✯ Zianourry ⏯ OneShots ✯

It's nothing. ⏯ H.S. [TW]

TW: Self harm

Harry Styles stood on the stage, the roar of the crowd echoing in his ears. He was living his dream, a member of the famous boy band One Direction. But behind the bright lights and adoring fans, Harry carried a heavy burden.

At just sixteen years old, Harry was the youngest member of the band, a fact that seemed to set him apart from the others in more ways than one. While his bandmates—Niall, Louis, Liam, and Zayn—were all close in age, Harry felt like an outsider, a gap of two years separating him from forming the same bond they shared.

As the band's popularity soared, so did the rumors surrounding Harry. Tabloids speculated about his personal life, painting him as the wild child of the group, much to his dismay. But what hurt him the most was the hate he received from fans, targeted solely at him.

Despite the success and fame, Harry longed for genuine connections, for friends he could lean on during the ups and downs of life on the road. But his relationship with the other four boys remained strictly professional, leaving him feeling isolated and alone.

Unable to cope with the overwhelming pressure, Harry found solace in self-harm, the physical pain offering temporary relief from the emotional turmoil he endured.

One fateful night, as the band performed in front of a packed stadium, Harry's body finally gave in to the stress and sickness that had been building up inside him. He stumbled on stage, his vision blurring and his limbs growing weak, until he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

The audience gasped in shock as the music came to a sudden halt, the other boys rushing to Harry's side with panicked expressions.

"Harry, mate, are you alright?" Niall asked, his voice laced with concern as he knelt beside him.

But Harry could only muster a weak nod before darkness consumed him, the sounds of worried voices fading into oblivion.

Hours later, Harry awoke in a hospital bed, his head pounding and his body aching. He blinked groggily, trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Hey, you're awake," Liam said, relief evident in his voice as he approached Harry's bedside.

"What happened?" Harry mumbled, his throat dry and scratchy.

"You passed out on stage," Louis explained, his expression grave. "We were all so worried about you, mate."

Harry's heart clenched at the concern in their eyes, a stark contrast to the indifference he had felt from them before. He swallowed hard, the weight of his struggles suddenly feeling unbearable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Niall shook his head, his eyes brimming with emotion. "No, Harry, it's not your fault. We should have been there for you, like a proper band should."

Zayn placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We've been so caught up in our own lives and problems that we didn't realize what you were going through. But that's going to change, mate. From now on, we're in this together."

Tears streamed down Harry's cheeks as he looked at the four boys who had finally acknowledged his pain and reached out to offer him support.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

As they gathered around Harry in a tight embrace, he knew that despite the challenges they faced, they would always have each other. And with that realization, the gap that had once separated them began to shrink, replaced by a bond stronger than ever before.