Ace (HS)

Wrong Impression

His hand dug into his pocket, feeling around for the cool metal of his keys. His eyes were tinged red, breath laced with alcohol, and heart heavy. He was expecting to come home to a warm apartment, perhaps with the fireplace lit, and his dark beauty laying on the couch, hair sprawled out as she waited for him. The thought made a lazy smile quiver on his lips.

"Carmen?" he called once he pushed the door open. The only response he got was his voice echoing off the walls, his smile fading. He called her name again, closing the door behind him and playing with his keys in his hand. Looking around, rubbing at his eyes to clear his slightly blurred vision, he felt his face fall as his dark-haired vixen seemed to be nowhere in sight.

The apartment was dark, with only a single light flicked on in the corner of the living room. It was then that he noticed someone was sitting in the living room, a woman, with her legs crossed and hands folded in her lap.

"Mother?" he sputtered, fingers lacing through his hair in disbelief. He wasn't sure if he was just seeing things, the alcohol in his veins clouding his vision. This was far from what he had expected to come home to at nearly midnight.

"Harry," she greeted with a nod of her head. He blinked slowly before he felt his jaw tighten, the blue vein under his skin becoming more prominent in his neck.

"What are you doing in my apartment? Don't you have any decency?" his voice lowered menacingly; he didn't know why, but something about her presence- the scornful gleam in her eyes, and her statue-like posture- made an uneasy feeling arouse in his gut.

"Where's Carmen?" he questioned before she had the chance to part her lips. He looked around again as if she would appear.

"I assume you are referring to the whore that was strutting around in your shirt," his mother brought a manicured hand before her eyes, her voice disinterested. Harry's jaw clenched impossible tighter, veins bulging.

"Do not speak of her that way," he spat. It was one thing to show up in his place, uninvited, after over three years. It was a complete other thing to degrade the only person he had ever loved.

But that's just what his mother had resorted to these days- coldness, bitterness. Harry could barely remember the last time he had seen her with a smile, her eyes bright and content; it was just before his father had been brutally murdered right in front of her. The day was vivid in Harry's memory, from the sound of his phone ringing as the police tried to contact him, to the way his father's blood had stained the carpet a color of rich crimson, like a spilled glass of Merlot. Rather than the day of his father's death, Harry remembered it as the last time he had ever made contact with any of his family.

How could he look them in the eye, when he was the reason for their loss?

"Your mistress is besides the point, Harry," his mother spoke, her eyes finally meeting his. Harry swallowed thickly and quickly looked away before the guilt he had felt years ago resurfaced. "I came here to invite you to your sister's wedding."

"And why the fuck would I want to go to that?" he grumbled, padding to the kitchen to get some water. His head was throbbing, from the alcohol and overwhelming confusion as to why his mother of all people would be waiting for him in his apartment. The cool liquid felt refreshing as it eased down his throat, but he knew that having Carmen with him would be much more calming.

"Because she is your sister," wax-coated lips tugged down in a frown.

"Yeah, and I'm your son," Harry taunted with a roll of his eyes, something he had been doing much more now that he was around Carmen. "That didn't stop you from practically disowning me."

The woman took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, to signify that she was losing her last ounce of patience. "You should at least consider it. It might be a great opportunity to make mends with your family after what you did."