Lost Without You (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Harry smiled, hair blowing in the wind as his shining green eyes stared into my own. I’d never seen him happier. He took a step forward off the step, another step closer to me. Then the train hit him.

 That was two days ago.

They found his brown leather shoes by the tracks, bloodstains upon the worn fabric. His straw hat blew 100m down the track from the point of impact. But all I could think of was the sight of his body, shattered upon the ground. The doctors said it was lucky he survived, a miracle even. Miracle or not, we all knew that he wouldn’t survive past this week. That’s why I was lying face-down on the floor in my bedroom, mourning the loss of my best friend. The cold wood of the floor cooled my burning cheeks, tears streaming down my skin. I’d been in the position for hours now, since we got home from the hospital. As soon as he’d been hit, I grabbed my phone and called the ambulance. I remember waiting their for an hour, holding his hand and listening to his slow, struggling breaths.

 My mind flashed back to the present as a knock at the door broke the silence. It creaked open and I saw my mother standing at the entrance. “He’ll be fine,” she said, attempting a half-smile. “Don’t worry darling. He’s going to make it through this.” I looked at her furiously. “He won’t, you know he won’t!” I screamed loudly, slamming my hand down upon the ground. “You’re all trying to lie to make me feel better, and guess what? It’s not working. I know he’ll die, and sugarcoating to try and make it seem like the world is made from cookies and rainbows won’t change a thing!”

 Mom looked at me, shocked my outburst as a fresh wave of tears began to flow down my face again. She turned abruptly and left, slamming the door behind her as I let out another animalistic scream and picked up a chair, throwing it towards the wall. I jumped upon the bed and buried my face in the pillows. Why me? Why him?

 I saw on my desk a photograph of us as children, standing hand in hand in front of a playground slide and covered in mud. We looked to be about 5. I picked up the stand and took out the picture. I turned the paper over in my hands to reveal a mess of squiggly crayon writing. “To Ellie, From Your Best Friend Harry.” I lay on my back upon the bed, emotionless, unfeeling now. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing.

 We’d met in preschool, introduced when I ate his banana. He cried. I laughed. We became friends over our mutual love of fruit. We’d gone to the same primary school, where he protected me from bullies and bought me lunch. I remember how when we were eight, I broke my arm falling from a tree and he’d helped me inside, at which point he slipped on the concrete step and cracked his skull. Over the years, we’ve accumulated a total of twenty-six stitches, four broken limbs and over twelve hospital visits. During high school, we’d only become closer, separating ourselves from the others, forming our own group. We were sort of loners, but we liked it that way. When his mother announced they were going to move at age 14, he ran 4 miles to my house and announced he was now going to live in our basement. They never actually moved, but it gave everyone an idea of how close we both were to each other.

 The day of the train incident was clear in my mind. It was my birthday, so we’d gone down to the park to celebrate with a picnic. Tea and scones, a proper fancy tea like we’d had since I’d been six. He’d brought me sunflowers, my favourite.

“Do you like them?” he asked nervously. “No. I’m allergic to sunflowers. You should know that.” I replied sadly, turning my head. He smirked. “You have them in your bedroom, you made a crown out of them last time I was over, remember?” I giggled. “Thanks though, seriously, I love them!” I leant over to give him a hug, inhaling the scent of his hairspray. “Oranges?” I asked quizzically. He blushed. “I like oranges.” I laughed and pushed him over. “You’re so feminine, Harry.” He frowned and put one hand on his hip. “ Gosh, I am not! I just like nice hair!” he replied, sassily. We stared each other down with straight faces. I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my lips and fought to keep it down. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from my mouth. Harry followed, and soon we were both rolling about the picnic blanket.

Of course, food was still on the cloth, as we soon found out when it flew all over us. Cream, jam and scones covered us from head to toe as we giggled crazily. I finally stopped, out of breath and looked over to Harry, only to see his curls drenched in cream and a mortified look on his face, which only set me off again.

After what seemed like hours, we both calmed down. “You are absolutely covered in everything!” I said, pointing out the mess on him. “Well, so are you!” he replied defensively. I looked down and saw with horror the remains of my blue floral sundress, which had now been thoroughly coated in jam, turning it a rather unattractive shade of orange. My long, straight brown hair had been attacked by the scones and was covered in crumbs. Harry wasn’t much better.

 He stood up. “Help me back up the rest of the stuff he asked. I nodded and together we folded up the picnic equipment. “Hey…. Ellie?” he asked as I packed up the last bits of cutlery. “Yes?” I replied. “Let’s go!” he shouted. I didn’t even have a second to think before he swept me off my feet and started running. “Ha- Harry! HARRY! What are you doing?” I shrieked as he sprinted along a path. “Running?” he asked, adjusting his strong, muscular arms to support me. “I know that you idiot, but where are we going?” He looked down at me. “Look in front of you.” I turned and saw we were running towards an isolated park bench. “Slow down!” I screeched, just as he tripped over. He tumbled down, landing on top of me. “Shit, Ellie, are you okay?” he asked me anxiously. “I’m fine. Just squashed.” I replied, laughing. He rolled off me into the dirt and took my hand in his. “You’re my best friend, Ellie.”, he said, grinning. I lay next to him as we looked up at the clouds. “Always and forever.” I whispered back.