(HARRY'S POV)
When I get through my door, I immediately sprint up the stairs to my room.
Because it's not like I could face the rest of the world at this point anyway.
My mom isn't home, which I'm thankful for because I need a good scream.
I fumble onto my bed, get beneath the covers, and bury my face into my pillow.
I let out a scratchy scream, and hot tears stain the soft fabric.
I must've looked so stupid.
The worst part of it all is that I fucking loved it.
Loved it so fucking much.
Why am I so sick?
For the next week, I have Louis induced orgasms.
All by my fucking self.
Remember when I said I was scared of touching myself and I hated it?
...Not anymore.
Especially when Louis told me he did it too.
I haven't stopped since, really.
Louis keeps telling me I should just let loose once in a while, you know?
But my suicidal thoughts keep getting worse and worse.
They cage me in... Letting loose isn't really an option.
Jumping off bridges, slitting my wrists, and hanging from a rope aren't exactly nightmares anymore...
More like a dream I don't want to wake up from.
I don't know if I should voice my thoughts to Louis though...
I want to, I really do.
But I hate pity.
He'd look down on me if he knew I wanted to make a Clorox smoothie.
Right?
I wonder what my obituary would say.
"Death by cock."
Ha.
If only Louis knew how morbid his little Bambi was.
Bambi wishes it was him instead of his mom!
Wow, I'm cracking myself up.
This is bad.
I have to tell Louis.
Our next meeting is at my favorite fro-yo place, because I told Louis that I had an extreme love for their cookie dough soft serve.
He's so sweet.
And I don't deserve him.
"Okay... So." He starts off, looking through his notebook to get a clean sheet.
He writes the date, and chicken scratches the first question he's going to ask.
"Have you had any recent mood swings, changes in diet, or panic attacks in the last few weeks?" He asks, and I do a mental check list.
Mood swings? Aren't those a natural occurrence for me?
Changes in diet? I eat junk food still. Nothing's changed.
Panic attacks? The things that make you shake and take shallow breaths until you cry and can't talk? A couple, yeah.
I answer all these, and he pauses on the last one, looking at me like he's concerned.
"What?" I ask softly, fearing the look he's giving me.
I don't like people to worry about me.
Even if I want to kill myself.
I'm the type of person to say, "Don't worry." to that topic.
"Harry, you didn't tell me that before. That's a serious thing." He says sternly, writing all of the things I said down in his notebook.
I shrug, "Not that serious."
He looks up at me, then moves to brush my hair back gently.
My eyes flutter softly and I smile, leaning into his touch.
"It is, sweetheart. When do they happen?" He asks, almost in a whisper as I wish the table between us would disappear, so I could sit on his lap and pepper kisses across his cheek bones.
I swallow, when his hand cups my cheek, the words are racing to my lips before I have time to dam them up.
"When I want to kill myself." I blurt, and oh god.
Whoops.
Shit.
His face goes from worried to absolutely fucking distraught.
"Fuck, Harry... Why? Why would you ever want to do that?" He asks, trying to talk quietly because there are people around us.
Eating fro-yo, but probably not talking about suicide at the same time.
Lucky bastards.
It occurs to me then, that I shouldn't of spoke up at all.
I shrug and shake my head slowly, and tears start to dribble off my cheeks.
He stands up, taking my empty cup of fro-yo, his too, and throws it away before he helps me up and takes me outside to talk to me on the outside bench.
It's a bit chilly, and the only people that are out here is a family of three.
The toddler boy blowing bubbles looks at me and smiles a two-toothed grin, and I can't smile back, even though I really wish I could.
I look back at Louis who sits me facing him on his lap.
Just what I wanted.
I love his lap.
After looking him in his worried eyes I can't control the sobs I hold in and I let myself lay on him, my arms wrapping loosely behind his neck.
"Shh... baby. I'm so glad you told me..." He soothes, and my back is shaking, along with my hands that are threading through his hair on the back of his head.
I can't even respond, and when I look over Louis's shoulder, the family of three is walking away.
The little boy is making worried eyes at me, just like Louis's eyes did, before as his mother leads him away to their car.
That only makes me cry harder.
"You're so brave... baby, look at me for a minute." He says and draws me back, looking at my crying eyes and red cheeks.
His grow watery too as he leans up to kiss me.
Our tears mix as we kiss, streaming our cheeks as we share a beautiful, soft lip lock.
I pull my lips away slowly and I rest my head against his forehead and close my eyes when I know that his are too.
"Louis..." I start off, my heart beating a billion miles a second.
Or at least, that's what it feels like when I utter these words.
"I think I love you," I breathe out, and pull back to look at him.
He opens his teary eyes and smiles at me with crinkled eyes.
And naturally, I smile back at him, and I can feel my dimples cave in.
He cups my cheek and pecks my lips before he speaks quietly. "I think that I can't live without you Harry."
That makes me cry again.
Because I don't think I can live with or without him.
But I can sure as hell try.
I nod, and lick my slightly salty lips that are wet with tears. "I'm in, if you're in." I say, like we're making a pact.
And maybe we are.
He nods back, "Then I'm in." He whispers and holds me impossibly close as my legs dangle behind him.
I hug him tight, and he stands up with me like this, carrying me to his car as my limp legs swing as he walks.
People stare, but we don't even care.
He slips us both into the back seat of his car, and I wonder why at first, but then he lays down with me, putting my whole body on top of him before he shuts the door.
He rubs my back in smooth circles and we stay there, breathing each other in and taking a nap with the radio playing softly, and the heat on a little bit.
I snuggle him, and again...
Freedom is in my heart.
The ache fades, my tears cease, and everything is at peace.
We're laying in the back seat of his car, in the parking lot of a fro-yo place and I have honestly never felt so alive in my life.
Better yet, I don't think I've ever wanted to feel alive.
But now... I'm starting to second guess that.
"Louis?" I ask in a whisper, and he hums, threading his fingers through my curls, scratching my head softly in response and if I were a kitten, I'd damn well be purring.
"We didn't finish the interview." I say, and he cracks his eyes open tiredly at me.
"How do you feel today?" He asks, and I look at him deeply in the eyes, staring at him with a steady heart beat.
"Alive." I say with a grin, and he grins back, leaning up to kiss my forehead afterwards.
"Is that a good thing?" I nod at that, because yes.
It's a very good thing.
"It's a great thing." I say, and we curl up with each other for the rest of the night... Accidentally sleeping until the next morning.
Whoops.
We wake up to a parking ticket on Louis' windshield, but we ignore it and make out instead.
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I just wanted to tell you guys that if you ever feel suicidal, I'm always an inbox away and you can always talk to me whenever you want to <3
I love you all very very VERY much.
I hope y'all feel alive (heh)
What did you think about this chapter? :)
Much love,
Amber xxxx