killer instinct - || h.s. ||

85

" i'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side "

---

harry styles.

A piercing gunshot floods the crackling speaker of the phone as my heart stills in my chest — unable to fathom the possibility of beating without her.

The severed line blares through the placidity in the diner, strung taut after panic once flooded every crevice of this place.

None of us dared to breathe.

I don't think I could if I tried.

But my eyes apprehensively tear from the phone that held my entire galaxy up for gamble and drift beside me to Griff. His hair matted to the sweat on his brow while his face paled of any color, his eyes wholly fixated on his phone as they began to lacquer before me.

And his face twists beside me, stepping away from the table as if he touched anything else it would slip from his fingers. "No–" he denies, shaking his head as he backs away from us, "no," he adamantly mumbles to himself through the thick emotion coating his voice.

"Oh, my god–" Bella chokes on a sob first, and Gigi's arms instantly furl around her sister as they both break into tears. Niall's head drops to his hands, stumbling on a sigh that catches in his throat.

Zayn stares blankly at the phone still, like they'd call back and everything would just be fine again. And we'd be our once-happy family, meeting up in this very place for fries and milkshakes with the music blaring from the jukebox.

"I'm gonna be sick–" is all Griffin murmurs before he's taking off across the checkered floors.

I blink a few times, slowly testing the waters with a soft inhale. But it doesn't come easy, it stumbles in my throat, magnifying the exuding ache in my chest that consumes the space around us. With every unsteady breath comes the price of my mind reminding me that even still she doesn't have time.

Without so much more thought, I'm following after my friend to the back of the kitchen. Shadowed by the darkness that swarms around us, he harshly retches into the bin.

"Fuck–" I quicken my pace to him, noticing his cry catch in his throat but he doesn't admit to it as he rinses his mouth out in the sink.

"They're not dead." He murmurs while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his unyielding faith is like a crumbling fortress. "They're not dead, I know they're not dead, Styles, I know she's not–" his voice dares to waver while he continues to shake his head.

He denies it over and over until it becomes real.

"Then why the hell are you standing there?" I surprisingly assure him. I'm standing here, willing to tear the world apart to make my way back to Rory.

He stills through his widened and tearful eyes, "let's go," I suddenly panic.

And the two of us are pivoting, quickening our pace to weave out of the place to the location Niall managed to track — I pray in time. Our friends scream at us, but with one look at Niall and Zayn to tell them: I need to get her back. I need her.

Griff and I are flying out the door, slamming the bells of the door against its frame. And he's already in his car, starting it up before I am.

I take off from the curb behind him, nearly retching on her perfume lingering with the cigarette smoke in the hollow of my car. I didn't dare allow myself to believe that was the last of her, floating like a ghost around me in my car.