Shine (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Two

"Where's Regan?" I ask, turning to look behind me and seeing Mark working in the kitchen. He smiles and waves at me before returning to his work as the chef.

"Over there," Liam snickers, pointing. I follow the line of his finger and see Regan and Niall feverishly making out in a booth. I roll my eyes and walk over to them, tapping Regan on the shoulder.

"You know, people come here to eat food, not to watch other people eat face," I remind them, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at them both. I hear Liam laugh from behind me and pretty soon, Regan and Niall are too.

I almost laugh, but the part of me still submerged in darkness suppresses it. I do smile though, my first real one since Will died. It feels nice, but also like I am betraying him in a way by being happy when he's dead. I know it's what he would want for me, but I can't seem to shake my guilt.

"Now that we're all paying attention," I say, shooting Regan and Niall a look, "I wanted to ask you guys if you would to come to one of Mike's parties tonight. We can stop at my house when we're off work and then head to the frat house from there."

"Yeah, sounds great!" Regan says, leaning into Niall's chest as he snakes an arm around her protectively. I have to look away. It feels like they're rubbing their happy relationship in my face, although I know that's not their intention.

"Well, if you're going, I'm going," Niall says. "Gotta fight off all those college boys."

In the words of Ashton Irwin, the more the merrier.

After our shift is done, Liam, Niall, Regan, and I all pile into my car and I drive us to my house. On the way, Niall and Regan start making out again in the backseat so I start a conversation with Liam to ensure that my lunch does not make a reappearance.

"So, how's your sister doing?" I ask, remembering how his sister was diagnosed with Leukemia about a year ago. She was 7 then. I can see the pain and worry flash through his eyes at the mention of her.

"Zoe's doing fine," Liam says in a strained voice. I almost hear his thoughts adding 'for now'. "She has a bone marrow transplant scheduled a month or two from now."

An 8 year old getting a bone marrow transplant. This is what makes life so fucked up. Someone who has only lived a fraction of their life already has to fight harder to keep it than people who are five to ten times her age. I'd say it's unfair, but that would be a massive understatement. Life is just plain cruel.

"Oh, I hope it goes well. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm sure you're tired of hearing that," I say sincerely, forcing a smile that is probably just as believable as his.

"Thanks, but you're probably even more tired than I am at the moment," he sighs just as we pull into my driveway. He's right. I am tired. Tired of seeing and hearing the same scripted words repeated over and over again in voices that posses varying degrees of meaning to me. Without the looks of pity or the words that offer meaningless condolences, I might find it easier to selfishly forget what I had. Or more importantly, what I lost.

All these people telling me they're sorry for my loss or that they offer their condolences just reminds me that I lost the most important person in my life. How do they not get that? How do they not see the pain and sadness in my eyes every time they speak to me about him? No one understands the depth of my despair. I'm not even sure I understand it myself.

The staccato dings from the car wrench me back to the present. I see Liam stepping out of the car, his seat belt hanging limply beside the seat. I examine the driveway and notice that neither of my parents are home, a relief although not a surprise. I am usually alone and I like it that way.