Harry Styles Imagines/Preferences

#21: Why call?

Imagine #21: Why call?

(A/N: Boredom kills man...
Ok, I'm sorry to those if I've made you cry. Or if I didn't...but, I just wanted to write something emotional maybe and have a little change into writing:) but any who, here's another imagine for the day! I hope you all are having a great Monday! Unlike me!)

AND FOR THOSE WHO SELF HARM:

DON'T AND I MEAN PLEASE DON'T EVER HURT YOUR OWN SELF! YES I'VE HAD PROBLEMS. YES THERE WERE SOMETIMES WHERE I MYSELF WANTED TO HURT MY BODY. BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I WAS GOING TO HURT MYSELF PHYSICALLY. WHAT EVER YOU'RE DOING TO SELF HARM YOURSELF WONT HELP YOU IN THE FUTURE.

I've had a friend who told me those were 'battle scars' and I couldn't take any of that bullshit. That was like the dumbest thing I've ever heard her say. They're not 'battle scars'. They're what made her weak. I went through a tough time myself and was so close to having a sharp object coming in contact with my skin. But I thought about it. Would I want to look at my arm and see what I have done to myself and have those horrible memories come back? No. If I stopped myself, you can do it too. You are strong. WE are strong. Don't let any jackass calling you names put you down. Don't let the person you love be disappointed in you. Okay I'm done. I love you guys so much💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

**********************

It was after my mothers death. I started feeling lonely. I started smoking. Drinking. Acting depressed. Shut down everyone around me. Crawled myself to a corner and stare at nothing. And sometimes even cry in the basement.

Slamming doors wouldn't help my problem. I knew if I just picked up the razor the only physical feeling I would have is the burning cut and blood coming down instead of the emotional feeling I have in my heart and chest.

But I'm smarter than that.

I've heard so many stories of girls cutting themselves. Their beautiful skin being cut by a sharp object.

It wouldn't help.

Nothing would.

I hate the world.

I hate everyone.

I hate everything.

I hate myself.

A knock on the door startled me. It opens slowly and I see my best friend. The one I have been ignoring for 2 weeks now, along with everyone else I care about.

"Y/N?"

As always, I ignore him.

"Y/N? I want to talk with you."

I stare at the wall ahead of me.

Harry comes closer and sits down with me.

He sighs and looks ahead.

"I've been thinking." He pauses.

"About you. A lot." I turn my head to look at him.

He inhales deeply and exhales.

"I'm worried. I'm worried what your future would look like."

That's what got me so mad. I scrunched my eyebrows.

"What?"

"Y/N, all I'm trying to say-" I cut him off.

"That I'll turn into some alcoholic? You think I'll be thrown in the streets and do drugs or something?" I stand up.

Harry stands up and walks closer to me.

"That's not what I'm trying to say I swear!"

"Then tell me Harry! Tell me what you really meant to say!" I cry.

Harry gulps and looks into my eyes.

"I meant to say I'm worried what you'll be doing in the future. Who you'll be with. Who you won't be with. You need to talk to someone."

"Don't worry about me, Harry. I can find someone to talk to," I turn around and whisper. "I'll go to my mother."

"Don't worry? I'm your best friend! I care about you!" He raises his voice.

"I have other friends and best friends that care about me!"

"You haven't even talked to anyone! Not even your own family!" He argues back.

"Why does that matter to you, Huh? Why do you care so much about me? Why are you always calling me?!" I raise my voice, louder than him.

Harry's breathing slows down and his eyes widen. He swallows the lump in his throat.

I smile in triumph. "No answer."

He looks down with his jaw clenched.

I walk to the door to my apartment and open it.

"Get out." I demand.

Harry looks up from the floor to me and scrunches his eyebrows.

"You're kicking me out?" He says with an angry expression but with a sad voice.

I don't look at him, but look straight ahead where the kitchen is.

I hear the sound of his boots on the wood floor, as he makes his way towards the open door.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" He asks.

"I never want to see you again." I slam the door on his face and cry in my room again.

******************************

The sound of heavy rain hitting against the top of the car and windows, while the windshield wipers make slipping sounds on the window.

I park my car into the driveway of the house. The house I haven't been in a while.

As I pull my keys out of the ignition, I take a breath and open the door.

I lock my car and walk up the front steps of the house, and pull my hood up.

I hesitate to knock on the door but knock 3 times slowly.

The rain is falling harder and it takes a moment for the door to open, revealing Harry in black skinny jeans and a white shirt.

His eyes widen and eyebrows pull up.

We stare at each for a while until I speak.

"Why'd you call everyday?"

Harry gives me a confused look.

"When my mother passed away, why'd you call everyday of those two weeks before I kicked you out?"

Harry stares at me for a moment.

"Because I love you." He replies.