Stupid With Love
Don't be scared, my love. I'm here.
Niall P.O.V.
Was he serious? Did he seriously just come in here and ask me for forgiveness like it was no big thing? Like it was something that I would just give him because there might be a little part of me that feels bad for him? No absolutely not. I hate him. In fact I loathe him.
I could hear faint whispers coming from outside my room, I hope its Liam finally bringing Harry to me. I placed my hands on either side of my hips and pushed myself up, only achieving minimum movement, I was still so unbelievably weak. The doctors said it was from not eating much and doing drugs over the period of time I did. My body just needs time to regenerate itself. It needs to heal. I strained to hear what was being said outside my hospital room.
“What do you want, Liam?” I heard Harry say angrily.
“I was just coming to tell you that Niall is asking for you. Geez,” Liam replied,
“Why were you with him?” Harry said, surprising me.
“I was in there trying to apologize to him. I needed him too know that I’m sorry,”
“And?” Harry said.
“And, he didn’t accept it. He hates me, Harry. And there is nothing I can do to change his mind,” Liam said, it sounding like he was going to start crying again.
“Good,” Harry said, forcefully.
“What do you mean good? This is horrible, Harry.” Liam replied, alarm in his voice.
“I mean good, you finally understand what you’ve done to an extent. You finally realise what you did, and how the actions you chose ruined not one, but many lives.” Harry said, angrily under his breath.
“I know that Harry, I feel horrible. I didn’t know how to handle the situation, and it’s bad that I chose to handle it the way I did, but you have to know I’m trying everything I can to make it right,” Liam replied, his voice catching as he finished.
“You love him, don’t you?” Harry said quietly, surprising me. No Harry, Liam does not love me. How can you say that, after all the things he did to me, to the band? How can you even think that? He hates me, just as I hate him. He just feels guilty. I wanted to get up and go out there, but I couldn’t move, I am so weak. I continued to listen.
“I always have.” I caught Liam say. “Perhaps it didn’t start off in a romantic way, but that’s what it’s ended up as, I love him Harry, and I don’t want to lose him.”
“Well that’s too bad, because I love him. And you’ve missed your chance. So just let him be. Let him be with me.” Harry said, his voice rising slightly.
“Harry, I don’t want to hurt you either. But it will come down to Niall and who he decides to be with. Because now he has two choices, I’m here and I’m not leaving ever again. So if he picks me, you have to accept that, you have to be happy for us. And if he picks you, I will do the same,” Liam said, calmly.
“Just know that I’m going to fight for him. Whatever it takes, I will fight to be with him. Because even though it’s only been for a short time, I love him. And I’m good for him. You might love him, Liam. But you are not good for him.” Harry said.
I heard footsteps coming closer to my door, so I stumped down against my pillows and pulled the blanket to my chin. Harry walked through the door looking like a god. His hair was styled into a messy quiff, my favourite black jeans with the leather knee patches hung low on his waist and the cream sweater almost engulfed his lean but strong frame.
“Hey babe,” he said, coming over to sit in the chair by my bed.
“Hey Harry,” I replied, hardly able to get the words out.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking right into my eyes.
“Better today, but still weak,” I replied, with a half-smile. He suddenly looked serious.
“Look, Niall. There is something I need to talk to you about,” he said, looking down at the mattress I was laying on. Oh no, please don’t bring up Liam, I don’t want to even think about him while you’re here. While I have you. I don’t want Harry to know that I had been listening in and heard everything. “Ah, the doctors have been talking about some form of rehab for you,” he finished.
Wait, what!?
“What are you talking about Harry? I don’t need rehab. What do they mean? Are they going to try and send me away? I don’t want to leave Harry. I don’t want to leave you.” I yelled, grabbing onto his shirt, like some child begging his mother for sweets.
“Whoa, no one is sending you away Niall,” he said, wrapping his arms around my frail frame and hugging me to him. “They have some options for you; the doctor will be in to explain them to you soon. And you get to pick one.”
