Pride {l.s.}

34- Our Direction

The  story so far:

Liam and Zayn are dating and living together. Louis is recovering from Eleanor lighting his room on fire. Louis has confessed to Harry that he went through conversion therapy during his childhood, and Harry has told Louis about his depression. Harry has decided that Louis and he need to discuss their relationship.

Harry decides that we should make some tea before talking. I figure that this conversation will not be easy for us, so I light a couple of the vanilla scented candles that lay around the apartment. With the sun setting over Orlando, it gives the apartment a nice ambiance. I sit up on the stool at the island. Harry stands in the kitchen. He leans next to the stove as the water boils in the kettle.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask nervously. I swing my legs back and forth. I know what this is about, but I'm almost hoping it's not what I think it is. I don't always like confrontation.

"I just feel like we should come completely clean to each other before we continue this relationship on in the direction it's going." Harry coughs before he continues in a quieter voice. "That is only if that's the direction you want us to go in."

"I only want to go in one direction with you, and I think we're heading the right way," I tell him with small smile. "I think that the coming clean thing is a good idea. I obviously hid a lot from you, and it's right that you know all of it."

"How do we start this?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Ask away. I want you to know everything, Haz. I have nothing to hide from you."

"What did they make you do in conversion therapy?" Harry blurts out. The question seems to have been waiting on the tip of his tongue until this very moment. The memories flood back in, and none of them are good. I sort through them. It was a mess of pain and shame.

"Uh, it started with talking. Like talking about my feelings towards boys," I hesitantly start. "They continued to remind me how wrong it is. They told me how disgusting I am. When talking didn't seem to work, they went forward with actions."

"Boo Bear, what did they make you do?" Harry's voice sounds a lot smaller as he asks. The kettle begins to screech, signaling that the water is boiled. He shuts the stove off quickly and looks back at me as he awaits answers.

"T-they made me take this drug that makes you puke. I would be given a bucket, and I would puke while looking at provoking pictures of men," I reply without looking at him. "They did the reverse of that also. They tried to make me p-please myself while looking at these other pictures... They made me feel so ashamed of who I am, but I can't change even if I try."

The pain I felt begins to bubble up inside of me. I can feel tears wanting to escape, but I don't want them too. I hate how much they affected me. I hate how they tried to change me. Harry sees the battle going on inside of me without me saying anything. He walks around the counter and pulls me into his arms. I slide off of the chair and wrap my arms around him.

"I wish that they didn't hurt you, Boo Bear," Harry says with sadness in his voice. "No one should have ever hurt you. I wish I was there to protect you."

After a couple minutes of just holding each other, Harry drags me over to the stove and begins to make our tea with me right next to him.

"How do you take your tea?" Harry asks as he puts a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk in his mug. I simply gesture to what he's doing, and he nods his head. He repeats the actions with the other mug. "What type of tea? How about chamomile? It's supposed to make you sleepy."

I nod my head. Going to bed at a decent time would be a nice thing right about now. Just letting such a small thing out has made me tired. It's odd how something as simple as showing a part of yourself to someone can drain you so much mentally.

Once the bags have been in long enough, he throws them in the garbage. He takes his mug, and I take mine. His free hand rests on my back as he guides us to the couches. Both of our mugs go onto coasters as I curl up next to the taller boy. He drapes a thin blanket over us and wraps an arm around me.

"My story isn't as tragic as yours. I got bullied a little bit in school for being gay, but no one cared enough about me to have them want to lash out at me," Harry begins as he fills the silence of the apartment. "The depression came in steadily. I didn't believe that it was happening to me. I just thought that I was in a funk, but I was in that funk for three years at least. Maybe more. I just stopped hanging out with friends. Grades slipped. I felt helpless, and do you wanna know the worst part?" Harry looks straight into my eyes with so much vulnerability. "There was no reason to be depressed. I had a decent life. My family was loving. I had a decent amount of friends I guess. People have it way worse and aren't depressed, and those who are depressed have some tragic story. Not me. I just make myself sad for no reason."

I feel a pain in my chest as he speaks. I don't know why exactly, but his pain makes me hurt. I hurt for him. All I can think of is a young Harry with bouncy curls crying himself to sleep and not knowing why he is the way he is. He's been trapped in his own mind, and no one to help him.

"Did it ever get better?" I ask in an attempt to be hopeful. I really hope that he wasn't trapped in that mental state for too long.

"College was a little better. I think having Liam and Niall as good friends helped. They really helped me along without knowing it," Harry replies with a small smile. It's better than a frown.

"You never told them about your depression?" I question. I didn't think that Harry told a lot of people about his depression, but I was hoping that maybe there was someone there for him when I wasn't.

"I didn't have the heart to tell them. People think I'm crazy just because I'm a little messed up in the head," Harry says with a shrug. I turn my body to face towards him more.

"You're not messed in the head. We're going to figure this out, Hazza," I tell him with complete confidence in my voice. "Okay?"

"Okay," Harry says with a nod. "I'm clean. Are you clean?"

"Just some family issues," I mention. I pick at the string of the woven blanket just so my hands have something to do.

"What's wrong with your family? I mean I get the whole thing that you left your parents, but what else?"

I can see their smiling faces. I remember their laughs echoing in the hallways of the house. I remember driving them to school with the windows rolled down because it made the twins laugh. I can still feel the pillows hitting me when we had sleepovers together, all six of us whenever possible.

"My childhood wasn't all bad, Harry. I didn't just leave my parents. I also left my sisters."

A/N

This chapter was to come more clean about his past and also clarify the fact that not all of his problems are solved. Sorry... picture of Tomlinson family on side...

xoxo raindropkiss1