𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙂𝙂𝙄𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃

𝚝𝚠𝚘. 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝

Camila slowly opened her eyes, trying to ignore the dull pain in her unhealed body. She was to be left with a scar on her right cheek, another on her abdomen as a result of a difficult operation, and especially a wound on her soul.

She had miraculously escaped the accident two weeks ago. Her luck had been that she had a seat belt and had not been pushed by the blast. Normally, she should have died of burns, but she was the only one who survived. Harry and the driver of the other car had died immediately after the impact.

Cami began to cry desperately. She knew that tears would not help, but in a way, it seemed to calm her down. She had to give it up, but it seemed impossible. If it had been otherwise ... she would have preferred him to cheat on her with all his former and future ones, or to have hit her every day, than to simply die – he had passed into the other world and nothing could bring him back, she loved him more than anything. In the first days after the operation, when she woke up and found out the truth, she tried to commit suicide. She failed, all her friends, doctors and nurses were constantly watching her. After a while, her mind began to clear and she gave up the idea of ​​death. She didn't believe in anything, if she thought she would have committed suicide just to be with him, but she didn't know what was waiting for her beyond the grave, and she was afraid. Besides, she thought Harry wouldn't like to see her do that.

The room door opened. Niall, who had been closest to her and her pain, came in and struggled to smile. The brown circles and the fatigue on his face didn't help him much. The blond sat down next to her in the only chair in the room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked wearily.

"I'm sorry I didn't die with him," she said shortly, looking him in the eye. "That way I wouldn't go through what I'm going through now."

A new wave of tears covered her face. Sighing, Niall handed her a napkin. His eyes gleamed with tears. He didn't want to cry in front of Camila, even though he was as affected as she was. He had known Harry since he was sixteen and they had spent nine years together as brothers.

"You shouldn't talk like that," Ni whispered, and took Camila's small hand in his. "I'm sure Harry is glad you survived now, even though he failed."

☆☆☆

"Fifty-eight," Liam murmured, his eyes on the phone screen.

"What is that?" Louis wondered, though he didn't really care.

"The number of fans who committed suicide after ... Harry died" Liam swallowed hard, and so did the others, who remained silent for a moment.

"It will grow even bigger when it is heard that the band has broken up," Louis replied, glancing at Zayn and Simon, who had not yet said anything.

"I still think it's a bad joke," Simon couldn't help but comment. "It all happened so fast. And right now, when you had to release a new song ..."

"I didn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes," said Louis, the only one who had managed to get to the crash site fast enough to see an inert body. He recognized him by his curly hair and arm tattoos. His face was burned.

"We should go to the morgue before we bury him. It's as if we have established that we will keep everything secret, otherwise the situation will get out of hand. The coroner texted me that we could..." Liam pulled out his phone and read the message: "You can pay him one last visit."

"I don't think I want to go," said Simon quickly, who was horrified by the morgue and corpses. I will faint more than sure, only you can go.

Liam looked at Louis and Zayn, who got up immediately. The three of them got into Louis's car, to the hospital they knew so well, because he was the only one surrounded by reporters eager to find out about Camila's condition. Niall was, as usual, with the dead man's girlfriend.

The boys had not yet realized what had happened. They hadn't been allowed to take Harry's body for burial for two weeks, and his parents had stopped him from coming home. It was cruel to do this to them, but Simon, who seemed to be in control at the time, thought Gemma was the only one in the family who could come. Camila's close relatives had been close to her, but they said nothing about Harold — as if she had never existed. Everyone was confused and there was every chance they would stay that way for a long time. Sometimes they had the feeling that Harry and Camila were still on the shores of the Mediterranean, somewhere near Malaga, and would come any day. But, unfortunately, the mirage did not last long; with the beautiful Cami mutilated by accident and with Harry somewhere in the cold basement of the London hospital you couldn't afford to dream.

"Where do we bury him?" Louis's untuned voice was heard, and he felt a knot in his throat. Harry's death was the third he suffered after the deaths of  his mother and sister, and if he didn't show it much, it was because he had a strong character.

"Holmes Chapel," Zayn murmured. "That would be best. But first we have to take his body. Simon said it's our duty, because Harry's family and relatives are destroyed and everyone is expecting us to make the funeral."

Louis sighed as if the car were behind the hospital, away from prying eyes. The three of them entered the back of the building, and Liam began texting the coroner. He soon appeared in the hallway: an elderly man who was probably unaware of Harry Styles' career, because he didn't seem impressed.

"You can come to my office," he invited gallantly. "Serve a coffee, if you wish-"

"We want to go straight to the morgue," Zayn interrupted impatiently. He hadn't seen Harry face to face since last year. The fact that he had left the band had somehow cooled their relationship, but at such a painful time, he could not help but be with those who were good friends.

The coroner approvingly agreed and walked, followed by the men, to the basement. He gave everyone a long white robe and a pair of gloves. The morgue was behind a massive black metal door that opened immediately with the key in the doctor's pocket. Beyond was a horrible scenario: dozens of metal tables, some rusty and weathered because no one thought to replace them, on the principle they are dead anyway, and on almost every table a black bag with a label visible on it. Liam, Louis, and Zayn began reading the labels as they walked among the bodies in the bags, but the doctor didn't seem to want to stay in that room.

"Shouldn't we have called Niall, too?" Louis said, but the others refused. It was too late anyway, and they didn't want to take the blonde away from Camila.

Louis said something, but was interrupted.

"Around here," the doctor directed them to a door other than the one they had entered, also made of metal, but a little smaller. Curiosity began to take hold. The second room was smaller than the first, and the rusty tables with bags on them had been replaced by refrigerators. Each had the same large, easy-to-read label with the name of the person inside.

Liam was the first to see the label Harold Edward Styles. He grabbed Louis and Zayn by the shoulders.

They headed straight for the ice-cold steel crate.

The coroner pretended to be a little farther away from them, so as not to disturb them. For the moment, no one had the courage to open the lid. They read the label again and found that the date and cause of death were written, plus a few more scientific details.

"Are we ... opening it?" Zayn asked, nervous that she was behaving like a little girl. The truth is, they still didn't feel strong enough to see him, not yet. But many days had passed, and whether they wanted to or not, they had to do the same.

Louis grabbed the edges of the lid and slowly lifted it, looking elsewhere, only not inside. A wave of cold and steam blinded them for a few seconds and they all closed their eyes. Only later did they take a deep breath and look down.