(Pay attention to the time in the POV'S. Warning: May be triggering)
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Harry's POV, 12:56 AM
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My heart was banging against my chest. I couldn't breathe, or move, or anything. I wanted to scream. My eyes were fixed on Louis, and time froze. I couldn't. I couldn't. Without looking back, I left the house. The music was so loud. My thoughts were scrambled. Everything was a mess, and I just couldn't.
I didn't start to cry until I was safely sat in my car, and after the first tear fell, I was sobbing. How could I have trusted Louis? Why would he ever like me, I'm a freak.
I'm completely worthless.
Louis Tomlinson never liked me. Why would he? He had no reason to. There was nothing to like about me. Louis Tomlinson is a soulless human, and I should never have trusted him. I shouldn't have believed him. All those nice things, all the sweet touches. Every word he said to me was a lie. He promised. He promised.
I drove home as fast as I could, ignoring my phone, which buzzed a few times with a text message. I needed to get home, alone and away from everyone. The apartment was empty when I got there, and I went straight to the bathroom, not bothering to lock the front door.
I threw my phone aside and slid down to the cold tile. My head was pounding, and my hands were shaking. I thought about what my therapist always said, what she told me to do. Breathe in. Breathe out. Think it over. Find an alternative.
But you deserve it.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. Louis doesn't love me, Louis never loved me. It hurt to think, and I wanted to stop thinking. What was wrong with me? My hands wouldn't stop shaking, and my heart was beating too fast. Find an alternative. Anything to distract me from what I wanted to do. Anything. I sat there for a few minutes, breathing deeply. The image of Louis with that other boy kept flashing through my head. I haven't seen that boy before.
How could Louis do this?
Because I am worthless.
Alternatives, I repeated in my head. My therapist told me to write out my feelings when I wanted to cut. Write them out. It was simple, I could do it. But I would rather write them out on my skin, replacing a pen with a blade. No. No I can't. Standing up quickly, I grabbed a pen and notebook from my dresser, ignoring how my legs shook.
I opened to a page as I sat on my bed, feeling the smooth, empty paper with my fingertips. My hand was still shaking as I lowered the ink onto the white sheet, scribbling down the first word that came to my mind.
Louis.
That was all I was thinking. Louis, and how cruel he was. Louis, and how he never loved me. Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis. I wrote his name down over and over, each time my hand writing getting sloppier and sloppier. I made sure each word was spaced evenly, I made sure it was organized, but I my hand was shaking so much that I couldn't help how messy my writing became. I choked back my tears, and soon, the entire page was covered in the same name-the same name that now tasted like poison to me.
But it wasn't enough. I needed to feel something. I needed to physically feel how I felt inside; broken. It wasn't enough. I needed it, I needed it so badly. The thought of seeing my own blood, for the first time is months, ran chills down my spine. It was what I needed. It would heal me.
So I stumbled into my bathroom, the small dingy bathroom, and opened the cupboard. They thought I threw them out, everyone thought I had. I told them they were gone, but I kept them, stuffed behind toilet paper and old soap bottles. I pulled out the black bag, and inside it were my blades, shiny and clean. Picking up one of them, I gulped. I shouldn't be doing this, but oh God, I wanted to. I wanted, no, needed to see my blood, to feel the numbness. To have control.
I rolled up my sleeve, my favorite place to cut. It's not like anyone would check, not anymore. No one cares. No one. I placed the blade against my skin, right above one of the older scars. I slowly dragged it across, drawing blood. It burned, it hurt, but I needed more.
Worthless.
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Louis's POV, 12:24 AM
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I didn't realize how much alcohol I had consumed until I started to feel dizzy. The music was so loud, and no matter where I looked, I couldn't find Harry. After everyone sang Happy Birthday, he disappeared. At first I was worried, but Harry often just needed to be alone, so I left him alone.
