You're Still Loved, I Swear *One Direction*

Chapter 3

“C’mon, Haz!” Louis knocked repeatedly on the bathroom door that Harry was in. “I need to pee!” Harry groaned and opened the door to reveal a very antsy Louis.

“There you go.” He said with gritted teeth, moving out of the bathroom after bumping Louis shoulder (who was too focused on relieving his bladder to care). Harry slammed the door shut after Louis had gone in, completely angry.

He’d woken up in a terrible mood, and it didn’t make it any better that the toilet in his bathroom was clogged (despite his love for tacos, Louis’ special seasoning never agreed with Harry) and when he tried to fix it; he’d broken part of the flusher off. Louis was nice enough to let him use his bathroom, but that didn’t lighten Harry’s mood. All he wanted was a little bit of privacy.

“Damn, what’s gotten in your pants?” Zayn chuckled as Harry stomped down the stairs for breakfast.

Harry groaned, “Fuck off, mate.” Zayn held his hands up in surrender, and decided that Harry could fix his own breakfast if he was going to be an ass like that.

Harry wanted to get a bowl of Lucky Charms; but they’d run out and he had to settle for Cheerios, his least favorite of all cereals. He could’ve made eggs or something; but he was too angry at the world for that.

“Hey, mate!” Liam cheerfully greeted the dull Harry, who plopped down next to an unusually quiet Niall.

Harry just groaned in response, leaving the Wolverhampton native confused. Harry was usually as giddy and carefree as Niall, and cracked as many jokes as Louis and Zayn. He was never this…stressed.

“Are you alright?” Liam asked in concern. Harry rolled his eyes, ready to tell Liam the same thing he’d told Zayn, when his eye settles on Liam bringing a spoonful of cereal to his lips.

A spoonful of Lucky Charms, which was Harry’s favorite.

“You had the last of my Lucky Charms?” Harry spat out, glaring daggers at his band mate.

Liam shrugged, “Actually, Zayn did; but-”

“No buts!” Harry groaned. “You all know that I love Lucky Charms!”  He started going off on Liam, making sure to accentuate every other word with his colorful vocabulary.

Liam sat there, shocked and bewildered as Harry cursed and yelled at him. That is, until Niall had enough. “SHUT UP!” The Irish lad screamed. “God dammit, Harry! The hell is your problem?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Don’t talk to me like that! Unless you want Louis to spank you like you’re five again!” He shouted.

Niall’s face flushed, and he got up from the kitchen table, leaving his breakfast unfinished (like he was eating it, anyways). He stormed up to his room, and locked his door behind him. It was one thing for him to actually be spanked by his best mate (or one of them, same difference) but it was totally different for someone else to bring it up and traumatize him even further! Niall just sobbed on his duvet, knowing very well that he wanted to cut again.

He wanted to cut.

Again.

And he didn’t even blame it on Harry; he just went on blaming it on himself. Niall cursed the air in his room as he drug an old pocket knife out from underneath his mattress. He didn’t want to do this, but he craved it; he wanted it. And he knew if he got caught, none of the boys would be happy.

They’d yell at him, embarrass him, and maybe even spank him. They wouldn’t understand what cutting did for Niall; he didn’t even understand it himself. But it helped him get away, while also forcing him to nail his own feet in the same, scary position.