Cry Cut Hide Repeat [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter 1

AN: So, this is my first try at one like this, so lets see how it plays out!! The whole book will be in Harry's POV, if it changes, it will say at the top. Hope you like it!!

I sat myself down on the window ledge of the tour bus, wrapping my hands around my legs and resting my chin on my knees. I just stared out the window.

Loneliness.

That's all I could feel, when really, I had 4 best mates on the bus with me. But, honestly, that didn't make a difference. I just felt all alone.

We were passing by city after city, and I just stared. The scenery really should have been breathtaking. Four years, and we're still adjusting to everything. Traveling used to amaze me. I used to stare out the window with excitement in my eyes, watching the different skylines pass under us when we were on the highway, and looking at people walking while we drove through crowded streets. I still stared, but my eyes were blank. There was no passion or excitement left in me, and no matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn't come back.

It was sad.

I was sad.

What made it even worse, was that nobody seemed to notice. Or if they had, they hadn't said anything. Maybe that was okay though. I had a feeling that if one of the boys said anything about my so-called depression, I would punch them. Or, at least get mad at them. Call me sensitive. The only one I wouldn't want to knock out would probably be Louis.

Perfect Louis.

Thinking of him made my heart ache. He's my best mate, and nothing had changed. But, everything had changed at the same time. Spending time with him wasn't the same. There were no fights, no fall outs. Nothing had changed for him, but I couldn't look at him without my heart hurting. I loved him. He loved me too, but in a platonic way. I wanted him to just love me back, in the same hopeless way that I loved him.

It was about half a year ago that I realized how I felt. It was like falling off a cliff, and the realization was when I hit the ground.

We were on stage. We were singing One Thing, to bring back memories. The fake snow was falling like it did on the first tour, and we were in the mode. We had just finish rocking the second chorus, and it was Liam's solo.

Get out Get out Get out of my head, and fall into my arms instead.

As he sang that, Louis and I looked at each other. He had the biggest most adorable smile on his face, and his eyes were crinkled at the side. He had fake snow littered in his hair, and literally it was like he was glowing like an angel. I just stopped and stared at him. He raised his eyebrows in the gooniest way, and turned. It was like everything went slow motion. I couldn't even sing for the rest of the song. I just watched him sing, and walk around. I watched him interact with the fans. He gave high fives, and just smiled so wide at everyone and everything. He was so carefree, so open and so perfect. I was speechless.

Eventually, Liam ruined my moment, by snapping his fingers in my face.

"Harry?" he had asked, his eyes wide and sassy.

I had snapped out of it and looked at him. I couldn't look him in the eye though. I was still processing the realization I had just had, and was finding it difficult to sort out what I was feeling. Also, part of me felt almost ashamed that I was even thinking that I had fallen in love with him. It was just this feeling of what the hell am I thinking. what are people gonna say?

There had always been Larry Stylinson rumours. That was commonly known by pretty much everyone. Some people hardcore believed it, and standing there on the stage that day, I realized that I wished it was real.

I wished it was real.

And, sitting on the window ledge of the tour bus, six months later, I was wishing more than ever that he'd have a realization day as well. That he'd look at me, and see everything he ever wanted. Needed. Every time we spent time alone, when we stayed over at hotels and we partnered up, or when we had some time to go home to London and we'd return to the flat we shared, the way he'd cuddle up to me would give me hope that maybe he did return the feelings.

But then, his phone would ring and he would leave the room to go talk to her, and the small sliver of hope I had, just disappeared, almost as quickly as it appeared. It was those times that I would go to his room, and knock on the door. He would open it, glaring at me, and I would just mouth goodnight.

I never got it in return though. He would just nod curtly, and give me a look that said get the hell out of my room. So I would, and I'd reclose the door, and stay there, listening to him tell her that it was just Harry. and El I don't know if he'll ever learn to leave me alone when I'm talking to you.

Then, after hearing that, I would run away, making sure to be quiet so he wouldn't know that I hadn't really left the first time. I would lock my bedroom door, and strip down to my boxers. I would proceed to my bathroom, and dig around in my drawers with shaky hands until I found what I was looking for.

That day after the concert, when we went home, we had a break for a bit. We were back in London, and Lou and I had just finished unpacking. We had decided we were gonna watch Love Actually. We had just sat down with tea and some popcorn, and I had the movie at the home screen when his phone rang. He locked himself in his room, and finally I just knocked on his door to say goodnight. Usually his rude remark after I left would just go over my head. I wouldn't care. But, that night was the first time it hurt. And it hurt a lot.

So I went into my bathroom and got the thing that I now seem to live off of. I grabbed an extra razor blade attachment, and broke it, leaving me with 5 blades without a casing. I put 4 of them in a plastic bag, and shoved it away in the drawer. I took the last one, and ran it across my stomach, slowly, making sure I felt every bit of pain it provided. I just went numb, the first few I felt, but it felt good in the sickest way. I ran it across my skin, until I was satisfied with the copious amount of blood running down my stomach and onto my shorts.

I stripped them off and stood there, looking at my now disheveled body, and cried. At that moment, I was afraid. I was afraid of what I was feeling, I was afraid of my own mind, because there was a point that I decided I was going to do this to myself. It scared me beyond my wits, and I shakily bandaged myself up, and went to bed, crying all night and not getting a wink of sleep.

It was near impossible to hide it the next morning. I couldn't move without wincing, and it was hard to get around without reopening a cut. My eyes were red and puffy from crying, and I was wiped from lack of sleep. It was hard to walk, hard to think. Liam frowned at me quite a bit, but never said a thing.

This routine continued. Every time Louis said something to Eleanor about me, I'd run away to my room, cry, cut, lose sleep, and then attempt to hide it. When my stylists asked, I told them that I had watched a sad movie, then I couldn't sleep from excitement for the rest of the tour. But, all of us knew I was lying. I was afraid to share what was really happening to me. I didn't want them to lock me away. They'd think I was crazy. I didn't need help. I needed Louis.

I stuck my hand up my shirt, and ran my hand over the scars that were found on my stomach. I let a tear slip down my cheek. Why not? It wasn't like anyone cared anyway. I was just a broken record to myself, and another guy to everyone else. I wanted nothing more than to break the rhythm. But I couldn't. It had become like an addiction, and like any other addiction, I was trapped spiraling into this depth of loneliness and sadness, with no escape. I had lost control. I wouldn't let anyone in, and I just felt empty.

So my routine continued, and I thought of Louis every step of the way.

Cry.

Louis is with Eleanor. Louis doesn't love me.

Cut.

Louis is with Eleanor. Louis doesn't love me.

Hide.

Louis can't know. No one can know.

Repeat.

Louis. Louis. Louis.

Cry, cut, hide, repeat.

If only I could let someone save me.

AN: What do you think? Please let me know! Am I the only one who is bothered when the reads on your book goes up, but you get no comments or votes? I'm not expecting lots, but if you read, please take the small amount of time to tell me what you think. Good OR bad. I don't care. Just let me know! Thanks!

Ciao!!