Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

Twenty-seven

Chapter 27

Bethany

The room around me has turned from mellow and fun to chaotic in just seconds. I watch the sanity of the crowd crumble in front of my eyes, and suddenly the lights go out, emitting a scream from my throat. I have no idea what’s going on.

The shot came out of nowhere, hitting Harry and knocking him to the ground. I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead at this moment, and the pitch black darkness of the room doesn’t make finding him any easier.

The crowd around me screams and blocks me from getting down from the stage. I can barely see him, lying motionless beside the stage. Since its dark I can’t see how much he’s bleeding.

I shove my way through the crowd, but only manage to get knocked down. A few more shots ring through the air and I cover my head, getting back down on my knees.

Screams of pain and agony ring through the air, and I fight down the panic rising in my throat. I have to get to Harry.

I crawl on my hands and knees, squinting through the darkness at the place where Harry had been two seconds ago.

But he’s gone. He’s completely disappeared.

I straighten myself up and wildly look around for Harry. I stumble around tables and panicking people to where he had been lying only minutes before.

A dark spot stains the floor, and I reach out my hand to touch it, fingers coming in contact with a sticky substance.  I gasp and quickly retract my hand.

Hearing a sniffing sound, I look up and spot Harry curled up in a ball in a dark corner, rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherent things under his breath.

I gasp, seeing a similar dark stain soaking the left side of his shirt to the one on the floor in front of me.

The lights flicker on and off, and I can just barely see that the bullet has only hit him in the shoulder. Relief floods over me, but just as soon as I thought everything was okay, Harry moved his arm and I saw blood trickling down the side of it.

Panic gripped my chest and I knew I had to get the both of us out of here soon. Me; because I was on the verge of a fucking panic attack, and Harry; because he was on the verge of dying.

“Harry.”

He stops mumbling briefly to glare up at me. His eyes flash with anger, warning me to stay away.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice is low and raspy, scaring me a little. If I didn’t know him better, I would have turned and ran.

His walls have been put up again and the fear and memories have filled his head. He’s back to his old self again.

Tears prick the back of my eyes. “You’re hurt, Harry.” I manage to choke out.

In more ways than one.

The room behind us is slowly quieting down; most of the people have gone besides the ones who are lying dead around us.

He ignores me, squeezing his eyes shut and continuing to mumble things.

He’s too deep in his own mind to hear from the real world anymore. It shatters my heart because I don’t know how to get through to him again.

I creep closer.

The bullet seems to have gone in deep, and he’s losing blood fast. Half his shirt is soaked, and its beginning to pool on the floor beside him. He’s trembling uncontrollably, breathing erratically.