“But I don’t want to go to rehab,” I said, embarrassed now that I was sobbing into his chest.
“I know, Niall. But I think you need to go. I mean, you did try to kill yourself, and you need help, help that I can’t give to you. And I am so sorry about that. And I will be there every step of the way to help you win this fight. But you need this,” he said. He was right; I did need to do this. But that doesn’t mean that I want to. Rehab sounds horrible.
We stayed clutching each other for a while longer, until the doctor came in and gave me my options.
Option 1: Be taken to a rehabilitation centre, and not able to see any friends or family, until I have been deemed cured but the psychiatrists that work there. This could be months. But the patients say it is extremely beneficial at the end. This option was recommended strongly for me, because my ‘support team’ was the ones who drove me to suicide.
Be away from Harry for months, I don’t think so.
Option 2: Is able to go home in two days. The conditions; see a counsellor twice a week until he deems me out of the suicidal zone, take antidepressants, has to be living with someone, needs a support system at home (friends and/or family), no high stress or touring for one month, quit smoking and NO DRUGS.
I chose option two, and was told I would be released in two days, after which I would have to return a week later to get my stiches removed, and for a routine check-up. Harry was thrilled as he jumped out of his chair and hugged the doctor, before she quickly excused herself from the room.
“This is amazing, Niall. Aren’t you excited?” he turned round to me, his smile fading when he saw the look of distress on my face. “What’s wrong, Niall? This is good news, isn’t it?” he asked, smile fading.
I looked at him a moment, letting a smile spread across my face and said “of course I’m excited. I get to go home, Harry. This calls for a celebration.”
Harry smiled and raced over to me, hugging me until I hurt. And I smiled back, and cheered as well as I could. Harry raced out of the room; I assumed he was going to tell the others. I lay back against my pillows, pushing the drugs button until I felt like I was floating.
I didn’t want to tell him that I was afraid to go home.
Was he serious? Did he seriously just come in here and ask me for forgiveness like it was no big thing? Like it was something that I would just give him because there might be a little part of me that feels bad for him? No absolutely not. I hate him. In fact I loathe him.
I could hear faint whispers coming from outside my room, I hope its Liam finally bringing Harry to me. I placed my hands on either side of my hips and pushed myself up, only achieving minimum movement, I was still so unbelievably weak. The doctors said it was from not eating much and doing drugs over the period of time I did. My body just needs time to regenerate itself. It needs to heal. I strained to hear what was being said outside my hospital room.
“What do you want, Liam?” I heard Harry say angrily.
“I was just coming to tell you that Niall is asking for you. Geez,” Liam replied,
“Why were you with him?” Harry said, surprising me.
“I was in there trying to apologize to him. I needed him too know that I’m sorry,”
“And?” Harry said.
“And, he didn’t accept it. He hates me, Harry. And there is nothing I can do to change his mind,” Liam said, it sounding like he was going to start crying again.
“Good,” Harry said, forcefully.
“What do you mean good? This is horrible, Harry.” Liam replied, alarm in his voice.
“I mean good, you finally understand what you’ve done to an extent. You finally realise what you did, and how the actions you chose ruined not one, but many lives.” Harry said, angrily under his breath.
“I know that Harry, I feel horrible. I didn’t know how to handle the situation, and it’s bad that I chose to handle it the way I did, but you have to know I’m trying everything I can to make it right,” Liam replied, his voice catching as he finished.
“You love him, don’t you?” Harry said quietly, surprising me. No Harry, Liam does not love me. How can you say that, after all the things he did to me, to the band? How can you even think that? He hates me, just as I hate him. He just feels guilty. I wanted to get up and go out there, but I couldn’t move, I am so weak. I continued to listen.
“I always have.” I caught Liam say. “Perhaps it didn’t start off in a romantic way, but that’s what it’s ended up as, I love him Harry, and I don’t want to lose him.”
