The event changed everything, but a story can’t have a central theme unless there are walls to support it, roads that take you there and on, because I can’t just give you a fact and you understand it fully until I explain it. So here it is; I love Harry Styles, but the roads that I take you on to understand may not be one’s that you really want to travel, so heed the signs on the barren roadsides, and understand. I’ll tell you about the days, thirty before and thirty after, encompassing Harry’s attempted suicide.


34. 2 days before


We are sitting in a coffee shop when he looks up and says, "I'm scared." I meet his gaze, troubled. "Of what?" He doesn't answer, instead swiveling his head around to take in the people before turning back to me. "I was having a really hard time, Louis. I didn't mean for all of this to happen." My eyes involuntarily follow his thumb as it glides over the stretched, pink skin over the healing cut. It almost shines in the lights. "I know, Harry. It's okay." The urge to do something that surmounts simple words possesses me, but I must wrestle with the urge to do anything. If I were to try anything-hell, even a kiss-I might terrify him. I couldn't chase him back into a dark place. I couldn't be any more responsible for this than I already was. "I'm always here, you know," I say, and his shoulders sag and he seems to crumble in on himself, the absolute last reaction I was expecting. Almost all of the happy Harry I have slowly come to know again has crumbled like a long dead flower, and I flinch away from the comparison in my mind. "I know, Lou," he says miserably. "But you shouldn't have to be." The conversation is over as quickly as it came, like a hurricane gusting past, and I can see the damage more in his eyes than anywhere else.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...