Dark Song (Mature HS)

21

Harry.

No answer. Again.

Why do I always seem to call her when I'm drunk? I throw my phone at the wall and lean my head in my hands, trying to concentrate on my breathing. Another night where I drink myself to nearly being unconscious, but I can't do that to myself. I always think of Lennon.

It's been three months since I suggested a break. I didn't realize it would stem such a horrible feeling, but it did. I ruined us. For all I know, we are still on break but I know she must hate me right now. All these days I've been alone, realizing a break means I wasn't taking it seriously. But I was. Hell, I fell in love with her.

My body collapses back on the bed and I foggily look at the sky, the darkness only signifying what I feel. I'm alone, without my girl.

Being in Europe, a place she wanted to come with me, makes me slowly drain out. I can't do anything without thinking of her.

My eyes close and I attempt to sleep, but I feel sick to my stomach for the millionth time. There is nothing that feels worse than watching her walk out on my life. But I hold onto the hope that she still wears my chain. If she wears that chain, she's still mine and I need that. I need to know she's still mine.

And now that people think I'm single, girls throw themselves at me. I don't even think to have sex with them. They don't even get me hard. Lennon is what I need and I find myself watching that damn music video continuously, just to see what we were to each other. We were in love; and so easily had sex because that's what we did to express our feelings. That's how we started, how we spiraled into this unknown territory. I can't let her go.

When I finally wake up in the morning, I have a headache and I struggle to get ready. Tour is draining me, the pain is taking me, and I feel like a ghost.

We run through the set-list and Davenport is on his phone the entire time, my voice stopping when he jolts out of his chair at the person now talking to him. His face goes pale and I frown, his hand running through his hair. He snaps at someone and tells them something.

"What?" I ask, his face horrified.

"S-She's breathing?" he asks, my eyes widening. He sighs and clearly looks scared still.

"I'll be home. As soon as I can," he rushes, my hand shoving the microphone at an assistant.

He hangs up and starts rushing around, my hand grabbing his arm.

"What the fuck is going on?" I ask, his hand brushing over his eye. He's crying, an indication something happened.

"I have to go home. You get ready," he says, my head shaking.

"What happened?" I ask, needing to know if it correlates to the girl I still love.

He shakily sighs and the assistant hands him something, his head nodding. "My daughter has been in an accident," he says, my lips parting.

"She's on life support," he says, my hand ripping though my hair as I push it back. He's hiding the name and I need to know.

"Which daughter? If it's Lennon, I'm coming with you," I say, his head shaking.

"No. You're staying here. You have a job to do," he tries, my hand pushing his chest.

"Tell me who it is," I demand, losing my damn mind.

He withholds the information for as long as he can before he sighs, shaking his head. He's distressed and I wait, as patiently as I can.

"Lennon," he sighs, my heart dropping.