Work Text:
From: Louis Tomlinson
To: Harry Styles
I want to let you know that I saw your scars. No, they weren’t ‘ugly’ like others say. I find them beautiful in fact. I just wanted to kiss them better and ask you what’s been bothering you. And I’m sorry I didn’t. God, I just hope you’re okay.
The message was send over an hour ago and I was terribly worried. What if he didn’t perceive it correctly? What if he might get the wrong impression about what I said to him and he did something to himself I didn’t want him to do? God, I was hopeless.
Maybe I was just too affected about what some people said at school. There was this rumour going on. They kept saying that Harry was going to kill himself. Some even said that he already had committed suicide. I had to know if it was true. I had to see if he was still alive.
Harry had always said that no one really cares until something dramatic happens. By that time I didn’t get what he meant when he said it, but now I do. Harry was right, he was damn right. Harry wanted to commit suicide and when I heard that I cared, but the last few months I didn’t see him lots. I don’t even know why I pushed myself away from him; I just did it without even knowing.
Harry must have felt horrible, let down, lonely, unhappy, like he was all on his own. He was always afraid of losing people he loved and he was scared that his friends secretly hated him. But that wasn’t the point, I forgot him. I didn’t hate him at all; he was a really nice guy to talk to if he finally accepted you in his life, if he trusted you. He hadn’t had many friends; he only had me and some other guy I didn’t even know the name of. I thought I was there for him, that I was a good friend, but I wasn’t at all. He was desperate for someone who understood him and he needed help.
I let him down; I let him feel terrible, lonely, and unhappy. I was a horrible friend to him.
I stood up from the bar stool and walked along the hallway. For a moment I stood still in front of the door, but a few seconds later I brought myself to the point where I opened the front door. The street was wet and dark grey of the rain and I slapped myself mentally for not wearing a jacket while it was raining. I made my way towards Harry’s house, hoping to find him alive and not on the ground, lifeless and bleeding because he cut his wrists.
Harry’s house wasn’t far away from mine and because I walked fast I was there within a few minutes. As fast as I could I walked to the front door and pressed on the door bell. My hands were shaking and I felt the beat of my heart speeding up.
The moment when the door had been opened and Harry appeared in the doorway I couldn’t help myself and wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt Harry tighten around my grip and deep inside I felt sad about that. It was like he didn’t want me here. Maybe I haven’t been that nice to him and perhaps I should have paid more attention towards him.
Slowly I loosened my grip and created a gap between us. He stared at me with a weird expression on his face I couldn’t place. It was one I had never seen before.
The raindrops dripped on my face and on my hair. My body felt cold and desperately needed some warmth. While Harry was standing there and did nothing I stood there like a frozen ice cube.
“Can I come inside, please? My body is frost-bitten.” His eyes narrowed while he nodded carefully. I walked pass him towards the living room. It was a while ago I had been here, but nothing had really changed. At least, not that I noticed.
Harry followed me towards the living room. I sat down on the couch and looked at how Harry walked pass me and sat down on the loveseat in front of me. He didn’t look at me; it was like he was avoiding me, like he didn’t want to look at me at all. If I said it didn’t do me anything I was lying, ‘because it did hurt me and it worried me. What if the rumour was true?
“How are you, Harry?” I tried to break the silence by asking something, but he just stared at me with a hurt look on his face.
“I want to talk to you and I want you to talk back to me.” For a moment I thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t do anything else than coughing. The disappointed look on my face was a look he saw too and I thought to see a bit of regret on his face, but it had disappeared before I could even blink with my eyes. Maybe I just imagined I had seen it.
“Can I guess how you feel then?” His head shot up when I said that and he nodded gingerly.
“Perfect?” He shook his head.
“Alright?” A joyless laugh left his mouth, which probably meant he didn’t feel alright.
“Okay?” His eyes closed for a second or two and he just shook his head, again.
“Sad?” No respond, I came closer to the right answer.
“Depressed?” His teeth chewed on his lip and he squeezed his eyes shut. I kept my mouth shut, ‘because something inside of me said I was right, he really felt depressed.
“You feel depressed?” My voice was raspy and sounded weird; I couldn’t recognize my own voice. Harry swallowed thickly.
“Yeah. I’m depressed.” By the sound of his voice tears started to form in my eyes.
“What’s depression like?” The question escaped my mouth before I even had the chance to think about if it was right to ask it.
“It’s like drowning. Except you can see everyone else around you breathing.” It shocked me he immediately gave an answer, but besides that I really didn’t understand a single thing of what he had said. Apparently my face expressed that feeling and Harry smiled weakly and talked further.
“It feels like you’re walking upstream through a current, strong enough to pull you under four times over. There are others with you, but they are walking along the banks telling you to ‘just get out of the water.’ But instead of extending a hand in help, they just move on and leave you behind. Every once in a while you find a rock that is strong enough for you to lean on, and you can rest for a bit. But the rooks always get tired of holding you up, and when they let go you’re left drowning, thrown 50ft. back again. And nothing is harder than standing up in that current when everything in you is telling you how much easier things would be if you just let yourself get dragged under.”
