Larry Stylinson oneshots

"Why didnt you tell me..."

Idea by MaraLinart31 I hope it's alright (:
Also you might find this one sad, just a warning.

Also I'm feeling kinda shitty, so it may be more sad/ dramatic than a normal situation like this would go in real life, so I'm sorry.
Edit: I wrote this a few days before publishing and I'm okay now :)

BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HARRY!!! I CAN'T BELEIVE HE'S 27, CAN THEY STOP GETTING OLDER JUST FOR ONE SECOND! I WANT TO CRY

Tw⚠️: Self harm

3rd person P.O.V

Harry knows he shouldn't. He knows that it's bad. But he can't help it. He hurts so much, and for a little while he only has to focus of the pain in his arms instead of the pain in his mind.

He's begging to feel that moment of pain, anything to make him feel numb for a couple hours. He pressed the blade further into his forearm, making deeps cuts over the old scars that almost healed.

He knows he's broken.

It's like when you break a bone, even when the pain is gone, your not fully healed. You might never be.

No one knows how Harry feels, know one knows what he does when he's alone. If they did know, they would make him stop. But he cant stop, he needs to stop feeling, just for a second. The stress of everything, the band, music, tours, being the perfect singer, it's too much.

It was strangling him slowly, he felt like he was trapped in a glass case and water was slowly filling up inside. He cant get out, he's slowly drowning and no one can save him.

Even his bestfriend, Zayn, didn't know. Or his boyfriend, Louis. He tells them everything but this- this he just couldn't tell. This is a secret between Harry and the moon. The moon knows. It watched him every night, on the bathroom floor, tears streaming down his cheeks, blade pressed into his skin. The moon knows.

He repeats words in his head like a mantra. Your not good enough. Your not good enough. Your not good enough.

Anyone else would disagree and they would tell Harry he's wrong but that doesn't mean he would believe what they say.

He drags the blade over his arm a few more times until he reaches that familiar numbness he craved to feel. He leant his head back against the wall, the blood ran down his arms and onto the floor, but he didn't care. He didn't have the strength to care.

He was about to stand up when he heard a knock at the bathroom door followed by a voice he didn't want to hear right now. "Harry?" Zayn calls as he knocks again. And in this very moment, Harry is regretting giving him a key to his apartment.

He wanted to talk, he wanted to say he's okay and he would be out in a minute, but he couldn't. There was a lump in the back of his throat from crying, he had no energy, he wanted to sleep.

"Harry, if you don't open this door. I'm going to open it myself. You've been acting weird all day and I wanted to see if your okay." Zayn's voice rang through Harry's ears, he couldn't come in, he couldn't. He would see his arms.

Harry pulled his body of the cold floor and used the wall to steady himself before running the tap putting his arm under the stream, it burned and Harry hissed as the water ran over the fresh cuts. Was it bad that he liked the way it burned?

"Harry?!" Zayn called again once he heard the water running. Harry panicked and rubbed a towel over his arm, covering it in blood as he bit his lip trying to stop from screaming. "I'm coming in."