Harry's POV
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(Warning: May be triggering to some)
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My fingers were delicately placed in Louis's, connected like a solar system of disorganized stars. His thumb gently rubbed mine in a comforting gesture, though I was already comforted, wrapped tightly in his arms.
"Harry, are you sure you'll be okay tomorrow?" Louis questioned. I nodded after a beat, but my expression stayed the same.
"You'll keep me safe?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to see the older brunette. He nodded, nuzzling himself into my side.
"We're so cheesy," he laughed, making me laugh because his laugh was so funny, with an added snort every other second.
"Really, though. Niall's first day is tomorrow, I want to know you'll be alright," he said seriously after a pause. I nodded my head yes and returned to my position as the smaller spoon.
There is a moment of silence between us, the only sound being our beating hearts.
"I, Harry, I don't want Niall to know about us, not yet anyway," he said slowly, disconnecting our tangled bodies. I nodded reluctantly, honestly feeling the same way. Niall didn't need to know. This was between Louis and me, not him. Whatever Louis and I was, that is.
"What are we, Lou?" I questioned the smaller boy, his eyes darting to the bed below us. He bit his lip in thought, his grip on my hand loosening.
"I mean, I'm not even sure who I am," I said, this time quietly, like I was convincing myself of the fact that I didn't know who or what I was. Because I didn't. I didn't.
Louis and I had only been whatever we were for a few days. Just kissing and holding hands in private places, making sure no unwanted company could see, not that we were ashamed, but because we weren't ready. Ready for whatever we were.
Louis huffed out a breath, "We can be whatever you want, I guess," he muttered into my side, almost like he was falling asleep. A smile crept onto my face, just imagining his adorable eyes fluttering shut, his breathing steady. I got caught up in my own thoughts that I barely noticed the time.
10:08
That meant I had 2 minutes until I had to get up, I had to. 10:10 is the only acceptable time for me to do so, the reasoning I wasn't sure. Louis was almost asleep, almost. I didn't want to wake him up by leaving, but of course I had to. I just had to. But sadly my two minutes went by quicker than I wanted.
Carefully, I disconnected myself from the smaller boy, earning me a grunt of disapproval.
"Harry," he mumbled, his lips formed in a frown and his eyes shut.
"I have to go," I said, standing up form Louis's warm bed and grabbing my things. 10:10. I deeded to get out and into my car before 10:15.
"Why," Louis grumbled, finally cracking his eyes open. I sighed.
"It's 10:10. I need to get to my car by 10:15," I said, hoping he would understand that it was just something I had to do. Louis looked at me with a confused expression, but it softened after a second, and he mumbled a soft "okay".
I smiled at the older boy, admiring how gorgeous he looked, all sleepy. "Can I have a good bye kiss?" Louis asked, sitting up a little.
"Of course," I said, leaning in and connecting his soft kips to mine for a slip second, sparks going off, like they usually did. But after our lips no longer had contact, I had to kiss him again, and again. I felt guilty, having to kiss Louis so many times.
You have to
Louis's lips lingered on mine for an extended period of time before we finally pulled apart, my OCD being pleased with kissing him only three times. I walked to the door slowly, looking back at Louis for a second before exiting the room.
4 different times.
The hallways were vacant, silence filling Louis's large household. For someone with so many siblings, Louis's house got quite quickly. I felt almost like bugler, tiptoeing through his house, although I had no intention of stealing his things. By the time it was 10:15, I was already in my car, which was satisfying. I didn't know why I was recently so obsessed with the timings of things, but I was, and I couldn't stop.
I slipped into my house easily, knowing my mother wasn't home, thankfully. I trotted up the stairs, skipping the top step of course. My brain was relaxed, and I didn't feel the need to cut or to cry or anything, all I wanted to do was think about Louis. I wanted to be with Louis, but my mother was going to be home soon--maybe, and the bruises on my face were still healing, so there was no need to add anymore to the collection. I plopped on my bed, pulling up my laptop and opening it.
3 times.
I logged onto Facebook, because it was a fair way to pass time on a Sunday night, I guess. I scrolled down for a few minutes before receiving a message, which was both shocking and unsettling.
I opened it up, interested in what they person had to say to me.
'whats wrong with you? I see you in the halls sometimes and your'e really weird. Do you have ocd? Someone said you did. And are you a fag? Someone said that too. You hang out with that gay kid all the time'
I paused while reading the message. Gay kid? Louis? But Louis wasn't out yet.... At least not out to the whole school.
'are you two dating? Bc that's really gross. Like seriously tho if you are pls stay away from me and my friends, especially if u have ocd. that would make you a fag AND a freak. Lol bye'
I had to avert my eyes from the screen. The message was from Cloe Crawford, a girl I've seen before but never directly talked to. She was basically a bitch, and everyone knew it. I didn't want what she said to affect me, but it did. It really did.
