Haunted (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 1

A/N: to clear up some confusion, at the time I wrote this (which was literally almost a decade ago haha) I had someone start working to change it to third person. They never finished and also made some mistakes (which is totally okay)! But I see several comments pointing out the mistakes, so I figured I would clarify that A: I am perfectly okay and was at the time of writing this and B: I apologize for any confusion!

Harry blinked open his eyes, regretting it immediately.

He wasn't hung over or anything, he just hated waking up in the mornings without Louis by his side.

Every since Louis had gotten his own place and moved out of their flat, it just seemed pointless to wake up. Harry used to always love waking up because Louis usually was the one making him. Sometimes he'd run in and jump on Harry's bed until he was awake, but sometimes he'd crawl into bed with him and cuddle until Harry finally opened his eyes. He always had preferred the latter.

But no. Now Harry woke up by himself. He ate by himself, when he did eat. He had gotten so used to cooking for Louis that it just depressed him further to know that he only had to cook for one. So he didn't eat much anymore, and the boys were noticing. The fans were noticing as well. Everyone but Louis.

It was so obvious something was wrong with Harry, so why couldn't Louis see it? It wasn't just the fact that you could see his ribs through his shirt. He hadn't slept well in ages, so he was pale and sickly looking with huge dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't even hiding the angry red cuts on his wrist anymore. Usually when they were out in public, the other boys made Harry put on bracelets though. They didn't want the fans to see just how badly he was doing.

Especially recently he was getting a lot of tweets asking if he was alright, because something was obviously wrong.

Hell, even Eleanor noticed!

That stupid, perfect girl that Louis was infatuated with noticed Harry wasn't okay, and his best mate didn't.

And that stung most of all.

Harry sighed heavily, exhausted after only a few hours of sleep. But he was tired all the time now, so it was nothing new. Even the sleeping pills that he had been prescribed didn't help. He'd take them and fall asleep, but he always woke up just as tired as he had been before.

Going into the bathroom and looking into the mirror, what he saw wasn't surprising anymore.

Bloodshot eyes, pale skin, dull hair, thin limbs. Yeah. You'd have to be blind not to know that he was definitely not okay.

But Louis didn't! He was the only person who saw him as normal. And yet he still called himself his best mate.

How didn't he notice when one of the boys took him aside to check my wrist for new cuts or how they were so protective of him lately? How didn't he notice the other day when he had run into the loo and burst into tears when he brought Eleanor along to a lunch that Harry thought would just be the both of them? How was he so damn oblivious?

Harry was hit with a sudden burst of anger and slammed his fist into the wall, relishing the pain that shot up his arm.

He carefully flexed his fingers, but he knew nothing was broken. It wouldn't be that easy. Maybe if he broke something, Louis would finally notice something was wrong.

Harry knew he shouldn't cut, they had a photoshoot and fresh cuts are hard to hide, but he itched for his razor.

He hit the wall again, needing to feel pain. And again. he did it until the crave for making himself bleed vanished, mostly because two of his knuckles had split open. There was also a hole in the wall now, something he was somewhat proud of.