<ul class="conversation_lines" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.600000381469727px; font-family: Courier, monospace; list-style: none; padding: 0px; color: #444444; text-align: left;">
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 0px 0px 6px;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Harry:You think your 'bad habit' had gone unnoticed once more as you rinse your mouth with water, listening the toilet flush. But when the door swings open and you see Harry's face, you know you've been found out. Your gaze drops in shame and you can hear his approaching footsteps. When you finally steel the courage to look up, you see the tears streaking down Harry's cheeks steadily. His bottom lip trembles and suddenly his hands shield his face, putting up a wall between the two of you. Blinking back tears of your own, you curl a hand around his wrist and wait. "I don't u-understand," he whispers eventually, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. "Why w-would you do this? I tell y-you every day how beautiful you are, h-how much you mean to me, and you still do this? Make yourself sick? To do what, exactly? All purging is going to do is give you bad skin and teeth and make your hair fall out, so why would you do this to yourself? I don't understand!" His voice breaks then, and you feel your heart break with it.</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px; background-color: #fdfdfd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Liam:The strands of your hair are looped in bunches in your hands and you can feel some of them snapping. Pain is blossoming through your scalp, a comforting reprieve from the thoughts that usually dwell within. You don't notice Liam's entered the bathroom until he covers your hands with his. Your fingers have been twisted in your tresses so long that the release makes you whimper in pain. Liam winces but doesn't stop until your hands are on his chest. A heavy sigh slips from his lips, his fingers gently curling around your neck. He drops his forehead to yours, eyes falling shut as the first tear slips down his cheek. The pain in your scalp is suddenly nothing compared to the agony in your chest, at the sight of Liam in tears. "Please don't cry," you plead brokenly, heat rising in your throat before it clogs, "this was supposed to hurt me, not you. I would never hurt you." He chuckles bitterly, taking a step back as you try to ignore the loss. "Well, what did you think was going to happen when I found out?"</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Louis:There's a morbid satisfaction in these shadows, you think to yourself as you stand in front of the mirror. You're in nothing but your underwear, twisting around and grinning in satisfaction at the abundance of shadows cast by your bones. Your weight had dropped by double digits and Louis still hadn't noticed. Not that you'd let him see you undressed for the past few months. "What the fuck?!" Okay, maybe he noticed now. You hadn't heard the shower turn off or Louis opening the door, but you heard the disbelief in his voice. Your eyes drop to the floor as the awkward silence stretches. "Is this because of what the fans have been saying, about the differences between you and Eleanor?" Louis knows he's right when you gaze shifts from the floor to the window. He sighs heavily, running his hands over his face, before coming to stand behind you. His hands run along your arms. "Baby, I love you for you, okay?" he pauses when he notices exactly how thin your wrists have gotten, "I never want you to hurt yourself, for anyone. You need help."</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px; background-color: #fdfdfd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Niall:It hard to hide the habit of giving yourself bruises when Niall insists on manhandling you. Always playfully, but the tickling fingers on your ribs and being thrown over his shoulder exacerbated your pain. You didn't mind, since the pain is satisfying, but you knew that Niall would hit the roof if he ever found out. Of course, he did find out. During one of your play fights. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing the dark blue and purple splotches on your hips you'd made the night before. He jumped off you and began to pace, leaving you to sit up and watch him silently. He was angry, more furious than you've even seen him. His eyes flashing dangerously, skin tinged pink and hair messy from his twitching fingers. Suddenly, he yells, fist flying into the wall beside the fireplace but you're not scared. You don't know what 'scared 'is anymore, only pain. He comes back towards you, dropping to his knees and cradling your hands in his. He's still angry but he's being gently with you. It's nice. "I don't know why you're doin' this, but ye need help, baby."</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px 0px;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Zayn:The blood blossoms from the lines on your wrist, rising and dripping into the basin hypnotically. Suddenly, the door flies open, causing you to spin around and drop the razor in the sink. Zayn stands between your knees without saying a word, gently wiping away the blood and cleaning them with water. He then swabs them with antiseptic lotion, ignoring your wince at the sting, and proceeds to cover them carefully. He clears his throat, chucking the bloody tissues in the bin under the sink, "They should heal in a week or so." He looks at you for a moment before turning to walk out of the bathroom. When he hesitates, you hold your breath for some kind of sign. "I can't make you talk about this," he sighs, hand resting on the door frame, "and considering you didn't tell me, you don't want to talk about it. But... I think you know you need help. It breaks my heart to know you do this to yourself willingly. I love you so much and this is killing me. So when you want to do something about it, I'll be here. You're never alone, despite what you think."</li>
</ul>
