I remember it clearly. It began on the day Harry outed our relationship. The beginning was great, don’t get me wrong, everybody at least took me into consideration before judging us, seeing as I was a directioner. As our relationship grew, more people began to like me and hate me all the same. Then, he invited me on a twitcam, and apparently people who hadn’t previously known about me began to hate me. The hate became too much. Shit about Harry just missing Taylor, so he had to find a new one. Or that I was just Harry’s beard. Or, my favorite, Harry just wanted someone who was an uglier female version of himself. So one day I couldn't take it anymore. I ran into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and locked the door before rummaging through the drawers for what I wanted. Harry heard me crying, bawling my eyes out as I sat fully dressed under the shower head, praying the water could wash it all away. He knocked on the door, calling my name. I only sobbed louder. Pulling out the razor, I cut my arm. Mercilessly. The tears continued to pour as the blood followed in suit. Harry grew louder and louder, his fists echoing his volume. I could feel myself going numb. The cold water washed over my cuts, sending the precious blood down the drain. I smiled. It was beautiful. Soon, I heard a loud crash and looked up to see Harry. His curls were matted from running his fingers through it, his face now filled with a red glow from kicking the door in. He runs over to me, crawling into the shower with me. Seeing my wrist, he knew immediately what was happening. Harry scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the bedroom, wrapping a large towel and his arms around me. I continued to sob. He held me to his chest, petting my hair and whispering sweet nothings to me. Looking down, I realize he’s shivering. I’m so fucking selfish. I wrapped the towel around him and gripped his torso, hoping to warm him up.
From then it got progressively worse. Harry stood up for me, tweeting the fans later that day. They died down for a bit, letting me enjoy myself again. Soon, it became worse than anything hence then. The fans started spreading rumors about me. Saying that I was cheating on Harry while he was out, or that I was pregnant, or that I’d resorted to killing myself. Harry stayed home most of the time as of then, becoming cautious of how I'd handle this. He’d given me an alibi, trusted me, and sheltered me from the fan storm. That’s when they realized they couldn't go after me. That’s when they went after Harry. Everything about the band, them not winning X-Factor, Larry Stylinson, you name it. All pinned on him. Now, being a part of the fandom, I didn't want to believe the behavior of all of the people I’d adored from my sad and lonely little Tumblr. No, this wasn't them. They crept under his skin, changing him as a person. No longer was the sweet boy from Cheshire. There was now a heavy alcoholic, a self harmer, and a poor dresser. Ugh. He came home at all hours of the morning, reeking of beer, and passed out next to me. I began to start sleeping on the couch. I couldn't stand the stench. Then there was when Harry began to self harm. I could see the scars. Fresh. I kissed them every day, not caring if I caught some horrid disease from it. He just smiled at me and kept going about his day. He acted like he didn't even want me around. Then he became too drunk to go to bed, so he began sleeping in the recliner. The odor problem resurfaced and I began looking for a new sleeping spot. The bedroom was ruled out as it smelled of beer as well, so I decided to sleep in the extra bed we’d bought. I smiled, thinking back to the way he used to be. Part of me believed that he'd get better. That if I just waited a little bit longer, I'd wake up from this and he'd be back again, but I knew better. I had to go. While he was gone, I packed a bag of the things I really wanted to take. Harry and I had bought this house together. There was so much love sewn into everything here. How could I just leave? I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. But I needed to. Badly. I grew tired of this internal fighting and decided to sleep on it. When I woke up, though, I knew I hadn’t slept long. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to get comfortable. Barely opening my eyes, I saw that something was off. I did a double take, making sure what I was assessing was correct. The guitar was gone. It was Ed’s and he had given it to Harry to practice on. Was Harry playing? Did he even still do that? Furrowing my brow, I concentrate and try to listen for something. Nothing. I got out of bed and quietly trekked my way to where I could hear something. Then I saw the glow of the hearth. I stood at the back of the room, listening as he poured his heart out.
“Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before. Tremble, little lion man, you’ll never settle any of your scores. Your grace is wasted in your face, your boldness stands alone among the wreck. Learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck.” His deep and gruff voice echoed off of the walls. I was mesmerized. I moved closer to see him in spite of myself. Tears streaked from his now sad eyes onto the guitar. Something deep inside of me died seeing him like this. What was happening in front of me was unbearable to watch. But I had to.
“But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?” Harry stopped his strumming and turned to the bottle of liquor on the floor next to him, standing up. It flew against the mantle with a loud bang, causing a jump to take me off the floor.
“WHY CAN’T I FUCKING DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!!” He fell back onto his seat on the floor, sobs rattling through him. I literally crawled up behind him, lacing my arms around his shaking body. He cried harder, pulling my arms cl toser to him. I turned him around the best I could and wiped away the tears. He pulled me into his lap, cradling his head into the crook of my neck as his sobs continued. I shushed him, petting his curls as his tears trickled down my chest.
“I love you so much, Taylor,” he said, lifting his head to lock eyes with me.
“I love you too, Harry,” I replied, now sure about whether I was staying or going.
“God dammit I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, caressing my face. A lone tear escaped, meeting my hand before it could jump.
“Don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“Yes it is. I've been treating you like shit. I made you sleep on the fucking couch for three weeks,” he retorted, sniffling as he did.
“Yeah, but it’s not like I haven’t had times where I’ve gotten really pissed off and made you sleep on the couch,” I try, fixing his curls.
"Are you kidding me? No there haven't. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’re so timid and sweet, and you wouldn’t even harm a fly!”
“Oh yes I would. I hate those damn things,” I reply, trying to make him smile. It worked.
“I really don’t deserve you,” he restates.
“But you’re all perfect, and I was just a fan! You didn't know I existed and wouldn't have if it hadn’t been for—” He smashes his lips on mine. I smile into the kiss, realizing just how much I missed those things.
“Just shut up,” Harry laughed, kissing me again. I knew he’d come back.
