Fuck Destiny and Fuck You

Chapter 19 - Turmoil

Harry's restlessness lingered, a palpable tension filling the air as he found himself confined to the familiar walls of home since yesterday. The casual coffee gathering with his family that he was currently stuck in served as a reminder of why such visits were a rare occurrence.

He absentmindedly reached for an eclair, deliberately averting his gaze from the nonchalantly arranged arsenal of guns adorning the very table that hosted their uneasy reunion.

Devouring the eclair in swift, deliberate bites, Harry concluded the ritual with a lingering sip of his dwindling coffee, setting the cup down with a decisive clink.

Observing his family, he watched his mother delicately sip tea, engaged in conversation with Gemma, while his father, a stoic figure, remained indifferent to their collective existence. It was a familiar scene.

Mentally steeling himself, Harry prepared himself for the inevitable task ahead.

"I need to share something with all of you," Harry declared, capturing their attention.

His mother responded nonchalantly, "What is it, son?"

"I know who my mate is."

Gemma's joyful exclamation filled the room, "What?! I'm so happy for you, Harry."

Harry, appreciative of Gemma's enthusiasm, turned to her with a grateful smile. His parents, limited in their capacity for happiness, displayed a semblance of joy.

Harry had intentionally held back the identity of his mate, attempting to ease them into the revelation. Witnessing the calm and happiness in the room, he wished to freeze time at that very moment. However, his father's voice shattered that fleeting hope.

"Well, son, enlighten us. Who is she? What family is she from?" Harry's father inquired, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Anne gasped theatrically, "Oh dear, is she even from a family with status?" as if belonging to a 'low-status' family was a cardinal sin.

"He," Harry corrected.

Gemma, cognizant of the family's historical biases toward male omegas, reassured, "That's absolutely fine."

"Exactly. Who cares about all that? Just give us more details about him," Anne insisted, being very curious to understand the social standing of her son's mate.

Harry cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. Casually, he reached for his gun on the table, placing it beside him on the couch, recognizing the impending climax.

"He's from a very well-respected family. Quite similar to ours," Harry spoke vaguely.

"Oh, that's absolutely lovely!" Anne exclaimed with genuine delight.

"That indeed is great. What's his name?" Desmond affirmed.

"His name is Louis Tomlinson," Harry announced, bracing himself for the impending storm.

A sudden hush descended upon the room. Smiles vanished, replaced by perplexed and almost offended expressions on each face.

The silence was palpable, accentuated only by the ticking of the clock. Harry held steady eye contact, his expression serious, as he navigated the tense
moment. After a while of silence his father spoke up.

"Are you joking with us, Harry?" Desmond laughed.

"No."

"Harry, that's absurd. You've met him countless times. How did you just discover this-" Gemma started but was abruptly interrupted.

"When did I say I just discovered? I've known for years," Harry declared.

"This has to be a joke," his mother's tone became sharp.