When school had ended and Harry got home it dawned on him how fragile Niall was. He had seen how easily the boy cried and the image of he wrist distorted with cross crossing silver lines was present every time he closed his eyes.
The curly haired boy walked into his room, chucked his bag on the floor and flopped onto the bed. Trying to figure out what he was feeling, Harry got out his lyric book and began to write.
Something so pure can't be tainted,
Someone so good can't feel that,
Sooner or later they'll break down
I just wonder if i'll be around.
But I don't understand how it can be
How can someone so right feel like that
When you feel alone and your hurting
Just remember that i'll be right back.
Harry finished the last line and sighed. Niall was so cute and funny how could anyone get joy from hurting him, seeing him cry was one of the most heart breaking things Harry had ever seen. The question of how he could do that to himself also haunted the curly haired boy. He couldn't get his head around it, but he understood that Niall had a completely different upbringing and childhood, Harrys was all happy families whereas Nialls was filled with nothingness, no love, no protection. Nothing. Harry didn't know why but he felt drawn to Niall, he had known the Irish boy a day and was already hating his father and every other person who made Niall sad. No one should have to go through what Niall had and especially not at such a young age. Maybe that was why Niall did it, because he wanted something to control, to remind him he wasn't just a doll, he could feel. The green eyed boy began to rub his own wrist subconsciously. Niall should have to hurt himself. Harry decided that he was going to make Niall happy, he didn't know what that would involve but he would do it.
Niall walked into his house and was greeted with silence. This wasn't uncommon, Greg was most likely at work and his father never spoke. He roamed through the empty house, grabbing some food as he passed the kitchen, and ended up sitting on his bedroom floor, box in hand, sleeve rolled up. He opened the box and saw 3 blades, a handful of plasters and some cloth. Picking up one of the blades, Niall looked at it, unsure as to why he was hesitating. He did this everyday, but why was he so reluctant to do it today. The Irish boy put the blade back down and closed his eyes, willing himself to find the cause of his doubt. What he found was Harry Styles looking down at him, tears in his eyes, a frown on his face, Nialls head was resting in his lap and the feeling of safety washed over him. Niall opened his eyes again, Harry Styles, the boy he had known less than a day had just done something multiple people had tried to stop, and without even doing anything. Butterflies began to swarm in his stomach as he put the box back under his bed and curled up on his bed, a smile on his lips and a wrist that didn't sting. This was good Niall thought, this Harry kid may just be what I have been praying for, and with that thought Niall fell asleep, calm and content for the first time in over 12 years.
