Holding On (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Slipping Away

For a while, we did nothing but sit beside one another in silence. Every once and a while I would see someone open their mouth as if to say something, but they stopped themselves. I think everyone knew whatever they said would just hang in the air, dead.

I knew Harry would've wanted us to laugh--not to be so crushed because of him. But we loved him--differently and the same.

His family, Anne, Gemma, Robin, and Des, were all petrified whenever they heard. They gave Harry three days to wake up. If he didn't, they were going to take the next flight to Florida. Unfortunately, the coma was against Harry. He didn't wake up. It was five days after the accident, and he showed no signs of recovery.

I never left the hospital. Neither did Louis, Niall, Zayn, Liam, Anne, Gemma, Des, or Robin. Harry's family was provided with two rooms to stay in down the hallway. However, the staff tried to get the boys and me to leave. Obviously, we refused. I was a bit surprise that the hospital staff took 'no' for an answer; I think it had something to do with the boys' star power. Actually, I know it did. We wouldn't leave the room unless it was to get food, go to the bathroom, or pick up any forgotten essential items, like a toothbrush. On the first day, I went home only to pack myself a suitcase, packed to supply me for a month if need be.

 I forgot anything Harry ever did to hurt me- like it never even happened. The only things I felt were overwhelming guilt and crippling fear.

As we sat quietly, I debated whether or not to break the silence. It was so fragile. But I finally did.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Ask who?" Zayn asked.

"Anyone who'll answer."

"Of course," Zayn said.

"Shoot," Niall said. Louis was seated beside me and nodded.

"Do I deserve to be here? I mean...things have been so rough lately, I just kind of feel like--"

"Stop right there," Louis said sternly, which startled me considering how sweetly and quietly everyone had spoken the past few days.

I just looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"You deserve to be here as much--or more--than any of us."

Zayn grinned softly, "He's right. I think when Harry wakes up, he'll be happier to see you than our ugly faces." Everyone laughed, though it was awkward.

I hesitated, scared to face the answer, before asking, "So you guys aren't mad at me...?"

They all shook their head at once, and Niall said "Absolutely not."

"I mean, he looked so miserable all the time whenever I saw him on the news, and based on his voicemails, he really was miserable. And it was my fault; I could've made him happy if I'd just forgiven him. But I couldn't bring myself to do it." I rambled, my eyes burning. I blinked away tears, feeling guilty. Stupid. Selfish.

"He was ridiculous. He really messed up. No one was mad at you for being upset with him," Louis rubbed my shoulder reassuringly.

"And we know you care about him," Niall added, "We knew that the second you walked through that door crying."

It was nine o'clock at night on the fifth day at the hospital. Harry's family was defeated by exhaustion, so they had retrieved to their rooms for the night. However, the rest of us were wide-awake. Niall and Louis sat at the foot of the couch, muttering quietly to each other. Liam, Zayn, and I all occupied the couch- Liam to my left, Zayn to my right. I had barely spoken in days. If I had, it was only to speak to Harry's family for a while or small talk with the boys. We never spoke for more than five minutes at a time, and we would, sometimes, go up to three hours without saying a thing. For five extremely talkative people, it was a new ground for us. However, we had nothing to say. We were all united by our thoughts; we all desperately wanted the same thing. Why talk about it? It didn't make things worse, but it felt useless.