Liam was dancing with some girl, and Niall was texting someone in the corner, smiling like an idiot. I only recognized half the people there, and the whole house was trashed. I wanted everyone gone by 2, which was creeping its way closer as the minutes passed. I walked over to Niall.
"Hey," I hollered over the music, causing him to look up. He put his phone in his pocket, smiling.
"Hi," he said back.
"Who were you texting?" I asked him, curious why he was so fast to tuck away his phone. He raised his eyebrows slightly.
"No one," he said with a light chuckle. "Having fun?" He asked, changing the subject. I gave him an odd look.
"Yeah, but I can't find Harry," I said, scanning over the heads in the large room, but not finding the curly haired boy.
"Probably just needed some space or something," Niall told me in his Irish accent. I nodded. Hopefully it was just that.
A few people I knew from school came over and talked to me, until some (obviously quite drunk) girl shouted "Spin The Bottle" to which a few teens erupted in cheers. I rolled my eyes, but let the girl set up a bottle while a quarter of the guests gathered around her in a circle. I stayed off to the sides.
I was talking with Niall, ignoring the game, when I heard someone yell my name. I turned around to see the girl.
"The bottle landed on you, so Jeromy has to kiss you!" she exclaimed with a giggle. Jeromy's face was red, Jeromy who I'd never even talked to before. All I knew about him was that he was gay, one of the few openly gay kids at our school.
"No, I don't think that's a good idea-" I tried to butt in, but everyone in the game started to chant "Kiss, kiss, kiss," and before I knew what was happening, the boy called Jeromy was snogging me. I put my hands up in defense, trying to get his off of me. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it made me feel icky. I was a cheater, I cheated on Harry. No, no, no.
I finally pushed him off of me, and everyone cheered and laughed, while I wiped my mouth on my shirt.
"Sorry, mate" Jeromy said with a laugh, taking a swig of his beer and walking towards his group of friends. I looked around, making sure Harry didn't see. He was nowhere in sight. I sighed, but I still felt terrible. How could I look at Harry again without feeling guilty?
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around to see Liam. He had a worried expression on his face. I raised my eyebrows, asking him what the matter was. He bit his lip, making me worried as well. As if I didn't already have enough to worry about.
"Harry, mate. Harry saw you, with Jeromy, then he left," he told me, quite loudly to drown out the music. My heart stopped. I felt every nerve in my body freeze, and my throat went dry.
I had a feeling Liam knew about Harry and I, maybe even before I knew myself. He picked up on things like that. But this was not good, it was quite terrible actually. I didn't trust Harry with himself, not just yet. I didn't want him to hurt himself, especially over me. I'm such an idiot. I should've known this party wouldn't end well.
"I need to find him," I said to Liam. I looked at my phone clock. 12:58, close enough.
"Liam, can you help me get everyone out? I need to find Harry, oh god, just can you please help?" I rushed out. Liam nodded.
"Of course," he said, offering me a small sympathy smile. He ran over to the iPod that was blasting the music and shut it off, leaving the room quiet as everyone turned to him for answers.
"Sorry, but parties over," Liam said, making the room groan.
"It's not even one yet!" someone shouted.
"I know, but I made a mistake and I really just need this place empty, please," I said, gulping. I had long discarded my Christmas jumper and was now clad in a T-shirt, but I could feel sweat dripping down me as everyone eyed me so suspiciously.
"Is it because I kissed you?" Jeromy asked quietly, so only a few people could hear. I stared at him for a few seconds.
"No, yes, kind of," I said. "Harry saw it and left and I just really need everyone to leave," I said loudly, without thinking. The room went quiet.
"Harry, the kid with OCD? Why do you care?" said a girl in the back. She had a nasty look on her face.
Anger spread through my veins. Of course I care. I care so, so much about Harry. I like him more than anyone. No, I don't like him. I love him. I love Harry Styles. I always have, from that first day in the library when he gave me that cheeky smile, from the moment I looked into his emerald eyes. I love him, and no one will ever change that.
"Because he's my boyfriend, now get out!" I yelled the last part, my face filling with heat.