I was flabbergasted. My eyes were big and filled up with tears. If I had known he felt like this, I would have helped him through this. I would have been a real friend to him. But I didn’t, and that was the worst part.
Harry stood up from the loveseat and took a seat right next to me. There was only a little space between us. Usually it would have freaked me out if someone sat that close to me, but with Harry it was kind of different, it didn’t feel awkward, it felt nice and safe, normal.
“How did you hide this? How did you hide your depression? I mean, maybe you don’t want to tell or anything. Like, if you don’t want to tell me, than you don’t have to and-”
“You’re rambling, Louis.” I immediately stopped talking and looked at him with a shocked face. He smiled weakly.
“Don’t answer if you don’t want to.” I said quickly when he opened his mouth to talk.
“No, it’s okay. You have the right to know everything I’m hiding.” A sound of protest left my mouth.
“But I was a horrible friend.” Harry shrugged.
“Maybe. But I need someone to help me and I want you to be that person.” A smile appeared on my face.
“But, why?” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Stop asking so many questions, okay?” I nodded. Harry sighed and looked at me with a weird expression on his face. I furrowed my eyebrows. He leaned in to me.
“They think I’m going to kill myself.” He whispered lightly in my ear. I gasped lightly. He had heard the rumour too.
“Are you?” My voice was raspy and husky and I didn’t thrust myself with saying anything else right now. I couldn’t temper my voice and I didn’t want Harry to see my weak side.
“Maybe.” He shrugged like it was nothing, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. I stared at him for a long time. He just sat there, right next to me, doing nothing. Just staring at the rain outside. It was like he was in his own world, like he was completely zoned out. We sat there together. None of us said a single word. We just kept our mouth shut.
“What would you do if I killed myself?” I heard him say, whispering again. It was like his voice couldn’t get any louder. Like this was everything I could get from him. Something inside of me said that he didn’t want me here, ‘because I let him down when he needed me the most. But he said he wanted to tell me all of this. Or at least he wanted me to now more than I knew.
“I think I’ll miss you forever,” I said cautious, intently looking at the boy who sat right next to me. His eyes were still focused on the raindrops that trickled on the window. It was like he didn’t even dare to look at me. I tried to gauge his reaction, his face expression, but he didn’t do anything else then looking out of the window. I must admit it felt like my heart was ripped out of my body. Harry had to look at me, say something, but he just kept his mouth shut, like he refused to speak to me again.
“Like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies.” I completed my sentence. It was like a lump was forming in my throat. Harry didn’t respond. It did even look like he hadn’t even heard what I said. He was still staring out of the window with that creepy look of him. It scared me. It was weird he acted like this, ‘because he was the one who wanted to tell me things and now he didn’t.
A sigh left my mouth, causing Harry to look at me. I recoiled when I saw his dead stare. It looked like he was dead inside. His usually cold emerald eyes had changed into dark grey. Normally I would have laughed and said he didn’t have to act like a creepy monster. But this was not the time to make a joke about that. In fact, Harry looked like some kind of demon had taken over his body. It freaked me out and caused my hands to shake like some kind of maniac.
Harry suddenly stood up and his sleeve and bracelets were crept up. Immediately I thought about when he was in hospital. His dad laid there and Harry was asleep on the bed in the same room. When I came inside to support him and asked how his dad was doing I saw he was sleeping. He looked worriless and so peaceful, like nothing was wrong with him.
When I saw his arm I frowned and woke him up to ask him what those red stripes on his arm were doing there. I believed him when he said it were just some scrapes from his work. We were young and I believed him instantly, because he always seemed so honest with everything he told me.
I gasped loudly and stared at the bright red cuts on his arm. Harry followed my gaze and abruptly stopped his movement. I swallowed thickly and watched how he quickly put his sleeve and bracelets down so the cuts were out of sight. But unfortunately for Harry I had seen them. And I was sure it weren’t grazes from the work he did in the bakery. Those were definitely cuts.
Harry had turned away. His back was all I could see, but I knew he was terrified of what I would do, what I would say. He was slightly shaking. I wanted to comfort him, hug him, but I didn’t know if he would appreciate it if I did. So I just sat on the couch and stared at his back. I knew he felt I was staring at him, because Harry always felt it when someone was watching him.
“Why do you cut?” I asked, my voice trembling. Harry stopped shaking and turned his face back to me. His eyes were still lifeless and I was worried about him. If I was him I would have walked away or hit me in the face. I would have ignored my question.
But Harry didn’t. He sat down on the couch right in front of me. Still there was this expression I couldn’t place, but he sat down and wanted to talk to me. That was an improvement I guess.
“Cutting is my alternative to committing suicide. It is a comfort; the blood reminds me I am still alive.” Harry’s voice wasn’t shaking, trembling, whispering, he just sounded normal. Like he had told this to someone before. But he didn’t, I was the first person who got to know the real Harry.
I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t get a single word out of my mouth. My mouth was dry and my throat was sore. Harry bit his lip and looked down at the couch. His hand slid over the substance of the bank. An awkward silence originated and I really had no idea what to say.
