Promise Me Endless Love {Larry}

Chapter 11

A few months later (Harry is still fifteen)

Third Person's POV

Harry is in the bathroom and it's 2 A. M. He is supposed to be in bed. Already said goodnight to Louis and they both had cuddled for a while before Death had to go. His heart had pounded like crazy during the whole time. It usually does that when the older lad gets too close, which he does often. They have never cared about personal space and wouldn't start now.

The problem is, the boy can't sleep. He doesn't do much of that lately. He is always tired, but whatever he does, he can't sleep during the night. He only slept in his classes which got him a lot of scolding and bad marks. He had gotten in trouble a couple of times which pissed off his mum.

Anne isn't too great as well. She is better and keeps telling him his dad leaving is not his fault and that life is easier without him. He can see she misses him, though. Harry puts too much on her plate. Maybe that's what keeps him up at night. The guilt. The hatred he feels for himself. For how he looks, what he is.

He always told himself he would never be depressed or hurt himself or cry late at night in a locked bathroom. He believes he had a good life before he ruined it. Because of some stupid skirt.

Harry exits the bathroom and quietly moves towards his closet. Zayn and Niall's little boddies are floating in the air above his bed. Apparently, they have chosen this night to recharge their batteries. They haven't left him alone for too long since the accident, as they call it.

Harry has lived with them for fifteen years, if he wants to sneak away, he can. That's exactly what he has been doing. Hiding in his bathroom, with the shower on and a razor in his hand. He doesn't do it often. Only when he gets too emotional.

Once he takes the skirt out of the closet, he quietly returns to the bathroom and locks it. There isn't a point because his guardians can walk right in or even teleport on his shoulders.

Harry looks at the pink clothing in his hands. Since buying it, his mum is always dragging him to the women's section in stores, but he just acts uninterested. The only reason he hasn't burned this skirt is because Louis told him he likes it.

The teenager is so tired, all he wants to do is sleep. He can't and it's all because of that stupid skirt. He opens the cabinet above the sink and grabs some scissors. He looks at himself in the mirror. His eyes are red, eyelids droopy. His cheek are more hollow now because he also can't eat. His long hair is messy because he doesn't even take care of it anymore.

He looks down at the skirt and completely destroys it. At some point he throws the scissors into the sink and rips it with his hands. It is a thin material, which makes it easier.

When the skirt isn't a skirt anymore, he looks at the mirror again.

"Are you going to fucking let me sleep now?" He asks loudly. He can see himself shake his head in the mirror. Harry lets out a shaky breath and hits the sink angrily. The sound of cracking echoes in the small bathroom, the boy's knuckles pulsating. "What more do you want me to do?"

"The hair." It's a gentle voice, friendly, but unfamiliar. Harry scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and looks around. There is nothing there. "Get rid of it." Maybe the feminine voice is coming from his head. Great, he hears voices now. "I can assure you, boy, I am anything but imaginary." The statement is supported by a light giggle. It's cute and it almost makes Harry smile. He is too upset to do anything of that, though.

"Why can't I see you then?" Why did he even talk back? Everyone knows it's not wise to communicate with the voices.

It doesn't say anything, so the boy just shakes his head. He is tired and hungry, it's normal to hallucinate.