!!TW: mentions of suicide!!
Bree Tyler
I tossed and turned on the couch, unable of sleep. I wanted to turn the television on for some white noise, but I did not want to wake up Harry if the noises were too loud. So I didn't.
I finally found myself rest, the position I was in was comfortable, my eyes fell at a peaceful state, my mind rested as the bad thoughts floated in the air under me, not surrounding me; not over me. They were pushed away.
But as usual, all good things come too an end, and everything is always too good to be true. I heard muffled whines ringing my ears, the only person that could be making the soft cries was Harry. Maybe the floors were thin, that's why I could hear him and the cries from upstairs.
If this scenario was three months ago, I would've rolled my eyes and fell back asleep because I hated him deeply. But, he's tolerable now; I huffed making my way out of the soft position on the couch, and climbing up the stairs to Harry's bedroom.
I wasn't going to just barge in, not yet. I cupped my ear against the door and listened to see if I was just imagining things, or Harry was actually having a nightly cry. I've never seen him cry, I've only ever heard his whines.
Cupping my ear around the door led me to infer he was in fact crying, and I wasn't imagining it. I took a deep sigh, as my fist went up to the door, knocking softly on it.
"Are you okay?" I sympathetically asked Harry through the door that separated us.
I heard stomps come towards the door, my breath froze as I scooted back when the thing that separated me and Harry was now open.
Harry. He was shirtless only wearing black boxers that hugged his waistline, his hair was ruffled, and his eyes were red and puffy. His nose was red as if he had just been doing a narcotic I was familiar with.
"I-I was asleep." He stuttered sleeplessly.
"Weren't you just crying?" I questioned, my eyebrows creased.
"No? I was sleeping." He seemed truthful. He blinked his eyes slowly, as if he was about to fall asleep again.
"Need me to get you anything?" I played with my hands, "water? Or a snack even?"
"Nope." He crossed his arms leaning against his doorframe, as a slight smirk formed on his plump lips, he bit hit tongue between his teeth, "now you just get that perky little butt back to bed, why don't you?" He looked me up and down seductively.
"Goodnight Harry." I giggled, my shyness taking over my conscious. I blew him a kiss before heading back downstairs.
I was about to go back to the couch, but something else crossed my mind. I went over to the kitchen drawers rummaging through them.
I pulled out the bottle my taste buds craved, the bottle I wanted.
"I deserve this." I cheered the air, opening the vodka bottle and chugging some down. I've had an eventful life, let me live.
Probably not the best to drink vodka while recovering from taking LSD, but I honestly couldn't give two flying shits.
I wondered so many things as I put the tempting bottle away and stumbled over to the couch. I wondered how Harry never died, he never looses, right? He'll always win. He always comes back to life from what he had told me. I wondered if he's ever jumped off the balcony before tonight, and almost died. Or he did die, then resurrect again.
There was just something about him. He intrigued me, he pulled the strings that attached my emotions. Every single time he made a remark about me, or did something that made my insides flutter; I felt the strings pull higher and higher. Something he did was what made my cheeks blush red, that made an reoccurring ache between my legs, I shouldn't feel these things for my kidnapper; not at all. But I did, it was a feeling that should be forbidden and locked away from the rest of the world. Hidden. Never to be found, but somehow Niall caught us in the act.
Harry won't ever leave my mind, I think about him all the time. I just don't know what to call it, you know? I think about him, dream about him, fantasize about him, kiss him on the occasion.
Maybe that feeling was care.
I cared for him.
But he doesn't care for anyone else, right? Cold- hearted and selfish with no feelings besides, lust and anger. Someone so evil could never feel such a positive emotion.
Care. To put it in words I think it means that you don't want them to be hurt, you want them to be happy and feel safe. You want them to care for you, but the wants don't always exceed our needs.
Harry couldn't be happy, he's never smiled, he's never laughed. I just want him too feel happy, but the only time he ever seems to show even the slightest bit of attention towards me is when he makes lustful comments and seductive touches as our lips intertwine with one others.
