This was a bad idea. This was a really, really bad idea. Why was I here? I should've just stayed home. Shaking out my curly hair, I tried to calm myself with deep breaths.
I knocked on Zayn's door. The next few seconds were filled with anxiety. What was I going to say? The door flew open and before me stood a familiar head of blonde hair. At one point in my life, Niall had been one of my absolute best friends. My heart constricted painfully when his face broke out into a huge grin.
"Harry! You came!" He pulled me in for a hug. I'd always been taller than him, but these days he'd grown a bit, just an inch or two shorter than me.
"Of course I did," my voice broke. He either didn't hear it, or chose to ignore it because he grabbed my arm, pulling me inside.
"They're all waiting for you inside." My hands started to shake. I couldn't do this. I couldn't face them. No, I couldn't face him.
I walked, legs wobbling the whole way into Zayn's living room. I was flooded with memories. Hanging here with the boys, laughing and watching TV. Ordering takeout and drinking and talking and being ourselves. What I would give to go back to those days.
Instead of four other boys sprawled on couches and chairs, three of them sat there, looking serious. And there was a girl. She was sitting next to him. Holding his hand. Whispering in his ear.
His brown eyes met mine. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but nothing came out.
"I thought this was a meeting for just the boys," I said coldly to Niall. He looked down guiltily.
When the girl heard my voice, she stood up and plastered a fake smile on her face. She extended her hand towards me. "Hi, I'm Ma-"
For the second time in my life, I turned my back on all of them and stormed away. I felt something fall out of my coat. I didn't care. I didn't fucking care about anything.
I reached blindly for the nearest door, desperate to get away. I wound up in a bathroom. Good enough. I locked the door and rested my shaking hands on the sink.
It was hard to see through my rage, but I looked at the boy in the mirror. I studied his eyes carefully. They looked cold and empty. But the longer you stared at them, the more you could see. You could see the pain, betrayal, loss, heartbreak. They were the eyes of someone who was broken.
And as if I wasn't already pathetic enough, I began to cry. I backed away from the mirror, sinking down to the floor.
I had worked so hard to hide my emotions; so well that sometimes even I doubted I could feel anything anymore.
My hands gripped my hair as my self loathing thoughts began. They had all moved on without me. I never realized how much I missed them until I stepped into that room. They were all there, together and I was the one stuck on the outside. It didn't matter what I said or did, they would still hate me. But not as much as I hated myself.
I just wanted to be home. I could go into my bathroom and shut the door. Grab the cool blade. Hiss as the cold metal kissed my skin. One or two swipes and I would be done. It hurt, but the pain felt good. It was an emotion I could control. My favorite part was watching in fascination as my life force dripped slowly down my hand.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. "Harry? Are you okay?" It was Louis. Oh god, Louis. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping he would just go away. I had hurt him so much. "Please open the door!"
I crawled over, unlocking the door and I let him in. He used to be my best friend in the entire world. The one person I could trust with anything. In the end, he invested his faith in me and I had failed him.
