***Harry Styles***
Tuesday, March 27th, 2012 – North London, England

“He’ll never forgive me,” I was saying to Niall and Liam as we sat down on the couch after Zayn had followed Louis upstairs. “I accused him of not caring about me, about us, and I’ve been the one this whole time unable to accept us enough to go public with it.”

“Harry, you’re forgetting we’re talking about Louis,” Niall said.

“Yeah, if he hasn’t already forgiven you, give it about five more minutes,” Liam said. I shook my head.

“I think it’s worse this time,” I muttered.

“I think the two of you need to talk,” Liam told me.

“I don’t deserve for him to talk to me,” I said.

“Stop it, Harry,” Niall said, in a more authoritative voice than I’d ever heard come out of that sweet kid’s mouth. “Thinking like that is probably what’s made you get so low in the first place. I hate seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, Harry, we gotta talk about this,” Liam said, and I knew he was referring to the cutting.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I have it under control.”

“Really?” Liam questioned. “Because you’ve been bleeding through for the past five minutes.” I looked down. Sure enough, the top of my gray pants was dark red with the blood seeping through.

“Damn it,” I said, then stood up to go get some gauze from the bathroom. I pressed it on my cuts and taped it down, then walked out of the bathroom, where I almost ran right into Louis, who had come out of his room with Zayn. I looked at Louis. His face was tear stained and his eyes were red.

“You two have a lot to talk about,” Zayn said, “so we’re gonna go. Call us if you need us, and check in later so we know how you’re doing.” Louis and I both nodded, having a hard time taking our eyes off each other, and then Zayn went down the stairs and we heard them walk out the front door.

“I’m sorry,” Louis and I both said to each other at the same exact time. Then we grabbed each other and held on tight, crying into each other’s arms.

“I’m so sorry!” Louis exclaimed through sobs.

“Me, too,” I choked out.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever,” he admitted, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Me, neither,” I said.

“Come on,” Louis took my hand and pulled me into his room. We sat down on his bed, his hands firmly in mine. “Let’s just – let’s just talk this out, and no one leaves the room until we’ve fixed it, okay?” I nodded. I loved knowing he was just as scared to lose me as I was to lose him. “Harry, I – I messed up. You needed me, and I – I just blew you off because I was too selfish to put your feelings first. What kind of boyfriend does tha – no, what kind of person does that? Harry, I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay, Lou, I get it,” I told him. And I did. “I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me after what I’d said during our fight either.”

“But I had promised you I would be there, no matter what!” Louis stood up, angry with himself. “I told you that you could come to me, even if we’d just had a fight, and then you did and I – I just ignored you, and – and let you go!” he covered his face with his hands, crying.

“Lou,” I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder, facing him. “It’s okay,” I emphasized.

“No, it’s not,” he shook his head. “Now Zayn says you – you’re addicted to cutting? Harry, I broke you!” Louis lost his balance, and I grabbed him and held him up.

“No, you didn’t,” I told him. “I was broken long before we even met.”

“Then why can’t I fix you!” he continued. “I’m supposed to be building you up but all I do is tear you down!”

“Louis,” I gasped. “That is not true, not at all. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I mean that with every ounce of my being.”

“Then why are you still cutting?” he asked, desperation in his voice.

“Like I said, Lou, it’s an addiction, I don’t know how to – I can’t stop.” I looked into his eyes, pleading with them, begging for him to tell me how to stop. He swallowed hard, understanding.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised me. “Together, and with the guys, we’re gonna make it go away, Harry, I promise you that, and I will never go back on a promise to you ever again, I’m so sorry!” he repeated. I hugged him.

“Shh,” I said, stroking his hair. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“It’s my fault that you keep cutting!”

“No, it’s not,” I told him. “It’s my fault. I’ll always be able to find something to be upset about, Lou, I’m – I’m just not happy. There will always be something for me to be negative about; if anything you’ve kept me from doing it a hell of a lot more.” Louis looked up at me, surprised.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” I nodded. “And still there I was, accusing you of not caring about me, Lou, of course I know you care, I don’t know where that came from, I’m so sorry.” Now it was my turn to break down.

“I know,” he soothed. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.”

“How are we going to fix this?” I asked him.

“Harry, I just need for you to be okay,” he told me.

“As long as we’re okay, I’ll be okay,” I said, looking in his eyes.

“I’m not letting you go, not that easily, not ever,” Louis reassured me. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re okay, I just, I’m so mad at myself.” And then I realized how we could get through this.

“Lou,” I said, placing my hands on the tops of his shoulders and staring into his eyes. “Even though you didn’t do anything wrong, I forgive you,” I emphasized those last three words, hoping it would at least help him to forgive himself. He caught on and nodded.

“I forgive you, too,” he said, sincerely, and I did feel some relief. Then he grabbed my face and kissed my lips with all his might, and my heart began to piece itself back together.