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harrieatthemet · 5 years

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When Anna Left

ok so... I'm so nervous to post this??? ew. This whole ass fic has been sitting in my drafts for almost a year so I just hope you guys like it ): obvi theres more than one chapter lol but don’t be shy to let me know if its EVEN WORTH a read or if its ~garbage~ my ego and feelings shall not be effected thx

One

There was always that feeling, something between bittersweet and complete tranquility, that would settle over him at the end of a tour. There wasn’t much else in the world that could put a smile on his face comparable to the one he’d get up on a stage, gallivanting around with a mic in his hand as people quite literally screamed his name.

No piece of clothing fit him better than a custom made outfit, ones that had flares at the bottom of the pants, or glitter embodied on the entirety of the shirt. Maybe frills, sometimes, or a nice sheer blouse that gave a sultry display of the ink etched into his torso.

At times, he’d think about how nobody loved him quite as much as the sea of fans, some crying while others mouthed along to songs that he had just put so much of himself into. He’d always said that touring was the best bit, his favorite aspect of what he does. Something about being on a stage, in front of thousands who were there just to see him, it was electrifying. He was grateful for sure, endlessly grateful, and he’d constantly ask himself how it could possibly get any better than this.

Then, he’d come home. And he’d realize that, walking into the quiet lull of an empty flat, that a little blissful silence was one of the things that could get him to smile. When he’d drop his bags, lazily hurling them beside the door before assuring he’d tend to them later, he’d head towards his bedroom. He was ready to trade in his black skinnies for a pair of joggers, ready to toe off his boots and face plant onto the made up bed. When he’d given up the jeans in exchange for some loungewear, he’d realize that maybe comfy clothes fit him better than any designer dress pant.

Getting too comfy wasn’t in the cards for him, not now at least. He knew Anne was going to pop in, probably any second now, and she’d take one look at the bare fridge and empty cabinets before toting him off to Waitrose. But he did allow himself to plop down in the living room, nestling himself into the comfort of his favorite spot on the sectional. He knew in a few days, he’d be bored. Time off was good, he’d have to remind himself of that every now and again, remembering all the mindless hair tugging and droopy eyelids after a long night of writers block or a grueling travel schedule.

A sweet knock would carry through the flat, telling him that his time to sit and laze around was up. With his socks sliding against the hardwood of the first level hallway, and his eyes lazily glazing over the few paintings or framed photos he had hung on the walls, he made way to the front door. It was Anne, he was sure of it. Gemma too, maybe, if she had found a little time to come and welcome him home.

“Hi mumma.” His tone was silvery, out of sheer enjoyment and comfort to have a familiar face around.

A wide, eye twinkling smile came from her, inviting herself in. She was quick to cup a hand to his jawline, fingers resting on his cheek before she smothered it with sweet and fluttery kisses. His face scrunched up, a smirk dancing on his lips because it didn’t matter to her that he was 28 now, he’d always be the baby and she’d carry on treating him that way for as long as she lived.

“Cleanest I’d ever seen it.” She chuckled, traipsing further down the hallway.

“Give it time, yeah?” He teased, “Only been home fo’ a few hours, if that.”

She sent him a couple tsks, scolding him because she knew once he really got settled in, things would go haywire and this place would turn upside down. She’d joke with him about the last time she’d visited, before he was whisked away to tour, how the place was a frantic mess. Articles of clothing were draped on the backs of the couch, dishes in the sink had been carelessly piled atop one another, and she hadn’t even dared take a look in his room. He wasn’t usually messy like that, in fact, he tended to be very neat and tidy. Liked to keep things in order. She had placed the fault at his work ethic, how he had most likely devoted any (if not all) time to finishing up an album, or spending perhaps too much time tucked away in a sound booth with a journal and a pen glued to his hand.

On her way to the kitchen, in between some other pointless banter, he followed behind her as she very seriously expressed to him that it was important he kept things, at least, a little clean. ‘A clean home equals a clear mind’ she reminded him, and he wouldn’t come with a rebuttal, just an inaudible chuckle and an affirmative nod of the head. His assumption was right, about her poking her head into the cabinet, and the fridge there after. A smirk would tug at the corner of his mouth when she’d get a glimpse at the empty shelves in the refrigerator, a soft gasp slipping from her mouth.

