The Boy in the Bookstore | l.s ✔

Seventeen

Remember the warnings listed at the start of this fic please. Reader discretion is advised in this chapter, if you are sensitive to things such as self harm, then please put your own mental health and well being first. I love you guys, and it's never my intention to trigger anyone.

Wrong.

The rest of the weekend went by quickly. Harry was still loved up from the night he and Louis had shared together the night previous and he really didn't want school to start the next day. He set his alarm for 6:30am, hoping that he would be able to drag himself out of bed. He put his supplies and his bag ready the night before, making sure that he wouldn't forget anything. He had spent all of sunday working, so he knew he would be ready for the workload that the next few weeks would bring. The weather was starting to get really cold, and he didn't want to have to walk in the cold and dark  to school. He had spent more time than ever with his friends, but he knew he would miss Louis most of all. Jay's cancer treatment started that week, so he knew Louis was about to be around a lot less then he had been. Louis had promised to skype Harry after school, and Harry was always welcome to go to his house if he needed or wanted to. It was getting late, and Harry knew he needed to sleep but his head was racing at what felt like a million miles an hour. He could feel himself getting anxious, and he could feel tears of frustration rising in his eyes. His thoughts were spiraling, and he felt like he was falling. Tears spilled out of his eyes as his own mind yelled insults at him. Was Harry really willing to jeopardize how far he had come in the last few weeks? He walked around his room for a bit, trying to gain control.

Just breathe, you worthless idiot. It's not that hard.

Harry placed his hands in his hair, fingers knotted in the curls. He began to pull at it, hard. He just wanted everything to stop being so loud. He was home alone, so he knew that he couldn't go running to Gemma or Anne.

Unloveable.

Fat.

Ugly.

Weak.

Broken.

Sensitive.

Harry stood up, unable to take any more of what he was thinking. The only thing he could think to do was so wrong. He stood up, stumbling like he was drunk and walked into the bathroom. His whole body was shaking, he knew what he was doing was wrong and would hurt Louis badly. He knew it was selfish to hurt himself when Louis was already going through so much, but it felt like the only way out. He opened the bathroom cabinet and found his old razor blades that he had been hiding from his boyfriend. His hands shook as he pressed the small silver blande into his pale, scarred arm. It hurt, but he needed to feel something. He made another cut underneath that one, and another. He tried to stop himself, but it was just so difficult. He heard the familiar ringtone from skype coming from his laptop, and jerked out of the trance he had been in. He shoved his wrist under the cold water, and cleaned the cuts he had made. He watched as the water  turned from red to clear. It stung badly, but he knew he definitely didn't need an infection. The pain was so bad, and he hugely regretted his decision. He began to feel nauseous, and he knew that wasn't good. He dabbed the cuts dry with a washcloth and then added some medical gauze and a bandage to his wrist. The cuts were deep, and he contemplated going to A&E, thinking he would at least need stitches. He needed to tell someone, and although he knew Louis would be disappointed, he knew he needed help .* He quickly called Louis back on skype.

'Hey baby. Why didn't you pick up earlier?' Louis asked, looking worried. Harry never missed his calls. Harry broke down in response.

'I-i made a h-huge m-mistake, Lou... and I need your h-help...' Harry gulped out between sobs. Once he had calmed down, he explained everything. Louis was upset, but he was proud of Harry for telling him exactly what had happened. They mutually agreed to hang up the call and that Louis would rush to Harry's so he could accompany his boyfriend to A&E. Harry had unlocked the front door for his boyfriend so he could just come straight in. Harry practically jumped into Louis' arms, longing for comfort. The tears he had been holding back poured once again, and Harry's eyes hurt from crying. Louis just held him, and wiped away his tears, despite him feeling his own heart break. Deep down, he thought that Harry's actions were selfish. He had so much going on in his own life, hje really didn't need Harry to relapse. He hated himself for making Harry's mental illness about himself, he just wished that people would put him first, for once.