The Bagman's Destiny

Prologue

I spent the first two hours wishing I was dead too.

After the mess on the news, the first thing I did was run away. I always ran. I hated it. Fight or flight had never been a question that applied to me because I had always been the one to flee; I never had to think about it. I fled from my home life to join the mafia, I fled from the mafia to join One Direction, I fled from Louis Tomlinson when Harry 'died' to become Atlas, I fled from the battle on the ship after finding Harry had lived, I fled from my feelings, from Harry, from my family, from Sparrow, from everyone and everything, all my responses have been tainted by the flight instinct.

So I escaped to the forest, where we used to have bonfires. The ash from the one last night was still warm and soot hung low in the air. I kicked a couple of pieces of wood illy burnt over until they became part of the rubble. I sat down next to the large black circle and I tried to ignore the four-post bed still set up behind me. I started to solemnly wish my own death when it started raining. At least that's what I thought. The air still tepid and my clothes dry, even the milk had dried, I looked up to the clear blue sky and found no rain in sight. It wasn't until I raised a trembling hand to my face I realised I was crying.

When I thought Harry had died I became violent and destructive and depended on Liam to soothe me. Now that Liam was dead, really dead, I didn't feel destructive. I just felt numb, empty, strange. I didn't even mean to cry, I could barely feel it stirring inside me. Yet my cheeks had become inflamed and drenched and it was hard to keep my eyes open. I kept thinking of our bonfires. I kept thinking of how I robbed his life by marrying Harry. This was all my fault. If I had married him instead...

No, I had to stop blaming myself. Liam wanted us together; 'to colour and rain'. Liam knew. Liam knew we weren't meant to end up together and if we did it'd mean Harry would've died. Now I was just comparing situations and trying to figure out which one I'd prefer. It was sadistic but we all knew the non-hesitated answer that sprung into my thoughts.

I missed him. It had only been two hours sitting by the non-existent bonfire but I missed him more than anything I've ever known. I missed him more than Daddy. I missed his laughter and how he liked ruffling up my hair. I missed his companionship. My throat ached when I reflected on my first year of One Direction and how quickly we became close despite his grudges. He was so welcoming, I had never met anybody more welcoming. He let me sleep in his bed even before we were lovers. He would've done anything for me.

I said I wanted to sleep forever. Harry wrapped me up in a dream whilst Liam made me feel awake but now that he had gone I wasn't quite sure what state I was in. I wished I was dead. I needed Harry.

Nobody was in the rumpus room when I had returned from my existential crisis. The television had been switched off but even just the sight of it made me cringe. I slowly drifted down the hall. When you're broken you have no concept of time; you're in no hurry to get anywhere or do anything.

Harry's door was open which made me smile for the first time in two hours. The doorknob was freezing under my ash-covered fingers as I gently opened it further to slip inside.

I was startled by the sight of Harry though. He hadn't heard me creep in, so his back was to me. I could see his spine against the fabric of his shirt and I loved that his fraying curls had been swept up into a loose ponytail to keep his hair from his eyes. Yet his beauty wasn't what got me, it was his movements. He had a suitcase flung open on the bed and he was neatly folding clothes and tucking them inside; all of his clothes, none of mine. Where was he going without me?

"Harry" I croaked after a couple of minutes just watching him.

I gave out a small cough after it, as if talking had become so difficult it was going to kill me. I swallowed the tickling in my throat down and licked my lips. My eyes eagerly connected with his once he glanced over his shoulder to look at me.  It didn't last long though, he went back to packing.