It seriously did. I felt ill.
I began to type before I could actually think.
'Are you really that thick? Who cares if I'm gay or that I have OCD it's none of your business. Pease leave me alone'
I didn't reread it or even think about what I said before I sent it, and I instantly knew it was a mistake. She replied in a couple of seconds, not even giving me time to flinch.
'so your'e admitting that youre' a fag and a freak? Okay'
I swallowed. Hard. I didn't know what to say or do, because defending myself would be lying and I didn't like lying, because people that lie end up dead. But everyone ends up dead. I sit there for a few minutes, and my newsfeed goes crazy, making that little noise every other second. I didn't click to see what was happening, because I was too engrossed in the fact that I basically just came out as gay.
I wasn't even sure if I was gay, I just liked Louis. Only Louis.
I finally clicked on the little globe, and I instantly regretted it. Cloe had screenshoted our messages, and everyone could see it. Everyone could see what I said to her.
Everyone knew I had OCD, everyone knew I might possibly prefer boys.
I eyed the comments on it, my eyes watering at all the hateful things people were saying.
'I knew he was a fag'
'of course he has ocd its pretty obvious omg what a freak'
'emo freak'
'do us a favor and drop dead, freak'
'he should just kill himself already'
That one hit me like a ton of bricks, making me breathing heavy and my eyes finally spill over. I didn't understand how anyone could say that.
Because you deserve it
I shook my head and threw my laptop off of me, not caring where it landed. I had to stay strong. I couldn't break now, not after everything that happened. Louis. Louis wouldn't let me do it.
But yet I still stumbled into my dark bathroom, pulling out the all too familiar black bag. It was a curse, a terrible disease but I needed it. It was silent apart from my jagged breathing and heaves of sobs.
Kill yourself already
Kill yourself
I pulled out the razor slowly, almost like it was some twisted, sick romance. But it wasn't. I didn't care as I pulled up my sleeves, displaying the ugly array of scars that refused to fade. I didn't care. The small blade looked fragile as I twirled it between my fingers, the metal cold and intriguing. There was barley room on my arms, but I loved to cut there, I had to. Louis forgotten, I set the blade against my porcelain skin. Inhaling sharply, I dragged it downward, feeling satisfied when I felt how it ripped my skin apart, drawing blood instantly.
I didn't care when I pulled the silver object across my skin again, making the same cut as before but on the opposite arm. It burned, like someone was pouring salt on them. I made more, and more.
Kill yourself
So much blood, too much blood. My vision blurred and I felt kind of dizzy, but I didn't stop. My wrists were bare, scar less. I'd never cut there before. It was too dangerous. I was never low enough. But I was weak. I was so desperately weak and pathetic. I cared too much, and I was bleeding too much.
So I let the blade reach down to one wrist, not being as careful as I should have been. The blade dragged painfully against the skin just above a vain. Not too dangerous, but dangerous enough. I did the same on my other wrist. They bleed, and they burned like hell, but I wasn't dying. I wasn't dying yet.
There were small drops of blood on the floor below, not a lot, but enough to make me feel the urge to clean it up. But I was too far into my mess. My head was light. Louis flashed through my head, how ashamed he would be to see that I had failed him. I failed him and now I was lying in a heap on my bathroom floor, pale and covered in my own selfish blood. I was weak. I had to tell him, the guilt was building up, but I was in pain. With the wrist that hurt slightly less, I took out my phone.
'I'm sorry'
I sent the text just before another heavy feeling of weakness struck me, making my surroundings blur. But I could still feel the blade in my hand, the one dripping with blood.
Fag
Freak
Kill yourself
KILL YOURSELF
I broke into a heavy sob, not sure why. Those words kept repeating in my head. Those damn words. The blade was once again placed against my wrist, this time on a vain, and I struck it forcefully, making a large amount of blood come out almost instantly. My brain hurt. Too many cuts, Over 20-at least. I didn't want to make another one, but I had too. I had to have them even, equal. So as the cut on my left wrist bled and burned, I made the exact same cut on my right wrist. Exactly. The. Same
It hurt, badly. I dragged the blade to the end if my wrist and dropped in to the floor, hearing a clatter, but my earing was muffled, and my head was heavy. Maybe I was dying, I wasn't sure. But I laid down on the floor, my wrists making contact with the cold tile, causing me to silently scream from the unexpected contact.
Kill yourself
Kill. Yourself.
My vision went black.
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A/N
Please don't murder me.... Okay so I just have to say something. Self-harm is a VERY serious subject, and if you ever need any help-ever, please inbox me. I'm always here to talk. (Or if you just want to say hey, of course)
All votes and comments are always EXTREAMLY appreciated. Thank you. :)