Moments || H.S

ninety ; you're somebody else

(Harry's POV and trigger warning. Yes I am going to give them mental health problems because everyone goes through it at one stage of their life and if you are struggling seek help, you're loved and needed. also you aren't going to get a lot of details about Harry during these months but there is going to be small moments mentioned that give you an idea throughout the story.. love you all xx)

It's been 3 and a half months since Louis died. 

I don't even know what to do. I'll see something and then think 'Fuck, better tell Lou' but I can't. No matter how many texts I send or phone calls I make to hear his voice tell me to leave a message.. he won't ever answer. It's ripping me to thousands of pieces more and more every day. 

"Grief is normal", the psychologist had said "we can't expect to move on straight after someone close to you dies" 

But fuck, I don't feel like I'm ever going to "move on"  because how do you move past that? One second he was here under a blanket watching Christmas movies and the next in a casket feet away from me. I think I have whiplash from that sudden change. I'd sell my soul to go back to that one day. Wake up with Ave on me and Louis smiling at us, before we have a coffee and he heads outside. It was the perfect day and now it's all gone. 

I've experienced grief before, but I had forgotten what it felt like. This is nothing like I've ever felt before and the pain scares me. I don't think it's just the grief, there's something else terrifying mixed with it. 

Sometimes it feels like a concrete blanket, holding me down to my bed and I can't leave it. I can't eat, drink or shower. I feel weak and pathetic, like a baby. Those are the days Ave has to come over and drag me into the shower while she cooks breakfast that I barely touch because I have no appetite. Those are the days I sleep for hours, mentally drained and exhausted. It's the worst feeling knowing you're dragging someone else down just because you're already dragged down. 

But some days, it's a tornado. Picking me up and slamming me into walls and dragging me along the floor. Those our the days of panic attacks over small things, crying and outbursts. Starting arguments over trivial things and ending the day feeling terrified of the dark. Those are the days the nightmares come, and those aren't pretty either. 

Mental health is something I've always been passionate about and getting support, so that's what I did. I wasn't at all surprised when Ave and I both had mental illness. She didn't want to go to therapy, insisting she could look after herself but after one session she came home and thanked me, saying it was the best thing she's ever done and now we go weekly. 

I can't sleep, which leads to me being tired and grumpy throughout the day and stressed and it's just a mess. The end of the everyday has me feeling like a sack of shit that Ave has to deal with. 

Her days are long too, sending Delilah off to school, feeding Daisy and then spending all day at my house. She comes over and wakes me up, makes me breakfast and makes sure I'm OK, then I shower and she does the washing. Like a fucking parent. Like I'm 10 years old again and need to be looked after. I try to look after myself, but the second I open my eyes I want to close them again and pretend everything around me doesn't exist. Pretend I don't exist. 

But Avery is amazing. I don't know how to she can deal with me. She has her own illness and grief, yet still manages to help me with mine. She's never left my side, no matter how many tears I shed, how many outbursts I have or how distant I become. She's right there. As much as I've tried to push her away so she doesn't get too affected by my fucking bullshit, she won't budge. She's so fucking stubborn and so am I, so it's annoying as shit when neither of us want to change our minds or do what the other wants.