Hello all you Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang fans of the world. My name is Brittany and this is my author's note. Of course, I don't own KKBB or its respectable characters. I wish I did, but sadly, as said, do not. If I did, I would be putting out B-movie sequels like nobody's business.
A fair warning to all: this will be a Harry/Perry centric fic. How heavily is still up in the air, but I figure I might as well tell you about it now. This is the first fic I've written, not to mention put online, in a very long time. Like, five years kind of long. And back when I did, I was 13 and unable to properly write a good story. Have I improved that is anyone's guess, but might as well take a swing at it.
Enjoy.
Months after Harlan Dexter duped the nation with his daughter switch-and-disappear act (with an encore disappearing act of himself, of course. Well, more like an escort off stage with an over-sized cane.) the slow shift back to reality became nearly agonizing for Harold Lockheart. Sure, he was happy to not have some muscled goon on his ass after he turned every street corner-- and he sorely missed his left ring finger-- but every morning when he looked in the mirror and saw the faded scar on his cheek where some douche bag beat the shit out of him at that infamous L.A party, he sighed. Harry found himself stroking it whenever he caught a glance of it, remembering the minute details of his brief trip to Los Angeles. From the smell of the smoky Domino Room to the feel of Perry's leather-interior convertible on his fingertips, he could relive every single moment.
He had a freakishly good memory. It was the only real talent, besides quick hands, he had. While he usually came off as the charming imbecile, Harry actually did well above average in high school. Before he dropped out, that is. Retrospectively, he sometimes chuckled on the person he became. More of, how he became the person he became.
Harmony was his sun. The gravity pull that kept his universe in perfect balance. She fueled every ounce of his motivation, his actions, his personality. When Harmony left Embrey at age 16, the fuel cut-off. She was solely the entire reason his life slumped. Why his grades started declining and why alcohol tasted a little sweeter. Harry was at the bus station when she left. On that little blue and gray bus sat his life, and he waved to it as it puttered and spat straight out of the state. In the moments after her departure, his forced smile pulled downward and his eyebrows were fish-lined to the corners of his lips. Harry's entire face had suddenly become much more afflicted by gravity; it was that look of a puppy abandoned by the owner that had rescued it. He could remember it was at that very moment the spiraling downward of his life began. Sure, it's a little melodramatic, but isn't everyone's teenage lost love that momentous? Well, maybe not, but things impacted Harry much more than they did everyone else. It was in his nature to be over-emotional. But with it came the benefit of knowing that he'd always be there for just that one person, whoever that lucky being was. Harmony probably had no idea she was leaving a man who would cook for her, clean for her, work for her, kill for her, damned near pluck the moon from the night sky for her. At that bus station over fifteen years ago, however, that slumped figure did.
Back to reality, his face was also similarly afflicted by gravity, but that was more due to the inescapable grip of aging. Harry tenderly fingered the creases of his face, focusing on the heavy purple bags yelling at him from underneath his round eyes. That's what years of insomnia will do to a face: wrinkle it; blacken and puffy it. People eyed him worriedly all the time at restaurants and drug stores, thinking he had insulted Mike Tyson's mom or something. A sharp stab of tenderness surprised him and he quickly drew back his hand. Harry Lockheart had seen better days. Staring back at this pitiful human being were dark empty eyes; inside the mirror Harry saw a man beaten by life. Dragging his ass out of bed at the crack of noon seemed insurmountable, much less facing the proceeding day. His feelings coincided with the way he felt all those years ago when he couldn't close his eyes without seeing the bus tail lights leave his line of vision. But a different face settled in where Harmony's once gloriously resided; one much more pissy, and dry, and meticulously kept. In the place of Harmony-- with the heart-shaped face, cute features and hypnotizing eyes-- sat that of Perry's, subtle grin n' all. Like he had just made a crack about Harry's inability to properly use time tables, Perry, that prick of a man, grinned at him. Looking long and hard at what was once a semi-respectable man, Harry closed his eyes, defeated. What got him to this miserable place, you may ask yourself? That of course, requires a screen-cut flashback with flashy witty subtitles.