Pride {l.s.}

24- Chicken Stuffed With Mozzerella

I manage to convince Harry to at least go on the couch while I make food so that I can keep an eye on him. He scares me as he cuddles up on a blanket on the couch. I turned the TV on to some cooking show, but he's not looking at it. He keeps his eyes on me as I move around the kitchen.

"What are you making?" Harry asks in a raspy voice from where he lays on the couch.

"None of your business," I sassily reply. "I can handle it. You just relax."

Harry does as I say. He watches me walk around the kitchen finding what I need. After a quick scan of the fridge, I decide to make a dish that I grew up eating. I simply google the recipe and follow the directions. Harry doesn't watch the TV that continues to play the cooking show. Instead, he sits there in silence. He directs me when I can't find something in his kitchen. Other than that, he is silent.

I have to grill everything in a pan, so there is no use for the oven luckily. I serve the chicken with a sauce and a side. I serve each plate accordingly and walk over. I set the two dishes on the coffee table.

Harry looks at the two dishes in surprise. "Wow, Lou. This looks amazing!"

It's the most excitement and happiness I have seen on his face since I've gotten here. I'm happy to have made him feel a little bit better. Harry leans forward over his plate and takes a picture of it. I look into his screen to see him posting it on twitter with the caption Louis' first ever cooking experience ;).

"It's chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash," I announce excitedly. This is the first ever dish I have made by myself, and it makes it all the more better for Harry to compliment it. He cooks all the time, and I think it's time that he is treated to something nice.

"I'm going to put a movie in," I announce just as Harry takes his first bite. His eyes goes wide.

"Lou, this is absolutely delicious! I have taught you well," Harry tells me with a laugh. I blush at the compliment and grab a movie from the cupboard. I put the movie in, and it begins. I take part of the blanket that is in Harry and pull it over myself. We sit right beside each other as we pull the plates of food into our laps.

"Why are we watching Love Actually? We've already seen this one together." Harry says with an all knowingly smile on his face as he glances over at me.

"Because you like it. Now shut up and watch the movie."

Harry's smile doesn't leave his face for quite some time as the movie plays. We're both familiar with the movie. Harry has probably seen this movie ten times in the past two months because that is who he is. He can read a book more than once and watch movies repeatedly. He just loves anything with a story.

"Haz, I have a question," I say once I'm done with my meal. I set the plate on the coffee table next to Harry's.

"Sure. What is it?" Harry asks. He turns to face me. He gives me his complete attention even though one of his favorite movies is playing.

"Why have you seemed so down lately? I didn't notice anything for a while until I got that phone call a couple days ago and now. Did something happen?" I ask politely. I know that this is a tough subject to talk about. I hope that he knows that I'm just worried about him.

Harry looks away from me towards the screen. His face is red.

"I uh stopped taking my medication."

I pause the movie. "What? Why?"

"It... it made me nervous. I've always been fine at my job. I don't worry about walking around strangers and taking pictures, but I had to go to the bathroom the other day because I was having a panic attack," Harry says quietly. He wrings his hands in his lap. "I didn't like it. I get nervous about everything now."

"How many panic attacks have you had?" I ask. I swing my legs up onto the couch and turn to face him.

"Quite a few. Usually at least one a day. I had one right before I called you that night," Harry says nervously. He tucks his hair behind his ear.

"Is that why you sounded like you had been crying?" I ask. Harry nods his head. "Haz, you can tell me when these things happen. I would talk to your doctor about trying a different medication."

"My insurance is weird. It's the only one they'll cover," Harry mutters. He picks at the thread in the blanket.

I take his hand in mine. Harry's eyes meet mine as I speak. "Well then I guess you have to choose one. Would you rather be sad or nervous?"

I know that it's a loaded question. How can a person choose between the two? It's almost impossible. To be depressed would make it hard to do everyday things in life. He'll become careless with things such as eating and sleeping. I fear that he could become careless with his life. If he had anxiety, it would leave him frozen and not able to grow in life. What angers me is that he didn't choose any of this. It was just thrown at him. It's like how no one chooses to have cancer, yet it is given to people who don't deserve it.

No one deserves to have depression or anxiety.

"I don't know, Boo Bear. I mean the anxiety was bad. I can't work if I can't function in front of those people, and I need to work. The depression was a pain, but I don't know if I can handle it on my own," Harry says. He sounds tired just talking about it.

"I can help you with the depression the best I can," I offer with a smile. His hand is still in mine. He gives it a squeeze and smiles back.

"I think I've made my decision. At least for now, I'll stay off of the meds," Harry confirms.

"Can you at least look into therapy?" I offer. "I want you to be the best you can be, and therapy is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Have you ever been to therapy?"

I freeze at the question. Suddenly, I am not on Harry's couch with his hand in mine. I'm sitting on that couch and being told what I should be thinking. I remember the vomit that burned my throat from those days. I remember all of it. I remember every moment of pain, suffering, and shame. I was so ashamed. I still am.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it some other time. Do you promise to try therapy for yourself? Maybe that can help?"

Harry nods his head. "Yeah. I'll do it for you."

"No, do it for yourself, Haz. I just want you to be happy."

We continue to watch the movie, but those memories never leave my head. They never do.

A/N

Happy late Thanksgiving everyone!

xoxo raindropkiss1