𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺

elle middleton's pov

     As I tapped into my phone, huffing in exhaustion, I decided to go to Harry's instagram. I can't put my finger on why I'd want to, especially considering how hard it crushes my body to see him in her arms. I still just have to see that he's still here.
     Not seeing him and being able to talk to him constantly sends worries through my bones.
     The worst part is he seems completely fine without me by his side. But on my end, it's driving me insane. How is he just perfectly fine? Is he... perfectly fine?
     I take a double take when my finger hovers over the empty results. I glance up at the search bar to see if I correctly typed out his username. I did. Did he change his username? Or did he block me?
     I switch over to my contacts and call Penelope. I know she'll be annoyed that I'm asking about him, but I have to make sure nothing bad happened.
     After a moment, she picked up.
     "Elle, hey," she seemed busy with something.
     "Hey, can you talk for a minute?" I ask, hoping she isn't busy.
     A rustling sounds through the phone, but she soon comes back and responds, "I'm free, yeah, what's up?"
     "Can you do me a favor? I know you're not going to like it," I admit, and automatically hear a faint sigh from her end of the line. "What's the favor?"
     "Can you check Harry's instagram and tell me if you see his page?"
     "What about his page?"
     "If it's there," I specify.
     Instead of replying, I hear her tap away at her screen, so I wait patiently, or at least as patiently as I can.
"I don't see his page," she states. "What, he deleted it? I don't understand..."
"I'm just worried," I tell her. "I don't see it either. Do you think he just deleted it out of nowhere? It seems strange—"
"Don't get too overwhelmed. I'll ask Niall, okay? I'll call you back."
"Okay," I force out the word, my body starting to freak out.
My hands start to go clammy, while my stomach sinks and my heartbeat sounds throughout my body. It thumps hauntingly in the back of my head. The crappy feeling leaves me rushing to sit down at the table, where I try to breathe slowly. In. Out.
It feels like centuries when Penelope finally calls back, and I answer so fast that I can hear her still talking to someone else. "Penelope,"
"Harry's in the hospital," she informs me.

I froze.