You're My Everything

Chapter 37: Long Live

*Harry's Perspective*

"You can't spend the night here in this room, you know."

I nod. Everyone had left. I'm alone with my thoughts in this ruddy waiting room.

"Can I go where she is?" So far, every time I've asked, the answer was only immediate family. And I, of course, seem to be no longer included in that category.

"You know the answer to that," she says with pity. She's actually sorry for me.

And I hate it. It's not about me. "Has anything new developed?"

"No. Now it'd be in your best interest if you left, please..."

"There's no where I'd rather be, ma'am."

She sighs and walks back into the hospital room Liz is in.

No matter what room she puts me, I wouldn't sleep. I couldn't. I won't.

It's quiet for a while, as I am the only one occupying it.

I can't even tell the difference between when I'm crying and when I'm so dehydrated that I can't anymore, and it's just gasps.

And I don't even flinch when the elevator rings, bringing Zayn to the room.

"Harry," he slurs. "I'm so sorry. It was my fault. I knew she couldn't come out of this unscathed, but I didn't care, I'm such a--"

"You knew she was going?"

"I didn't know you could manage to get to her in the end, either... It was my job to stop you, and I didn't even know--"

"How's Perrie?" I ask. When you turn the subject to something they clearly want you to, they don't resist. No matter what circumstance, what person... Except...

"She'll be okay, they said. They... They beat her. And I know they did more... But, but..."

"Perrie wouldn't tell you."

He nods, his head down.

"And the rest of Little Mix?"

"They're with her." They're with her, they actually get to see her.

"And why aren't you, again?"

I don't respond as he slowly takes a small piece of paper out of his pocket, folded into a thick, perfect square.

"I'll leave you alone to read this." He motions to Vic to accompany him. "Louis is in Perrie's waiting room, I told the rest of them to leave you alone."

She picks herself up slowly, and silently follows his lead into the elevator.

I finger the paper carefully. I already knew what it was. Liz... She knew something would happen to her. She wrote something, her final word.

Unfolding it, I see she left two papers. The first one, I dare to look at. It's her handwriting. Her words. My name.

Dear Harry,

I won't make this awkward. I know how you felt, and how I felt that day. So I won't. But I'm leaving pretty soon, and I know it won't be easy, or persay, safe. I'm almost sure that I won't come out of it unshaken. Something's telling me, and so I write.

You're my everything. I love you.

Even if you don't, I do. And there's nothing more to say in that area.

And if you still do-- you must be some sort of idiot. I don't know in what world or what circumstance I wouldn't want you in my life. I would've preferred to die.