Suicidal **CURRENTLY EDITING**

Chapter 1

"We're going on in five minutes. Be back in a bit." Harry says, giving me a beaming smile and wave as he jogs to catch up to the boys.

I nod, watching him turn away before going back to retrieve my pass. I don't need someone hauling me away for not having it like previous times, since I don't work on much while they're performing, and usually stay backstage. The odd time I'll do things for the next night, but we usually have tons of time to prepare so everything runs well.

I've been "working" for the band for a while now, only helping with the graphic designing of their albums and parts of the concert. It's a small portion of what I actually do, as I'm mostly around for Harry's publicity. His management decided he needed to be seen with a girl he wasn't going to date as if it would remove the bad image they gave him. So when Harry said he wished I could tour with them, their publicist David immediately considered me as an option and ruined every bit of self esteem I built up in my nineteen years.

Harry and I have known each other since we were six, the same time our parents met. We grew up in Holmes Chapel together and were lucky enough to keep the friendship lasting.

I was hired a year ago, when the band had already been touring for three years and quickly became popular with what seemed like everyone who laid their eyes on them. When the idea came up that Harry was only being seen around blondes or accused-boyfriend, Louis, he begged that they let me travel with them so he wouldn't have to spend his time with someone he couldn't stand.

I had barely finished college when he brought me to London with him to meet everyone he worked with, and was unaware it was a discreet interview to see if I should even be a choice.

When they agreed to let me be with them under a contract I still don't know why I signed, it took me too long to make a choice of leaving my friends and family behind for weeks at a time to be with my best friend.

Harry eventually began begging me to the point of madness, but part of me didn't mind. He's my best friend with that always-has-been-and-will-be factor that doesn't seem to disappear, so I agreed to all his convincing benefits.

I remembered how I only got to see him once every few months when they started touring and began talking to him less and less as he got more and more famous. We both noticed our friendship drifting, no matter how hard we tried to get it back to the way it was before. The job was our way to make up for that.

I hang my pass around my neck and walk out to the side of the stage, seeing the five boys standing in different places as they sing to the thousands of screaming fans. They all hold their phones or cameras out with flashing lights, taking videos and pictures of them at every moment they could. It's something I got used to seeing in the past year and wouldn't get tired of.

Looking to Harry, I watch him walk around with the microphone resting in his hand comfortably as he sings to their songs, making faces at the fans who vigorously wave their hands in his direction. He dances without knowing how the hell to dance, laughing enough to put the sun back in the sky and dry rain from any storm.

I was ten years old when I was in Gemma's bedroom, telling her I loved Harry for the  very first time. I barely knew what love was, but felt naïvely confident stating that I felt it when Harry was around. Everyone knew that we had kissed each other four years before, both our mums having it recorded, but by the time I was sixteen, I didn't realize how deep my feeling would get. It was cliché and completely ridiculous that I never had the guts to tell him, even if he had to know. I'm sure I made it painfully obvious.

I was slightly convinced he loved me too when I saw him acting a certain way around me, just like he's acted around other girls he's fancied in the past. It made my heart pound against my ribcage, but was never enough to say something.