Harry Styles imagines

I needed you

WARNINGS: Strong language(I don't remember), mental break downs.

You:

Hey babe; is everything alright? It's getting late. Did something come up?

Read: 12:47am

You:

Babes, I'm starting to get worried. Is everything okay? Are you okay?

Read: 2:13am

The clock ticked in a slow, thumping rhythm as I waited for my boyfriends return or at least, a signal that he was alright instead of a teased response from his dry end of the line.

Still, as my eyes grew wetter and more droopy from the weight of the day piled underneath my irises, I sat with my wrist bent back to an extent. Achy and red from the skin pressed against my cool cheek. I began to heat up in a cold sweat followed by sickening shivers.

My head fought as hard as it could, neck turning to jelly momentarily while my head bobbed from being tucked safely into the comfort of my chest to being stood up to the darkened door.

Still, I waited.

I woke up feeling achy, clingy, and sad. Stressed from work, maybe. Maybe it was the fact toast was my new best friend, the only thing I could stomach without feeling sick and gross just by looking at myself in the mirror. Maybe it was the way my eyes fell slack every chance they got, the way my jaw clenched or the way my wrists folded each time they raised. But part of me felt though, I was to blame for the slump I'd fallen back into, skipping out on my therapy for the past couple of weeks just to feel free again. To feel like I could sleep in without having to worry about Wednesdays. I'd let my problems build up and now I was back where I started. In a slump.

Usually, they passed over, mulling over the urges to vomit each time nothing but the crisp flakes of wheat hit the back of my tongue. My hair would stay in a tangled mess, hanging at the nape of my neck in a loose knot. I would become rather pale to the sight, my cheekbones defined more and eyelashes constantly hung over the brightness of my eyes. My knees would become weak, and I would fumble. I would feel faint, head spinning each time I stood too quickly. I would have a dry throat, scratching at my already raspy voice.

I could do nothing but cry like this. I felt judged, even when nobody knew my name. I felt used, heartbroken, as if tens of thousands of people had stomped on my heart and given away the shards as fair prizes. Worthless junk to be distributed and tossed in a weeks time. I could do nothing but lay down in my bed, wiping the sweat stuck strands from the bridge of my nose and push it farther onto my blanketed forehead.

Today was especially bad though. My legs felt like weights hung to my torso, arms heavy and limp against the mattress. My head pounding with a headache, and my mouth stuck in a frown. I begged for mercy in my sleep, I could feel the thoughts lingering, but it was those that had woken me up with a jolt hours before the sun rose over the blue horizon. Just a couple hours earlier than my body forced me up anyways.

The difference today was, my body forced me to stay put in bed; tangled in the sheets to be tossed and thrown around anyways. Thrown to the end, feet sweaty from the heavy duvet hung over the bed posts. Mattress sunk in with my body, air cold against my contrasting skin. The atmosphere remained quiet in the empty halls of the never ending home. Comfy and quiet rarely. Dark and uninhabited mostly while I lay alone in one room for hours on end. Waiting for someone to come knocking. Anyone.

You:

Hey baby, you still planning on coming home later, or are you staying over at the studio again?