Recover (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter Five; Realization

Besides, he knew that even if he worked harder, he wouldn't get better. His marks would always stay low, slightly above average. He wouldn't get into the university he wanted to study at. He would never be good enough to make friends. And he would never see his mother with pride glowing on her face. He would never be good enough for ... love.

He would never be good enough for Louis.

If he would never be good enough, what was the point of his existence? What was the point of him always trying to make things right in his awful, worthless life? If he didn't have anything to look forward to, or to make himself worthy for, what was the point of living? He shouldn't have to look forward to every day just to hope that death was closer. Living for this crazed, never-gonna-happen dream wasn't enough. 

He should just end his life.

His mum and sister would miss him at first, but Harry was sure they would get over it. He was a burden to them anyways. He was weighing them down, keeping them from living their dreams. He needed to get out of their way, so they could shine. 

With those thoughts, he cut into his skin even deeper, even harder. He knew that this was dangerous. But right now, he didn't care. He wasn't thinking properly. All he could see was the faces of those at school, taunting him and laughing at him. All he could hear was their sneering voices, telling him that he didn't belong and that he was an outcast and he would never amount to anything. And all he could feel were their shoves as they pushed him to lockers, their hands as they dumped him in the garbage bin.

But then, all of a sudden, a picture of Louis flashed through his mind, and he immediately dropped his razor, and all he could think about was that it was happening, again. He shut his eyes and took a shuddering breath, wondering if his entire life would be about his struggle with suicide. 

He couldn't do this. He couldn't get thesedemonic thoughts inside his brain to stop, and it was starting to scare him. He didn't want his sister and his mum to go through this alone. He wanted to be with them every step of the way while they overcomed the crisis their family was in. He wanted to help them and have lunch with them and go on picnics and make them laugh. He wanted to be a part of their life. 

He had to try.

Even if he was never going to get better, he had to try. He had to try harder than he'd ever tried before; he had to give his hundred percent effort into this. He couldn't get stuck half-way. It was either all or nothing, and Harry was willing to take the risk. 

He glanced at his phone, wondering if he should call Dr. Tomlinson. He was supposed to his therapist, so Harry was sure he wouldn't mind if he gave him a call. Then, with a jolt, Harry realized that he didn't have Louis' number.

With a dejected sigh, Harry got up and slowly walked towards the bathroom, rinising his hand and putting his shirt--which had a small amount of blood on it--in the washer. After he cleaned himself up and wore a fresh shirt, he walked to where he'd left the box--open and untouched--and stared it with apprehension.

He'd decided that he wanted to get better, and that he was going to try his best from now on, which meant that he couldn't be subject to the temptation of his razor. With a jolt, he realized something; something that made his eyes widen and his throat dry.

He had to get rid of his razors.

He spontaneously jerked forward and grabbed the box, running downstairs and out the door without any explanation as to why. He could tell that his mum was confused; Harry Styles, going out in broad daylight twice in one day on his own free will? Impossible! But he ignored the shocked look on her face when he passed the front porch, where she was seated on the stairs, and looked as if she was contemplating something.

He walked over to grocery store where he'd gone to get milk, knowing for a fact that there was a garbage bin in front of the store. As soon as he reached it, he threw the box violently into the bin, unable to keep his tears at bay and shedding a couple. He knew that he probably looked crazy to passing bystanders, but he didn't care, really.

All that mattered was that, finally, he'd made his decision. Up until now, he'd only been halfway through the door, wanting to get better but unable to decide if it would benefit him. Now, he'd done everything he could. He was all in. He was giving this his best shot. 

He should be feeling happy. He should be feeling excited, calm, peaceful, content; he should be feeling grateful. 

So why did he feel like shit?

A/N: Sorry I took a while to update, guys. You know, with school & all, things are kinda hectic. Plus, I'm studying for my Driver's Test (which I failed the first time -_-), looking for volunteering places, handing in applications for a bunch of clubs & all, AND starting to look at Universities. So, I'm kinda busy. Ev is helping a bit, & she did co-write this chapter for me, so I'm very grateful for that. x

- Amy. x