Cries of Hope [Punk Narry]

Chapter Twelve

Hey Guys! Please read the A/N at the end of the chapter. I need to ask you guys something. Alright, enjoy! I'm apologizing ahead of time for the bad chapter.

Niall's POV

I woke up to the sun shining in my face. Not a pleasant way to be woken up. I absolutely hate the sun shining in my face. If I keep my eyes open for to long, my eyes start to tear up, which is absolutely ridiculous considering the fact that I don't ever look up at the sun. Anyway, rant over.

I groan loudly as I sit up and rub my eyes. Jesus, these chairs are so damn uncomfortable; my back is killing me.

"Niall, are you awake yet?" I hear a soft voice ask. I smile to myself. I wouldn't want to be up all by myself. Hospitals scare the absolute shit out of me.

"Yeah," I reply happily. I cringe to myself. When did I become such a girl? Oh, about the same time I became gay.

"Good," Harry sighs in relief while he hugs his pillows. "I hate hospitals, they're scary." I quietly laugh to myself. He is so cute.

"That's something we have in common." He laughs at my response. I can't help but to join him.

Okay, now to the serious stuff. He seems a lot better than yesterday, and he doesn't look that tired. I'm going to do it.

I take in a deep breath as I play with my fingers nervously. "Um, Harry. Why did you do this? Why would you ever harm yourself? Why would you want to die?"

Harry bit his lip nervously. I can tell he's been trying to avoid the subject. "Everyone hates me. I have no one to live for." Harry says sadly.

I frown lightly. I thought we discussed this already. "Did you not hear me pour out my feelings to you yesterday night?"

"Well yea," Harry shrugs his shoulders as he rests his head on the wall behind him. "But I still think that all of you are just being nice out of pity."

"If that was the case, which it's not, why would I save you? Why would I have cared so much?" I get up and start to pace around the room while I breath heavily.

"Niall, please don't get mad at me."

I stop dead in my tracks and look over at him. "I'm not mad at you, Harry. I just want you to know how much we really care about you."

"I'm sorry, Niall." Harry lowers his head and starts to play with the ends of his fingers.

I walk up to Harry and kiss the top of his head lightly. "Don't be sorry babe. I know what you're going through. I just want you to know that we all love you so damn much babe."

Knock.

Knock.

The door swings open, revealing the doctor that gave me the pamphlet. Hopefully he doesn't bring it up. I still haven't even convinced Harry into going to therapy.

The doctor coughs awkwardly before speaking. "Am I interrupting anything?" His voice cracks slightly at the end. Well this is great. I thought I may have dropped my punk image down drastically. I guess I was wrong.

"No," I reply hastily. The doctor swiftly walks up to Harry and removes the bandages from his left wrist. Harry looks at the stitches and frowns slightly.

"Hello Mr. Styles, How are you feeling?" The doctor asks as he puts a clean bandage over Harry's wounds.

"I'm doing okay," Harry mutters quietly. The doctor simply nods in response before taking his gloves off and throwing them away. He grabs his clipboard and sits down on the stool.