too young for this { harry styles }

Chapter 26.

~



That feeling you get when you're dying, I think I felt that when I woke up.

I didn't feel him near me or anywhere near me, and that's what scared me.

It didn't scare me that he wasn't there, because he's a grown boy, but it scared me that I was scared, because I can't fall for him again.

I could tell, from the darkness outside of the hotel rooms window, that it was still night, or at least very early in the morning.

The only thing in the huge room I could see was the blue light giving off from the digital clock on the night stand.

3:12 AM, that was the time I decided what I was to do.

There is no doubt that I could be with Harry, relationship wise. Just the thought of him makes me crumble inside because of everything I'm reminded of, so I decided that Harry is completely irrelevant to my life and I need to focus on me. That's what Demi told me and Demi has been through so much, she's much wiser than I.

Harry wasn't in the bed, and I was hoping he wouldn't return within the next minute. As I stood up from the blue-illuminated bed, I realized that where he had been was cold and he obviously wasn't comfortably sleeping with me in the first place. By sleeping with me, I mean laying with me because I could never have sex with my sense of mentality.

Niall made Demi come into my life because he couldn't take me and my craziness anymore, and the only thing she did was make me realize that it's not the mental disorder that makes me crazy because she's bipolar as well, it's the person who makes me crazy.

The Harry that makes me crazy.

I could hear the low sound of water hitting the ground from the shower and Harry's perfectly low hums to some song as I walked away from the past eventful night. When I found the elevator in silence, I went through everything that's happened within the past eventful evening. The PCA's, not finding my damn headphones, Harry's outburst, and my mere stupidity of acting like there was ever any possibility of Harry and I becoming friends by sleeping together.

And we didn't even fuck, it was just sleeping, but it was perfect either way because I was with him and there's nothing more imperfect of that.

I still, to this very day, haven't experienced a more dreadful thing than that elevator ride down one floor because I knew what I was leaving behind. I knew what I was doing, I may have not been thinking about it just then because I was just drowning in a sea of oblivion, but I knew. We always know when we're hurting someone, even if we aren't thinking clearly, we know.

Harry wasn't drunk, but he wasn't completely sane either. As I walked back to Demi and I's room with my eyes almost closed and my hair still in my face, I realized that I was as drunk as any of the people in the bar that night, and I wasn't because I had alcohol or was high, but I was just completely unaware of the actions I was doing.

Most people would blame mental illness or no sense of any mentality, but in the end I can only blame myself.

The door opened after I unlocked it with the key, and to my vision, I saw Demi sitting on her bed looking wearily at her phone as Niall sat on the corner of my bed watching the tv with a smug look on his face, that is except for his purple bruise around his perfectly blue eyes.

Demi didn't move, her blue haired self sat there in the midst if silence as I quietly walked to my bedroom. Niall's face was turning red, and it wasn't the kind of red anyone should ever have to turn.

When I got to my bed, placing the room key on the night stand and my cell phone under the pillow, I found myself enveloped in a bundle of covers with a particular Niall Horan peering at me from the right corner of my bed.

He didn't say anything, nor did Demi, but disappointment was written in his eyes as I sighed in exhaustion.

"You're up awfully late." I muttered, a sly smirk on my face growing as seconds went by.

I knew what I was doing, but I didn't care. I knew what was going to be the outcome and I knew I deserved every bit of it.

"Awfully late." Niall scoffed, throwing his head back in irony.

I rolled my eyes, shrugging. "It's funny because it's true."

He shook his head. He didn't want to argue with me.

Demi just held her mouth open in pure aw as I lay my head on the pillow and sighed.

"Don't look at me like that, it's not like I was having sex and smoking pot." I murmured into the pillow.

"It's not that." I could hear the frown in her voice as Niall shifted his weight on the corner if my bed.

I could hear the click from the inside of her mouth as she smacked from awkwardness. "It's the fact that you were so immature to actually do anything but come back here."

I groaned. "You know, if I wasn't drunk from sleepiness, I'd actually act like I care." I let out a huge breath as the tiredness consumed me. "But I don't care and I am very, very tired." I finished as neither of them said anything.

I don't think they could say anything, only gawk at how mental I was.

And then, Niall spoke to fill the silence, and that was a big mistake.

