Rupture // h.s au

61. "I'll go."

A/N: Listen to the song attached to the media section while reading this, it'll set the mood quite nicely. And read the note at the end please, it's a long one :)

Now, enjoy, and read along my friends

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Autumn

Minutes faded into hours, hours molded into one another, adding up to the first day I had to spend without him, but with his hands on my body, and his fingers leaving marks that I feared would never go away. He wasn't there, but I could feel him every time I touched myself. He was crawling under my skin. He was dissolved in the saliva in my mouth. He was evaporated in the air I breathed in. He was everywhere. And I wanted out.

The first day was brutal. I collapsed into the first solid body I found, which was Liam. I cried until I was all dried out. He took me to Louis' room, telling me that he'd be spending the night with Anne and Raine, so that we'd have the room to ourselves. He put me to bed and promised that the next day would be better. It wasn't. Not a single day since, was.

Everything was a blur. Sometimes I'd fall asleep and wake up to Zayn, when I could have sworn that I had fallen asleep with Liam there. He'd tell me that Liam had left, two days ago, and that Zayn and Louis had been staying with me since. Other times, I'd be talking to Niall, and for a second, his blue eyes would turn green, and his hair would look brown rather than blonde, and I'd hear Harry, loud and angry and hateful. And Niall would have to shake me or hold me until somehow, I remembered that other people existed in the world that he'd crashed and burned around me.

I was spiraling and the longer I went without seeing Harry, the more I grew used to my slight inability to breathe, and the heaviness in all my muscles, and the ache that wouldn't go away. I wasn't one for depending on someone to be my lifeline. The world no longer allowed such a concept to prevail, mostly because all lifelines were eventually turned into uglier versions of what they should represent, and the world was drowning in dead bodies already. I couldn't really stop though. I wished I could. Every single day.

Until one day, Anne came frantically knocking on my door, crying about a sudden raid that Harry decided to go on, right into the Bureaucrats' camp. She said he was taking all the boys with him, along with any volunteering soldiers, ignoring all the possible tragic outcomes of it. They would be outnumbered, and the Bureaucrats owned much more advanced weaponry. Harry was going on a suicide mission, taking with him everyone he cared for. And what made it all worse, was that his main aim was killing my father.

I didn't know how, but I made a promise to Anne that I didn't know if I'd keep. I pulled her into an embrace and allowed her to cry. And for the first time in days, I didn't cry along. I whispered reassurances; that Harry knew better, that he'd be okay, that he wouldn't do that to himself, to me. But I didn't know that. Harry's rage was so overpowering, it could easily overrule all I had known about him. All I had loved. But I willed that pile of self-doubt and fear and uneasiness away, as I pushed my legs to run faster, my lungs to inhale more air, my heart to stop fucking beating so fiercely against my chest, like it was reminding me it was still keeping me alive.

I could see their vehicle in the horizon, loaded with people and weapons and supplies that would never come back. Harry wouldn't come back. And he'd leave thinking that I hated him. He'd leave, hating me. And I couldn't live with that. That couldn't be the last thing I'd hold of Harry. That couldn't be what he'd leave behind. That wouldn't be what he'd take with him. If this was the end, if this was it, then fuck me if we didn't go out with a bang.