“Well,” she sighed, hurriedly closing the fridge doors, “some groceries might be in order, yeah?”

He shrugged, which earned another tsk, before she encouraged him to slip on a pair of shoes so they could head off to the market. And she’d be trailing behind him now, scuffling her heeled shoes along the floor as he went to the front closet to fish out a pair of sneakers. On their way out of the door, keys jingling in his hand as he locked the front door behind him, he’d hear her poking around. She tried to be subtle, doing her best to be as quiet as possible, but the clinking of the weather-washed metal made it nearly impossible. Her head was dipped a little, hair covering the side of her face as she poked her fingers through his mailbox.

“See you haven’t been through your mail yet.” She mentioned casually, a little matter-of-factly as well, as the pair strolled down the block.

“Got a phone,” he let out a breathy chuckle, dangling his phone inches from her face, “important stuff gets t’me right here.”

With a raised brow, peeking over her shoulder at him as they rounded the corner of the street, she’d nod her head in defeat. She was being a little mischievous, it was blatantly obvious to him. She was never one to be nosey, go poking through his mail like that. She never had really ‘poked’ through any of his things really, not much when he was a child and definitely not as an adult. If she needed to know something, wanted to know something, she’d simply ask. And each time she did, he’d be willing to meet her with a plausible explanation or answer. That’s excluding all the times he had gotten into trouble, or got caught keeping secrets, as a kid. Then’d she’d go on and rumble through his things, unwarranted and unexplained with the right to do so.

Walking into Waitrose, after Anne had scooped up a shopping basket and asked Harry to do the same, they’d have to put groceries on hold each time someone would ask for a photo or say hello. He never really minded, not too much at least, and neither did Anne. And when a fan would saunter off, clutching their phone and withholding a scream, Harry refocused his attention back to his mother.

They were on the bread aisle now, as she analyzed a few of the shelves before tossing an item or two into her basket. And as she did that, he tried to muster up some good reason as to why she had just been elbow deep in his mailbox. She hadn’t brought it up since they had gotten here, and neither did he, because actually he was hoping she’d say something about it. Of course, she didn’t, which is why he was wondering now. Mail, of all things, when she knew he had an email synced up to his phone, as well as texts and all the other ways people could get in touch with him.

“Wanted t’ask yeh something,” she started, tossing a bag of grapes into his basket.

“Shoulda said tha’ before y’went digging through m’mail,” he smirked, nudging her with his elbow as they made way down a new aisle, “but ask away.”

She sent him a stern look, initially unamused at his joke. She was his mum still, even though he was all grown up and independent. And if she wanted to look for something in specific that was most likely in his mailbox, than why couldn’t she. But looking at his face, a toothy grin with eyes that just made her heart happy and proud, she’d involuntarily crack a smile.

“Was looking for something,” she clued him in, switching the weighed down basket onto the opposite arm, “wanted to see if yeh got an invitation.”

“Ooooo, an invitiation,” he’d sing mockingly, a lighthearted joke, “to wha’?”

“Just,” she was being very vague, “to a wedding.”

“Whose wedding?” His eyebrow was cocked, a little puzzled because he was sure he didn’t know anyone that would be inviting him to a wedding.

Her body got the slightest bit tense, her back straightening a little as she brought a hand to the strand of hair dangling beside her eye. She was quick to tuck it behind her ear, briefly pursing her lips together as she faced the fresh produce section. Maybe it was a bad idea to have brought it up. She hadn’t in a while, she had been sure to be careful not bring it up for so long that she had never mentioned it much at all anymore. Anne knew that regardless of the time that had gone on, it was still maybe a tad bit too touchy for him to talk about.

“A friend of mine,” she answered, cooly and nonchalant, “her daughter.”

“S’nice,” he nodded his head, reaching for a tin of cookies now, “do I know her?”