"I'm just afraid that you're going to be friends with him." He said, his voice full of honestly.

I chuckled lightly into the pillow. "Aren't you the one who had the audacity to want to be friends with a psychopath straight out of rehab, and think 'Oh, this could get the band back together if I get her.'" I said, quoting him in my horribly impersonated Irish accent.

"Ivy, don't you dare-" Demi started to scold.

"No, let her. Let her tell me every mistake I've made with ever becoming her friend." Niall cut her off, his voice reeking with disappointment.

"Glad you realize your mistakes." I retorted. "It really brightens my life to know that the only one who's ever cared for me, in any way in the past few months, has actually found that befriending me was a big, fat mistake."

I didn't want to hurt Niall or upset him, but that's just what I do. I break people and make them regret ever meeting me. I'm scared of triggers that make me feel, but I guess I'm a trigger as well. I make people hate, and hate is beyond the worst feeling ever in existence.

"You know, one day you're going to regret acting like you care." I spat, my eyes closed, partly from the tiredness that has been consuming me, and partly because I was just tired of people not wanting me to exist. I don't care that people hate me, but I do get exhausted from giving people so many damn reasons to do so.

Nobody spoke for a moment, I could already see Demi giving Niall a death glare for making me sound depressed.

Niall started to grow agitated and felt bad, just like his selfless self always does. He started to say "I didn't mean that, you're so-"

I put my hand up in his direction above my white covers and shook them, telling him no with my cold fingers.

"You don't need to say anything, I get it." I said loudly into my pillow.

"But you don't get it. You never do." Niall sighed from aggravation.

"I don't need to get anything." I said, breathing steadily as the anger tried to start to boil up in me. I can't explode on him, he's too delicate to see such things. "Now shut up and let me sleep, because I swear, I may not have had a single ounce of alcohol, but I've never seen the world more unclear than now."

And with my warning to him, he shut up and stood up from the opposing corner of the bed, muttering a small 'goodnight' to the bipolar popstar on the other bed, and left the room.

Demi said nothing to me, and I don't blame her because we both knew how insane I was and that I needed no reminder of it.

They say admittance is the first step of recovery, but that isn't true. Admittance is the first step to a deep depression of realizing how pathetic your life really is, only then is where people try and overcome the patheticness of their lives and actually try and do something with their lives. But I am doing something with my life, I'm faking a smile and releasing music that doesn't really express how things are, but I'll never overcome my patheticness because I just don't have the mentality for that.

~

I didn't sleep that night. I don't think I ever can properly sleep anymore. I spent months in that rehabilitation center, and with those months, I just started to have nightmares, and they weren't nightmares when you're sleeping. These nightmares were the ones that you live. These nightmares were real and made me realize how serious everything was.


I lay there, my knotted hair at the back if my neck in a bigger knot as my tired eyes were still closed and my face still on the pillow, I could feel the quiet vibration of my phone going off under the pillow. I winced as it wouldn't stop, realizing that someone was calling me.

I found my hands to travel under the pillow, gripping the sides of my phone. When I brought it to my now upright head, 'Mother' was the title of the called.

I blinked a few times, my blurry vision changing to clear as I realized that I had to answer.

"Hello." I spoke in my usual, monotone morning voice.

Her voice was full of stress. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the city." I said in a quiet tone, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "Of the new,"I added.

"Great. Wonderful. Sam and I are here as well, our flights been delayed for Durango because of the weather, so we are here for two days. Now you're going to tell me what hotel you and Niall are staying at." She snapped in a matter-of-factly tone.

I furrowed my brows as confusion left my head, of course she'd find away to ruin my deep sea of self pity. "Weather? It's perfectly beautiful outside." I said, not even bothering to look up from my pillow or listen to what was happening outside.

She laughed lightly into the phone, murmuring something to Sam as I tried to make myself wake up. "It's storming. There's a tornado watch, in New York, that's a big deal."

I scoffed. "Oh, well we wouldn't want to remake Dorothy or The Wiz."

"Name of the hotel?" She repeated.

I groaned and lifted my head up from the pillow, suddenly feeling the blood go away from my head as I looked around to find Demi still watching TV.

"What's this hotel called?" I asked her.

