I Love You [COMPLETED]

WARNING:  Self Harm!

You start running to the bathroom and lock yourself inside, shutting the world out. You pull open the little drawer at the bottom of your vanity table and take a long look at the too familiar pair of scissors staring back at you. You sit down on the floor next to the open drawer, not yet touching the scissors. You stay frozen like that for ten minutes, and then you look down at your left forearm. You can see the numerous lines all over your skin; the old scars and the new marks. You decide to start counting and soon you reach a surprising total. There are thirty small cuts randomly squished on your arm in an attempt to look as unnoticeable as possible. You can feel the heaviness of tears building in your eyes. You look back at your scissors, still lying at the bottom of the empty drawer. Suddenly you’re pulled back to reality when you hear a gentle knock on the door.

“[Y/N], please baby… don’t do it… I love you and I don’t want to see you do this to yourself.” It was Harry Styles, your boyfriend of seven months; the thickness of his accent caused the first tear to slip from your eyes. He had only found out about your depression one month ago and he tried everything to prevent you from cutting. Before you had met him, you hadn’t been cutting for very long and it drastically decreased to almost nothing when you started going out with him. He was perfect and you had no clue what he saw in you but you thanked God every day that he did love you because it was the only thing still attaching you to the will to live. Two months ago you started cutting again after you were exposed to enormous amounts of hate from his fans. You had been able to keep it a secret from him until one night he walked in on you with those scissors in your hand covered in your blood. Since he found out you have only been able to find your little ‘escape’ three times and it was eating at you every day to do it again and today you were out with him and a fan started shouting the most horrid things at you. You couldn’t take it anymore; you wanted to cut.

“Please [Y/N], just talk to me. You don’t need to do this.” Harry was still at the bathroom door. You weren’t going to let him in; you needed your ‘escape’. You picked up the scissors and accidentally hit them against the drawer.

“No! [Y/N] please! Let me in!” Harry sounded desperate now and you could hear him rattling the door knob trying to get in. You quickly shut him out and focused on the task at hand. You slid the scissors open all the way and forcefully broke the skin on a fresh patch of your forearm. The sensation burned immensely but you didn’t care. You took the scissors back to the same spot again and slashed open the wound even more. The warmth of your blood relaxed your body as you watched it slowly spill from your arm. Then, Harry rammed the door open. He rushed over to where you were on the floor and snatched the scissors from you setting them on top of your vanity table. He pulled the wash cloth off the rack in the shower and ran it under the icy water in the sink. He started to calm down as he slowly sat next to you on the chilly tile floor. He gently grabbed your arm and dabbed the cold wash cloth on your fresh gash. You looked up at him but he was focused on cleaning your open sore. You could tell that he was fighting back tears in his eyes as he was trying to stay strong for you. You were no longer crying but your face was stiff from the many tears that had dried. You just sat there in a state of shock and calmness. You knew it was wrong but you were happy with what you had just done, it made you feel better, your own ‘medicine’.

“Why?” was all he said when he finally finished with the bandages on your arm, but he still wouldn’t look at you. You didn’t have anything to say. What could you say?

“[Y/N], I said why?”

“I-I don’t know.” As his eyes finally met yours you realized that you were not the only one bearing pain. You quickly looked away, scared at the guilt his gaze would bring to you.

“I love you.” That’s all he said. He didn’t lecture you at all, just those three words. He lifted your chin up and kissed you on the forehead. He picked your currently weak body up bridal style and brought you back to the bedroom. With you still in his arms he sat down on the bed.

“I love you.” He wrapped the both of you up in blankets, never loosening his grip on you and laid back against the pillows.

“I love you.” He brushed the hair out of your face and placed your head in the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” You started drifting off to sleep feeling safe within his hold and the last thing you hear before you fell asleep: “I love you.”