Infatuated (hsau)

chapter 51.

Major trigger warning for this chapter
Mentions an eating disorder and if you suffer with one, I highly suggest you skip to the summary at the end.

°°
You don't have to do this on your own
Like there's no one that cares about you

You don't have to act like you're alone
Like the walls are closing in around you

You don't have to pretend no one knows
Like there's no one that understands you
I'm not just some face you used to know
I know all about you
°°

Harlow Dean

Harry gave me a green sweatshirt of his, one so big it literally came to my knees but it was somewhat comforting. He gave me the green one because 'he's noticed green is my favourite colour' which is nice, it made me smile anyway.

Two mornings in a row I've burdened him like this, two fucking mornings.

He was so caring with me, so gentle and reassuring. He kept making little jokes in an attempt to earn a smile from me which he was successful in doing, although the jokes were unnecessary. Each time I caught a glimpse of that dimpled smile I found myself wearing a smile of my own that I couldn't even hide.

I do feel sorry for him though, I don't think he's had to deal with somebody so emotional unstable before.

I've not been sleeping much lately, I ran out of my antidepressants and with it being my mums birthday not that long ago, I've really not been doing the best. I need to pick up new medication today because it feels like my minds been in overdrive without those little 'happy pills'.

The thing is they're not really antidepressants, they're just strong mood stabilisers which probably explains why I've been an emotional wreck this week.

No matter how much times he told me not to be embarrassed, I'm still pretty fucking mortified over the fact all it took was a hug from Harry to have me bursting into a cry that had me literally gasping for air. I really am embarrassed, usually I've got it all together.

I'm not the best person to talk about feelings with, being such a closed book is probably my worst trait. I think I could have my leg hanging off and a knife sticking out my throat and I'd still tell people I was fine and not to worry.

My mum used to hate that about me but she never needed to ask whether I was okay or not, she always knew the answer.

But now she's gone and nobody can read me as well as my own mother can, so it's just a constant circle of 'I'm okay' that I live in.

I used to see a therapist, so because it was literally her job to know whether I'm okay or not she could tell when I was masking my emotions, but I stopped going about six months ago. For me therapy has become my cat, my club, my piano and my weekly visits to the flower shop...whether that actually makes up for the therapy appointments I stopped attending I'm not sure.

Harry took me down stairs, held my hand the whole way as if I'd run away from him and to be honest I don't blame him after how I acted a few minutes prior.

I'm so fucking nervous and I'm sure Harry felt my hands shaking because when we sat down on the couch I slept in last night, he engulfed both my hands with his and tightly squeezed them.

I'm nervous but I'm trying to tell myself this is a good thing, even if it doesn't seem like it. I mean what harm can talking about your problems really do other than scare him away?