After Christmas things began changing, and I couldn’t wrap my head around Harry’s sudden behavioral changes. He barely looked at me, barely touched me, and he was losing weight and being less social than he used to be. What was going on? Despite my conscience, I decided to snoop around our room when he and the boys went out for a conference with Simon. Much to my disappointment, I didn’t find much of anything. Then it dawned upon me that there was one place that I hadn’t checked: the hollowed out book. Bingo, I discovered a tiny orange bottle with his name prescribed on the side. Anti-depressants? I looked at the side effects, finding the cause of his irrational behavior. Why the hell was he taking anti-depressants? I needed to figure things out. I gave Louie a call to have him tell the other boys, asking them to send Harry home alone so I could have a nice talk with him before flushing his pills down the toilet. When he walked through the doors I threw myself at him, getting up close and personal. “HAROLD EDWARD STYLES YOU’RE ABUSING ANTI-DEPRESSANTS HOW COULD YOU, DON’T YOU KNOW THAT’S UNSAFE DO YOU WANT TO DIE? WHAT ABOUT ME AND THE GUYS, WHAT ABOUT YOUR MUM WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” I screamed. His face scrunched up and he looked miserable. I felt bad. I didn’t mean to be that harsh… he nuzzled his head into my shoulder and began crying. “What’s wrong sweetie? Why are you doing this?” I whispered to him while he sobbed. I wanted to understand what was wrong. He stuttered “I…just…so…upset…baby…lose…this…one…can’t…do…it… love…you…please…leave…me…love…you…can’t...lose…again…” he said through tears. Shit. He was taking anti-depressants because of the baby. I had this gut feeling that he had never gotten over it, but I never knew that it would push him this far. My poor baby… he seemed helpless. “We’ll get through this together Hazza.” I said, trying to comfort him. His face was buried into my T-shirt, and I could see that his eyes were swollen. “Babe, let’s go flush these and we’ll lay down, okay?” I commanded. He took the bottle and flushed the pills, took my hand and I guided him to bed. I cuddled up to him in the hopes that the drug would wear off and he’d be back to himself when we woke up. Of course I knew it would be gradual – who knew how long he’d been taking them for? But I was willing to wait. It was only January third. Our wedding wouldn’t be for a little over a month, and at this point in time as long as he was emotionally stable by February 14th, I was willing to wait for his recovery. I loved him, there was no doubt about that, and with love comes understanding and compromising, working hard to make our relationship work.
January passed slowly, and Harry returned, for the most part, back to normal. He returned to being a loving, caring fiancé, and I was pleased with his behavior, but I could tell that the loss still hit home hard. He remained in denial about the baby, though we had been sleeping together again for the entire month since the discovery of his anti-depressants, which had been really fulfilling – it helped him get back on the right track, and aided in my hopes of getting pregnant. I didn’t take pregnancy tests, just looked for symptoms. I didn’t need Hazza finding the tests; he’d know how desperately I wanted the baby. Liam ended up popping the question to Danielle on the fifteenth, meanwhile Harry and I were going crazy with wedding plans – Danielle, Eleanor, mum, Anne and Gemma had really gone mental with it. They planned this huge, extravagant wedding which was crazy expensive. Dress shopping had been fun though, the girls’ and I must have gone to about ten different bridal stores before finding a perfect wedding gown that “made me look like I belonged in a fairytale” they said. I felt like a princess, but thinking about the wedding gave me cold feet. I was only twenty one; did I really need to get married so soon? I had my whole life ahead of me. By no means was I planning on running away again, but I just began feeling like it was all happening too quickly, too rushed, too soon. I loved Harry with all of my heart, but something inside of me told me that I just wasn’t ready yet.
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Direction Dreamer
FanfictionMikaela is a 16 year old orphan, whose fate is dependent on the one thing that’s always changing it: cancer. Her dream is to have what she envied others for, something that she never had before, a REAL family. When she winds up in the hospital with...