indecisive (on hold)

14.

We climb out of the car and he follows me up the steps. I push open the door and he is right behind me. I realize that today is Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday. The week is almost over. My first week wasn’t bad, but I would very much love my relaxing weekend. I trudge up the stairs, as Harry flops onto the couch. I quickly remove my clothes and replace them with sweats and a T-shirt. I slide down the stairs and join Harry on the couch.

 “Are you hungry?” I question, my eyes shifting to look at him sideways. A rerun of Criminal Minds plays on the screen.

 “Kind of.”

 “What do you want to eat?”

 “Pizza.”

I nod and walk back upstairs to retrieve my laptop. I go to the website and place our order.  After about twenty minutes the pizza arrives and Harry consumes five slices within a couple minutes. I stare at him in disbelief as I finish my first slice. I am not very hungry. I watched the way his jaw muscles tensed and relaxed as he chewed. I watched the way his Adam's apple moves when he swallowed. I watched the way his eyes closed in pleasure as he took another bite of his pizza. Yes, it sounds weird but, I am a  weird person.

 “Why are you staring at me?” His voice snaps me out of my haze. I focus my eyes onto his face, which is twisted in confusion. He raises a brow and waits for my answer. There's amusement in his eyes and my cheeks heat.

 “I was staring?” I know I was, but I don’t want to admit it.

 “Yes. Why?”

 “I didn’t know I was. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

 “I don’t mind.” He winks and I roll my eyes, but laugh.

 I focus my eyes on to the TV. They end up finding out the killer was an ex-boyfriend who had anger issues. I see Harry out of the corner of my eye. His orbs are fixed on my face. I turn to face him and he smiles.

 “Why are you staring at me?”

 “Because you’re beautiful.” He confesses.

 I stare at him. I don’t know if he is referencing to The Fault In Our Stars. I study his face. He looks so serious. He looks as if he is trying to earn a response from me. I slightly smile and just shake my head. I turn my head back to the TV.

 “Do you not believe that you are?” He questions, I sense disbelief in his voice.

 “No. Why would I believe that I was?” I quietly answer, not even turning to face him.

Of course I didn’t think I was beautiful. I wasn’t. I knew that and so did the scars on my wrists. They were the ones haunting me. Reminding me. I would never feel beautiful or think that I was, but Harry’s statement threw me off a bit. I finally turn to face him. His eyebrows are furrowed. His lips falling into a frown. I look to his eyes and they look almost...pained.

 Harry’s POV

 How could she not think she is beautiful? Look at her. I have never seen someone is captivatingly gorgeous in all the years I have been alive. Why can’t she see it? I continue to study her as she studies me. Her face is blank. She is showing no emotion. He eyes are hard, they look...distant? I hadn’t noticed before, but now that I think about it, I see it. Her eyes are lifeless. She may smile, but there is no sparkle. No gleam. No light, and it makes me wonder what happened to her to make her feel this way. Something has happened to her to make her eyes lose their sparkle. Something has happened to her to make her refuse to see the beauty she possess, and for her to harm herself.

Why does she harm herself? What’s her reason? I remember thinking of these questions the very first time I saw her. I even thought she was beautiful then.

 I look at her arm, which was resting on her crossed legs. I can see the scars still there. They are slightly lighter than her normal skin color. They are straight and long. Then I notice one that makes me stop breathing. It is long, all the way down her arm, jagged.

 “Liz.” I barely whisper, but she hears me.

 “Yes?” She turns to face me, her face holding a small smile.

 “What’s that?” I point to the scar on her arm. Her smile falls and her mouth parts. She looks at her arm and moves it to her chest.

 “A scar.” She simply answers, but I detect worry in her voice. Worry? Did someone hurt her? It wasn’t there when I first saw her.

 “Did someone hurt you?” I move to her and gently grab her arm. I run my fingers over the scar. I look at her and her grey eyes are wide, while she watches me.

 She slightly chuckles before answering me, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

 I gaze into her eyes. I know my brows are creased into confusion. I am confused. “I guess you could say that.” Someone hurt her. Suddenly the realization hits. It hits me like a fucking bus going full speed. I can feel that slam in my chest.  I feel the stab of pain on my heart. Her face falls when she realizes I have caught on. She did this to herself.

 “Why?” Is all I manage to choke out. My voice is thick with emotion.

 “I was upset with myself.” Her voice is low. Her eyes are locked onto the floor, avoiding my gaze.

 “Why is it that you hurt yourself when you are upset?”

 “I deserve it.”

 My mouth parts in disbelief. She deserves it? No.

 “No one deserves to hurt themselves.”

 Her eyes snap of the floor to me. She jerks her arm out of my touch. She looks offended.

“You know nothing. You can’t say that if you have no idea what it’s like. Harry Styles you know nothing, so don’t say anything about that to me.” Her voice is full of venom.

 She moves to stand, but I grab her arm. She stands in place in front of me. I am desperately trying to find my words or the right words, but I can’t. And before my mind can catch up, I am lifting my sleeve.

Liz’s POV

 “H-Harry?” I choke out.

What is he doing? He is lifting his sleeve so his wrist is revealed to me. Then I see them. They look just like mine, but there are more. I have plenty, but most cover my thighs. I look at his eyes, they hold...disgust?

 “Yeah, Liz. I think I do understand.”

 “Harry I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.”

 “No one does. And I trust you not to say anything.”

 “I won’t. I promise.”

My thumbs trace the scars. Harry hurt himself. Why? Did something happen to him? Did he used to get bullied? Did he have demons in his head, too? I have so many questions, but I can’t bring myself to ask them now. I move myself and sit next to him. He leans back and brings me with him. My head rests on his chest and his arm is snaked around my back. I feel like I can feel the pain radiating off his body to mine. Is this what he felt when he saw mine?

We lay like that in silence, before I force myself to speak.

 “Were they worth it?” I raise my head to look at him. His eyes soften before he answers me.

“Nothing is ever worth it.”