Twisted Love

We all know the medias version of One Direction, the cameras version of Matthew Lush and Nick Laws. But do you know who they really are? Their fears? Pain? Trials? Scars? Well now you can. --- Note: this is all fiction. None of it is true.

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10. Comfort.

Comfort.

Matthews POV

I heard Harry, causing me to jump up, then spin and run in a random direction. Great job Matt you royally fucked up, again. All you did today was make people feel shitty. I ran up and saw a door labeled "One Direction" I shrugged to myself and opened it, checking to make sure no one followed me then clicked it shut. I turned around and saw a door, I walked towards it hoping it was a bathroom. I opened it and I got excited, I hope one of them brought their shaving stuff, I just need one blade from a cheap razor and we're all good. I look through a few bags and pull out an old and used looking razor.

"Used and old its still a razor." I said to myself as I started to disassemble it, I've become a pro at doing that, takes me 30 seconds tops now.

I pulled out a razor and rinsed it off, I then sat down on the floor and grabbed a wad of toiler paper. I pressed the razor to my skin, as I swore i heard a door click, but ignored it. I was probably imagining things. I continued feeling the cool metal on my wrist, I pressed a little harder and gasped as I heard a swing of the door opening. Oh shit I scrambled up and tried to hide the razor but I was too slow, all i saw is a mop of blonde hair and two very big blue eyes.

****

Nialls P.O.V.

I watched as Matty ran off, and swore under my breath, I figured out where he was going. Nick started to go after him but I grabbed his arm.

"Can I go? Please." I practically begged, and glanced toward Matty as he went behind a door that was marked "One Direction."

I didn't wait for an answer as I bolted toward the door, then opened and closed it quietly. I walked toward the bathroom door and opened it, as I prayed that I was wrong with what he was doing. My hopes of him just taking a wee dropped as I saw him jump up quickly and hide something behind his back. I looked down at his wrist and saw a fresh, bleeding cut. I sighed, and held my hand out.

"Give me the razor, Matty. Please" I said and he stiffened, and backed up some.

"Matty. Please, at least explain why'd you do that to yourself. You promised you'd never do it again." I said feeling tears come to my eye.

I stared into his eyes, wishing they'd tell me something he wasn't, I wasn't prepared for what to happen next to happen. Matty opened his mouth to say something, but instead of words coming out, broken sobs, and tears came instead. I quickly wrapped my arms around him, and rubbed his back, I searched for the razor and hissed in pain as it cut the palm of my hand slightly. He jumped back quickly, and saw my hand.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I m sorry I'm so s..sorry." He sobbed.

I shook my head, and grabbed some toilet paper then wrapped it around my hand.

"It's fine, now let's get you on the counter and take care of that." I said referring to his fresh cut.

He nodded after hesitation and I helped him onto the counter with scary ease. I grabbed a gauze pad and Neosporin and put it on his wrist. After I had the pad on I kissed it.

"There, all better." I said smiling.

I went into the cabinet again and grabbed a band aid for myself and put it on my hand. I sat down next to Matty on the counter.

"Now you want to tell me why you did that?" I asked, grabbing his chin gently so he was looking at me.

"I...I.." He said and started sobbing again.

I wrapped him in a Horan hug, and did the first thing that came to mind. I sang. He had always calmed when I sang, I thought back trying to remember what his favorite song was, and remembered. Fall for you by Secondhand Serenade I started singing the lyrics quietly but still loud enough for him to hear. The whole time I sang, I rocked us back and forth, as well as rubbed his back gently. Matty burrowed himself in my chest and sobbed, I didn't mind though. He needed me, and I was happy to be here for him.

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