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.


45. 7 days after

7 days after

7 Days After: Harry is moved to another room where he will be monitored carefully before they determine what the next step will be. The tent is moved into his room, and I rather enjoy the fact that the nurses now only glare at us when they come in to give him his medicine. Niall and Zayn spend a lot of the time down in the cafeteria, and Liam stays outside on the phone. I know he is handling the press and our Twitters, but I can't begin to thank him so I don't even try to initiate the conversation. There is tension between me and Harry, but it is easing with every hour, and I think he is starting to trust my words again. "They want to take you away. To get serious help." "Might as well." He flips through a magazine, bored with the prospect. "You won't get to stay with me," I protest, and some emotion floods his eyes. "Do you really want me to?" "Of course!" He looks up, almost hopeful, and I sense a breakthrough, though it is interrupted by Amy Lee bursting in. "There you are!" She glares at Harry. "I thought you left here without saying goodbye." "I would never!" Harry says dramatically, and I see something more in his face, a bit of worry and a lot of affection. From the emotions rolled over from our conversation, he almost looks happy. Amy Lee takes a running jump and lands on his bed, still glaring, but not as harshly. "Okay," she says, then catches sight of me. "Louis!" Harry is surprised, but he covers it up and says, "Yep. We were just talking about stuff. Is your mom around?" "No." Amy Lee pouts. "She left me here with my grandpa and he fell asleep." As if on cue, and elderly man appears in the doorway, wheezing heavily. "Amy Lee," he scolded, "Get back to your room and leave these poor people alone." "She's no trouble," Harry says pleasantly, and the old man offers a smile before Amy Lee hops off the bed, waving at us wildly, and disappears down the hall, her ringing laughter filling the silence of the halls. Her grandfather shakes his head and follows without another word. "How do you know her?" Harry asks me after a moment. "Met her in the lobby's waiting room." I shift in my chair. "She said she knew you before running off." Harry sighs, and begins to say things I do not expect, "I've been selfish. I've been laying here thinking about how I wish I was dead when I had something pretty good going for me. She kind of shook me awake over the past few days, you know?" "Harry, what are you talking about?" I ask, dumbfounded by both his the sincerity of the words and the unclearness of them all. He looks at me, confused, and says, "She's dying, Lou." At my stricken expression, he adds, "a brain tumor. I thought you must have known."

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