Search Party-
Once we both finished counting, we met each other at a massive rock that we decided to call our 'meet up place'.
"How many dead bodies did you count?" Harry asked, looking distant almost as if he didn't want to hear the answer.
"Um...about 64, you?" Harry scratches his head, before answering.
"I got 87..." He adds, as Harry started to count using his fingers, "Shit, if only I had paper" He mutters.
"That means that there was 151 people dead" I answer for him. He nods, scratching his head once again. I felt to worry, "I'm sorry-Harry, are you ok?" He doesn't answer for a few seconds.
He looks directly at me with those peircing green eyes, "Yeah. I'm fine, it's just..." His head lingers below, "It's just that the thought of my buddies out there hurt...scared...lost...it hurts me alot" He confesses, sniffing as he says so.
My eyes linger down to the sand touching my destroyed sneakers. "It's ok Harry, we'll find them " I smile, lighting up that hurt spirit of his.
"Shouldn't we start searching for things, food, and shelter to survive?" Harry suggested, almost like a command than a question.
I nod, "Yeah, and we also need to tend our wounds as well, wouldn't want to have an infection at a time like this." Harry nods, curls bouncing as he does so.
"Once we finish that, we can look for our families and friends, and other survivors..." He adds. "...If there's any at all" He mutters under his breath, lowering his head once again.
"Oh come on, Harold. Cheer up"
"Harry" he corrects, almost whining.
I smile, "You sound just like a child" A giggle escaped my lips, without my consent.
"Do not" He pouts.
"Do"
"Do not"
"Do"
"Do not"
"Do"
"Ok, are we really having a argument in the middle of a deadly situation?" his voice soft, fire igniting inside of him. "Abigale, there's still people out there dying, and you still manage to make this somehow fun?!" Harry's voice escalates, echoeing all around us.
My eyes started to sting, and a lump formed in my throat, "Harry, I was just trying to make you feel better with this situation. My mother used to always say-"
"Well yeah. Thanks for the help Abigale." He sasses, walking away from the black rock.
"Abby!" I correct, getting annoyed. "Where are you going?" I yell, to make sure that harry heard me.
He turns, still walking, backwards, "I'm searching for things that would help us survive...at least I'm doing something meaningful, other than somebody" Harry screams back, muttering the last words in his breath.
My eyes still stung, as the lump remained also.
Don't cry Abigale...Don't cry.
..........................................................
"I found a Blanket!" I screamed, Harry running towards me.
"I found many strong sticks, three nails from the plane, metal from the plane, grass, a sharp thingie..." Harry looks closely at the object that he was holding, that was indeed sharp.
I chuckle, "A sharp thingie?" Harry looks at me, confused.
"Well...it's sharp and it's a thing..." He smiles, laughing at himself.
YOU ARE READING
Flight 143 (Harry Styles)
FanfictionAbigale Winters hates planes. First of all, they are high up in the sky, and second of all, the stories that she has been told or seen weren't so pretty. But coming back from a vacation that she had the time of her life, from Tampa Florida, back to...
