House of Payne (1D)

House of Love

(Please watch the video on the side!)

"Hazza, get up!" I shook him, waiting for him to get up. His hand came up and he slapped my arm.

"Ha,ha, mock me more, why don't ya'?" I growled, rolling him off the bed.

"Ouch! Jesus Christ, Alex!" He got up, squinting jokingly.

"I wish I could say the same." I smirked.

"Oh how fun it is to torment you." He laughed, yanking at my hair.

"Doesn't mean it's okay to do this." I sighed, walking out the room.

"Alex, I'm sorry! You're so sensitive sometimes..." He muttered the last part. I turned, facing the man standing in the doorway.

"Harry, I am used to not feeling pain, but it doesn't mean I am used to the bullying." Tears pricked at my eyes as I walked into the kitchen.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Liam asked, pulling me into a hug.

"I hate this Liam. I wish it would go away!" I cried into his chest.

Okay, let me explain. I can't feel pain. I don't usually let it show, as I act hurt when tripping and such. I can feel everything a normal human being can-minus pain. I accepted myself, but now? Now I want to find a cure. I am in love with a guy who torments me. Yup, Harry Styles. He says that I am a part of the 'Payne' family, and slaps my arm because he knows it feels like a poke to me. It sucks being laughed at by him, I guess it's bullying but he jokes. Liam usually makes him stop, as for Louis, but I don't mind if he hits me, I mind when he jokes. He taunts. He torments. He makes me hate my condition. So, enough rambling about how jacked up I am and about how drop-dead gorgeous I am. Aha ha, I kid, I kid. I'm ugly.

I have hair the color of Liam's, skin the color of Liam's, except my eyes are the difference. My eyes are more of a grey color, his are light brown and kind. Just a minority. He says I remind him of Cher, but I am not pretty. At all. I don't blame Harry for not liking me. So, I am done rambling. So let's skip over breakfast too...

...NOON...

We walked out of the flat we shared, Harry trailing behind us. It was a typical London day, overcast skies, the smell of moisture in the air, cold, damp winds whipping at your face.

"What are we doing today?" I broke the silence, the only other sound was our feet on the concreat.

"How about a film?" Liam asked. I turned to Harry who appeared at my side, waiting for his answer first.

"That depends on what film." He looked back at me, and I turned to look at my shoelaces, blushing.

"Dorian Grey?" I pitched in.

"No." They replied in unision.

"How about we stay at the flat and watch re-runs of House M.D?" Harry smiled, knowing what I would reply with.

"Really? Please? You know that you love him! Hugh Laurie is DA BEST!" I begged.

"Fine." He replied, and I fist pumped. Mentally. "But only because he reminds me of you." He winked.

"But he is always in pain, he is a he, he is a doctor, he works in diagnostic medecine, he dated his female boss, and he is not seventeen." I crossed my arms, hoping I proved my point.

"Yes, but he is smart, funny, arrogant, annoying, self-cen-" I cut him off.

"Yeah. That started off nicely." I groaned.

"You forgot that you are OCD." Harry teased me.

"At least I have something normal about me." I murmered under my breath.

"But that's why we love you!" Liam chuckled, pulling me into a side-hug as we entered the coffee shop.

~~~

Wilson and Foreman jogged alongside the fence, looking for House in the burning building. Finally, you see House, walking towards the exit.

"ITS HOUSE! LEEYUM, THATS HOUSE!" I squealed, tugging on his shirt.

"I see." He chuckled.

Then the burning ceiling fell on top of him, and I burst out in tears.

"NO HE CAN. NOT. DIE!" I cried on Harry's shoulder. When I was done balling my eyes out, Wilson was speaking at House's funeral. Tears still fell from my eyes. Then he began on how big of an arse House is, and I yelled,

"SHUT UP WILSON! HE WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND! YOU EXPECTED HIM TO DO THAT AT YOUR FUNERAL?" Liam and Harry were rolling on the ground in fits of laughter, tears falling from Liam's eyes, and Harry's laughs silent, as he was laughing too hard. Then he got the text.

"NO. EFFING. WAY." I sat there, dumbfounded. HOUSE IS ALLLLIIIVE! Yup, I love this show. Sadly, this was the last episode. Forever. They got on their motercycles, and began to drive down a road, and I knew it was the ending. They were going to live the rest of Wilson's life together. Aww.

"That, that was really funny how you yelled at Dr. Wilson." Harry spoke, sitting back down on my left.

"And I thought he was your favorite character." Liam 'tsk'ed.

"House and Wilson are tied, then Chase and Cameron, then Thirteen." I clarified.

"Who?" Harry asked. We just watched every episode in the last season and he says 'who?'

"Chase, the Aussie, Cameron who used to work for House, and Thirteen. Olivia Wilde."

"Mmm. I like her." Liam smirked.

"Danielle." I said, covering it with coughs.

"Shut it. I am going to bed." He stood up and walked to his room. Alone with the guy I love? Well, this is awkward.

"What?" Harry asked. Oh, great, my infameous thinking aloud.

"What did you say?" Harry repeated.

"Alone with the show I love... This is awkward?" I asked rhetorically.

"That doesn't make sense. Don't lie, Alexia Payne." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"I'm tired. Time for bed." I rushed, getting up quickly and sprinting to my room. Already in my pjs, I sat on my bed, facepalming myself. I know what to do. You see, I make art. Not the kind of art you would expecct, yet my own form. I walked into my bathroom, sitting in the porceline tub. I removed the tile, reaching in and grabbing a razor blade from my secret stash, replacing the tile.

I let the metal glide along my wrist. All I feel is the cold of the metal, and the feeling of a finger lightly sliding horazontilly across my wrist. This, oh this is my art. The blood seeping through makes me smile, running down my arm and onto the tub, trickiling into the drain.

"Al- No. Not this again! This can't make you feel pain!" Harry groaned, grabbing the blade from my hand.

"I like the art I made." I frowned.

"This isn't art!" He argued.

"Maybe someday I can feel the physical pain again, but there is a pain I feel." I stood.

"Excuse me?" He asked, confusion clear on his face.

"Harry, I am in love with you and you don't even know it." I cried.

"Alex, no you aren't." He shook his head, helping me out of the tub. I sat down on my bed, not caring about the blood dripping onto the wooden floor.

"Yes, I am. I can't feel pain, but I can feel love." He sat down beside me, pulling me onto his lap as he hugged me. I pulled away, looking at my wrist, the blood trickiling onto his shoulder.

"I don't mind." He whispered before crashing his lips to mine.