TW: mentions of drugs, depression and homophobia.
Y/n's Pov
I sat on the curb of the main street in downtown, crying while high. I'm high off heroin. Yeah, perfect.
I hate it. I hate how my life ended up. I went from loved by my family, to depressed. My family had kicked me out of the house when they found out I was on drugs.
My parents are Christian's and very strict. So to say the least, when they found out about my drug problems, they booted me to the curb. Loving family I have.
I had my head tucked into my knees, balling my eyes out when I notice someone sitting down next to me. I look over at him, head still tucked into my knees.
"Are you okay," he softly asks, a British accent being heard.
"Why are you asking? You don't know me," I whisper back, spitefully.
"Because this person is balling their eyes out in the middle of the night, not to mention their on the streets. So I'm asking, are you okay?"
I think about it before I respond, "no."
I feel a sense of comfort, which is weird. He's not giving me bad vibes, he doesn't seem like a murderer. He feels warm, if you get what I'm saying.
"What happened? Of course you don't have to tell me, but if you need to let your thoughts out, I'm listening."
"Uhm ...my parents kicked me out," I whisper, ashamed of myself.
"I'm sorry," he whispers back. He softly lays his land on my back, rubbing soft circles, making me feel a little bit better. His touch is warm and it feels safe. Why am I feeling like this? I don't know this man and I'm telling him my problems. Why do I feel safe? Fuck.
"Don't be. It's my fault, I brought it upon myself."
"And why do you say that, if you don't mind me asking."
I'm silent for about a minute until I work up the courage to admit to my problems, "I'm addicted to heroin."
A sob leaves my mouth as reality really hit me. I have a problem. Me doing drugs got me kicked out of my home and I have no family to help me.
"Hey, it's okay. Don't cry," he whispers scooting closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. I lay my head into his chest as more sobs leave my mouth.
"I hate it," I sob, "I hate my life! Why does it have to be me?! Why me?"
"I don't know, but I do know you'll be okay."
"How d-do you know," I ask as I wipe my tears away.
"I don't but you can get out of it because you're strong enough to do it. You just have to set your mind to it."
"Thank you," I whisper, "whatever your name is."
"Harry," he says, "Harry Styles."
"Well thank you Harry, I'm Y/n."
"Nice to meet you Y/n."
Two years later
"Well you are getting discharged today," my therapist says, smiling at me.
"You've been doing amazing recently and I just hope you can use the skills you've learned over these past two years, you know if you ever need anything, if you feel like you'll end up in the situation you were in before, you can always come back or give me a call. I don't think you'll need the help because your doing amazing," she praises.
