You're Shit At Lying

Chapter 37 - Routine

HARRY'S POV:
This is exactly what I didn't want. Josh is treating me like a baby, hardly ever letting me out of his sight, making me eat, and just being so carefull. I really don't like this, it's such a horrible feeling. I know he is only trying to help, he really wants to, and I know that, but it isn't helping at all, it's just making everything worse.

Josh sat on the end part of the sofa, whilst I was on my phone. He kept looking over to me, obviously worried, as he now knew about the twitter thing. After a few minutes he moved onto the actual sofa, and also closer to me. It was really a uncomfortable atmosphere, like he was just watching me. Not in a creepy way, but more of a protective one, I guess. Either way, I was really not enjoying it, so I did something I hadn't done in a while. "JOSH CAN YOU LET ME FUCKING BREATHE?" I shouted as rage and fear took over me. I shouted. I actually spoke to him. Fuck, Fuck. Why did I do that?

Speech creates problems.

He looked to me confused, but he also seemed a little hurt. Instantly, a pang of regret hit me. I upset him, just because i was uncomfortable. He didn't mean any harm at all, so why did I have to make such a big deal out of it? I'm so pathetic. I snapped myself out of my thoughts, redirecting my face so I was looking at josh. "I-I'm so sorry Josh. I didn't uh-" I stuttered out, as he just looked at me and his face relaxed. He gave me eyes that said 'you don't need to be sorry' and he smiled. I smiled back, I pushed for a real genuine one but I couldn't force it out. Not without thinking about the drama I had just caused. I shouted at him for no reason. Not wanting to stay in the same room as the man I just annoyed, I walked up the stairs heading to my room, and to my surprise, josh didn't follow me. As I closed the bedroom door behind me, I let out a greatfull sigh. I could finally be alone. I loved being alone, but it wasn't a good thing for me to be, as something bad always happens, always.

I don't know what got into me after that, all I know is that I locked the door and went straight to what I needed most. What I had been craving. Routine. That's why I didn't need to think about what I was doing, because it was a routine. I've gotten so used to it that now, it's just something I do. A part of me.
It's a part of me I hate so fucking much, though I can't help but love it, so dearly.

I woke up the next morning and felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, and almost straight away, a horrible feeling in my stomach appeared. Turning over, I pushed myself up on my arms, and instantly came back down, a wince escaping through the gap between my lips. I looked towards where the itching pain had come from, and frowned. Blood stained my forearms, and cuts littered them. Deep cuts. I inhaled sharply, as I pressed down on what seemed to be the deepest one. Fuck. Any one who woke up to this would think it would be a good idea to clean themselves up right? Yep. But I'm not like everyone else, I'm stupid, so unbelievably stupid.

I walked up to the wardrobe and once again frowned as a thought came to mind. Now permanently living at the sidemen house meant that the spare room was now my room. The wardrobe, was now my wardrobe. I didn't like the idea of that, but I guess it was better than living with the Cals. I hate them, and they hate me. I pushed the thoughts out of my mind, as i threw on a black hoodie, and walked out of the- my bedroom. I was still wearing the same black sidemen tracksuit bottoms that I had been, for the past four days. As I walked into the kitchen I pulled my sleeves down further than they already were, if that were even possible, annoyed and scared. Annoyed at myself, for cutting myself somewhere so obvious, and scared, that the boys would see. I sat at the kitchen island and pulled the hood over my head, and looking down. I had definitely been crying all last night, my eyes were bloodshot red, and my face was all puffy. I anxiously played with my sleeves as I heard the boys murmuring, I ignored them. "Bog?" jumping in my seat a little bit, I looked up to see Ethan sitting opposite me, with two stacks of pancakes. He slid one over to me, and when I looked up to him, my eyes met his, and his face softened, filling with worry. "Harry?" He asked again, and I just shook my head, not wanting to even bother, looking back down to my hands.

SIMON'S POV:
As Harry walked into the kitchen I saw his face immediately, he looked as if he had been drained of life. I know it's like a metaphor or some shit, but I mean literally. He looked almost dead. Zombie like. I watched him closely as he sat on a stool, looked down to him hands. His sleeves were pulled as far as they could go, and instantly, I knew what that meant. No no no no no.

It was something I had forgotten about to be honest. Well I hadn't forgot, not at all, you can't forget something like that, but I had pushed it to the back of my mind. It was something I didn't want to think about, so I didn't. I felt idiotic, in that moment. But I also felt guilty. Very, very guilty. I didn't know who to call, so I dialled my go to. She'd know what to do.

Haven't done a long chapter in a while, so here you go. I'm going to see my family for a week so updates won't be as posted frequent as they normally are (not that they normally are but...) but yeah! I'll have no internet, but I will still be writing hopefully, so I should have lots to add once I get back :))