She moved her head in my direction for a nanosecond, then back at the television. "The Skyline." She said, her voice quiet as she narrowed her eyes on some hallmark movie she has been watching.

"The Skyline, Demi says."

"Great. We're getting in a taxi now." She replied, suddenly her voice was filled with excitement.

I laugh and laughed, and then hung up without another word.

Mother. Stepfather. Demi. Niall. Harry. Vanessa. Maybe even the rest of One Direction. All in the same hotel.

I put my phone back to its area under my pillow, and placed my face back down upon the white surface, my eyelids closed as I tried to regain the sleep that was about to come before the mother called, but it never came back.

"When are they arriving?" Demi piped from her bed.

I groaned at the fact that she already knew what was happening. She makes me feel like I'm easy, like I'm easy to get and not complex, and somehow that offends me. I'm not exactly sure why, but it does.

"They're leaving the airport now." I turned my body around so my body was facing the ceiling. "So, hopefully that means never."

She crossed her legs, the way children do when at school and they're about to read a story with the teacher or do show in tell, and she gave me a small smile, then returned to her movie.

"You know, these movies about love aren't actually real." I said. "These characters, they don't exist and it's not happening."

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the screen of two college kids on their first date.

I propped my elbows up so now all of my weight was on them. "Sometimes I wonder why people watch so many love stories with happy endings, but then I think 'Why wonder?' But there is no reason to wonder about any of the sort because it doesn't matter. It's all just do pathetic." I said, my face was filled with disgust as the characters failed at the horribly written flirting on the movie.

Demi shut her eyes, not from exhaustion or being tired, but she was in aw from my way of thinking, and that's one of the reasons why I am the conceited bitch who doesn't ever seem to care. I change people and their perspectives, that only seems to motivate me more.

When Demi found her eyes open again, she muted the television with the remote at her side, scratched the side of her head because of the frizziness that was coming up, and spoke in a clear, calm tone. "I watch the love stories and shit because I enjoy it. It makes me happy to watch other people fall in love and be happy because of it. So, why can't you just accept that?"

I pressed my lips into a fine line and made my eyebrows go up as sarcastically as I could manage. "1. You said shit. And 2. I'm a pessimist, and it's acting. They're acting like they're in love because love," I paused to make a popping sound with the inside of my mouth, "Love isn't real. People fall in love with the idea with being in love, when it just hurts you to a point where it's nonexistent."

She tilted her head to the side, first I expected it was from confusion, but then she frowned. She was looking at me, not my appearance, but at my mind and why it thought the way it did.

"That's why I only had two months in rehab." She said.

"No, you had two months in rehab because they wanted more money from you with your fame and Disney shit." I snapped.

She rolled her eyes. "Now, who's the one saying shit?"

I chuckled lightly at her topic changing. "Shit."


We continued like that for awhile, little bits of talking about why my way of thinking was better. That's why I like Demi, she puts up with my shit, and when the cameras come, she makes sure there is no shit to put up with anymore. She makes sure I let it all our before anyone, fans or interviewers or paparazzi, knows.

I showered because I needed to wake up, not because I was dirty. I guess, in a peculiar way, I was washing away the Harry part of me. I mean, I think we all want to do something metaphorical now and then, so I guess showering was washing away the remains of thinking of Harry. The more I think of the boy, the more I'm scared that he's going to blow again. Knocking out Louis was just the beginning of his madness.

When I was done showering and untangling my hair, I put on my usual makeup. Well, now that Demi has came into my life and she's constantly talking to me about how "you're a celebrity now" and that I have to wear more makeup and more expensive clothes. I'd love to complain, but you can't really complain to Demi. She's a clock, she never stops thinking about the future and how we're running out of time with certain things.

Clocks scare me.

Time scares me.

Harry scares me.

I wore my black shirt. It wasn't just back, it had little puff thingys on the sides to make me look more curvy and short, tank top like sleeves. But the thing is, I don't want to look more curvy because people already think I'm fat. Demi forces me to wear clothes that are "in style" but that means I have to wear leggings and tight stuff and I just don't like it.

I don't really know how I feel about anything anymore. Everything is so confusing and it makes me want to scream. All of it. One day I feel happy and the other sad and then I'll hate somebody. The therapist said the medicine would help, as did Demi, but it isn't.