Oh god, did I really just say that?
Everyone stood there in silence for a few seconds, before the first one left, followed by a couple more. My heart was beating in my ears as I watched everyone leave.
"Sorry," Jeromy muttered before he left, and I felt slightly guilty. He didn't know. He couldn't have known. Soon only Niall and Liam were left, along with a trashed house. It was silent.
"So, you and Harry, huh?" Niall said, raising his eyebrows.
Shit. I forgot about Niall. Niall, my ex-boyfriend.
"Niall... I'm sorry, but I promise I never cheated on you, Harry and I only got together after we ended or relationship, and I promise I never meant this to hurt you-"
"Its fine, Louis. I'm happy for you," he said, wearing a genuine smile. It took me by surprise, but I smiled back.
"Thank you."
"We should probably find your boyfriend then," said Liam. I nodded, taking out my phone and opening up my texts.
'Harry, what you saw isn't what it seems'
'Please reply'
I sent both texts, sighing.
"I need to go and look for him, before he does something stupid," I said to the two in front of me. They nodded. I grabbed my jacket and put my phone away. Before I opened the door, I turned to them.
"Thank you guys." And with that, I left.
'Harry, I'm coming over to your house to look for you. Please don't do anything,' I sent the text before getting in my car and driving off.
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Harry's POV, 1:16 AM
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I felt like laughing as I looked down at my arms, but not in the humorous way. In the sick, twisted way. Blood trickled down the sides, a few drops splashing on the tile. They weren't too deep, because I wanted to drag this out as long as I possibly could. I wanted to make my arms so cut up that it looked more crimson than pale. I wanted to feel sick from how much blood I lost. I wanted to have trouble breathing as I started down at the blood beneath me. I wanted to hold onto my last breath, covered in my own blood. I just wanted it to last.
Taking the sliver of metal, I let it slide along my left arm, hitching my breath and making me silently scream. But it was good. It was perfect. Making the identical cut on my right arm, I looked down at my work. 6 cuts lined each arm, but they weren't quite deep enough. So I went deeper, making me cry out in pain. It hurt. I did the same on my other arm, copying the same cut. It still wasn't enough.
Glancing at my wrists, I shook my head. I couldn't cut there, not yet. My scars there were the most prominent, they were my favorite. All swollen and white. I wish I just would've died that night. I wish my mother hadn't found me. I wish the blood drained from my veins faster, I wish I had cut a bit deeper. Why am I still here? Dragging the blade across my arm, deeper than before, I started to sob. If I was normal, everything would be fine. But I'm not normal, and I never will be normal, never. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my chest heaved. I let out a shaky breath, making the same cut on my other arm, like always.
Deeper.
My lungs hurt as I made another cut, letting the blood spill out of the gash. I was tired, I wanted to not feel. I wanted to be numb. I was about make the next cut when I heard footsteps. My heart started to pound. It must be my stepdad. The bathroom door was shut and locked, and it's not like he'd come in here anyway. But the footsteps were coming closer and closer to the door, making my heart speed up. I held my breath.
"Harry?" I knew that voice.
Louis.
It was Louis. I wanted to scream. Who does he think he is? I hate him, I hate him so much. I stayed still and quiet.
"Harry, please... just let me know if you can hear me. Please," his voice cracked at the end, almost like he was crying. But why would he be crying? He has no reason to, he's the one who cheated.
But I still stayed quiet.
"Okay, okay, I know you probably hate me right now, and you have reason to, but I swear it wasn't what it looked like," Louis began. "But I'm not here to apologize for that, because there is no apology in the world that can make cheating on you okay. No, I'm here because I want you to know how much you mean to me. Harry, you are so sweet, you are so funny, and I can't even express to you how much I adore you. I never get tired of your company, and I always look forward to seeing you. I love how your eyes light up when I kiss you. I love how you smile when I say something funny. I love how you laugh at your corny jokes. Harry Styles, I love you. So please, just let me know if you're okay," Louis said through the door.
