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.


12. 23 days before


Zayn shows up to help me get harry to the hospital, to take his stitches out, when he takes a single look harry, i am relieved to know i have not imagined his improvement.


"he looks great," Zayn murmurs to me as harry is escorted into a room by a nurse.

'' do you want your brother to come back here with you?" she stops and askes him.

"friend," he corrects, "can they both come?"

"just one," she says, looking around as if already bored with the conversation, i bet she regret starting it in the first place.

"i'll wait," Zayn says, pulling his phone out and starting to roam.


I almost protest; i honestly dont want to se that wound again, but harry fixes his wide green eyes on me and i think i see fear flickering in the depths of him. i follow.


the doctor guesses im squeamish, but i dont bother to correct him by saying it's just by saying its just the idea of a Harry that has been torn apart by himself that makes him sick.

The doctor, a kind old man with an accent i cant place, tries to make quick work of taking out all the stitches, but it wasnt exactly the type of thing people could rush through.


Harry grasps my hand as the doctor cuts each one of the black threas, and as i take in the sight of the wound, i want to vomit.


"are you okay?" Harry asks. I should to shut-up and stop worrying about me when this is what he had done to himself, that he was the one with the weight on his heart, but i simply say "im fine!"



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