Promise.

I ran into my room and slammed the door before Niall could catch up with me an quickly locked the door. I heard Niall run up soon after as he pounded his fists on the door. 

"Rae stop don't do this!" Niall yelled through the door as I rummaged through my drawers to find my razor. I sat on my bed choking through my tears as I slid the cool blade on my wrist, creating a stinging thin red line and letting out a soft, weak whimper. I could hear Niall let out a husky gasp and continue banging on the door. I continued to sliced my wrist every time he knocked on my bedroom door. 

"Rae, please. Open the door I'm begging you. Please." he choked, on the verge of tears. He slid against the door to the floor, crying. I almost stopped, I almost regretted doing this to myself, but this didn't concern him. This was between me, my bastard that I CALLED a boyfriend, and my razor. I continued to sob and slit my wrists, wincing every time the blade came in contact with my scarred skin.  

I heard the sobbing stop from the other side of the door as Niall silently got up and walked away. Thank you. Finally I can stop felling guilty about what I'm doing to myself. I deserve this, I kept telling myself. I deserve this. I heard footsteps yet again approach my door. I sighed. 

"Niall go away." I choked out, wiping the tears from my face. All I heard was silence on the other side, along with the soft strumming of guitar strings. Then, that's when he started to sing... 

"Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me, but bear this in mind it was meant to be, and I'm joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks, and it all makes sense to me..." he sang, strumming on his guitar. I started to cry even harder as guilty washed over me. 

"Niall please, don't." I whispered but not loud enough for him to hear, so he continued to sing; 

"I know you've never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile, you've never loved your stomach or your thighs, the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine, but I'll love them endlessly..." 

I stopped cutting and just stared at my bloody slit wrists. Why did I do this? Oh yeah, because I'm fucking disgusting . And if I know I am, why not show it... and feel it. Right? 

"I won't let these little things slip, out of my mouth, but if I do it's you (oh, it's you) they add up to..." 

He stopped. Why did he st- 

"I'm in love with you." he said in a shaky voice. I froze. When he didn't hear a reaction, he began where he had left off... 

"And all these little things.... You can't go to bed without a cup of tea, and maybe that's the reason why you talk in your sleep, and all those conversations are the secrets that I keep, though it makes no sense to me, I know you've never loved the sound of your voice on tape, you never want to know how much you weigh, you still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you're perfect to me..." 

I took one look at my razor and felt disgusted immediately. I can't even remember why I did this in the first place. I picked it up and threw it in the trash just to kill anymore urges that would ever overcome me. I took another look at my cuts and pulled down the sleeves of my crewneck to cover them. I stood up from my bed and shakily stumbled over to my door and sat against it to finally stop and listen. 

"I won't let these little things slip, out of my mouth, but if it's true, it's you, it's you they add up to, I'm in love with you, and all these little things, you'll never love yourself half as much as I love you, you'll never treat yourself right darlin' but I want you to, if I let you know I'm here, for you, maybe you'll love yourself like I, love you oh, I've just let these little things slip, out of my mouth, because it's you, oh it's you, it's you, they add up to, and I'm in love with you, and all these little things."  

Before he could even finish the last note, I had already swung the door open to grip Niall in my tight embrace. He dropped his guitar as it hit the ground with a loud thud, and squeezed me tight. Ig felt so good, so RIGHT. Like nothing I have ever experienced before. When he finally let go on his grip out me and we both had wiped the tears out of our faces, he kissed me. His rough guitar playing finger tips gently rubbing my jawline while my fingers were running through his brown/blonde hair. Our lips parted as our eyes connected. He broke his intense gaze as he gently grabbed my wrists and rolled up the soft material covering them. He almost began to cry at the sight of what I had done to myself. But instead, he lowered his head and began placing soft kisses on each and every cut. When he finished, his eyes met mine again. 

"I never want to see you do this to yourself again. You're so beautiful Rae. Promise not to, for me?" he said quietly, his deep blues eyes not leaving mine. I took a deep breath.  

"Promise." That one word made his entire face light up, and for the first time in awhile, mine too. He pulled me back into a tight hug.

So this is what it feels like, huh. To feel wanted. To feel cared about. To feel loved. And....... I think it's a feeling that I could get used to.