Unsteady L.S

1.

Harry felt invisible.

It wasn't unusual feeling, most of the time he felt like this.

When hanging out with his friends, he felt unwanted. With his family he felt like they were expecting him to do better and better- nothing seemed to be good enough. When he met new people he felt judged, despite how nice they were. And alone? Alone Harry's thoughts went wild.

Because when he was alone, there was nothing to distract his mind from running.

Like now, for example, he was standing in front of his mirror examining his body.

Look at yourself, you're pathetic.

You shouldn't eat with that stomach.

You look disgusting no wonder you live alone.

Harry turns sideways to look at his pudgy stomach and hips that he just couldn't get rid of. He had tried pretty much everything, but it was still there. Even his mother had bought him some kind of weight loss pills, but they didn't work out.

He turns his eyes to his bum, frowning because of the size of it. It was too big. Boys shouldn't have so big bums- at least that's what he was told.

He was supposed to leave in half an hour to meet Niall, but he was still glued to the floor. He had to shower and dress up, but even thinking about the looks he was most likely going to get, terrified him.

Niall had forced Harry to come with him to a party. Parties meant new people and new people meant anxiety to Harry.

He had tried to come up with an excuse for why he couldn't come, but Niall wasn't having it. The blonde boy knew about Harry's disliking toward that kind of places.

The boy sighs walking away from the mirror and into the bathroom, where he stripped down from his clothes.

Harry was careful not to look at himself from the cabinet mirror as he made his way to the shower. He started the shower and while he waited for the water to get warm enough the looked down to his wrists.

No, he didn't self-harm.

Harry had tried to but was always too scared to actually grab the razor and do it. He would never even think about using a knife, since it'd be too hard to control.

He didn't want to die. At least, not yet.

He had scratched his wrist quite a bit, creating some barely noticeable lines. The scratching was his way of coping with the urge to cut.

When the water was warm, Harry let his arms fall down to his sides as he stepped under the water flow. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to let the water run down his face and body, clearing away all the sweat and dirt.

After he was done the washing up, he turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Harry dries himself, before wrapping the towel around his waist.

He then walks back to his bedroom and straight to the closet. He pulls out a clean pair of boxers, along with black skinnies and a sheer long sleeved shirt. He wouldn't have picked it up himself, but Niall had convinced him that he looked good in it.

Harry dresses up quickly so he wouldn't change his mind. He takes a deep breath as he walks over to the mirror to look at himself.

Your hips are showing.

You can't go out looking like that.

Harry closes his eyes and takes another deep, shaky breath. He couldn't think like this, not now.