1D One Shots

Why? ~Liam

WARNING: DEPRESSION/ SELF HARM, MAY BE TRIGGERING READ WITH CAUTION

 I sat on the bed with my knees hugged to my chest. The slam of the bathroom door still resonated in my mind.

"HOW COULD YOU!" He had screamed, right before running in.

How couldn't I? The constant hate wasn't easy. I was still unsure how any of the lads did it. Or their girlfriends. The day Liam and I started dating was the day my Twitter gained 20 thousand followers in three seconds and I felt so bad about myself I stopped eating. I made sure to hide everything. Liam could never know, he'd be so disappointed, I don't think I could handle it. Well, not that that made such a big difference now.

I had pounded on the door for twenty minutes after he locked the door, which we never do. We never lock the doors in the house. He just wouldn't let me in. It wasn't his fault I gave up on myself, but he thought it was. He was sitting in there, crying, blaming himself, I could hear it.

I squeezed my knees closer to my chest and winced at the pain from my tender wrist, clapping my other hand over it. The cuts were still raw as I pulled up the sleeve of his sweater. At least they weren't bleeding again.

He wasn't supposed to know.

He wasn't ever supposed to find out. It was going to be my secret, so I could be perfect, like they wanted me to be.

Liam surprised me by coming home early and I just thanked god I happened to be wearing a long sleeved sweater. We lazed around, not really doing anything for the whole day. Then he took me out to dinner, when the pictures hit Twitter I was criticized for everything from my head to my toes, from my weight to the clothes I was wearing. That's what I was doing when Liam said he had to run out and grab some snacks for our movie night. I scrolled through my time line, every compliment was met with forty insults.

None of the fans particularly liked me.

I sat on the bathroom floor and gabbed my blades. I kept them hidden between two rolls of toilet paper in the back of the closet. I didn't make many, or make them deep. Just two thin symmetrical lines. I let the blade drag across my skin. Sighing in ecstasy, I watched myself bleed. Then I heard the front door slam downstairs. I quickly cleaned the blade and my wrist. I stopped the bleeding.

"Hey babe?"

"I'm in the bathroom! Be down in a minute!" I called to him. I flushed the toilet and bloody bath tissue, making sure there was no evidence of what I had done. I washed my wrist and hands one more time and yanked my sweater sleeve down. When I walked out of the bathroom Liam caught me around the waist and laughed.

"Lets cuddle in bed and watch the movie!"

"Ok!" I had practiced a fake smile so many times it came naturally. We changed and I turned my back to him when I changed my top. I made sure my sleeves were all the way down before climbing under the covers with Liam. We watched the movie and chatted about random things. Somehow the topic of my driving came up.

"You're just terrible!" He laughs.

"I am not!" I smack his chest, offended.

"Yeah!"

"NO!"

"YEAH!" I straddled him and started to tickle his sides. "S-s-stop!" He cries through laughter and flipped us. He started to tickle me and flips us over. When I start to fight back he pins my wrists above my head. He's still laughing and puts slight pressure on them. I hiss in pain and wince, hoping he woulldn't notice. But he did.

"Babe?"

"Sorry." I smile.

But Liam doesn't buy it this time. He releases my wrists and just when I think I'm in the clear he throws my sleeves up. The cuts were bright red and visible. He rolls my sleeves up more. More scars appear.

"When..."

"Always."

"But... But why?" He looked so sad and shocked.

"No one likes me."

"I love you." He looks so hurt.

That was when he screamed about how could I and slammed the door. He was probably confused about why I did it, he didn't even let me explain. I tried to get him to come out but he refused once more. I knew he would eventually though. And I would sit on this bed until he did.

Hours passed.

Mostly silent ones.

I heard a few bangs in the bathroom and jumped at each one. I let the tears flow down my cheeks in silence.

Liam shook my shoulder. I sat up straight. It was three o'clock in the morning. I must've fallen asleep at some point.

"Liam I-"

"Sh." He cut me off. "I don't want to talk about this tonight. Tomorrow, or later really. Go back to sleep." I nod feebly and lay down again. "Goodnight. I love you." He whispers, pulling me into his chest when he laid next to me.

At least he wasn't leaving, well, not yet.

Later, once we both had a few hours of fitful sleep, Liam helped me bandage my wrist properly.

"Liam, I'm so sorry. You weren't ever supposed to find out."

"I'm glad I did now instead of at the hospital, or on the bathroom floor when I'm too late." He deadpans and my eyes widen in shock.

"Oh... I'm sorry. Just... you're gone so often and the hate and every comment just sticks in my head and I just got more depressed every time someone called me a terrible thing..." I trailed off, looking away.

"I could've came." He forces me to look at him again. "I would've come if you called, or wrote, or texted, or messaged. Something! There was no communication!"

"I know."

"You needed me and I wasn't there." His voice was hoarse.

"Don't blame yourself for this!" I yell. He stays silent. "Don't you dare. This isn't your fault."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Love me."

"Always." He kisses my forehead.

"Forgive me."

"Done."

"Don't leave me alone."

"I never stopped loving you. I already forgave you. All you need is a suitcase."

"What?"

"Come with me."

"Will it be ok?"

"I'll make it ok. I'm sure the guys would love to have you."

He kisses me deeply and I know then, that we can get through this.

Together.