Harry sat at the counter, staring forward at the dark kitchen. It was three in the morning and the boys who weren't out were all asleep. Even Jj had managed to drag himself back from the studio by midnight and pass out. As a matter of fact, the only person still out was Ethan, who had planned to hang out with some other friends.
It was almost infuriating how sociable Ethan was. He had just about as many friends as Jj had, and he always found a way to drag his social gatherings out for several hours longer than he had announced. He was probably at some bar or hanging out at someone else's house at this point.
Harry felt lucky to have a couple of friends outside of the group, let alone an entire army. Sometimes he would sit around and picture himself meeting new people without awkwardness- no stiffness, no stuttering, no depending on his friends to take the focus away from his shifting gaze and incessant fidgeting.
Maybe the frustration was caused by his lack of sleep, or the fact that he spent all day every day fighting against Josh's desire to make him take time off. The incident at the studio had seemed to make Harry's relationship with Jj much different, as well. Every time the older looked at him, his eyes looked slightly paranoid, as if he expected the younger to collapse onto the floor any minute in a heap of grief and insanity. He had even tried hugging him at one point, which ended very awkwardly.
The only person who treated him the same was Vikk. Harry suspected he was trying to make up for the days where he'd cry late into the night about how their friendship group was 'going to shit' on Harry's shoulder, and how he would listen, depending on the younger's friendly antics to feel remotely normal.
The world would start spinning every few minutes. Harry would be sitting there, enjoying the clarity of momentary sanity, until a feeling of cold, painful dread would rise in his body and send his vision out of whack. His head would swim in a way that felt relaxing for the first millisecond, then quickly shattering into nausea and anxiety in the next. His hands and feet seemed slightly numb all the time, as if he had rubber bands around his limbs, cutting the circulation. His wiggled his fingers and toes angrily, trying to get the feeling back, but all of his efforts were meaningless because he was fairly certain the entire thing was psychological.
But if it is psychological, that must mean nothing is really wrong with him, right?
Every time the dizziness faded, Harry would eye the fridge, feeling as though he may have the stomach to eat more than the ridiculously small portions of bland, easily digested foods he had been forcing himself to eat for the past few days. So he would stand up to open it, looking forward at the illuminated drawers and feel his appetite quickly vanish, replacing itself with a queasiness that he wasn't really certain was queasiness.
Was it normal to feel sick in your heart? Probably not. Nevertheless, it wouldn't go away, and it refused to share its home in Harry's body with food.
When Harry was starting to believe that the only way out was through secretly taking some of Josh's insomnia medication and throwing himself on someone else's bed, the heard the front door open. And after a few seconds, a short haired, annoyingly handsome man stepped into the room, sliding his shoes off as quietly as possible and shut the door behind him. He looked up, mostly likely expecting to see an empty and quiet house (aside from the snores that filled the bedrooms) only to jump slightly at Harry's dark, solemn figure that now stood silently in the kitchen like a statue.
"Shit, you scared me. What are you doing up?" He whispered lightheartedly, smiling through the mixture of tiredness and the extroverted high everyone but Harry somehow obtained after being smushed into overbearing crowds, talking to people without a care in the world. Just seeing their expressions made Harry feel left out, because never in his life had he felt like that. It made him angry.
"You're late. You said you'd be back by one, and it's half three now." Harry said in a quiet tone, caring slightly less about his sleeping roommates than the other boy seemed to.
"Yeah, I guess we lost track of time."
Ethan didn't seem to notice the fury building up within his friend, who's arms were now crossed. Despite the fact that the two boys had learned to love each other over the years, viewing each other as brothers, Harry found it easiest to hate Ethan. He wasn't even sure why. It didn't make much sense.
They hadn't seriously argued for a long time- not even when the big fall out had happened. They were lucky enough to not clash with each other at that point- too busy arguing with everyone else.
They would get into small disagreements here and there, and they would hurt each other's feelings every once and a while (only to apologise soon after) but they hadn't gotten into any earth shattering, petty arguments for a long time.
But now Harry really wanted to start conflict.
He mumbled something through gritted teeth, making fierce eye contact with the other man.
"Mate, what's your problem? It's not like I do this every single time I go out."
Ethan pulled his phone out of his pocket, starting to text someone. When he smiled at the screen, Harry lost it.
"I swear, all you ever want to do is flaunt your popularity."
The older man looked up from his phone, a confused expression on his face, and spoke. "I think you need to go to bed, Harry."
"You're texting people all day! When we're out, when we're filming, even now! It's like you've got this all consuming secret second life, you act like you don't have any time for the rest of us!"
"What's wrong with you? Just chill, okay? I'm sorry." Ethan spoke sheepishly, as if he was stuck between feeling sorry for Harry and getting frustrated.
