Which Star (Harry Styles story)

Four.

March 1st, 2013 Entry one- Leigh.

I still talk to you. You're not there, but I feel your presence. You linger here in this diary. This bloody diary.

I force myself to not cry. I'm too numb to feel the tears. What's the point if you can't feel anything?

Why did it have to happen on my birthday, Harry? Did I do something? Harry, please forgive me. Whatever I did wrong, just please don't hate me. Anything but that.

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The day after my birthday, I was sitting on my couch, watching Dirty Dancing and eating sour cream and onion chips, and I heard a knock on our door. Getting off my lazy butt,  I open up, and I suprisingly see Louis, Anne, and Gemma. All important people to you. 

Their eyes were red and puffy. Anne's especially. Like they had been crying. I look and see the pure sadness in their eyes.

I especially notice Louis, he was cut up, a red gash on the right side of his forehead, and a clean slit in his cheek. His chin had a purple colored smuge on it, and his clothes were ripped. I even see some blood on his grey shirt. He looked like coal char had showered over his cheeks.

"What's-" Louis cut me off by holding out this red, hardcovered book. I take it from his outstretched hand. I see the cover. In gold capital letters, it reads: DIARY. I look into his eyes with wonder.

"It's...it was his." He looked down to his feet, slipping his hands in his pockets.

"What do you mean by 'was'?" I blink, feeling my cheeks getting hotter and hotter.

Louis looks into my eyes, fresh tears in his teal eyes.

"Harry, he uh...there was, a um...an accident...yesterday." He says, his voice getting weaker.

"What are you talking about?" I look at all of their faces individually. All about to cry.

After that, it was explained to me that the tour bus driver, who was drunk, had crashed into a semi truck on the interstate. All the boys made it, except you...you didn't make it from the explosion, Harry.

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And now, I sit here, crumpled up in a knot. I can't take anything seriously anymore. You're gone...why should I have to? Drunk and depressed. Drunk as the driver...

I've drinken all the alcohol we had in the house, and every night I run out, I stumble out to the liquor store. Being sober doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.

March 3rd, 2013, Entry two- Leigh.

Surprisingly, I have to be sober today. I don't have money left to buy more wine and flasks.

So today I decided, since my vision isn't blurred from being drunk, I can read the diary.

To hear your voice in my head again...it would mean more than the moon to me. More then our star to hear it in person...

I  read for a long time, taking my time with each word, taking in everything you were saying. Every single word in that diary that is written in your handwriting is the only thing that matters to me. 

When I'm finished, I reread that unfinished sentence. Over and over again. The last thing you were going to say to me. 

Some how, continuing your diary feels like tying a connection between me and you, Harry. I feel you around whenever I write. You're here still, in my heart. I still feel you holding me. I can't feel your arms around me, but I can feel the warmth. 

You're the only thing keeping me going. Just never let go, okay? You hold me down. Feeling you there, it some how keeps the pain away. Keeps the tears from falling.

In this diary, I finally realized how much you loved me. As I read, I felt the love, I felt everything that I used to. But only now, as I write, I can feel you. Sometimes a few tears well up in my eyes, and hit the pages as I read, but it means nothing. As long as I know you're there, nothing else matters. 

I fall asleep easier tonight.

March 4th, 2013, Entry three- Leigh.

I visited Anne today. We cried together.  I stayed sober a second day. She told me her baby was happier now. I believe maybe you're happier, but I don't think you're okay yet.. I think you're still here, wanting to come back and be with us again. I want you to be with us again. 

She misses you about the same amount as me. It's way more than you'd think. 

After being with Anne the whole day, I go home and dig in a box of our old stuff. I find some pictures. I see the first one you and I took together. I was so excited that day. I was living the directioner's dream. Meeting them, and then your favorite guy simoultaneously  gives you his number, and he's "the one". 

I remember when you announced "Harreigh" on twitter. My twitter was completley filled with mentions, with horrible things said about me. I remember you were so mad at the haters. I was just laughing my ass off, and you ended up laughing, too.  

Then the picture of us on our anniversary, probably the most recent. The day we went to the arcade and played old video games. There was a photo booth there. I glance at the first photo. There's that smile of yours. Those happy, gorgeous green eyes. I was kissing you on your cheek, and you were laughing as I attacked you. I smile for the first time in a few days.

The next picture was a passionate kiss. I smiled between your lips, my eyes closed and giggling. I remember how your lips felt on mine. Soft, and warm. Always so gentle.

The picture after was of us just being weird. You have your toungue sticking out, making a wink at the camera, and me, grabbing your face, sticking out my toungue as well.

The last picture was of us, holding eachother, making pouty faces because it was the last photo.

I examine the line of photos for a second and let out a weak chuckle. I sigh as I put the picture back in the box.

The whole night, I just look through this box of memories. There's so many things in it... but the last thing I take out was a small, red, velvet box. I look inside, and I am shocked. There's a small note, inside of a ring, in the shape of a rose. I look at the note, and read in beautiful cursive:

I don't expect for you to find this on your own right away, but I know you will. Come and find me when you see this. I love you more than anything, Harry xx.

This note knocks the wind out of me. But the ring completely takes my breath away. It's in the shape of a rose, and is crafted to look like ribbon was wrapped around my finger.

You never mentioned this in the diary...though I assume you would at one point. In a way, this made me want to forget about the note, the ring, so I put it back, since there's no point in wearing it. I put it back in the little red box, and tried to forget I even saw it.

I decided it was enough for the night. I wanted to go to sleep. It was midnight, and I was exhausted.

 All those good memories kept me happy for the rest of the night. Usually by now, I'd be crying, but not tonight. Good night Harry. I love you.