About (Harry Styles)

23.

The scorching sun is setting as Marco and I hit our halfway point to Milwaukee. He drives rather slowly to the destination, in no rush at all to get there. I'm not surprised. His flight's not til another four hours because he has the tendency to over prepare well ahead of time. He's very good at time management.

I, on the other hand, am late for almost everything. If it were me, I'd probably make it to the gate just when they're announcing my zone.

We reminisce about the old times. His ambitious, studious personality and how it basically stole his social life. My outgoing habits and how it got me into some trouble most of the time.

Airports are places I haven't grown used to yet. I mean, the first time I've been on a plane was last semester when flying to London. It's just with airport security being much stricter and tighter, it makes me feel intimidated yet at the same time safe. I don't know how to explain it.

He parks his car in the short term lot and I help him grab his carry on as he drags his suitcase along the way. We walk in silence, knowing that if one or the other spoke, we'd both cry. And I hated showing my vulnerability ... But with Marco, I don't have to put up the wall. Only this time, I wouldn't have him to fall back on.

The large clock reads 6:15 PM, only fifteen minutes before Marco's flight. For the past hour, we've been sitting outside the security checkpoint, again, thinking of old times, making promises that we'd contact each other every day.

"So I guess, this is it..." An overly calm Marco says right as we reach the gate.

"Yeah," I breathe, yielding a small smile.

"You'll be okay? Driving back by yourself?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me. I'll text you when I get in town," I promise him, although there is a parceled piece of me that is afraid of driving by myself at night. "Now go before you're late for your flight."

Marco nods. He turns to walk away, giving me one last grin. Once he's halfway across to the security guards, he spins around and waves his hand with his ticket and passport in hand.

I fight the tears that threaten to escape until he's out of my sight.

Watching my best friend leave the country, it's ... hard. I feel as though a piece of my soul is gone, and I hate this feeling the most. The feeling of being left behind. The feeling of being alone. I thought I've gotten used to this by now, but this is nothing I want to be accustomed to.

My phone buzzes in my purse and I search through my backpack to answer it.

"You're not going to be alone ... I'll always be here for you ..."

It's a text from Marco. He always knows how to comfort me, always knows how to say the right things to console and encourage me.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow the tears and leave, knowing that even though Marco will be gone for a while, I know he will always be my best friend.

...

The scary thing about driving by yourself is the small fact that it can drive you insane.

And to make it worse, I'm driving through the dark.

I glance over to the glowing screen of the GPS and the arrival time reads 8:26 PM. About less than an hour left ...

And as if someone had cursed me, the light from the GPS fades out.

Oh shit.

Did Marco prepare the charger for it?

He should have, right? He's always prepared for emergency situations like these.