"I get it, Ethan. Everything comes easy to you because you're you. That's it. You think you're better than the rest of the world, because you're great!"
"What the fuck, Harry? Why are you acting like this? I don't know what's going on with you, but why do you always need to take your problems out on me? It's always me."
"It's just so easy, Ethan, because of how fucking egotistical and self centred you are."
"Fuck off, Harry! Your mum died, I get it, but you don't have to lash out at me!"
"You don't have to be so careless!"
"You're just jealous of me! You're just upset that you freeze up whenever you're around someone remotely unfamiliar! Stop being so immature!" Ethan was getting angry. They were both using loud voices at this point, and Harry could hear faint unrest in the bedrooms down the hall.
"I wasn't the one fucking about and breaking promises! The other guys have loads of friends, too, but you don't see them doing what you do!"
"What do you do, Harry? You don't fucking eat, you never sleep, and then you have a go at people for caring about you, we don't deserve that! You're being selfish! Just leave and stop making everything about yourself, it's embarrassing!"
Harry didn't really know what was going on anymore. Everything was a blur of fury and uncontrollable stress. His knees started to give out, unable to stop the tears that streamed from his eyes. All five of the remaining boys emerged from their rooms to find the source of commotion. All Harry knew was that he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to make someone feel really bad. And then he realised he was only crumpled on the floor, sobbing, as the other guys stood around him, silently.
Why was he so pathetic?
Why wouldn't anything go back to normal?
Why did it feel so shitty to live?
Harry clenched his fists, continuing to cry like a child throwing a temper tantrum because he felt so alone. So weak. So incapable. Everything was so empty. Harry wanted it all to stop. He wanted to stop feeling sick and stop having panic attacks. He wanted to be able to trust himself again. He wanted his dad to stop hating him, and his brother to call him. He wanted his mum back.
"Come on, Hazzy. Breathe." Simon whispered, rubbing the younger's back. "It'll be okay."
Harry looked up with tear blurred vision, catching a glimpse of Simon knelt beside him and Josh looking completely depleted. Vikk looking mortified and Tobi not even looking at him- looking at the floor. And Ethan... was crying. Ethan was crying.
And the vertigo hit him like a ton of bricks. The world was rotating in fast spirals he couldn't keep up with. He couldn't hold his head up or even sit in place. He squeezed his still very wet eyes shut in agony, begging out loud for everything to stop. Nausea spread throughout his stomach like boiling acid. His heart was beating so quickly and so loudly it drowned out all other noise. His jaw hurt and his head was throbbing like it never had before. His face went numb. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even try to breathe. The air just wouldn't come in.
"Deep breaths, Hazzy... In and out."
"You can do it."
Harry started to gag, feeling a bowl being pushed onto the floor beside where he was huddled as acid climbed up his throat and fell out of his mouth. He didn't even know how many times he threw up. It just kept coming out until there was nothing left- no water, no bile. And even where there was nothing left to throw up, he continued to gag. Even when he was lying on the floor, choking on air and sobbing for someone for someone to help him, for everything to stop, he would gag and gag and gag.
"Open your eyes." Josh said, and Harry did as he was told, feeling slightly more dizzy than he had minutes before.
"Dizzy..." Harry choked out through quick, uneven breaths.
"It'll go away. I just talked to someone at the hospital and they said you'll be okay. Just look at me and pay attention to your breathing."
It took what felt like ages for Harry to slip back into reality. It was still bad, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. He was no longer having the worst panic attack of his life.
"Let's go somewhere more comfortable. How does that sound?" Simon asked gently. Harry couldn't respond, but he still felt two of the others lift his almost dead weight off of the floor and practically carry him to the couch.
"How about you go to the doctor's tomorrow?" Josh asked. "So they can help, and maybe give you something that'll make you feel better. I'll go with you if you want, yeah?"
Harry was too physically and emotionally depleted to answer with as much as a nod or shake of his head. He just lied there, limply, on the couch, while Vikk covered him with a blanket and Simon tried to get him to drink a few sips of water.
Someone put a movie on, and they all crowded into the room, Harry's head now resting on Tobi's lap as he lingered between restfulness and sleep.
"Just close your eyes, Hazzy." Simon spoke slowly, only slightly louder than the movie playing in the background. "You look exhausted."
"If I sleep, then I'll wake up and feel sick again." Harry croaked out, his voice barely functioning.
"If that happens, you won't be alone. We'll be right here. You'll be safe, okay?"
"I'm scared..."
"Hey, there's no need. Just close your eyes. Remember, you're safe." Simon's voice held so much warmth. He trusted every word he said.
The second Harry allowed his eyes to shut, the world dissipated and his brain finally got the chance to rest for the first time in three days. And even if he woke up two hours later, sweating, hyperventilating, and feeling like his world was crashing down all over again, he wasn't going to be alone.