Broken and Bruised (One Direction Fan Fic)

Seance

-Jordan's POV-

They can't seem to agree on anything. They're all like married couples who are constantly bickering. Like they're all competing for the prize. It's pathetic and stupid. I can feel something bad hanging in the air, I think it's to do with all the fighting. I don't know but it isn't sitting well in the pit of my stomach.

Flying down the stairs, the grey Manchester clouds looming over the group, my eyes search for the people that I have accompanied to this place. There is no noise, not a sound. Which is strange considering that teenage boys are living in the premises. Wandering around the hotel, I search for a clock or anything that can tell me what time it is. Stepping into the kitchen, the clock hands tick away and they seem to be screaming because it's so silent.

11:00. It seems to be the morning so why isn't anyone up? Walking further throughout the large hotel, I enter the lounge to see Harry collapsed on the couch. He's curled up in the fetal position. Tear trails stain his cheeks. He seems to have been crying. Crouching down in front of him, I gaze over his facials. He's so vulnerable when left in this state. He clutched the thick blanket that he is hidden beneath. Falling back onto the carpeted ground, I continue to watch as Harry stirs in his sleep. His eyes flutter open and his green eyes search around the room. He sits up slowly and drags his huge hands over his face. His index finger scratches over his scalp and he lets out a deep breath.

"It's your funeral tomorrow Jordan." He whispers. "I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye."

 My heart swells at his words and an unknown feeling passes through me. This boy, this guy, a person who is a well known superstar, is being affectionate towards me unknowningly. Nobody else was like this except for Gabriel; but he's gone, just like all the rest. "We've asked your parents, Aunty and Uncle. Your cousin, your step brother. We even asked a couple of the teachers at your old high school." I'm suprised they even asked them, they all knew of my hatred towards my family. "They said they'll be there and they didn't know such a terrible thing had happened. They said that they regret treating you the way they did." Yeah, regret my arse. They wouldn't know regret if it bit them on the nose.

"Cancel the funeral Harry, they don't love me. They never loved me." I spit in disgust. They knew of everything I went through and how my family laughed in my face. How my family never did anything to help me when it was quite damn obvious that I needed help. How they didn't help me when I had a psychological problem that I obviously couldn't deal with alone. They didn't do anything.

Harry sighs deeply and pushes himself up off the couch. His footsteps echo through the quiet hotel suite and a door is clicked shut. The sound of running water rushes through my ears and I lean against the couch. Exhaling a breath, the water shuts off and silence follows. It's quiet. Too quiet.

My funeral is tomorrow. I talk to Harry and somehow he can reply to what I'm saying. My funeral is tomorrow.... Oh. My. God. Holy hell. A shiver rolls over my body and goose pimples rise up on ever surface of my skin, the tiny hairs sticking up. Holy shit. Sitting forward, my elbows resting on my knees, I take my fingers through my roots and huff out a breath.

Standing up, I circle my ankles and take a few steps forward. My shoes leave prints in the fluffy carpet and I wonder if they can see them. That would be so strange to witness to be honest.

Clasping my hands together, I exit the lounge and trail towards the hallway in order to find the people who have acquired this residence. The tiny hairs on my arms are still standing to a point and I can feel my shirt brushing over the goosebumps on my back- this isn't a good feeling at all. Sucking in a breath, I strain my ears for any movement or noise that would give away the whereabouts of everyone. Creeping down the carpeted pathway, I continue to listen carefully but it seems as if everyone is sleeping or just not moving. What if Harry is alone? What if he got his own hotel room because of the beef between him and his fellow band mates over... me.