Nothing helps and nothing makes me happy anymore and that scares me because the more I think about unhappiness, the more happy I want to be.

Nobody gets it and nobody will get it. Demi may be bipolar, but her mind is different than I.

My jeans were tight and this weird yellow color. Demi made me wear them. My hair was like its usual self, blonde and wavyish curls. My eyes were more defined and dark. Demi always wears loads of eyeliner and told me to as well.

When I was finished with getting ready and all, with my shoes that were dangerously high and uncomfortable, I sat on the corner of my bed with my phone.

I don't know why I'm so obsessed with twitter, but it's became a part of me and my life, like a connections with the world that I'll never understand.

I get hundreds of messages from girls I've followed, some good and some bad, but most are telling me how bad their lives are and how I've helped them.

I don't reply to those messages because I don't really know how to reply. I'm not that great of a person, if anything I'm a shit person, but they've convinced themselves that any girl who goes to rehab for six months in a terrific goddess or something.

When I look through my mentions and get hate, I'd be lying if I don't still think about the hate and how people hate me. I used to laugh at t all, but when people start telling you the things you even think yourself, that's when it gets hard to live with.

Demi was in the bathroom, doing her hair or something. I wonder when she's going to realize that blue hair only looks good on some people. She hums some tune to herself, brushing the blue locks as I sit away from her on my bed corner.

"What are you all going to do?" Demi asked from the bathroom.

I shrugged. "Dunno. They like Niall a lot, so whatever he decides."

She didn't speak for a moment, and then she appeared in from of me with her hair in a tight bun.

"You like?" She asked, a huge smile plastered on her face.

I raised my eyebrows. "Sure?"

She shook her head in disapproval from my unenthusiasticness, and then returned to our past conversation. "You should get Niall if he's coming along as well. He's probably still asleep."

I didn't say anything to her after that, I just stood up with my phone in my back pocket and the two room keys, and walked out the room to find Niall.

When I found his room, I didn't bother to knock, and walked into his hotel room.


"Oh my god!" I shrieked.

"Oh my god." Niall muttered, turning away from the door.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He didn't say anything, just took in a deep breath. "Erm, getting ready." He mumbled under his breath, pulling up his pants.

"You don't do that when getting ready Niall!" I shouted, not able to find words for the moment.

I couldn't un-see what I had just seen, and I could feel my own cheeks turning red as I stood in the doorway, speechless.

When I heard his zipper go up, I knew I was safe.

He turned around, his face bright red and a small smirk on his face.

"How can you be smiling?" I asked, in pure disbelief.

"It feels good. I can't really say anything b-"

"Just, put a damn shirt on." I cut him off, fighting my laugh that wanted to come.

"Sorry you had t-to, um." He stuttered.

"Just please don't do that," I paused to wince from the horrific image. "At a hotel. There are children here."

His face went even more red, and then he burst into laughter. "Maybe you should knock."

I shook my head. "Maybe you shouldn't m-mast.." My voice trailed off, I wasn't able to finish the word.

"Shouldn't what?" Niall asked, mocking me.

I didn't say anything, just blushed a deeper shade of red.

"Shouldn't what?" He repeated, knowing I was embarrassed.

"Mastrubate." I finished, awkwardly leaving his hotel room.

I guess I will knock now.


I then made my way back to Demi and I's room, knocking of course.

She gave me a weird look, and then went back to putting on her eyeliner.

"I'm going to get food." I lied.

She nodded. "Okay. Don't worry about me, I'm sure we'll go out later."

I then walked out of the room with my small backpack filled with extra makeup for Demi.(she makes me carry it around for 'fashion') She knew something was up, I don't think she knew what was up exactly, though.

There isn't anything up, just the fact that I walked in on Niall Horan, Irish pop-star and best friend, pleasuring himself.

I tried to push the image out of my head as I took the elevator down to the main lobby.

The hotel is so big, it has both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts. Demi says I should get used to the luxuries, even thought Dunkin Donuts isn't much of a luxury.

I found the good ol' American donut shop without being stopped. There's security all around the hotel ready to guard all of us, but nobody came so I was fine for myself.

I ordered a chocolate iced donut and a coffee.

