Fuck Me Gently || Harry Styles

chapter 53

HARRY'S POV

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10:10 pm

He couldn't breathe.

He felt sick to the bone.

His heart was in the deepest pits of his stomach, pounding faster than it had ever done before.

He could do nothing but cry his guts out on the floor of the now dead silent corridor, while desperately keeping his eyes glued to the closed door in front of him like she'd come back any second.

He didn't want to accept she was gone.

She couldn't be gone.

10:20 pm

Everything hurt.

His head; his heart; his eyes; his knees from still being in the exact spot he was in when she left him; his hand from holding onto the pendant of the silver necklace so tight, the birds' wings dug into his palm until it bled.

Everything was killing him, yet he didn't move. He couldn't move.

He couldn't stand, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't stop crying.

10:30 pm

He felt like he was dying.

His chest was tight like a rope was wrapped around it; the noose narrowing with every breath he tried to take.

He needed to breathe; he needed the never ending tears to stop falling down his inflamed cheeks, even for a mere moment, before everything would just kill him.

But he couldn't stop: every image of her - even just a fraction of her face - made him sob and knocked him sick until he could barely even take it anymore.

He refused to believe she really was gone.

10:40 pm

He felt sick.

Though his tears finally stopped falling down his face at a rate he didn't even think was possible, and his sobs were finally quiet and no longer accompanied with screams so loud they hurt his throat, he didn't feel any better than he did the moment the door fell shut in front of him - forty minutes ago.

Not only was his chest still massively aching from his broken heart, it started aching with anxiety, too. The more he realised Indigo was actually gone and she wasn't coming back, the more he realised she was out there alone in the dark - in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world.

Every time he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down, he saw nothing but vivid visions of the most horrible things happening to her: he saw her getting harassed, stabbed, abducted, and all kinds of other things that left him anything but calm once his eyes flew back open.

Every new vision he got of her getting hurt left him shaking massively - more than he ever did when he came off cocaine.

She was terrified of New York, and if anything actually happened to her, it was his fault.

He felt sick.

Though he was no longer sobbing, it was now his state of uttter panic that stopped him from being able to breathe or even just simply stand up to search for his phone so he could contact every hotel in the neighbourhood to ask for her name.

He tried holding onto the doorknob in front of him, but with every single attempt to pull himself up, his trembling hand slipped off it, causing him to fall right back on his sore knees.