My face was flushed, and my heart stopped. Louis... loved me? But he was kissing that other boy. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he isn't the cheater I thought he was. Maybe he's Louis, my Louis.
"Please," Louis cried when I didn't respond. His voice was shaking, and I knew he was crying.
"I'm okay," my voice was barely above a whisper and was hoarse, but Louis must've heard me, because he let out a long sigh. He probably didn't believe me though. There was a pause, neither of us saying anything.
"Can you let me in?" Louis finally asked. I looked down at my arms. They were a bloody, beaten mess. No, no Louis couldn't see me. He can't know I did this, he can't know I went against his trust.
"I can help you, Harry," he said. I wanted to let him in, but I didn't want him to see me. He wiggled the doorknob, but it was locked tight. I grabbed a handful of tissue and held it too the gashes, making me cry out in pain. It hurt, a lot. Louis heard me, and he shook the handle again.
"Harry, please."
I cried. I needed him.
"It-it hurts, help," I sobbed out, holding the tissue to my arms in pain.
"Hold on, I'm going to pick the lock," Louis said in a rushed voice. I heard the lock click, and Louis threw the door open. His eyes connected with mine, and he kneeled down in front of me.
"I-I'm so sorry, Haz. They were all playing Spin The Bottle and then he just kissed me, and I swear I didn't want him to, but please, I didn't mean to," he said, ranting. I didn't care.
He loved me.
Without saying anything, he stood up to grab a washcloth, getting it wet.
"Let me see them," he said, motioning to the cuts that were barley hidden behind the toilet paper that was quickly reddening. I looked at his eyes, before peeling away the soggy paper, making me cry out. It hurt so badly. Louis's eyes were watery as he watched me.
I held out my arms, and Louis lightly placed the damp fabric over them, causing me to whimper. "Sorry," he said as he continued to wipe the cuts. I didn't make eye contact with him.
When he was done, I looked down at the cuts. They were red and swollen, and most of them were already starting to bleed again. Then I realized. It was uneven. I had 8 cuts on one arm, and 9 on the other. I had to make another one, it had to be even. I glanced over to my blade, which was sitting in a small puddle of my blood. But Louis was here, I couldn't.
"What's wrong?" Louis asked, looking me over with his glassy eyes,
"I...It's... it's uneven, Louis. I can't, I need to fix it," I said, tears still streaming down my face. He looked down at my arms, then up at me.
"No, no Harry. You're fine. You're okay, alright, you don't need to," he told me, a tear slipping from his eye.
"Please, please Louis I need to! It can't, it can't be uneven. I have to Louis," I pleaded, eyeing the blade. "I have to."
He was full-on crying now. "I can't let you, Harry, not in front of me," he said. I looked down at my arms, how some of the cuts had drops of blood slipping through.
"Then look away," I said, biting my lip.
I reached over to the blade, picking it up quickly and bringing it to my arm. Louis grabbed my wrist gently before I could start. "Please," he muttered.
"Just look away, okay," I said with a shaky voice, and he let go, turning away from me.
I held onto the blade tightly, pulling it across my skin, sighing deeply when the metal entered my flesh. I could hear Louis sniffling. I groaned in pain slightly, because it didn't feel good, not with Louis right there. When I lifted the metal from the new cut, I dropped the blade on the tile with an audible 'clank'. Louis turned around, and without looking into my eyes, he dabbed the new wound with the washcloth, wiping away the blood.
"Haz, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that you did this. I'm so sorry for everything," he muttered as he cleaned my arms. Without warning, I swung my arms around him, pulling him close to my heart.
He wrapped his arms around me as well after a few seconds, breathing in my scent. I nuzzled my head into his neck, smiling slightly.
"I love you too, Louis Tomlinson."
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A/N
It's confirmed, they're in love. This chapter was pretty damn long, so, yeah. That's why it took a while. Uh, bye! Please VOTE and COMMENT for more!