I still don't know why he abducted me, led me to his house and drugged me. He said he had a list of people he takes, but why was I on that very specific list?
Ransom? My mother isn't rich, yet he still claims he was only holding me ransom. But I believed there was a much, much deeper meaning. I would find it out, eventually.
But as of right now, my eyes fell heavy and my brain felt loose; I felt like Frankenstein, except the nails were unscrewing from my head rather than in. My thoughts were like the nails, drilling into my head. The only difference was, I didn't have an option if I wanted to get rid of them or not. That was my mental stability's decision, not my own.
As my head flopped back on the fine piece of black leather, my eyes drifted off to sleep, being both tipsy and high, it was exhausting.
-
"Hey Bree." I heard the soft whisper come from above me, I looked up and saw Harry who had now awaken me from my sleep.
"Hi." I winced slightly, stretching my arms over my head, yawning.
This sleep wasn't an ordinary sleep, when I woke up I didn't feel refreshed, I felt as if everything that circled my mind had now been forgotten; ripped away. Maybe it's because the drugs wore off, or maybe it was just a goodnight's sleep, I needed to feel myself again.
"Did you drink without me?" Harry asked.
"What makes you think that?" I playfully asked.
"I can smell the vodka on you, you know?" He replied.
"Well.." I started, "I did have a few drinks, I was just so stressed about you-"
"Me?" Harry almost seemed surprised.
"Yes you." I lightly gripped the collar of his shirt, "my heart stopped when you jumped off of the balcony railing, I've never ran faster in my life to come get you. You're lucky I saved your ass." I poked his chest, looking him up and down.
"I wouldn't call it lucky." He shrugged.
"Are you suicidal, Harry?" I asked out of curiosity and sympathy, being now one hundred percent serious, changing the mood of the entire conversation.
"Yeah, because a mentally stable person stands on the edge of a balcony, hoping and praying they'll fall. Then they figure to take the easy way out. To simply just, jump off." He said sarcastically, and my question was answered.
He was in fact, suicidal.
"Why do you feel that way?" I whispered softly.
"I don't know." He shrugged.
"I'm not saying you have to open up with me, I know this topic can be very complicated." I rolled my lips inside my mouth, "I just hope you stay safe, alright?"
"I can't guarantee anything." He ruffled my hair.
"I know." I gulped, "god Harry, I know." I dropped my head low.
"And yet, I was so close to dying last night, well actually I did." He almost pressed his fingers together, mimicking how close he was, "this close, and you had to come save me."
"If you didn't die then, it's not your time." I lightly shot up from laying down, "you know how many times you've lived through death situations? You clearly still have so much more too live for."
"What is it, Breelyn? What do I have to live for, huh? Because I sure as hell don't know, so inform me, I insist." He plopped down next to me on the couch.
"I'm not the one who makes that choice," I looked him in his glistening eyes, "you do."
He grabbed my propped up thighs lightly, taking a deep breath. Before locking my legs out to the side and pulling me on top of him as his back hit the couch and my body hit his bare chest. I chuckled when I saw the glint in his eyes.
"Maybe were just two fucked up people, huh?" He shared.
"Maybe we are, or maybe we're just more interesting than the rest." I replied.
I lightly glided my hands on the sides of his lustful yet forbidden hips, his hands held under my ass.
"We can not stay away from each other, this needs to stop." I whispered into his ear.
"Maybe we're both just reckless, doing forbidden things that shouldn't be done." He tapped my nose with his middle finger.
"Or maybe we're just living in our own story, with our own rules, that can only be changed if we both agree on them." I rested my head on his chest.
Ever since the first kiss we shared, I've felt almost more close to Harry. He was the missing piece in my body, the more I try to stay away from him, the more interesting he gets.
"Okay, so what are the rules?" Harrys raspy voice vibrated off of his bare chest and onto my clothed one.
"We both have to agree on them, and I have a few in mind." I snuggled closer to his bare chest that felt like a cozy cottage.