While eating the donut, I remembered the times before my attempt when all of One Direction, when they were all together, Julia and I would get junk food and order desserts and go to concerts and just have fun, but then I told myself that I shouldn't be remembering any of that. I wanted to, but I couldn't because Harry's not in One Direction and Julia is no where to be seen and everyone's broken because of me.

I guess everyone isn't broken exactly, they're all more or less used to being apart and having no more to care less about. They've pulled through everything, but I haven't pulled through on anything.

Another part of my mind started to wonder where my old best friend was, but then I decided for myself to quit wondering because you shouldn't be wondering about old things. They've happened, and then you get over it.

When I finished the donut, I remembered yet another thing from before I went to therapy, and I looked down at my stomach with my very skin tight shirt, looking at the little creases in my stomach.

Fat, I thought. All fat.

I quickly reached into my backpack on the other seat next to mine in the Dunkin Donuts. I was sitting at an isolated table in the corner of the place, it wasn't that crowded, probably because t was still 6 or 7 in the morning. I looked around me, still trying to make sure there was no one with a camera, and twisted the cap of my bipolar pills.

I took six. You're only supposed to take two in the mornings, and then two at night, but I decided that either way it wasn't working, so I swallowed the pills with a grim expression.

I felt my phone vibrate again, indicating yet another phone call from her, my mother.

"Hi." I grunted, sliding the container of pills back into the backpack.

Sam's voice was like a lawyers. So official and annoying. "Hello. We are almost there. We stopped to get you guys some breakfast, it is early after all."

"Hello Sam." I said, letting the awkward silence fall.

He said nothing, and then he said something. "Look, I need you to be good. And I need your friends to be good."

"Friends? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Language. And you know what I'm talking about. Now stop acting like you're oblivious and don't care." He paused to whisper something to someone, I suppose it was my mother. "See you in 10."

He then hung up.

I smiled out of irony to myself, brushing the piece of hair that was in my face away and slid my phone into my back pocket of my brightly yellow jeans.

The pants were strangely comfortable, but were definitely attracting lots of unwanted attention as I walked back to the elevator.

I ended up stuck in the elevator with a man, probably in his early 20s, who kept eyeing me with a mysterious smirk on his face. His eyes were very blue and, in a way, his hair was very similar to Niall's.

I raised my eyebrows, questioning his weird look.

He shook his head, a bigger smile spreading on his face. "Can I get a picture? I'm a huge fan."

I felt my face tint red, I had just gave an attitude to a fan. "Erm, sure."

He walked over to my side of the elevator. "Can you kiss my cheek?" He asked, holding his iPhone in front of us.

I nodded awkwardly.

He then snapped the picture of me and him, my lips on his cheek.

I smiled at his expression when he looked at the photo.

"You're amazing, really." He said. "I went to the PCA's yesterday and just, wow."

I smiled. "Thank you. I wasn't sure if it was the right decision to do it.." My voice trailed off

"Oh, it was. Trust me." He scoffed, looking at the little bar ahead of the elevator that showed the floor we were at.

I heard the ding, and he frowned.

"This is my stop. I'm going to meet up with some friends and we're doing a YouTube thing."

"YouTube?" I asked, suddenly remembering Julia and Jo telling me to make YouTube videos.

He nodded. "Yes. That's what I do, YouTube videos."

"That's cool." I say quietly.

He awkwardly holds the door from closing on himself.

"You could totally check it out!" He exclaims, full of excitement all of a sudden.

I think for a moment. Sam and my mother aren't here yet. I could either stay in the hotel room with Demi and wait for Niall to stop wanking, or go with a stranger to make a video online.

"Sounds wonderful. Can't stay that long. But sounds great." I say with a grin.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

"I'm Tyler, by the way." He says, holding out his hand.

"Tyler?"

"Tyler Oakely." He finished, shaking my hand eagerly.

"I'm Ivy." I say goofily, motioning for us to walk into the hallway of his floor.

"Of course." He whispered, walking in front of me to show me where to go in the hotel.

I guess I have to change my list now.

Demi. Niall. My mother. My stepfather. Harry. And Tyler Oakley, as well as the people I'm about to meet in the same hotel.

Should be an interesting day, sleep deprived and all.