high flyer // l.s

t w o

When Harry woke, his vision was foggy, blotched with spots of dark ink.

His head pounded, his eyes ached. What was going on?

He rubbed them, desperately trying to rid himself of the spots, fearful of the menacing aura they held.

"Harry Styles," someone said and Harry jumped.

He lifted his head, banging it off the extended sink above it.

The man in front of him was huge, a tall willowy figure draped in black silk. His skin was papery white, eyes sunk low into his skull.

He looked like death.

Harry stared wide eyed before he crawled across the tiles, attempting to get away from the dark, dark reaper in fear.

Am I dreaming?

Am I dead?

His head pounded. He held it in his hands, whining lowly in his throat.

When he asked for nothingness, he had no idea he'd be so acutely aware of everything. He had no idea he'd really get Death.

"You have made a choice. A choice to end it all," the creature said, dark hood pulled over its eyes.

Death looked at him grimly, black eyes like ebony stones against his ivory skin.

"What choice? Trying to kill myself? It obviously didn't work," Harry said, frowning.

How hadn't the pills and the gin killed him?

It was a lethal amount, and no one was around to save him. Was this a hallucination? A side effect of downing so much so fast?

"I am Future. I am here to show you what life would be like without One Direction's Harry Styles. Are you ready?"

"Ready for what? Death?" Harry murmurs, sad. "I've been ready for so, so, so long."

"Let's begin with who finds your corpse," Future set his jaw with grim determination.

Harry got the feeling he'd done this before.

"I'm hallucinating," Harry said, aloud to himself.

It made him feel better about the illusion in front of him. The ghastly man in the dark silk couldn't be real.

"No, you're not. Get up," Harry did not move, "Fine. Have it your way."

Future raised his arms out in front of him, sleeves dangling long and dark in front of Harry's face. Harry swallowed harshly in fear and began to back up slowly.

"I'm here to show you that suicide is not the answer. I hope you'll reevaluate your choice," Future said, and suddenly Harry could see himself lying the floor, "but if not, you've made your decision."

Harry looked down at his corpse, splayed out across the tiles, one arm across his stomach and the other twisted in a painful angle. Harry wondered if he'd had a seizure from the drugs.

Probably.

His legs were awkwardly bent, crooked and achingly pale, and he looked dead. Probably was dead.

The empty gin bottle was tucked under his arm, the pills across the floor, white circles scattered flawlessly across the floor like a bad movie.

"What's going on?" Harry scrambled up, standing.

He was feet shorter than Future, and he suddenly wished he had just died like everyone else.

Why couldn't he just be like everbody else for once? Why was there always an exception for him?

"This is how you'll be found after the suicide," Future's voice rumbled. "Watch."

There was a timid knock on the bathroom door, and Harry almost crossed the room to get it, but his body was in the way.

Harry was losing his fucking mind.

"Haz?" It was Louis, Harry could just tell. "You in there?"

"Don't come in here!" Harry yelled because he would not let Louis see his dead body.

It would scar Louis for his entire life.

No one wanted to see him like that. The only Harry that people wanted to see was singer Harry, part time on stage stripper and womanizer. No one gave one shit about the boy with the pills.

"Stay out!" Harry yelled again, but the door knob continued to twist and jingle.

Harry's heart--whether it was an illusion or not--pounded inside his chest, rumbled his ribcage until he was sobbing, eyes dry.

"He can't hear you," Future murmured. "Stop trying."

"Fuck off," Harry said, with fervour.

A hallucination wasn't going to tell Harry what to do.

"I'm coming in!"

Harry stumbled forward, trying to push Louis out, but all that happened was nothing. Harry fell right through Louis' chest and onto the ground, knees scratching harshly against the carpeting.

"Ouch," he murmured as he stood up and watched Louis walk inside.

Louis gasped, a sob wracking his body as he surged forward, collapsing down next to Harry.

"No no no no!" Louis mumbled, pressing his ear to Harry's chest.

When it didn't move, didn't make a flutter of a beat, he blindly searched for the nonexistent pulse on his neck, sobbing loudly when he realized it was futile.

Harry had died hours before. Alone. Cold. Seizing.

"He'll be the one that finds you," Future said.

"Is he okay after this? Does he...?" Harry's own lip wobbled.

"I cannot tell you."

"But you're Future!" Harry said, exasperated.

"I'm not your personal fortune teller. I don't tell fortunes, especially to punk ass kids who make irrational decisions before they make it past their teens," Future sneared.

"I'm twenty fucking two," Harry snapped, turned again to watch Louis call Zayn.

Louis was squeezing Harry's corpse tight in his arms, sobbing and screaming out words to Zayn on the phone.

"Zayn!" He sobbed. "Harry's dead! He's dead. No, you moron! He fucking killed himself. Zayn, please! He's dead! I--"

"We must go now," Future said, gripping Harry's forearm.

"No, wait! I want to see what happens!" Harry struggled in Future's grip, but it was futile.

Future was too strong.

He dragged Harry away before Louis had even hung up on Zayn. Before Harry caught a glimpse of the agony and broken hearted longing in Louis' eyes.

-j