“Well that’s too bad, because I love him. And you’ve missed your chance. So just let him be. Let him be with me.” Harry said, his voice rising slightly.
“Harry, I don’t want to hurt you either. But it will come down to Niall and who he decides to be with. Because now he has two choices, I’m here and I’m not leaving ever again. So if he picks me, you have to accept that, you have to be happy for us. And if he picks you, I will do the same,” Liam said, calmly.
“Just know that I’m going to fight for him. Whatever it takes, I will fight to be with him. Because even though it’s only been for a short time, I love him. And I’m good for him. You might love him, Liam. But you are not good for him.” Harry said.
I heard footsteps coming closer to my door, so I stumped down against my pillows and pulled the blanket to my chin. Harry walked through the door looking like a god. His hair was styled into a messy quiff, my favourite black jeans with the leather knee patches hung low on his waist and the cream sweater almost engulfed his lean but strong frame.
“Hey babe,” he said, coming over to sit in the chair by my bed.
“Hey Harry,” I replied, hardly able to get the words out.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking right into my eyes.
“Better today, but still weak,” I replied, with a half-smile. He suddenly looked serious.
“Look, Niall. There is something I need to talk to you about,” he said, looking down at the mattress I was laying on. Oh no, please don’t bring up Liam, I don’t want to even think about him while you’re here. While I have you. I don’t want Harry to know that I had been listening in and heard everything. “Ah, the doctors have been talking about some form of rehab for you,” he finished.
Wait, what!?
“What are you talking about Harry? I don’t need rehab. What do they mean? Are they going to try and send me away? I don’t want to leave Harry. I don’t want to leave you.” I yelled, grabbing onto his shirt, like some child begging his mother for sweets.
“Whoa, no one is sending you away Niall,” he said, wrapping his arms around my frail frame and hugging me to him. “They have some options for you; the doctor will be in to explain them to you soon. And you get to pick one.”
“But I don’t want to go to rehab,” I said, embarrassed now that I was sobbing into his chest.
“I know, Niall. But I think you need to go. I mean, you did try to kill yourself, and you need help, help that I can’t give to you. And I am so sorry about that. And I will be there every step of the way to help you win this fight. But you need this,” he said. He was right; I did need to do this. But that doesn’t mean that I want to. Rehab sounds horrible.
We stayed clutching each other for a while longer, until the doctor came in and gave me my options.
Option 1: Be taken to a rehabilitation centre, and not able to see any friends or family, until I have been deemed cured but the psychiatrists that work there. This could be months. But the patients say it is extremely beneficial at the end. This option was recommended strongly for me, because my ‘support team’ was the ones who drove me to suicide.
Be away from Harry for months, I don’t think so.
Option 2: Is able to go home in two days. The conditions; see a counsellor twice a week until he deems me out of the suicidal zone, take antidepressants, has to be living with someone, needs a support system at home (friends and/or family), no high stress or touring for one month, quit smoking and NO DRUGS.
I chose option two, and was told I would be released in two days, after which I would have to return a week later to get my stiches removed, and for a routine check-up. Harry was thrilled as he jumped out of his chair and hugged the doctor, before she quickly excused herself from the room.
“This is amazing, Niall. Aren’t you excited?” he turned round to me, his smile fading when he saw the look of distress on my face. “What’s wrong, Niall? This is good news, isn’t it?” he asked, smile fading.
I looked at him a moment, letting a smile spread across my face and said “of course I’m excited. I get to go home, Harry. This calls for a celebration.”
Harry smiled and raced over to me, hugging me until I hurt. And I smiled back, and cheered as well as I could. Harry raced out of the room; I assumed he was going to tell the others. I lay back against my pillows, pushing the drugs button until I felt like I was floating.
I didn’t want to tell him that I was afraid to go home.
@Liam_is_HOT
Both narry and niam, I tend to lean a bit more towards narry though.
1/7/15