Moonstruck // Harry Styles

epilogue

The train moved fast, jingling with its engine sounds and cutting through the fog as if it was determined to fight against time and reach us three wanderers to a safer region. Jane and I were sitting in silence whilst Niall slept peacefully at a little distance. He looked like a child and I was sure that if the rail wasn't so noisy, we'd hear him snore.

Jane sat with her back against one counter as I sat leaning against another just in front. No parts of our bodies were touching except our hunched knees. Occasionally her fingers would brush my leg - but she was looking elsewhere, ahead. It seemed as if she was keeping a track of the things we left. There were so many.

We both sat close enough to the gate of the chamber to feel the sharp bites of air, and so her open hair was blowing, perfectly, like an intricate root of ethereal beauty. I slipped closer to her, silently; close enough so that I could count her eye lashes. Carefully, I touched her face.

"Jane," I whispered.

She looked at me and smiled. She would never need words to say that she loved me. That smile, it was life. And I'd live the rest of my life with it.

"Jane, I love you," I said. She inched her face a bit and kissed my cheek tenderly before resting her head in the crook of my neck, her fingers brushed my hair as I suddenly recalled a memory.

It was blurry, but it was true. Gemma and I, sitting next to a fireplace. I had been crying, and she was soothing me the same way Jane always did.

"You know, Jane," I whispered, realizing that the only person I'd want this memory to know was her - "I remember the night we first met - I was drunk and you calmed me. You brushed my hair as if I were a little child. And, you know, Gemma used to do that, too. When I'd get upset at my father's screaming and his beating Gemma, she would come to me, despite her pain, and she'd brush my hair and tell me stories until I'd calm down and sleep. You did the same thing that night, Jane."

My voice was soft, words purring out of my mouth without any regard. I realized that I was crying. And Jane looked up to see my tears the second time this night. She let me cry, seeing me serenely as I was at my precipice.

"Some memories never leave us, Harry," she said, softly. "And it is a good thing. We'd always carry our loss and learn - we just need to be brave enough to go on."

"Gemma's eyes were blue, like yours. She never liked to wear her hair up. She was so kind and she loved me so much... and she was so alone. She never let me share her pain. And... her smile was so beautiful."

That was my whole - my greatest secret; my best and my worst. I had a sister who loved me like a mother. She had saved me from every cruel blow my father could do to damage me. And in return I gave her nothing. In return, she lost her life, her smile, her chance.

But then I glanced at my Jane through my teary eyes, and I knew what my sister would say that day. She'd be proud of me. I had saved Jane from that hell she lost herself in. I had shared her pain. Jane was my everything. And together, we could get back our lives, our smiles, our chances.

"Harry?" I heard her call.

"Yes, Jane?"

"Gemma wanted nothing other than for you to live happily - I've been there, I know this feeling. She didn't live for herself, but for you. And I admit this isn't healthy, but there's just this supernal bliss in letting someone's life take place before your own. The times you smiled at her cause, Harry, you gave Gemma something you can never imagine. She died trying to protect you - I don't believe she wanted anything else."

Tears made it hard for me to speak. But trembling, I asked her, "You believe so?"

"Oh, my love, I know."