Similar Differences (Harry Styles Fanfiction) (CURRENTLY EDITING)

Chapter 40

Harry's POV

I opened the door of MY house may I add, only to be greeted by Zayn shouting at me and my mother crying- you know, nothing new. But honestly, no matter how often it happened, it always hurt a bit to see my own mother cry, though I never acted like it did.

"Harry! Where the hell did you go? I had to call your mom, I thought you..." tried to kill yourself again, or got drunk, or ran away, or got in fight...

God knows what they thought, but it was definitely along those lines. We all know by now that Harry never does anything good or productive with his life.

"When did you get here?" I asked my mum, ignoring Zayn. He wasn't my father, I didn't have to take shit from him.

"Just a minute ago." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

I nodded. "I just went for a walk to the book store." I told them. "I got a job." They both looked at each other quizzically, and then back at me.

"Harry, I..." my mum started.

"No. I'm keeping the job." I told her sternly. I knew I could handle this, it was just a job- not the end of the world.

"I know you can. But there's something else to discuss first. Sit down baby, I want to talk."

I cringed. I hated when she talked to me like that. I wasn't a child and I didn't need her to sugarcoat everything. I also didn't want to be treated like a mentally impaired freak. But, instead of arguing with her I complied for her sake and sat down across from her at the table.

"I need you to hear me out before you say anything, okay?" she began. I nodded, rolling my eyes when she looked down at her clasped hands that laid on the table.

"I have two options right now for you." She looked back up at me. " I know you're an adult, but you've started drinking again and I don't want anymore problems with authorities after all the drama we had not too long ago." She was referring to me getting in fights at house parties and having to be taken home by cops because I got too drunk and I'd end up trying to walk home and well, that never ended well, obviously. "So," she continued. "It's either go back to Dr.Greene, or go to rehab again."

Was she kidding? I stared at her for a moment in an attempt to detect a clue that this was all just a joke. But she just stared straight back, almost as if she were looking through me.

"Neither. I don't need any help. I'll have a job to keep me in check." I answered maturely.

She sighed. "Harry, those are your options. Just those. I wouldn't like to do it, but we can call the officer that was on for your last case before rehab. He'll send you right back there if we tell him about the excessive drinking lately." Zayn stood behind her, avoiding eye contact with me like a damn coward.

Did they forget that I was not 10 years old anymore?

"I'll make a deal with you." she said suddenly. That caught my attention. "If you go back to Dr. Greene, and do support group once a month, I won't ask your friends to stay with you anymore and I won't come stay either."

The only reason I'd fought this help for all this time was because I just felt it couldn't fix me. Counseling from someone who barely knows me couldn't do anything for me. The only thing that can fix me is myself. It was never that I was opposed to recovering, but that I was opposed to false recovery, like when you have a good day and it makes you think things are getting better. However, next time you only crash back down harder.

But when I thought about it, if I had to go through a little bit of fake opening up and bullshitting to get privacy, it seemed like an even trade. Not being treated like a kid was something I'd been craving for the longest time now, so I couldn't pass up on the offer.