Harry wasn't sure how long he ran for. All he knew was that, when he returned to the flat, all the food was gone-Thank God- and the presents had been opened. The boys were all sitting around the tv playing video games. They were acting as if nothing had happened, but Harry knew better. The way Louis continued to wipe his cheeks and the way Liam shakily held the controller was proof that they were still, very much, shaken up by the confrontation earlier.
"I thought I was the one who cried easily, lou," Harry joked.
All the boys turned so fast that Harry was shocked they didn't have whiplash.
"Harry!" Louis cried, happily, "I am so sorry about earlier. I was being so silly. I mean the thought of you having an eating disorder is ridiculous, you're a guy."
"Y-yeah," Harry stuttered uneasily, "I'm a g-guy."
Sensing that the tension was, once again, getting thick Zayn butted it.
"Vas happening?" He smirked.
The boys all began laughing and spent the rest of the day playing video games and eating junk food, except for Harry of course. As the clock hit 6 the boys said their goodbyes and left to their own flats for the evening.
"Now that we're alone," Louis said, "care for a beer, curly?"
Harry shook his head, "actually, I think I'm just going go have a shower and the go to bed. I'm pretty tired from my run."
"Alright, if you're sure," Louis frowned.
"Yeah," Harry said, "I'm sure. Goodnight Lou."
"Goodnight Curly."
With that Harry strode into the bathroom, grimacing as he saw his reflection, and quickly entered the shower. He showered quickly and walked into his room, with a towel covering his waist. He put on a new pair of boxers, but didn't go to bed. Closing his door he grabbed his mat out from under his bed. He took his workout list off his dresser:
500 jumping jacks
350 crunches
150 sit ups
150 pushups
100 squats and lunges (each leg)
high knees for 20 minutes
The list went on, but you get the basics. Two hours later Harry was drenched in sweat. He mentally slapped himself for showering earlier. He considered taking another shower until he attempted to stand up and dropped to his knees with dizziness. Groaning as he stood up a second time, much more carefully than the first, he barely made it to his bed before he collapsed onto it and fell into a much needed sleep.
***2 weeks later***
"Hurry up, Haz," Louis complained from outside the bathroom door, "we're going to be late for our flight to America.You have ten minutes before I bust that door down and drag you out."
"Coming," Harry said, quickly stepping off the scale.
The number on the scale was slowly getting better and that pleased him, until he looked in the mirror that is. The scale had told him he was 137 pounds, but the mirror told him that he was still 160 if not heavier. He didn't know which to believe. That was the problem with this disease, not that he had a disease. It let you have a rush of victory on the scale, but then brings you back to reality with the mirror. And the reality for Harry was, he was a whale. At least that's what he saw.
With tears pricking his eyes he searched for his trusty razor. He wasn't sure when the blade of his razor became his best friend, but he thought that it was probably when the voice started. The voice that told him he was fat and useless. The voice that told him he would only ever be loved if he was thin. The voice that promised to make him perfect.
The tears were falling freely and he slipped off his trousers and pressed the blade, roughly, against his skin. Within seconds beads of blood were dripping down his leg. He could feel a little of the pressure inside of him being released, just enough that he felt he wouldn't explode with emotion, at least that day. He made four more, slightly deep, cuts on his thigh before putting the blade in his secret spot and putting toilet paper on his leg to stop the bleeding.He smiled as he saw the sickenly beautiful cuts on his thigh. His hands ran over the many scars on his thighs before he, finally, slipped into his trousers and exited the bathroom in order to leave for their tour in America. Who knew what that was going to bring.
