The Pressed Flower [h.s.]

Prologue
"Breaking News: Harry Styles and his girlfriend's car crashes into a river in England.
Harry Styles is reportedly dead."

The young, "dead" rockstar sat in the wooden rocking chair, allowing the steady heartbeats of the little girl in his arms to rock them both into a needed restful state.
"Harry? They're talking about you on the news." Louise whispered, her hair like silk against his hands as he brushed his fingers down her loose curls. He wasn't prepared to explain everything to her. That, in a way, yes, they were both dead now.
"What did I tell you? The news says lots of things you don't need to believe, yeah?" She settled back onto his lap, exhausted from the chaos of the day, the life she hadn't known wasn't real.
"When can we go see mommy?" Harry wasn't prepared for this question, not yet. He had made a rash, quick decision. One he wasn't sure if he would regret, but felt right for them both. As he took in his new surroundings, the smell of the damn air filled his lungs with false bravery.
"Soon, Louise, I promise. We'll go see mommy soon."
He knew it was a lie. He knew that Louise might never see her mother again. That he might... That he might never see the love of his life again. The world needed to believe that he was dead. It had been the solution he never saw coming, and one that only presented itself when everything burned down around him. The world had grown to hate him in the last two years, and now, they could rest knowing he was gone. He could start anew, with Louise, and allow the other half of his heart to start again, without him.
"Let's get some sleep, yeah?" The broken man said to the little girl he never saw coming. "We can see mommy right now, in our dreams."