Harry Styles, I'm Not Your Puppet (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) (On Hold for Now)

Ch. 27 "Goodbye?"

―Kim―

People think goodbyes mean nothing at all. If you ever thought about it, when someone says ‘goodbye’ casually, we do think nothing of it. See them tomorrow. Hang out. Do it again all over, right? What we don’t ever think of though, is when someone says it in finality, like “I’m done, goodbye.” “I’ll love you forever. Goodbye.”

We don’t think that way.

I guess my question would be: Why?

What about the people who don’t ever get the chance to say goodbye? When they leave their friend’s house, “Goodbye, see you tomorrow,” but die in a car crash on the way home? What about their other friends? What happens to the ones who didn’t get a goodbye, not even a casual one?

What about that person’s family? That grandmother or grandfather who hadn’t seen them in a year or two? Their parents? Even harder when they’re divorced, did one of them not see them in a long time? Did either of them get a goodbye?

Such strange things people would give for that one last word. That one last goodbye.

I guess, at the end of the day, we do care. We care more than we let on because we are stupid, senseless creatures. We don’t want things until we cannot receive them anymore.

I guess that sums up everything I’m thinking right now in this stupid car. I didn’t want comfort anymore. I outgrew it and embraced the hard emotions.

My initial reaction, funnily enough, was not sadness, no, that would’ve been too simple. No, anger was my reaction, resulting in me ripping the letter. And now I’m going back to Aria, thinking about what to say when I see her. Goodbye? Like that SOOOO personal letter she left me? She thinks that would be enough for me? Enough for me to understand everything?

Hell no.

Some people don’t even care about last goodbyes. They don’t even want the person back, glad they’re dead. And to think that Aria would be that person with herself was just too much for me to even bear.

A book once told me if we were afraid of death then we knew nothing of fear.

Time is the true grim reaper...Not death.

Death isn’t something to afraid of for me, but time… Time is the thing that makes you move, makes you grow older, and makes the clock move closer and closer to that designated death of yours. But, hey, you don’t think about that.

Remember? We don’t think that way.

But isn’t that the beauty of things? The fact we don’t know? If we knew wouldn’t we constantly be afraid to venture out or to do things we normally would’ve done, but then didn’t? Would society be able to function if time and death actually informed you on things that will happen?

I’m in a fetal position in the backseat of the car right now, hugging my knees so tightly to my chest it hurts, but I don’t loosen up at all.

Louis is sitting sideways in the passenger chair, casting wary glances in my direction. He’s already asked me a thousand and one times if I am okay. And each and every time I just want to scream at him: HELL FREAKING NO!

But I don’t.

Why lose yourself in a circumstance? Who wins then?

So many questions for this life. So little time...

I knew that my blank stare didn’t ease Louis's nervousness at all, but neither did Harry’s wary one. He asked to drive, but Harry wouldn’t give him the keys. Somewhere in my mind I found it amusing that Harry brought both Aria’s and mine’s purses.