Bound by Pages | larry

eight

"Fuck. Fuck Louis. What did you do?" These were the thoughts running through Harry's head as he quietly mumbled into the air. He kept repeating his words into the air. There was nobody to listen to his words, but at the same time, there had to be. There just had to.

This wasn't okay. Harry let the one leg down that was still resting on his bedframe after jumping over his bed. He might as well of just left it there, for the next thing he did was collapse into his soft sheets. Honestly, he wanted so much to turn back time. If he just told Jaqueline that 'no', he wouldn't leave Louis, he wouldn't have to deal with this. Harry really didn't want to deal with this.

Harry let his torso fall into the bed. His upper body made a slight bounce once it hit the mattress. Honestly, Harry couldn't take the fact that this was his fault. All this time, Harry tried to justify his actions by telling himself that he was protecting Louis. The worst part is that Harry believed himself. He tried to make himself feel better, but honestly, he didn't deserve it. This was his fault, and he deserved to feel the guilt.

The white pillow sunk as Harry rested his head on it. He angled his neck so that he was staring at his pale ceiling. How did everything turn out like this? Harry didn't even care about Jaqueline that much. He really didn't. He was just lonely and wanted someone warm and soft to cuddle, but Jaqueline was never warm enough.

Sometimes Harry wanted to be cuddled. Jaqueline always said that was weird. No matter what she said, this was one of these times. Harry stepped out of his bed, feeling the cool wind hit his clothed leg. His vision gazed across his room, looking for solace in his favourite sweater. When he couldn't find it, he realized it was probably in the wash. He climbed back into bed with just a sad aura around him.

He was so frustrated and he didn't know why. The fact that he couldn't find a sweater was surrounding him in a pool of self-hate. Looking around his room, he picked out every little thing that wasn't right. With his legs under the covers, Harry realized his pants were the slightest bit loose under his bum. The little detail was enough for him to rip them off, and throw them on the floor, adding another imperfection to his floor. He was so angry, water flowed from his eyes, and suddenly Harry was crying.

An ugly sob cut through the room, and Harry couldn't understand why nothing was going right. No matter how hard he tried, it was useless trying to make everything fall into place. It was like playing an instrument that is out of tune. No matter how hard you try, it just never sounds completely right.

Harry knew he had to make a change, or nothing would ever feel right. He never could trust himself when he was in this mindset. His mind was running at a million miles a minute, and it couldn't be stopped. These are the moments when he wonders if he would benefit from marijuana. Harry waited to hear himself laugh at his own joke, but the room stayed silent. Harry sobbed even harder. He didn't even find himself funny anymore.

His hand darted out in search for his phone, but it took him a couple tries before his fingers finally grasped it. He let out a couple more tears once unlocking his phone to find Louis' essay. Louis' essay. Harry said it in his head again. It was Louis' essay, and the name Harry Styles looked so wrong on it.

A message typed out to Jaqueline with shaky fingers isn't spelt the best, but Harry still managed to get his five words across.

'I cant do this anymore'

Harry threw his phone back onto his sheets, and it got lost in the dimple it had created. He went back to his position staring at the ceiling and squeezed his eyes closed, praying to someone, anyone, that this will work itself out. And it will, won't it?

~

Not even two minutes later, his bed started vibrating. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't a little freaked out at first, but he soon realized it was just his phone. And then it dawned on him that he had sent Jaqueline an extremely ominous message.