narry storan one shots.

every single bit.

CREDITS TO TUMBLR.

Niall walked off the set, waving and smiling at the audience and cameras despite that sinking in his stomach making him feel like he was bound to throw up or pass out at any moment. He wished that he would have just stayed at home, because now all he could think about were the people out there judging him. No doubt, he gave the wrong answer to a question (despite there being no actual right answer), and people would be talking about it, and the comments would come, and it would all turn to hate, and he could do nothing about it except pretend to ignore it and smile as if he were the happy go lucky guy that every single person out there thought him to be.

He smiled and laughed on the car ride home, and he ordered tons of food when they stopped at McDonald's just so that he could keep up appearances.

He jumped out of the car, laughed, smiled, waved goodbye, and basically skipped to his front door. Once he was in with the door shut, he quit his acting and made his way to the kitchen. He tossed the food on the table; maybe he would poke at it later. He didn't even bother to open the cabinets or fridge in search of alcohol. He knew that the large stock he once had was long gone by now and it seemed to only make the pain worse anyways, so why drown himself in it? Then again, maybe those times when he blacked out were worth it.

He made his way up to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He wished that he could stop the thoughts that invaded his mind. He wished that he had never been exposed to all the hatred that people he didn't even know felt towards him. He wished that there would be no hate, because no one deserved this pain. And sometimes, he wished that he simply wasn't there anymore.

He stood up and made his way to the bathroom and opened the bottom drawer to the far left. He pulled out the razor blade that he had placed there in a small black box some time ago, then turned around and leaned against the drawers. It had never been used. He was too scared to do it, and too scared to explain any marks left on his skin. But right then, right then he didn't care any more. He held the razor up and titled it back and forth so that the light would reflect off of the clean silver.

Sure, he wanted someone to save him from the hate and his thoughts, but he wouldn't want anyone to have to take pity on him, or worse, to be drug down with him. No, he would never wish that job on anyone, especially not his best friends, and especially not on the one person who could make him crack a small smile on his darkest days.

He let the razor dance lightly up and down his arm with an emotionless expression playing across his face. He pushed the blade to his skin with little pressure, making him feel a light pinch. He watched tiny beads of blood make their way up, but that still wasn't good enough.

He moved the blade to a new spot and applied more pressure at a faster rate. This cut was deeper, and the blood made its escape with more speed. He left two other almost identical cuts on that arm before switching to the other to leave three more similar cuts.

He let his head rest against the drawers and watched as blood dripped from his arms. At least now he could feel the pain physically and free his mind. He had just decided that he should take a nap without crying himself to sleep for once, and who better to show up in his dreams than the one person he cared for most: Harry.

But this was all wrong. Harry was yelling and crying. He shouldn't have been crying. He's too perfect and beautiful and he shouldn't have been crying, especially not in Niall's dream. He felt his shoulders shake, and then banging, and then there was pressure on his wrists. He became more awake or maybe the dream had just gotten more vivid because Harry was clearer, and he felt Harry holding him while he was talking on the phone to somebody, and sobbing, and telling Niall that he loved him. Then, everything went dark

Two months later, Harry and Niall were snuggled up in Harry's bed together. Since the incident, he was forced to move in with Harry so that he could be carefully observed, but he was fine with it. He had completely opened up to Harry, and Harry had confessed his own feelings towards Niall. Now the two were in a happy, all be it secret, relationship and Niall wouldn't ever dream of trying to hurt himself again. Now people judged him for his scars, and though it did sometimes get to him in the slightest, he didn't care as much. The scars only reminded him of the opportunities that still lie ahead.

Niall jerked his arm back as a reaction to Harry absentmindedly running his thumb over Niall's scars. He pulled his sleeves down so that they covered his wrists. Harry sat up a little so that he could look Niall in the eyes. "You know I love you, right?" Niall nodded, feeling ashamed for some reason. "That means I love all of you." With that, Harry grabbed Niall's hand, pulled his sleeves up, and kissed the scars. "Every," he paused to kiss the scars on his other wrist, "single," he moved to kiss his nose and Niall made an adorable snort-giggle sound,"bit." Finally, Harry leaned down to kiss Niall's wonderful pink lips.