Half a heart Without You

Part VIII

Now

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, was One Direction!" the host shouted into the mic over the thousands of screaming fans. Harry, Zayn, Liam, Niall, and I waved to the crowd while security ushered us backstage so we could get to the limo right away. The fans cheers rang in my ears as we moved through the sea of managers.

Three years ago, Harry and I had decided to audition for the X-Factor and, incredibly, had come extremely far. Simon, our mentor, had put us with three other blokes, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, and Zayn Malik. We had immediately clicked and became the best of friends. Unfortunately, we didn't win the X-Factor, but we did manage to become the biggest boyband in the world with millions of supporters. It's been a wild ride. Limos, fancy hotels, tours, and our own team definitely had its perks. I did miss my family, but the boys had become so close to me that they were like brothers.

Right now, we were on our latest tour. It was late, almost midnight, and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. I stumbled into the limo after the rest of the boys and collapsed on the seat.

"That was one of our best performances, lads. Great job to all of you," Liam said, who was sitting across from me. He leaned back and closed his eyes while the limo pulled forward, driving us back to our hotel.

"Well I think that changing up the lyrics really excited them. Hopefully, management doesn't kill us," I said laughing.

Niall and Zayn, sitting next to me, chuckled in agreement and almost immediately fell asleep on each other. Liam pulled out his phone, presumably on Twitter answering fan mail and the like. I thought about logging on myself, but I was just too tired. I looked over at Harry instead.

Harry and I were kinda in a weird situation right now. And by "right now," I mean for the past eight months. We talked and acknowledged each other's existence, but it was awkward. We didn't laugh together the way we used to, we didn't share jokes, and I wasn't even sure if we were best friends anymore.

I wasn't sure what happened; everything was going great in the band. And after Harry left Angela to be in it with me, we were totally fine. But lately, something was just missing between us, and it bloody sucked. Its not like he was mean to me or anything; in fact, he was very polite. Almost too much so. One of the things I missed the most was cuddling before bed, just basking in each other's heat. The lack of physical affection lead to many cold nights on my part.

Harry was leaning his head against the window next to Liam, lost in thought. His curls had grown out since he had last cut them, hanging just below his ears. His body had really filled out nicely over the ears. His biceps and abs were clearly defined through his t-shirt.

While I was staring at him, he glanced over in my direction, looking right at me. I snapped my eyes away, blushing.

"So, Louis, there were some cute girls at the show tonight," Niall said, grinning at me.

"Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you guys? I'm not looking for anyone right now. With the band and everything, it would be way too hard to keep a relationship going," I said, smiling slightly.

"C'mon mate, in the entire time I've known you, you've never talked about one girl that you've found attractive," Zayn quipped in, sitting up.

The truth was, I've never told the other boys I was gay. I guess that was a major factor to why I've never joined in when they talk about how "amazing" the girls at our concerts are.

I shook my head. "I just...haven't found the right person yet, I guess." My eyes traveled to Harry. "I've never had someone click with me."

Finally, the limo driver pulled into our hotel, without being mobbed, incredibly. We hopped out, slamming the door behind us. We sleepwalked over to the elevators, barely awake enough to find them.

We had two suites; Niall, Liam, and Zayn in one room, and Harry and I in the other. It was normally like this, even with the awkwardness between me and Harry. After saying good night to the other boys, we swiped our room key and headed inside.

We had two beds, both made with clean sheets, curtesy of the hotel staff. I didn't say anything to Harry as I crashed on mine without changing my clothes. When you're on tour doing something new every day, you didn't really care about things like that. I heard Harry throw his shirt off and lay down on his own bed, familiar to me now, as once was the feeling of his body pressed against me. The thought made me tear up.

And suddenly, I couldn't breathe. So many thoughts and memories started to flood into my head at a rapid pace and, no, I did not want to feel them right now. I sat straight up and, walking past a sleeping Harry, bolted to the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind me, I slid down to the floor, frantically digging through the drawers for my bag. Upon finding it, I dumped the contents onto the floor and rummaged through them until I found the item I was looking for.

In my hand, I held a razor blade.

I sighed in relief and held the blade over my wrist, dragging it across the skin slowly and painfully. My already scared wrist bloomed into a blood-spattered canvas, describing every bad feeling I've had since Harry and me fell apart.

I know it's bad. I know that there are other ways to cope. I know that there's other ways to feel. But once I started, I realized that I couldn't stop. Self-harm became my escape pod, a way for me to direct all my mental pain into something physical, something tangible. The boys didn't know about this either, of course; it was something that would crush them.

So for now, this was my own little secret.