By Now

Red

Present Day

Ding.

"You look like shit." I look up to see Zayn, sitting on the shop table, arms crossed.

"I feel like shit." I rasped, unused to talking for awhile.

"Probably cause you are shit. Shitty boyfriend that is." I hung my head in shame, knowing he's right. "I mean, how could you do that? Like fuck man. Lou's probably the best thing that's ever happened to you. And you just - you- God damn it Harry!! You threw him away." I refuse to look up knowing he's right.

"I know. I- I am sorry. I didn't-," I choke out a sob, "I didn't mean to!"

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing for your fuck up." I nod, knowing it's Louis that deserves the apology. "Honestly, I don't think I can look at you right now."

"I understand." I turn, head down and walk back out the door. I was stupid to have thought that Zayn would help me. He and Lou had become friends over the many months we had been together. Even before we had been together.

Stupid. So fuckin' stupid. Mom was right.

As I was walking back to the hotel I had been staying at, I saw someone shivering in the alleyway. On closer inpsection, I saw a middle aged tan man. I looked at him and then at all the people who were walking past him. Completely oblivious to his presence. I cross the street taking my jacket off as I go. Upon reaching the alley way, I hand it to him, not looking at him. I continue on pretending I did hear him say, "Thanks you."

I don't deserve his thanks. I was useless. So fuckin' useless.

I start to shiver when I only have two blocks left. I deserve to be freezing.

A/N: TRIGGERS AHEAD. SO IF YOU TRIGGER EASILY, SKIP!!

Walking into my hotel room, I head straight to the bathroom. I look like a wreck. Face sunken in from lack of appetite.

I don't deserve to eat. Not when I'm just a fuck up. Mom was right. I deserve to go to hell.

I drop my head unable to keep looking at myself. Unable to bear the reality of just how pathetic I really was.

I see something glinting.

A razor.

I pick it up, twisting it my hands. I curse as I accidentally cut my finger.

Red. A single drop of red. Kind of like a rose.

I imagine it hitting a white rose.

Kind of like Lou and I. I stained perfection.

I raise my finger close to my face. Eventually the cut clotted up and stopped bleeding.

"Go on. Do it." A voice tells me. "It's not like anyone's gonna care. Zayn was your best friend right? So whys he siding with Louis? Cause he knows your worthless. Just go on and do it already. You really are wort-"

Red. More red.

I watch the thin rivers of red trail their way down my wrist.

"Felt good right? Why not do it again. Relieve the pressure Styles. The pressure of being the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend, perfect best friend, perfect brother. Perfect everything. Because you're not. You're a fucken mistake. Lou could do so much bet-"

Red again. I doing it. Everytime the red stops, I start it again, unable to control the red.

****

A/N If you skipped it, just know that Harry cut himself. He refers to it as red.

Just in case you didn't realize it, red stands for the blood. But not just blood, it's his control. By cutting, he's releasing his feelings of having no control. He always had to be the perfect son, perfect brother, perfect etc. So he's hardly ever had control his whole life. Make sense?

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