"Okay, list em off." His hands squeezed harder under my ass, probably his favorite place to touch me.
"Always light a cigarette for one another." I started off with a banger, obviously.
"Well of course, that's always been in the rule book sweet pea." He pressed his lips against my earlobe, I shuttered, but continued to the best of my abilities.
"No more dangerous stunts on the balcony," I scolded him the second rule.
"Hmm?" Harrys hum soothingly vibrated against my chest in disapproval, "I don't agree with that one."
"Harry," I stated coldly.
"What? Am I not allowed to disagree?" He pretended to be offended.
"Stubborn." I rolled my eyes, clearing my throat to state rule number three.
"No more games, either." I sighed, the final rule. Unless I could come up with another one, this was the final one.
"What do you mean by games?" Harry asked and I lifted my head up to look at him.
"You know what I mean. No calling booty calls, or, you know? You either kiss me and no one else, or never graze your lips against my skin again, but fuck all the girls you want."
"It'll take me some time to decide." I felt him smirk against the skin of my neck.
"And in that time you decide, forget about me." I spoke, climbing off of his chest, but he pressed down on my back holding me in place.
"Not so fast-" he tutted, "I still have more too say."
"Go on." I huffed in annoyance.
"It's only because, I know one day I'll get drunk and accidentally kiss someone that isn't you." He sighed.
"How does that happen?-" I quizzed.
"You would know, you were basically the same.
Partying, drinking, and having sex every night. You'd understand." He looked me up and down.
"Okay-" I shook my head in slight shock that he said that, "Harry I was mentally sick." I planted my finger into the side of my head so he could the message through.
"So am I, Breelyn."
"Like you said, we're just two fucked up people." I quoted his sentence from earlier, although I did leave some words out.
I took in a deep breath before speaking once more, "but I'm not judging you for how you are, I'm just saying that I'm not going to be your doll that you use for a quick kissing session, then throw out leaving me in the dust. I know how I used to be, and I was not okay. I wasn't in the right state of mind. And, I'm sorry if that offends you." It was the last thing I said as a slight tear rolled off my cheek and landed onto his bare chest. I pulled my body off of his chest, exiting the living room with my name being called by him. I didn't look back, I just went down into the chilling basement that had left me scared, but it was better than being by Harry right now.
I slammed the basement door shut, with a huff and a blow of air from my mouth. Knowingly, Harry will be in here any minute. Just wait.
Maybe I was being too harsh. He should be able to fuck whoever he wants, but I still don't want to be treated like someone who is only irrelevant when he wants pleasure. I wasn't okay with that.
"Bree."
Told you.
"What?" I asked, flicking my brown eyes towards him, lightly wiping the tears off of my cheek.
"Whats wrong?" He asked.
"You're asking me what's wrong?" I fumed in shock, "god you're an idiot!" I felt more tears stream down my cheeks. I was crying because he was so unknowing of. So hard to piece together, it was like he was a puzzle, and you couldn't find the last piece, making the puzzle unfinished. That describes Harry, something was missing about him.
"Fuck you." He spat, slamming the dark room door shut, leaving me cold and in tears.
I laid back on the cement floors, feeling my tears fall down slowly. How could Harry have the nerve to ask me what was wrong?
He made fun of me, and how I used to be. Im not like that anymore, right? I mean I'll drink on the occasion, and I haven't been to the club in a couple months, only once since I've been here.
Maybe I was just overwhelmed with everything, Harry jumped off of the balcony, dying but surviving. He admitted he was suicidal, and that he didn't know what was worth living for. Another tear of empathy and sympathy escaped my eye for him. Harry didn't deserve these thoughts, no one did. But, I know he won't change, and that's why it's hard to help him, he doesn't want his suicidal thoughts to be fixed, maybe because he thinks they can't be fixed. But in the end, everyone can get better if they put in some effort to try.
That's what I was destined to do, I was going to help him get better, whether he likes it or not.
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