Do you really know them? (One Direction fanfic)

Chapter 5

Frankie's POV

One direction. Maybe they were as messed up as I first thought. Maybe I was actually right about them but hey. This is only two of them. Do the others even know they're here? Or are they too caught up in their celebrity life to notice that things aren't always okay?

I looked blankly up at the two boys who stared at me until the taller one silently got up and walked into the doctors office, leaving me alone with the black haired boy standing about two feet away from me. I gulped. He wasn't going to do anything was he? I mean the receptionist is just round the corner but I don't think I've ever felt his isolated without one man. Boy. Whatever you want o call him. And believe it or not I was slightly scared. His eyes searches my face before blurting out

"Please don't tell anyone" I could see the panic in his eyes as he said that and I shook my head. Things weren't making sense and let's face it what did I care that one direction was at the hospital. It didn't surprise me they were messed up, always having to me in the lime light. His face relaxed and I smiled gently as he sat down opposite me, but my mind was racing with about a thousand questions per second coming into my head in one second.

"So what are you here for?" I asked eventually , then realising what I said added "you don't have to tell me. I get that's it's kinda personal" god I had fucked up know. Someone doesn't just walk into the mental health reception without suffering from something that was deeply personal. He's going to think I just want to find out attention and sell it to the paps or some shit. a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"You haven't even asked my name. Or are you an obsessive fan" he said giving me a wink. "But if you wanted to know my names Zayn. Zayn Malik and it's nice to meet you..." He left the sentence hanging in the air before I realised I was meant to respond.

"I go by many names" I mutter thinking about the nicknames that had been thought of for all the mental conditions I have, he looked at me in confusion and I tried to find the words to explain "Ana, Annie, Ellie, cat, deb, sue, but the one most people know me as is Frankie" I said quietly, the jumper I was wearing was itching the cuts from last night but I daren't not pull the sleeves up. Not I front of Zayn. He gave me an odd look before doing the same with his sleeve. He didn't seem to care. Maybe he understood what all the names meant. Maybe. Maybe he thought j was so weird he didn't even want to talk to me anymore. I took a breath before muttering a poem I had learnt a long time ago under my breath

"He paints a pretty picture,

But the story has a twist,

His paint brush is a razor

And his canvas is his wrist,

He paints his pretty picture

In a color that's blood red

While using his sharp pain brush

He ends up finally dead

His pretty pictures fading

Quite slowly on his arm

The blood is not racing through him

He can no longer do harm

He painted his pretty picture

But his picture had a twist

You see his mind was his razor

And his heart was his wrist"

I looked up to meet zayns eyes and saw that there were tears there. Call me me a freak but they look look beautiful with the tears about to drop. I glanced down and saw that he'd rolled up his sleeves and found, just like on mine, there were cuts all down it. Carved into the body as if it were a piece of meet ready for anyone to eat. I'd never really seen it on someone else before. I took a breath as he asked the question

'How did you know?' I let the breath out shakily as I gently pulled up my sleeves, flinchedas the itchy material of the jacket caught on some of the the fresher cuts. I looked up into his yes before whispering

'I draw too'

Hey guys so it's been a week so I thought I should probably update ya know ;)

But the thing is I have loads going on so maybe before the next update I can have

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