Big Yellow Taxi [Harry Styles]

Chapter 3; Don't let me go.

            “Oh-Em-Gee! Harry! Who is that!?” I read aloud to Harry, holding my hand up to my heart dramatically. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, his shoulders bobbing effortlessly as he did so. I smiled to him, beginning to scroll again as I searched for yet another comment.

            “Hey,” Harry said, “Does this place look familiar to you?”

            It was those words that successfully pulled me out of my focus on his phone, the dimly lit sign of the diner coming into my view, promptly causing my jaw to drop as a loud groan of distaste escaped my lips.

            “For god’s sake,” I whispered, shaking my head as I stood in place, Harry’s phone still in my hand as I began to pace back in forth, the edge of exhaustion and defeat beginning to take me over completely.

With every turn I made back and forth, Harry’s face and the sign of the diner came into view, reminding me over and over again that what I had found myself falling into was not a dream, and sadly was not a nightmare either. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands gripped my shoulders, promptly stopping my pacing.

            “Lucy,” Harry said, his emerald green eyes staring down into mine, taking away every ounce of confidence I’d once had – under his gaze, lit soul by the rising sun and dimly lit sign, I felt small. But over all, I was tired - and even over that, I was defeated.

            “You need to call somebody,” I told him, “Please just call anybody,” I started to shake my head like a mad woman, looking down at his phone, the battery symbol coming into view – two percent; one percent; and then as if anything could get any worse, the last bit of hope I had of ever getting home tonight, turned into a black screen and a spinning wheel, almost laughing at me.

            A tear slipped down my cheek then, brought on more by exhaustion than anything else – or so I wanted to believe, as I looked up at Harry. His eyes were heavy lidded and just as tired as I, every piece of hope we had ripped away from us, like a cruel joke.

            “I want to go home,” I told him, like a little girl speaking to her dad.

            “I know,” he said, his calm voice soothing me, “But we can’t give up, alright? We’ll make it – we,” he paused, “We’ve just got to try something different is all. Maybe see if we can find a taxi cab, eh?” He tried, his voice sounded hopeful, but the cheerfulness he’d attempted did not reach his eyes. Exhaustion and the never-ending fight to just get home had defeated Harry, much like myself. I nodded, nonetheless, hoping that I could sell it like I could a blush or an eyeshadow.

            The two of us stood for a while, unmoving, until finally his large hands left my shoulders and grabbed for one of my own hands, walking along side of me in slow, sluggish steps. I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder as we walked, feeling a small amount of his own weight lean on me. I wondered how two people could find themselves so lost in a city like London – a place that almost never sleeps. But yet, I held a certain hope in me that knew the shops would eventually open, and soon enough there would be cars buzzing and whirling past, just like any other day – they’d move unknowing, never to hear about the two wandering strangers who’d happened upon each other in a taxi cab.

           

            After a long while of walking, we found ourselves near a busier street, only just now beginning to awaken – this told me it had to be at least six in the morning, maybe seven. I’d lost track of the time, or moreover, stopped caring. Harry’s arm was draped carelessly over my shoulder, trying to keep me warm as the air grew colder and my thin jacket felt like nothing against my cold skin. A comfortable silence had fallen over the two of us, only interrupted by the occasional, “you alright?” with a response like, “yeah, you?” or something similar.