high flyer // l.s

f o u r

Harry's vision cleared, but his ears rang with Zayn's screams, and his eyes burned with the image of Louis convulsing.

Those things should never have happened, but Harry still didn't regret his decision.

He hated living, it was agony. Fake smiles and forced laughs, singing away his life to people who thought they knew him and not spending it with Louis because of fear. Fear of rejection and hate and management.

It had wrecked him.

But the future without Harry Styles was much worse than he could've imagined.

Future dropped his hand from Harry's arm, sighing.

"Where're we?" Harry asked, voice rough with his tears.

"Zayn's apartment," Future said. "Watch."

The door to the strange place was pushed open, and in walked Zayn. Snow was on the ground outside, and Zayn's cheeks were red, so Harry assumed it was near Christmas. Again.

Zayn looked like shit. His hair was flat against his forehead, his face was unshaven, dirty, and he was wearing loose sweats.

Harry frowned when he pushed back his hood, revealing dark circles and impossibly hollowed cheeks.

"He's not gonna..." Harry couldn't even say the words.

If Zayn died...Harry wouldn't be able to deal because he'd have caused it. All by ridding himself from the world.

"Shh," Future murmured.

Harry watched as Zayn took off his coat, collapsing onto the couch. He looked thin, too. Like he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks.

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick?" Harry asked, pleading with Future for some kind of answer.

Zayn hardly got sick. He was the healthiest of the band, minus the smoking. So why did he look so ill?

"He's not sick, dumbass," Future rolled his eyes. "Watch."

Zayn's phone began ringing on the table, and he sighed, scrolling through the texts. He pressed call, and raised the phone to his ear.

"Liam? What do you want?"

Future snapped his fingers, and Harry could hear Liam's voice emanating around the room.

"Zayn, thank God. Are you okay? I haven't spoken to you in weeks! I've called and texted, but you continue to ignore me!" Liam sighed, sounding upset.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to hurt you and Niall when I died like Harry and Louis did to me, so I distanced myself from you." Zayn whispered, voice soft.

"What's wrong with you? Are you sick?" Liam's voice sounded panicked. "Why are you going to die? Zayn, please!"

"Because I can't live like this any longer," Zayn said, biting his lip to hold in his sobs. "They...They're gone, and I can't go on being Zayn Malik. There will be no more Zayn Malik. Everyone looks at me like I killed someone, like their deaths were my fault! And maybe they were. Maybe if I'd have been there for Harry, he'd have never downed those pills. If that hadn't happened, then Louis would still be here! Would still be happy."

"Zayn, please. No, you can't do this! Niall needs you!" Liam's voice was pleading. "I need you. Don't commit tonight. We can get through this."

"Committing? I'm not committing, you arse," Zayn laughed, sad. "The stress is killing me, don't you get it? I'm down to one hundred and three pounds, you know. And I haven't eaten in three days, but I don't feel it. Don't feel anything anymore. I'm numb," Zayn shook his head.

No, no, no. Not Zayn.

Harry whimpered, shaking his own head.

"What? Do you want me to pity you?" Liam snapped. "We're all going through the stress of losing our best-friends...our brothers within one year. Do you think you're alone in this? Because you aren't. We're here and we're feeling the same goddamned things!"

"You don't understand! I was supposed to be there for Harry! And for Louis, after Harry's death. I promised..." Zayn let the tears fall, and Harry wanted to collapse in upon himself.

Zayn was too hard on himself. There was nothing he could've done--could've said--to prevent Harry's death.

It wasn't his job. It wasn't any of the boys'.

"Zayn, you need to tell me where you are so we can talk. I'll bring Niall and it'll be like the old days!"

"Nothing will be like the old days. Not if Harry and Louis aren't there to see it," Zayn said, fierce, wiping the tears of off his face. "Forget it, Liam. Stop calling."

"Zayn, I swear to God if you hang up this phone--"

"What're you gonna do that I've not already done to myself?" Zayn laughed, humourless. "Bye, Liam. Tell Niall that I'm sorry," Zayn hung up the phone.

Harry turned to Future, no longer frightened. He pushed Future, but it was unlike anything he'd ever done. He saw flashes of images and of people he'd never met. He saw his mother in her casket, he saw Louis in his, the burning of bodies with no faces, the bright red of blood pumping out of a fatal wound.

It was horrific.

He dropped his hands, stumbling away from Future, and tripping over the table.

"Do not touch me unless I touch you," Future warned. "Next time the images will not be as pleasant."

"My mother in her casket is pleasant?"

"It's downright humourous compared to some of the other things you could've seen," Future taunted. "Anyway, how do you feel about your best friend wasting away? He's lost fifty pounds in the spans of fourteen months."

"I didn't know...that this would happen." Harry whispered, looking over at Zayn, who was laying on the couch, face up, oblivious to the deceased Harry, not ten feet away.

So close, but so, so far.

"Louis is dead, Zayn doesn't eat, Liam's career's down the hole, and Niall's an alcoholic," Future smiled, malicious. "These things have one thing in common."

"My suicide."

Everything was on his shoulders, always his.

And he felt insanely powerless.

Future cleared his throat, "My siblings will show you some other things, yes?" He smirked. "Have fun with my brothers. They're not nearly as humourous as I am."

And then Future reached out, grabbing Harry's arm, tight, and tugging him somewhere else.

-j