Dark a Harry Styles fanfic

Chapter 58

"You're going to put yourself back together again. You don't have to do it on your own though; your friends and I will help you find the pieces. This hurt won't last forever, Bo."

I wanted to be callous, unfeeling, hard-hearted; just so I didn't have to wake to another day of pathetic moping.

"I still think about your dad every day."

Her words weren't laden with sadness, and it gave me some far-off hope that I could get through this. My mum had overcome it.

"Come on, let's go out and eat some cake," she suggested with a squeeze.

***

My friends had visited me that night, camping out in my living room to play card games and eat sugary treats that probably exceeded 2 days' worth of guideline calorie intake. It was also the first night in what felt like weeks that sleep wasn't a chore, rather a desirable state that provided my body with real rest. I'd nodded off with my friends still quietly chatting, a soothing murmur that proved invaluable into lulling myself into believing I wasn't alone.

Monday reared its unwelcomed head much too early for my liking; back at the shop and back to the sickly feeling of unwanted sympathy from others.

Dan had fussed around me for little under a week at work. His intentions were pure but the constant stream of questions concerning my wellbeing was beginning to sound like a broken record.

"Do you want me to get that for you?"

I politely declined his offer, dragging a chair from the staffroom into the stockroom. Dan stood back as I clambered up, the soles of my shoes on the cushioned seat, fingers wriggling a box out from the top shelf. I was ordering, sorting and dusting my way through a clear-out, as much for my hypothetical cleansing as it was for the maintenance of the shop's stock.

I soon came to find that the box I'd eased out weighed considerably more than I'd previously thought. There was no time to brace for impact. My shoulder took the hit, the cardboard corner jabbing into me and triggering my descent to the floor. My backside met the ground first just before my left elbow jutted out to prevent my head from bouncing off the shelving behind me.

"Are you alright?"

Dan careened around the corner to watch and eventually aid in picking me up from the dusty floor. Luckily the box seemed to be made of stronger stuff, the lid firmly pressed down; it survived with only minor injuries in the form of dents. The same couldn't be said for me. No blood, but probably bruised. I was fed up with crying. Even if this hurt was a different kind to the one I'd been riddled with since Harry had walked away, I couldn't bring myself to brim over. The worry that I was condemned to a life void of emotion was probably something to fret about, but I just couldn't be bothered anymore.

"No harm," I shrugged off Dan's analytical scrutiny.

"You fell pretty hard, Bo."

I'd already dragged my box over to a temporary sorting station; "bin", "keep", "ask manager" were the piles I was adding to.

"I've had worse."

"You need someone permanently around to catch you," he lightly joked, fingering through a stack of vinyl.

I cringed at his statement, innocent enough, but the romantic connotations it was summoning had my stomach churning in disgust. I wasn't helpless.

"I've fallen on my arse plenty of times. I don't need anyone to save me."

It was physically and metaphorically true.

"I know that. You're strong, but everyone needs to be looked after once in a while."