trying to cope

1#

Harry runs his hands through his hair, sighing for the third time in the past two minutes. His hands remain on his head even after his hair has been thoroughly dishevelled, applying light pressure to either side of his skull whilst he squeezes his eyes shut in another futile attempt to stop the thoughts running through his head. The music he put on does little to drown them out either, why isn't it working like it should be?

He doesn't want to be like this. He wishes he could switch his brain off entirely, or perhaps even just think and function normally but he knows that's too much to ask for. His life would never be that kind to him.

When it's clear it isn't working, Harry stands up to start pacing the small room instead. He clenches his hands into fists by his sides, fearful of letting his thoughts take too much control and forcing his body to act them out. It's not like this is an unfamiliar situation, it just happens much less frequently now. He thought he was managing to get his brain under control but apparently not. The idea of being defeated by his own mind terrifies him even more than the impulsive thoughts that are bouncing around his skull and send him sinking down to the floor by his bed.

He'd locked the door upon entering the room, after he'd escaped the kitchen where the others were cooking and laughing together - if he strains his ears he can still hear them talking faintly over the music. It grounds him slightly, reminding him that he's not actually alone with his thoughts.

It isn't long until those thoughts turn sour though, as he recalls watching Ethan as he sliced the meat for their dinner using their biggest kitchen knife. The rush of disgust that had ran through him as intrusive thoughts and impulses about grabbing the knife surrounded his mind, causing him to quickly vacate the room and dive straight into his bedroom in an attempt to calm himself down.

Logically speaking, he knows it's not his fault. He's been through this with his therapist three times a month for the last year. That still doesn't stop him from feeling unbelievably ashamed of himself and his actions - how could he possibly think it was a good idea to continue living with the other guys when he is surely such a danger to them.

He spirals, with thoughts of what might have happened if he hadn't been working on his self-control fully taking over. Shutting his eyes doesn't work, it just makes him picture vivid and horrifying things to match the scary intentions that had flooded his mind. He can feel his own breathing speed up as he sags back into the wall.

Suddenly some noise from outside of his room grabs his attention, and he's grateful for the gap in the disturbing thoughts that allows him time to catch his breath. He tries to focus in on the noise, before realising that it was the sound of the front door closing. Relief washes over his body as the realisation of what that means sets in. It means Simon is finally home - he'll know what to do.

— — —

Simon dumps his bag and shoes by the door as he heads into the kitchen, following the sounds of laughter and talking that echo through the halls. There is a gentle smile on his face as he greets his friends, but it doesn't take long to turn into a frown as he notices the obvious absence. He turns to Josh, a questioning look on his face over the heads of the others who are too busy laughing at something on Tobi's phone to pay attention.

Josh shakes his head softly before gesturing discreetly to the hallway leading to their rooms. It's enough, almost like a practised signal created after multiple times of needing to have this exact silent conversation without any of the others noticing. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Simon takes a deep breath and heads down the hall. As he goes he hears Josh telling Ethan to play some music, creating both a distraction and a noise barrier. It's almost choreographed, each part of the process heavily familiar.