✘ skeleton sailor | h.styles -discontinued-

[ii]

Harry is tramping through dirty puddles of water on the pavement like an animal, his teeth bared and the inside of his cheeks bleeding from biting down on the skin too hard. His fists keep clenching and unclenching as his eyes scan the dark neighborhood around him.

There's rain water on his boots and droplets resting on his lashes waiting for the wind to push them down onto his cheeks. His phone is ringing in his pocket and it's taking everything in him not to reach for it.

He doesn't love her.

The ringing pauses and then returns. He bends his neck toward the sky and gives the rain more access to his face. His heart feels heavy. He's getting that feeling where his body feels different, and he knows it means he's needed somewhere. Knows there has to be a soul trying to cling to the bones of its old vessel, but he can't even get his head straight right now. The ringtone in his pocket returns for a third time.

He doesn't love her.

His hand retrieves the device. He looks at the name sprawled across the screen and frowns with his thumb hovering over the green button. Water is slipping under the cracks on the screen but he can't care less because her name is right there accompanied by her picture and all it takes is one tap.

"I love you," he rasps out as soon as the phone is pressed against the side of his face. His feet haven't stopped walking. His eyes are stuck on the ground to make sure he doesn't step on any cracks, a habit he's had since he was a child.

"Harry." Her tone is soft but the service is wavering. He wants to hold on to her voice a little longer but it seems like the rain has different plans. "I need to know you're okay."

A wave of anguish takes root in his chest just as a shock of electricity runs through his hand. He tightens his hold over his phone as the service gets scratchy all over again, making another turn around the block just to be cut short when he sees a crowd of his neighbors standing outside of the apartment building.

Phyllis has her curlers on her head, still wearing pajamas that are a bit too racy for a seventy year old. His heart clenches and he frowns at the feeling, eyes scanning the panic on nearly everyone's face up ahead.

"Please don't be dead," the voice on the end of the line whispers.

Harry takes a slow step forward and returns his attention to his ex-girlfriend. "Hello?" There's no more static. He's able to hear the woman breathing heavily on the other line. It wouldn't bother him much except that the woman's voice doesn't belong to Leona anymore.

"Please don't be dead. Don't die; please-"

"Who is this?" He tilts his head and realizes that the crowd up ahead is surrounding a body on the ground. His breathing slows down as droplets of water slide down his face and his free hand rakes through his unruly hair.

The intense heaviness in his body demands more attention than whatever the woman on the other end of the phone is saying. He stumbles forward a little before he can even think to say anything else to the pleading woman. He hangs up and nudges Phyllis aside only to see her husband lying on the wet cement. His eyes are closed but Harry can hear his heart still beating in his chest.

He squints at the girl on her knees with her hands locked above the old man's chest. Her lips are moving like she's saying something, horror written all over her face as she attempts to revive someone who's already so close to Death.

"Hey." Harry taps the woman's clothed shoulder but she doesn't even turn to give him any attention. "He's dead."

While being ignored, he takes the moment to admire her profile. Brown skin and light brown hair being soaked by the rain. There's no makeup on her face but he doesn't think she really needs it.