Was it All an Accident? (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction, Book Three)

Part Twelve: So You Don't Have To Marry Me.

(Whytnie’s POV)

“So what are you doing?” I asked, leaning over the couch to peer down at Harry, who’s wide awake on the couch. He’s laying down, staring blankly at the plain white ceiling. I don’t know how long he’s just been there like that, probably deep into shock. But shouldn’t I be? Not him? I mean, it wasn’t him who was going to die. It was me! “I’m thinking about ordering pizza.” He blinked. “Want some?” There didn’t seem to be any recognition in his eyes anymore. “Please don’t make me eat a whole pizza by myself.” I knew I sounded whiney, and I hated that, but I had to do something to bring him out of this strange depressed trance.

            The front door opened and slammed closed. Great. My father was here. He walked into the living room, gave me a weird look before coming over to give me a bear hug,  the look on his face was as if he’d never see me again. I hated it. I hated everything. I was never one to hate before. But now I just feel like I have so much hate inside me. And I hate it.

            “How’re you feeling?” my father asked when he pulled away. I nod and shrug at the same time, as if that was the perfect answer. “Did you eat anything yet?”

            “Not yet.” He glances down at Harry.

            “How long has he been there like that?” I shrug. “Well, is he okay?” I shrugged again before turning back to peer down at Harry.

            “Harry?” I asked my voice breaking. “Are you okay?” He blinked. “Are you deaf?” No answer. “Mute?” Again, no answer. Rolling my eyes, I was starting to get irritated. “Harry, why aren’t you doing something!? Anything? Why are you just lying there, not moving!?” He blinked again and then seemed to see me. “I mean, it’s not you who has to deal with all of this! You’re here because you want to be! I’m here because I have to be! I’m going to die! And you don’t have the right to space out like that!”

            He gives me a confused look, before getting off the couch. His eyes take in his surroundings and he finds my father and smiles sheepishly at him. My father takes that as his cue to leave, but kisses my cheek before he leaves. I ignore the look he gives Harry.

            “I’m sorry…”

            “How am I supposed to deal with this if you can’t?” He shakes his head, his messy hair getting even messier. As he moves it to the side, he walks over to me slowly. He’s breathing hard and I watch him to fight for control, because he’s trying really hard not to cry. I take that as my cue to distract him. He doesn’t fight me. And I know that I’m sick, but it no longer matters. In that moment, I’m perfectly fine. I can hardly notice the shooting pains.

            But I do notice that my stomach thinks Harry is a whale and it feels like its duty to communicate with him.

            We break apart, my breathing ragged and uneven, and him smiling. “So is that a yes on pizza?”

[…]

(Whytnie's POV)

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, as his hand tightened around mine. We were on my father’s back porch, lying on the most uncomfortable hammock in the world. I was staring up at the stars, thinking about where my life has gone. I mean, here I am. Not even twenty-five yet. I’m engaged!?!

            Speaking of which…

            “Harry?” He nestles in closer to me and makes a throaty sound. “I’m not going to die right away.” His head nods, but I just feel it against my neck. “They’re saying my disease isn’t going to kill me for a few more years.” His body freezes and I can’t feel him breathing anymore. I know that I’m just stating the obvious because he was there in the doctor’s room with me when I heard the news, but I’m just preparing myself for what I’m about to say. Taking a deep breath, I might as well get it over with. Put it out there. I’d be a horrible person if I didn’t, right? “You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

            He jerks away to glare at me. “What?”

            “Yeah, since I’m not going to die right away. I mean, that’s why you asked, right? Because you thought I was going to die any day?” The look he gives me makes me feel ashamed. “They’ve put me on some medicine and I can hardly even feel the pain anymore! So you don’t have to marry me.”

            “I don’t have to?” His glare makes me avert my gaze. I can’t look at him. My cheeks redden and I can feel his anger even though I’m not watching him. “Whytnie,” he tries to make me look at him but I close my eyes, “where the hell is this coming from? You think that I was only going to marry you because you were going to die? I want to marry you because I love you! Because I can’t see myself with anybody else! You think this changes how I feel about you?” I still don’t open my eyes. “Whytnie!” He yells and starts shaking me until I open my eyes. “No matter how much time you have left, I want to spend the rest of it with you.” He starts playing with the ring on my finger. “You never know how much time you have, and I want you to be my wife for the rest of our lives.”

            My eyes sting but I don’t allow myself to cry. I’ve got to try! “But, Harry−”

            “No, Whytnie! I love you. And if you love me, you’ll marry me. You won’t have to worry about anything, I promise!” He was pleading now as he stood up to look down at me. “You and I, that’s all that matters right now. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

            “No, Harry,” I insist and shake my head, “we can’t.” His face crumples and my heart starts to hurt for what I’m doing to him. “You have a long life ahead of you, but I don’t! You’re going to outlive me, and then what happens?” I hurry on before he can interrupt. “You’re going to be a widower. What then? Harry, you have your whole life! Don’t waste it!”

            “Then say yes so I won’t have to!”

            Sighing, I shake my head and avoid his gaze. “Harry, I can’t… I love you too much to ruin your life.”

            “You’re my life, Whytnie. Without you, there isn’t all that much for me.” He kneels down in front of me, making me look down at him. His arms lace around my waist and pull me towards him. “And I’m not about to give you up.” His lips are on mine before I can argue. Instead, I don’t argue back. I don’t say anything. All I do is kiss him back, and I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.

            But, man, I don’t want to stop.