take my hoodie ✓

sixteen | okay

~no pov

After a very long stroll around the area, Harry walked into a random house that was definitely hosting a party. The door was open, teenagers were everywhere and obnoxiously loud music was blaring. 

He got his phone out and texted Ron. If there was a party, he would be there.

"Hey, Harry." Ron came outside a minute after leaving Harry on read. "You okay?"

"Why is there a party at six in the afternoon?" Harry asked. "It's so early."

Ron shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Come in."

The brunet put his hands in his pockets and walked in, following the ginger. If Hermione wasn't at the party, Harry would most likely be alone. Ron talks to all the people that terrify Harry: aka everyone. Social anxiety's a bitch.

"Hiya, Harry." Cho Chang greeted. Harry had a small crush on her the year prior, and her boyfriend too. Unfortunately, he got into a terrible accident and was killed on impact.

They both mourned him. As some sort of backup option/rebound, Cho made a move on Harry recently. Harry brushed it off, being his usual oblivious self.

"Hi, Cho." He replied awkwardly. He wasn't in the mood to be hit on, even though he had no idea he was being hit on.

"How was Halloween for you?"

splendid. spent my time at a grave and an abandoned house and then fell asleep. got picked up by teachers who got in bc i didnt lock the door. all in all, brilliant.

"Oh, just the uzhe." uzhe? harry wtf just say usual. what is wrong with me? "-Ual. Usual."

"Usual?" She asked. "Like a party or something?"

Most people forgot about the freak accident that killed Lily and James Potter. Unless you were old enough when it happened, it kinda just slips past you.

"No, just visited my parents."

"Parents? Don't you live with them?"

no, i live they don't. #deadparents #trauma #thesehashtagsarewhyiwanttokillmyself

"Erm." Erm? Harry was absolutely dying inside at the moment, and not in the laughing way. He was ready to find the nearest knife and plunge it through his heart.

"Hey, little bro." George came over and ruffled Harry's hair. "How are you?"

"I'm okay." 

"Cool. Come get a drink with us." Fred puts his arm around Harry's shoulder, his twin doing the same on the other side.

"We know she didn't take the hint."

"Figured we'd come save you."

"Besides.."

"We know you prefer men." Fred grinned, earning a slap from Harry.

"I don't." Harry didn't really tell people stuff, especially his sexuality. He didn't figure he had a chance with either gender, so he just rolled with being presumed as straight.

The only people he told were Hermione and Ron. The twins were pretty intuitive sometimes, though. Harry didn't mind them knowing. He just gets defensive sometimes, but don't we all?

"It's alright, Raven."

"We support you."

"No matter what."

"Now come drink with us."

"We know you don't like beer."

"So here's some vodka shots." George raised his little glass, clinking it with Fred and an awkward Harry.

He liked the fact that they knew he didn't like beer. "To bisexuality!" He laughed.

"Told you, Freddie."

Fred groaned and handed his brother a twenty. 

"You guys betted on me?"

"We both knew, but I betted you would tell us before New Years." George grinned. "Freddie betted you would never tell us. He said you're too secretive."

"He's not wrong." Harry shrugged. He was the most closed-off person the twins ever met. 

"We know, Harry." George ruffled his hair again. "But I was right and he was wrong, and that's the moral of the story. To money!"

They all took another round of shots. And then some more. And then a few more, before lightweight George and in-between Harry stumbled over to sit down. Fred just walked with them, making sure his twin didn't crash into a wall.

"I really miss my parents." Harry drank to forget, but sometimes he would get really personal. It was his least favourite thing about drinking. 

Fred and George side-hugged Harry, who was sandwiched between them. "We love you Harry. We'll be your parents. Right Georgie?"

"Right on, Freddie. I think I should be James."

"You're Lily, I'm James."

Though they were trying to be sweet by cheering the brunet with humour- their favourite comfort method- it wasn't working. Not after the talk Harry had with India.

"I'm gonna go to the toilet."

"You alright, Harry?"

"I'm okay."

He certainly was not.

Harry was back to rummaging through bathroom cabinets for razors. He'd been to three already, and not one had anything sharp. He was ready to punch a mirror and take the broken shards, or just let his knuckles bleed, but that wasn't fair.

He already stained the same guy's floor nearly three months prior. 

His next bet was going to the en-suite bathroom, but he was worried it'd be locked. However, the urge to see red was overwhelming. It had been for hours, and alcohol wasn't distracting him enough.

"Get out!" A blond who was currently fucking someone shouted when Harry entered the room. Hood up, he just ran into the en-suite and prayed he wouldn't hear anything.

Instead, he heard a chain of curses and someone saying, "let's find another room." 

Soon after, the door slammed shut, and Harry deemed it safe. Locking the bathroom door, he scoured every possible place to put a razor.

Once one was found, he cleaned it under hot water, burning his hands in the process. He sat in the bath this time, devoid of water.

It wasn't comfortable, but it was less likely to make an uncleanable mess.

Harry rolled up his sleeve and made a few slashes of red with the silver, and panicked when the silver made a white line instead. He underestimated the sharpness.

"Come on, there's got to be plasters somewhere." Harry muttered to himself, pressing his arm close to his chest. 

He looked through the cupboards again and found two medium plasters. He sighed and ran his wrist under cold water, till all the feeling in his entire forearm was gone. Then he wiped his arm down with tissue.

The plasters were the hard part. He was currently struggling to open them. 

Luckily, Harry was resilient and managed to do it, only after the wound turned red for a few seconds. Success!

Fred had called him, and hesitantly, Harry picked up.

"You alright, Harry?"

"I'm okay."

He hung up due to the plaster turning red. Covering it was only going to work for a little bit, and Harry realised the sad truth.

i'm going to have to go home.