Sometimes, it's just not worth it.

Part Three

“I’ve asked Eleanor to marry me.”

That one sentence. Those six stupid words. They’re what drove me to this; sitting on the bathroom floor with my razor and salty tears running down my cheeks. I didn’t give a shit anymore. My left wrist had six slashes (one for each word) and my thighs had three each. I couldn’t help it, I had finally let my guard down and cut my wrists. It wouldn’t matter anyway, all my suffering will be over in a few days.

I hadn’t said anything to Louis or Eleanor, I just nodded and ran upstairs and now here I am. I was slightly disappointed that Louis didn’t come to find me, but I soon forgot about that. I stood up, cleaning up my cuts and looked up, seeing my sad reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy and my cheeks were flushed red. I was so angry with myself.

The next day, I force myself downstairs; arms covered, to find no Eleanor, but a tired looking Louis leaning against the island counter in the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of what I presumed was Yorkshire tea - two lumps of sugar and a dash of milk. His fingers were tapping against the mug as he stared at the floor with a look of concentration on his face. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his teeth were digging into his bottom lip. I shuffled into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of English breakfast. I leant on the cupboard, slowly sipping on my hot drink and waited for Louis to speak.

“Haz?” I hummed in response, letting him know I was listening. “Are you happy?” His voice was soft, almost in a whisper. I looked up in confusion. His eyes were swimming with worry and I just didn’t know how to respond. I look back down at the floor, thinking.

Am I happy? That’s such a difficult question to answer. I usually say yes, because I’ve got a loving family, I have friends and my life could be worse. But then at 3 in the morning, when I’m suddenly crying and convincing myself that no one likes me, or ever will like me; I feel terrible and I question everything I had. And then I don’t know if I was ever happy at all.

“Of course I am Lou.” My answer is weak, and I just know he doesn’t believe me. I don’t look up at him but I hear him sigh and put down his mug. My vision of the floor is suddenly obstructed by a pair of red and white stripped TOMs. His put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up. My eyes meet his and my breath hitches. He has unshed tears in his eyes and I can’t, for the love of god, figure out why he’s the upset one.

“Then why are you being so distant to everyone? Including me? Just tell me the truth Harry.” The truth? Okay. I like you. A lot. You make me happy, you make me laugh. You’re different, a little crazy, and awkward. But most of all your smile alone can make my day.

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression but I’m happy.” I bite back the ‘Promise’ because I can’t promise something like that. Definitely not to Lou. I hear him sigh again, but this one is kind of in relief.

“Good, because I just want you to be happy. Now, I need your help picking out a tux. Eleanor and I have decided a date for the wedding and its December 9th.” My reaction is slow. I’m nodding when I realise what he’s just said. December 9th. That’s less than two months away. Oh for fuck’s sake.