Breathe Me (Zarry One Shot)

A/N: This was inspired by "Breathe Me" by Sia which was then written by midnight-down just so were all clear. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

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Help, I have done it again

I have been here many times before

"Harry," the therapist started and Harry gave him his usual cold glare.

He didn't want to be here; he hated this. He hated him; how he could ask all those fucking questions; know what happened to him and then talk in that robotic fucking voice as if it was going to help him.

Harry hated it.

"I think maybe you should try to surround yourself with people your age. You go to school, right?"

"When I feel like it." Harry replied. He skipped a few times; didn't matter.

The therapist sighed in frustration as he always did. They never could have a simple session; no, Harry Styles had always been his most difficult patient. He was rude and didn't want the help so he didn't comply and he didn't listen and he gave the doctor a hard time on purpose; because he felt like it was a waste of time to fix something that was already broken.

"I think if you had some friends with common interests, you could cope with this. There's only so much your family and I can do to help you. You have to work, too."

"You ain't done shit to help me." Harry sneered and he meant it. It was the same repetitive crap everyday that Walsh would pull out of his ass and say to Harry as if he was doing something; as if it was going to make a difference and it never did.

It never did anything.

"You say the same shit every fucking week and it ain't helping, doc. I still remember every fucking detail and I still have nightmares." Harry cocked his head. "There's not much you ever do."

"Harry, I can't help you if you're reluctant to get help. I'm trying and every suggestion I've given you, you've declined. If you don't try, how can you know?"

Hurt myself again today

And the worse part is there's no one else to blame

12-year old Harry shook with fear as his mother screamed at her boyfriend, throwing lamps and whatever else she could grab at him in fury. He heard the objects shatter as they hit the wall and he whimpered; covering his ears as tears slid down his cheeks.

The door slammed and he heard his mother rush up the stairs. She opened the door quickly and scooped her son into her arms, patting his curly brown hair and whispering in his ear.

"It's okay, Harry. He won't come back. He won't come back."

"He hurt me, momma." He said, though it was muffled by his mother's sweater as he tucked his face into her neck.

"He'll never do it again, baby." She promised him.

Harry nodded but that didn't stop the tears.

He didn't believe her; even though he wanted to.

Be my friend

Hold me, wrap me up

"Do you always come here instead of going to class?"

Harry glared at the boy in the varsity jacket behind him. He didn't know him; didn't even recognize him from the halls. But then again, Harry barely knew anyone outside of his house. Students; people on the streets; authority figures; they were all nameless and faceless statistics in his mind. Nothing more; nothing less. Sometimes, he missed it when he didn't feel that way; back when he saw people and everyone was different and he actually bothered to remember them and talk to them and befriend them. Now he was too afraid to.