Insane (COMPLETED)

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Harry Styles is a small, innocent boy who still enjoys watching the sunset. He still likes hugs and makes sure he gets them often. He still smiles, believe it or not. He still hums to himself as he's showering, and sings on the top of his lungs as he does the dishes. He's still capable of laughing, really laughing. The laugh he does when his eyes shut tightly and his hands slap his knees isn't gone completely. He gets up out of bed every morning ready to face the day. But there's one thing wrong. He does it because he has to, not because he wants to. I'm sure he would stay in bed all day and not do anything if he could. Well, so could I, but not out of self-pity. Harry's starting to rot from the inside out, his body getting noticeably skinnier. His eyes and cheeks seem more sunken in, his ribs visible. I've tried forcing him to eat, but he just pushes me and the food away, multiple swear words thrown my way in the process. Bruises cover his body, but I'm too afraid to ask why. We haven't slept in the same bed for four days now, and I don't know if we will for a while. I wouldn't be able to handle looking at my boyfriend in his current state first thing in the morning. Harry just looks so sad and angry all the time, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. I've tried everything! Counseling didn't work, Harry didn't answer any of the questions she asked him, and it ended in Harry almost punching the lady in the face. He's stopped going out with me and the rest of the guys, so I would always come home early to check on him. I don't trust him after the incident earlier. I threw away all the razors, scissors, and locked all the knives in a drawer for only me to use. Harry threw a fit over this, but I refuse to give into him. He knows it's for his own good. I'm scared, I really am. I hate what Harry's doing to himself. But what's even worse is that nothing seems to help him. Crying only makes it worse, and my company just seems to make him angry. With the way he's been acting, he's going to die and there's nothing I can do about it.

"Harry? Sweetie, are you in there?" I called as I gently tapped on Harry's bedroom door.

Receiving no response, I let myself in. He was curled up in bed, his foot slightly sticking out from under his sheets. Small snores escaped his lips, his eyebrows creased together. Even in his sleep he looked angry. His hair was a greasy mess, just like always. I took his hand in mine and laced our fingers together, causing Harry to wake slightly.

"Lou?" He sleepily mumbled.

"Good morning, beautiful," I laughed. It's past four in the afternoon.

"What are you doing?"

His thumb drew circles into my hand and I smiled.

"Just checking up on you. I missed you."

Harry shook his head, a long yawn momentarily stopping him from talking.

"Sure," He scoffed.

I climbed over him onto his bed and laid down right next to him, slightly stealing his pillow.

"It's true," I assured him as I pulled his body closer to mine, my head moving to rest on his chest, "I haven't seen you all day,"

I reached my hand up and played with his hair, a small smile appearing on Harry's lips.

"I don't see how that's a bad thing,"

"I miss this so much," I continued, ignoring his comment.

He stayed silent, his arm wrapping around my waist. He pulled me on top of him, careful of his wound.

"What are you doing, Harry?" I laughed, placing my legs on each side of him.

His back was on the bed, his face looking directly up to mine. His hands placed themselves under my shirt, holding onto my sides.