The Breaking Point (Narry)

Same Mistakes

(A/N I will officaly dedicate the chapter tommorow but the best comment goes to MmKayItsNarry! Also... I'm so sorry)

Louis

Being around Harry without his memory is awful. He doesn't remember anything we've done together. Hell, he doesn't even remember us at all! As bad as it is for Liam, Zayn, and me, it must be so much worse for Niall. I can't imagine what he must be going through right now.

It's been two weeks since Harry was hit, and his memory still hasn't come back. The doctors think it might be permanent, and Niall isn't taking the news well at all. He just stays in his room all day and won't leave except to occasionally go to the bathroom and eat.

Harry's not doing well either. He blames himself for Niall being depressed. He thinks it's his fault he can't remember. The other boys and I have tried to tell him about things we've done so that he might remember, but he never does.

Zayn's also not taking the news well. I think he empathises with Niall more than he should, and he's gotten really sulky over the past few weeks. It breaks my heart to see him like that because I really want him to be happy, he's my best mate and it kills me to see him so down.

Just as I decide to go and see how he's doing, my door opens and Zayn steps in.

'Hey can I come in?' he asks, pausing in the door way.

'Sure,' I answer, moving over so that he can sit next to me on the bed.

He quickly moves to sit beside me.

'So what's up?' I ask.

'I have something to tell you. I've been thinking, and I realised that I've been covering up my feelings lately. I don't want to wait until it's too late to tell you because I've seen the how awful it is to lose someone you care about, and I don't want to end up like Niall,' he says, taking a deap breath before looking at me square in the eyes.

'Louis I like you. I like you a lot and I like you as more than a friend. I don't want to miss the opportunity I have to be with you while we are in a band together,' he says, moving his face closer to me.

'I'm sorry Zayn, I only like you as a friend. I'm really sorry, but I can't return your feelings,' I say sorrowfully.

'But I thought- never mind, I guess it doesn't really matter what I thought,' he says slowly, getting up to leave the room.

'I'm really sorry Zayn. I hope we can still be friends,' I say.

I plan on having that be the end of it, but suddenly a realisation hits me. Of course I like Zayn back! I can't beleive I could lie to myself so completly! I can't let my homophibia ruin my relationship with Zayn. He's right as well, Niall's shown me how valuable love can be, and I'm about to let it slip through my fingers.

Reaching out for Zayn, I grab his arm so that he turns around to face me. His eyes are red, and I think he's trying not to cry.

'Zayn, don't cry. I was wrong. I don't know if I'm gay or not and it kinda scares me, but I really like you,' I say meeting Zayn's now hopeful eyes with my own.

'Really?' he asks excitedly.

Instead of answering his question, I slowly lean in and place a simple kiss on his lips.

Niall

(Warning: More self harm in this chapter. Sorry for those of you that get uncomfortable. It will be marked so go ahead and keep reading until the marker unless just talking about it makes you uncomfortable in which case skip the next two paragraphs. I will also have a recap at the beginning of the next chapter so that you can understand what happened without having to read it.)

It's now 6:31 which makes it exactly two weeks, 1 day, 16 hours, and 34 minutes since Harry got hit. Ever since it happened, the world hasn't seemed the same. It's lost some of its colour, its beauty. Harry still hasn't remembered anything, and every day I find it harder to go on. I've started to cut again. This time I've learned to moderate it so that I don't pass out though. I've also figured out where to cut so that other people don't see it. If I do it where my pants cover it, I can even go swimming without people noticing. The first time I did it was the day Harry got back from the hospital. I promised myself that I'd only do it once. Since then it's become more frequent and now I do it almost every day.

Right now I'm in my bedroom, as I usually am now a days, waiting for supper to be cooked so that I can have some time alone to cut. Luckily Harry calls for dinner quickly. It's odd that even though he lost his memories he still knows how to do most of the things he used to. He's even still good at singing.

Walking into the kitchen, I take my place at the table and sort through my food aimlessly. Lately my appetite has all but disappeared and the only reason I'm eating right now is because the other boys are concerned that I haven't had a meal in three days. Almost ten minutes into the meal, Harry notices that I haven't eaten anything.

'Niall, come on, please eat something,' he  pleads.

'I'm not hungry,' I answer flatly.

'Niall, we know how hard this is for you but you need to eat,' Liam insists, sounding like a mother talking down to her child.

Not wanting to be patronised, I leave the table and go into my room without eating.

I feel bad leaving the others with no explanation. Damn, I'm such a loser, I can't even be nice to people who want to help me.

(The rest of this chapter involves self harm so be warned.)

Wanting to distract myself, I go into my bathroom and pull out a razor. Quickly exposing my upper thighs, I drag it across my skin. It draws droplets of blood to the surface and stings like a bitch, but it drives all thoughts of Harry out of my head. Unfortunately, since Harry's such an important part of my life, every time I stop cutting he immediately creeps back in. Quickly running our of real estate on my thighs, I move up to my arms. I mean, if my Harrys not around anymore then I don't care how people think I look. He was- no is all that matters to me.

Still trying to distract myself, I slash my arms again and again, deeper and deeper, until I finnaly start to feel light headed. Instead of stopping, I keep slashing. I can't let myself think about him. After a few more minutes, I've almost run out of room on my arms when the razor slips out of my hands. I bend down to pick it up but all the blood I've lost causes my vision to become blurry and my balance to waver. Falling to the floor, I try to get up but my arms just aren't strong enough. Besides, the ground feels nice and cool anyways. I think I'll lie here for a while. As my cuts continue to bleed, my vision dims and eventually, all I see is a dim circle of light at the centre of my vision. As my thoughts fade I suddenly realise something:

I never planned on living when I started cutting anyway.