“Say something.” He whispered like he was almost at the point of crying. I panicked a bit. Seeing Harry cry was the worst thing in life. If he cried, you instantly had to cry yourself. I didn’t want him to cry, because it hurts me more than someone can ever imagine.
“Does it hurt?” I muttered, afraid if this was a question I was allowed to ask. He tilt up his head and looked at me with teary eyes.
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. I knew he wanted me to say something else, but I couldn’t. Now I knew this I had to ask him everything my mind was coming up with.
“Sometimes?” A sigh left his mouth.
“When the cold blade touches your warm skin you feel the mental pain. The pain of not being strong enough to resist it, again. When the blade cuts your skin open and the blood comes out of the wounds you feel the physical pain. It stings and hurts like hell but for a few minutes you feel like you can live, like you can be yourself. When people touch your cuts without knowing. Most of the time they start bleeding again and that’s the moment I hide in the toilet and watch at my wrist as the blood appears.” I put my hand on his knee, causing him to stop talking.
“Why did you believe me when I told you it was from work?” My hand slipped away when he moved. I sighed and shut my eyes.
“I was young, innocent. I didn’t even think someone could ever do that to themselves.”
“Tell me how you experienced it, because I remembered it like someone had unravelled my biggest secret.” For a few seconds I thought about the memory, how he had laid there in that room, his eyes closed and his breathing quietly. Slowly I looked up at him and stared into his emerald eyes.
“As I entered the hospital and walked down to your room, I saw you lying there, peacefully sleeping, you looked happy. But then I noticed your wrists and how there were still drops of blood on your arm. I sat down beside you, and I saw all of the wounds. After I saw that I woke you up and confronted you with it and I believed you.”
“Why did you let me down after that, after you woke me up and left?” His voice sounded raspy and I could hear a bit of anger. He was disappointed in me, which I could totally understand. If I was him I would be disappointed either.
“I was scared.” An indignant sound left his mouth and he turned his face. I sighed softly.
“Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but I was scared of the truth. Somehow I knew you didn’t tell me what really was happening to you. My mind said you were lying to me and that was something I couldn’t place. You never lied to me and I never expected you to do that. Somehow I locked you out of my life. It was something in my mind that said to me I couldn’t trust you because you lied to me.”
Harry stared at me like I was a weird stranger that just walked into his house and sat down on the couch to talk to him. He stared at me like I was a weirdo and I was talking nonsense.
“I know it sounds rather ridiculous.” I muttered lightly. He laughed mirthless but didn’t say anything. My eyes scanned his body. I narrowed my eyes. Harry was thinner than before, he was way too skinny.
“Harry, lift your shirt up.” My voice sounded harsh. Harry looked at me with wide eyes.
“W- What?”
“Just do it.” I commanded. He swallowed thickly and nodded almost invisible. He slowly stood up from the couch and lifted his shirt. A loud gasp left my mouth. His bones were all I could see. There was no fat on is belly. I was shocked. I didn’t even know he did this to himself.
“You starve yourself?” No respond.
“Why?” Again he didn’t answer.
“Can’t you just stop? Like, can’t you just get over your depression and be happy? Can’t you just eat again? Can’t you just stop cutting?” Harry stopped moving and stared at me with wide eyes.
“Telling someone with depression to ‘just get over it and be happy’ is like telling someone with a broken leg to go to a hospital. Telling someone with an eating disorder to ‘just eat’ is like telling someone with claustrophobia to get inside a small cupboard and lock the door. Telling someone who self-harm to ‘just stop doing it’ is like telling a drug addict to sit in a room full of drugs and touch nothing. How can you judge what you don’t understand?” His voice sounded furiously and his face expression was just the same.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He shut his eyes and let his body fell on the couch. Teardrops began to stream down his face and the lump in my throat got bigger. I made him cry, I made Harry cry.
“Just because you’re a bit dead inside doesn’t mean you’re not the most real person I’ve ever met in years.” I said, my voice trembling. He opened his eyes and looked at me. The tears still streamed down his face.
“Even with all the cuts on your skin I still think you’re beautiful.” My hand took his wrist and I lifted up his sleeve. He gasped. The scars were visible. Slowly I lifted my finger and stroke carefully over his cuts. A shiver went down his spine. I kissed a few scars.
“I kind of hide my insecurities and anxiety behind laughter, smiles and constant talking.” He said suddenly, out of nowhere. His voice was shaking and the tears were still streaming down his face.
“Haz, you’re pretty, nice, awesome. You’re just like everyone else and I think you’re perfect.” I said softly and sweet.
“Stop telling me that I’m pretty, that I’m nice, that I’m awesome, that I’m just as good as the rest of them. I’m not and I will never be. There are always going to be better boys out there, no matter what you say. Stop lying. Nothing you say can change how worthless I feel and how worthless I am.”
A sigh left my mouth. I didn’t know how to change his mind, ‘cause in my eyes he was beautiful. In my eyes everyone was perfect in his or her own way. In my eyes Harry was a perfect human being and he was a lovely guy for sure. He only had to notice it. And I was going to help him with it. I was going to help Harry through all of this, because I cared about him.