophie wasn’t with him, and it killed him.
He would have been okay, if they had broken up, or she said no to his question that he had planned for her that fateful night, but no.
She was gone.
Possibly from this life.
He turned to drinking, to all his friends’ dismay.
Then that fortieth morning, he received a call.
They found something, but weren’t sure just what it was yet. Harry couldn't care less, he hopped in his car, wearing a pair of sweatpants with last nights pizza stain on them, a wrinkled shirt, and a pair of glasses hastily thrown on to hides his tears.
He got to the scene, and that’s when his world started to truly unravel.
Too much blood, no way she’s alive…
No body was recovered…
No proof of the person who did this…
They found tons and tons of blood. Harry became dizzy at the sight, and was escorted out where he had a breakdown in the backyard, on his knees, hands behind his head, double over as he wept for Sophie. He wept for their past, and for what had cruelly been snatched from them—a future together.
As he did, the day of the kidnapping unfolded in his mind, wondering what he could have done to change this fate.
“Lou, come on! We need to go shopping!” Harry had exclaimed, frustrated with his best friends show of calling Sophie and informing her of when her and Harry’s date would be at.
“Bye, Soph! Your boy toys losing his cool over here,” Louis joked, sending Harry a wink, and hanging up the phone.
Harry rolled his eyes, not impressed, and took his phone back.
They spent hours (well, Harry, not so much Louis, who was only there for support) agonizing over what ring to pick. With the jeweler warily eyeing the two boys.
Harry had finally found one that he thought Sophie would like, and that he could feel proud of having picked out for her. It was a ring with diamonds going around it that formed X’s and O’s. It was perfect for Sophie, because she always hated not having Harry around to hug and kiss her. At least this was a symbolic way.
The jeweler hadn’t been sure he was serious about getting it, but once it was purchased, Harry felt the world had been lifted off his shoulders, until he realized she still needed to say yes.
Then it all came crashing back down on him.
Normally, on any other date, he would have called and made sure plans were still on. But he was so nervous as he began getting ready, that it slipped his mind to do their daily routine.
And an hour later, Harry was at the restaurant, wondering if this was how it always felt, getting stood up. Or if it was worse, since he had been planning on proposing. He sighed, knowing this wasn’t like Sophie at all, and called her for the millionth time that night. Yet again, there was no answer, and Harry was beginning to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.
He called Louis, who thought it was strange that Sophie hadn’t shown, since she had sounded so enthusiastic about it over the phone earlier that day.
Harry went to Sophie’s house, wondering if maybe she was sick.
He knocked on her door, but there was no answer.
That was strange, considering her car was in the driveway. He frowned, and called her Mom. Maybe she had decided to go visiting or shopping with some family.
“Harry?” Susan asked, concern in her voice. The whole family knew what he had planned for tonight.
“Is Sophie with you guys?” He had wanted—no needed, to know.
There was a pause, then,” No, we all thought she was with you, since she hadn’t been answering any of our calls since this afternoon.”
And that’s when panic was cued.
He explained what had happened, and her mom was equally as worried. None of that sounded like the Sophie they knew.
They talked for an hour, Harry leaning against the stoop of her doorway, miserably, before agreeing maybe she would show up and have a reasonable explanation tomorrow.
So Harry forced himself to lay down in his bed, but sleep never graced him that night. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity, staring at his phone, wishing it would light up and let him know that Sophie was calling or texting. Anything.
But it never did.
“Harry, come on,” Liam murmured quietly, trying to help the younger boy somewhere he could grieve in private.
Harry shook his head, tears cascading down his face, his eyes blank with shock, grief. He was shell-shocked, and didn’t give a fuck what the paparazzi said or did at this point. He wished he had it in himself at the moment to tell the press to fuck off or to just simply flip them off, but he didn’t.
Liam sighed, and stood there, unsure what to do, until he noticed that Louis, Zayn, and Niall were quietly talking to the reporters. He was confused, angry, and disappointed. How could they do that to Harry? Then he realized that one by one, the paparazzi and press turned away from Harry , focusing on instead on the case of Sophie, and not the case of Harry and Sophie.
The other boys joined Liam once they were done, and the four began a vigil with Harry. After all, he would do the same for them, and he would need all of their help to pull himself out of grief someday. He needed to know they were there for him.
