nobody's home; harry styles.

2.1.

Harry's arms were comfy, if I have to be honest I don't want to move from this position. However, I knew we couldn't stay like this forever.

I've been sobbing and kind of crying for about half an hour now, and Harry's been holding me the whole time without even complaining. When I told him that he could leave if he wanted to, his response was: "if you're going to cry, you have to at least be comfortable".

In the last couple of years, I've came to a weird state of mind where I don't know what I'm feeling or if I'm even feeling something apart from sadness.

Most of the people doesn't understand that it's not easy to overcome depression or anything related to it. Zayn was like that at first, he would always told me "stop doing it and that's it" and it took him a while to figured it out that it wasn't easy at all.

The thing is that in a certain moment of your life, when you're feeling low,  sad or you're in a "limit situation" and you don't know how to control your own emotions, addictions become a part of yourself. It's like an extra arm or leg, it's something that you don't need to survive but if you don't have it, it's difficult to adapt yourself and find your way back to your old self again.

I've felt so bad for so long that when I'm not feeling bad I don't feel like I'm feeling anything at all and that's exactly why I am addicted to a lot of things that are killing me in a slow and torturous way: they make me feel something.

I care for him, I love him - in the most innocent way- but I don't want to raise his hopes, I hope I'm wrong but I think that Harry feels something else for me and it's not in a friendly way.

I move my head away from Harry's chest to look up at his face, his jaw is only a few inches from me.

I want to confess to him that I need him here and not there but once again, he has the right to do whatever he wants and I am no one to tell him what to do.

I want to tell him a lot of things, god, I have so many thoughts and words for him, I just can't seem to find my voice to speak.

"Cassie..." He gently whispers, "Don't cry, love."

My eyes must been red and warm, and my cheeks blushed because of the tears. I push my body closer to his' and when there's already no more space, I wrap an arm around his stomach and I rest my head on his shoulder.

I clear my throat but nonetheless, my voice is raspy and deeper than before, "I just don't want you to leave,"

Harry slowly moves away from my body and glance at me with a cheeky and bold smirk, "What did you just said?"

I take a look into his beautiful and radiant eyes, they were the same color as the forest. Why does he look at me as if I were the most wonderful thing he's ever seen? I am this angsty, fucked-up and clueless teenager who has insignificant problems compared to other people... but he doesn't care, he sends me that look and I feel like I am okay again.

I think I am like this because, like I've always told Zayn, I've spent way too much time in an empty house, I've always searched for a home but every time I tried to find shelter, I ended up discovering that no matter how hard I try, nobody will ever be at home.

"I said I don't want you to go, to leave," I repeat in a shaky breath.

Harry leans down and places his warm lips against my cheek, tightening his embrace.

He sighs, "And trust me, I don't want to."

"But you will..."

After all, that's the truth.

He will leave, but I won't stop him, not because I can't but because I don't want to. I'm not selfish enough to stop them, not him nor his mother. I don't want Anne to end up like my mother.