“Think so,” she hummed, “yeah.”

“So yeh gonna make me guess or are yeh gonna just tell me?” He joked, raising his brows at his mum as she gnawed at the inside of her cheek.

“S”uh,” she was tripping over words a little, “Christine.”

“Christine..” His words trailed, fishing for a last name.

Anne swallowed, “Aldridge.”

She didn’t know whether or not she should turn around and look at him, or keep his back to him like she was doing. He let out a short exhale of breath, sighing a little loudly, and then she’d turn to face him because she didn’t mean to drop a bomb on him like that so subtly and calmly. She knew it’d be a bit of a shocker to him, getting an invite to a wedding he was sure he wasn’t wanted at. Maybe not by Christine, since she had kindly extended an olive branch to him out of the blue, but by a sibling of hers. A sibling of hers that he hadn’t seen in a long while, so he wasn’t sure the kind of atmosphere he’d be walking into if he had the balls to show up.

Anne had known about the wedding for weeks, known about the invitation that had been sitting untouched and unacknowledged in Harry’s mailbox equally as long. Unbeknownst to him, she kept in touch with Lorraine all these years, as they had remained very good friends after the turmoil between their kids. They’d phone each other now and again, send messages via Facebook or any other social media site they were linked on. It was never a conversation with too much depth, just friendly banter. She’d never told him, in fear that he’d get a little upset, and maybe rightfully so. It’s how she had gotten an invite to the wedding, Gemma as well because Lorraine had a soft spot for her and so did Christine. But she meddled, Lorraine, she was a horrible meddler which is probably how Harry ended up with a wedding invitation that was more than likely beginning to collect dust while it sat stuffed in a little box outside his flat.

“Gem and I’re going, could tag along with us.” She shrugged, eyes doe-like and innocent.

“Musta sent the invitation to the wrong Harry.” He chuckled lowly, though his expression was still a little thrown and blank.

“ ‘Course not, love.” Anne frowned, pinching his cheek endearingly, “Lorraine asked specifically for yeh, wants yeh t’come. Christine, too.”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, shifting awkwardly behind his mum on the checkout line, “don’t- gotta think ‘bout tha’ one.”

Anne nodded understandingly, because she knew very well that it was a bit of a hard pill to swallow. She had no intention of pressuring him into going, because she’d feel awful if she ended up getting him to do something he wasn’t quite comfortable doing. The idea of going, seeing her in real life after being restricted to subtle thoughts or daydreams of her, made him jumpy and he could feel that uneasy feeling washing over him. Anne knew that bringing it up would send him into a bit of tizzy, which is why she didn’t do it over the phone or through a text. In person was best, she thought, as good as it could possibly get.

The duo endured the stroll back to his flat, bags filled with snacks and such, and they swayed in their arms with each step. Anne was doing her best to redirect the conversation, grappling to keep the thought put of Harry’s head because she didn’t need him to say anything for her to know it was consuming him. His demeanor had faltered, attitude a little glummer as he closed a part of him off to her. If he thought he’d go him and relax, he was painfully wrong, because now he was getting fidgety and uncomfortable.

Unlocking the door, a frown on Anne’s face as she silently stood behind him, he’d shove the thing right open before heading way towards the kitchen. The only noise between them was the chafing of the bags against one another, the sound of plastic rubbing together. Anne unloaded them onto the counter top, settling them there before digging through them to help pack everything away.

“S’everything?” She exhaled, hands placed on her hips in search of a filled grocery bag.

“Mhm.” He hummed boringly, pouring himself a glass of water.

He was lost in thought, and instead of badgering and pestering him to get him to open up a little, she thought it best to leave him be for a bit while he gathered himself. So that’s what she did, she gathered up her purse, then made way to grab her shoes by the front door. And she’d mumble something to him about popping into Gemma’s before her journey back to Cheshire, the zipper going up on her boot making a slight hissing sound. Harry’d bid his goodbye with a warm hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she wandered out and off to her car.

