It hurts [Ziall]

4

Niall

I put on a frustrated face as I pretended I couldn't nail the turn. Monday technique classes are always the worst because we have Alison, our evil bitch jazz teacher.

"Niall! What the hell are you doing?" She growled. I put my head down and willed a few tears into my eyes. I saw Zayn glance at me with a worried look.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "Make it quick!" She said.

I ran out of the room and into the boys bathroom and sat down in a stall. I'll just wait a few minutes in here, worry Zayn, then go back. Then I heard the door open.

"Niall?" Zayn said quietly. I rubbed my eyes to make them red then walked out of the stall.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked, going to wash my hands.

"I'm just worried about you." He said quietly. "You just haven't been yourself lately and you've been losing a little weight. Are you sure your okay?"

I'd been losing some weight? Yes! "I'm fine Zayn." I mumbled, playing with the bracelets on my arm. He raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything.

I walked out and back too class grinning. He was worried about me.

The next day Chance and his gang of assholes beat me up, leaving me with an black eye. All class Zayn gave me worried glances, but he didn't say anything to me. I frowned as I sat on my bed, observing my cuts. I had an actual black eye, how the hell was I supposed to get Zayn's attention other than that?

I noticed my cuts were fading a tiny bit, being made almost five days ago. I sighed and got out the razor I had hidden in my drawer. If I wanted Zayn to notice them, they'd have to stand out a little more.

I sliced seven new cuts into my left arm, and eight into my right. I cringed at the pain. This would all be worth it when Zayn is my boyfriend. He'll always worry and he'll hold me when I'm upset because he doesn't want me to do anything bad to myself. All I have to do is let him see the cuts.

The next day at school was a blur, and I found myself constantly zoning out and listening to my new music.

Huh I guess I'm getting really into this character I'm playing. That's all this is. A character. It's like my life is a movie and I'm playing a depressed boy, desperate for love. I laughed to myself. Sounds pretty dramatic.

At dance I made sure to look extra frustrated during class because today was going to be the day I show Zayn. Well, I'm not going to show him, but I'm going to make sure he sees.

The two of us headed to our tiny boys changing room. I complained a bit about how sweaty my shirt was, so I wouldn't just changing my shirt for no reason.

I made sure out of the corner of my eye that he was looking in my direction, then pulled up my shirt, letting the bracelets fall down to my elbow. I heard him gasp.

I turned around and covered up my torso with my sweaty shirt and Zayn stared at me, wide-eyed. I know he had seen.