And now that he was by himself, watching as Anne pulled off and drove out of eyeshot, he’d b line it to the mailbox. Now it was him who was elbow deep in the mailbox, grabbing a fistful of all the untouched envelopes and what he assumed to be a few bills he needed to tend to.

He’d wait until he got inside to sift through the mail, to go looking for the invitation that was making his head spin. Carelessly hurling it onto the counter, the paper tumbling on top one another, he ran a hand through his hair before he got to work. His tongue darted out as he focused, wetting his bottom lip before it retreated back into his mouth.

At first he skipped right over it. Maybe because it wasn’t as big as the others, or it got stuck to the back of one of the small manilla packages that held one of his late night impulsive amazon orders. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it at first, but he didn’t.

It wasn’t until he dropped the little package on the floor, landing right on his foot with a little thud. And he couldn’t even give himself the time to wonder what the fuck was inside of it, what he had ordered that’d be so heavy but in such small packaging, because he’d see a small pink envelope wobbling at the end of the counter.

He was quick to grab at it, whisking the thing into his grip. Only a moment was permitted for him to take a look at the front, his name and address clearly written out in script with black ink. Then he was practically tearing the thing apart, his ring finger gliding through the folds to get it open. Slipping out the invite, the floral themed card with a baby pink background, he flipped it over to read the writing.

“Unbelievable..” He grumbled quietly to himself, eyes scanning over the writing once or twice to be sure he read it right.

One week. Of course Anne had been convenient and vague enough to have forgotten to mention that he only had a few days to come up with a final answer.

June 30th, he’d read it again just to be completely sure, like he hadn’t already read it four times before. His thumb lazily ran over the upper half of the invite, where her last name was written in an iridescent gold.

At first, as he stared down at the thick card, he was ready to phone his mother and confirm his attendance. Then reality began to settle in, as well as common sense. Flashbacks came back in waves from years ago, and the uncomfortable memory of how things had left off wasn’t too far behind.

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thelioninmybed · 7 years

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Misc replies

berrysphase replied to your post “valaraukars replied to your post “AU maeglin in mithrim with grandad...”

I'm sideeyeing myself here for sounding so "MY PET THEORY" when my whole point was there's actually a whole bunch of ways to explain Earendil not getting the Kingship and some of them can leave Maeglin the legitimate heir -- lol sorry (Assuming Gil is Orodreth's, that is, I always do too!) I figure the relative Sindarin comfort with powerful women has a lot to do with Melian, but it turns out I could go on and add screenfuls about Elwe's special status

and king's choice etc etc so uh I'll spare you... Also surely this attitude has a lot to do with why Galadriel married a Sinda.

Elves arguing inheritance politics is my catnip but it's also a bit brain-breaking -- I mean here are these immortal beings arguing about different interpretations of inheritance law when inheritance was just invented out of whole cloth so recently, you get to blatant rationalization s and bad philosophical arguments so fast

No no, it certainly can be done but you’re right, I forgot about Earendil during my analysis. Gil as Orodreth has always made sense to me, especially with how small a player he is until after the War of Wrath. God, the Galadriel-Marries-A-Sinda thing is an excellent point. I tend to skim over the more overtly patriarchal crap in the text (and in my fic, unless I’m making a point) but it explains an awful lot about why such an ambitious woman would spend so much time away from the action - she has vastly more of a say in governance etc. in Doriath than she would have in her own peoples’ lands - and of course she’d marry a Sinda, this is great.

God, yes, how did the issue of who would inherit Finwe’s crown break society when the issue was, as far as anyone knew, entirely academic? (because it was really a question of who daddy loved more :()

psychopompious replied to your post “valaraukars replied to your post “AU maeglin in mithrim with grandad...”

"and she's his great aunt" you say that like it would be a problem for him. that's only 4th degree consanguinity, same as first cousins!

also re: Celeborn's relation to Thingol, I think in that version it's through the schrodinger's cat brother (aka Elmo) but I'd have to dig up that lovely chart of Doriath's long line of cousin marriages to check

.......okay fuck, you’re right. Maeglin would.

If that’s the case then I suppose I owe Tolkien an apology. But he’s dead and also we have no idea what happened to Lalwen so I’m just gonna sit on it.

vardasvapors replied to your post “Paying attention to those things is not my forte but thank you for...”

I just wanted to mention that this series of prompted au's is like my fave thing in the fandom rn

Thx xx I just wish I could be more varied with them than ‘but then everyone died anyway’

crocordile replied to your post “valaraukars replied to your post “AU maeglin in mithrim with grandad...”

to be fair though, nothing in canon suggests elwing held a position of authority by herself; you can easily assume her position comes from her marriage :/ Though ofc that is not my interpretation/headcanon at all!

re: earendil's ellegibility for high kingship: on the purely legalist side cirdan and co might just be following finrod's logic and taking finarfin's to be the royal line after fingolfin's death, or something? i always assumed that (but then again i def hc gil as oro's son which not many do hahaha)

You: “I don't think Tolkien meant for us to interpret it this way."

Me, an intellectual w. a folder of Silm erotica: "He didn't mean for us to interpret a lot of things this way. But we did."

I.E. Elwing is queen and idgaf what Tolkien wanted.

I am with you on Gil as Oro’s (AND NOT JUST FOR SHIPPING REASONS OKAY, I HAVE LAYERS), someone pointed out the thematic neatness of the three lines of Finwe’s descendants dying to other elves, to Morgoth, and to Sauron respectively and Gil as an Arafinwean falls neatly into that.

simaethae replied to your post “Paying attention to those things is not my forte but thank you for...”

how about they win a decisive enough victory to reclaim *one* silmaril and then morgoth flips and... volcanoes. or something. anyway you could totally contrive an AU where some of the feanorians, i'm saying C&C for kicks, have to fall back to the safety of Doriath in the ensuing chaos with their newly-obtained silmaril (since after all we know a silmaril can get you through the girdle...)

like i'm sorry this is great but i feel like it just needs more terrible decision making from the noldor to be a silm AU >>;

I’m starting to feel bad for Anon, okay? Just like Mandos, even my cold heart can be moved to pity.

C+C in Doriath would be exquisite tbh, it’s yet another closed system where they can feed on paranoia, claw for power, and Celegorm can get into a creep off with Daeron while Thingol despises them while coveting the jewel and Melian is like ‘for fuck’s sake guys’ but no one listens. At least maybe the dwarves are free of the murder shenanigans this time around!

emilyenrose replied to your post “Paying attention to those things is not my forte but thank you for...”

ok but any au where luthien doesn't dress up as a vampire is a bad end au anyway

Truer words have never been spoken.

vardasvapors replied to your post “Idk if you'll agree or not, but for the au where the silmarils don't...”

this is so wonderfully terrible and perfect, i love the...honesty and simplicity of the things they say, in them talking specifically about their relationship, though the feelings and Maglor's claims about finishing it can map onto much more. Also "I'd like that" JUST KILL ME.

It didn’t kill Mae though, more’s the pity :( Okay but realtalk, thank you <3 I suppose by this point all pretension’s pretty much been stripped away, they’re well past the point where lying to each other or themselves would do any good.

valaraukars replied to your post “Ok I've find that tag .. but you actually read it? You can find it...”

You know who defied the valar? You know who doesn't get any credit? You know who is a character of true depth and nuance, constantly dismissed by an undeserving fandom? Ungoliant

No no Ungoliant, as established, abandoned her children and is a bad mother and thus a bad woman giant spider. Please keep your vile glorification of her off my blog.

imindhowwelayinjune replied to your post “Idk if you'll agree or not, but for the au where the silmarils don't...”

You are maddeningly good at feelings that cut to the bone and somehow have this soupcon of humor - 'I'd like that,' said Maedhros wistfully - that makes the feeling go straight through the bone to the marrow

I left off the hurtful swears cause I know you don’t really mean them. Maedhros wishes feelings really worked so literally :(

#berrysphase #psychopompious #vardasvapors #crocordile #simaethae #emilyenrose #imindhowwelayinjune #valaraukars #replies

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