You Have Me

Have you ever been in one of those moods where you just want to grab everything and rip it from the walls and break everything because you feel broken and you want to scream and kick and cry because nothing feels right and it's all wrong and you don't feel right and.... I don't know anymore. I don't know what's right, or what's wrong. I can't explain my reasons for trusting Harry and the guys over my family. How was it possible that my father thought so low of me. But still expected me to stay? I feel like complete crap because even though I know what my dad said was wrong, I know that by this time next year he won't be here anymore. And I don't know if I could live with myself, knowing that the last time I saw my father I had ran out. But at the same time I don't know if I could bring myself to forget everything that was said about Harry.

Oh Harry.

He has been clinging to me ever since we got back three days ago. Of course I wasn't making it any easier. I had shut myself down. With everything that had happened I was surprised I haven't flung myself from the balcony. I appreciated Harry and the boys wanting to try and cheer me up, but I think I was a lost cost. So with them gone for a writing session or something (I'm not sure. I try and stay away from the band's business) I managed to convince Paul into letting my use the band's gym. I mentally praise myself as soon as I manage to find a way to burn off the energy (and it's not really energy, but if I don't release whatever it is soon I think I'll just end it all by jumping off of a building) I have buzzing through me. I work my body long and hard, pushing myself to my limits and fuck. I know I'm going to regret this tomorrow and I'm going to want to chop off my legs but I can't seem to stop. I have so many feelings running through me that there's a good chance I'm worse than a ticking time bomb.

I couldn't convince Paul to leave me alone down here. Every time I argued saying I was a big girl he just rolled his eyes and starting saying that if Harry found out he had left me alone in my condition (and really? that's offensive. My condition? What the hell) he'd rip his head off and send it to his wife. And right now-with the way I'm feeling-I'll be the one ripping heads off. But I won't send them out. That's Inhumane.

Paul's standing by the corner eyeing me curiously. His mouth is set in a frown and his arms are across his chest. But right now it's so easy to ignore him, that I do. I keep my gaze forward and keep the treadmill going on. And when this isn't enough I turn it up a level pushing myself into an early death.
I can ignore my guilt and all these shitty feelings. I can do this. I can do better.
When Paul walks towards me and moves to stop the tread mill I merely push his hand away and ignore the conversation buzzing around me. It hasn't been that long. And if I'm still feeling the same, I can go further.

Another hand reaches out and I'm about to bat it away; because why won't they let me run? Why won't they let me try and feel better? when I glance down and notice the familiar anchor tattoo on their wrist.
"Time to stop, Beth. Okay?" Harry says softly, and by now I'm resigned to anything that I don't fight it when Harry lowers the treadmill level until I'm walking briskly, and my body begins to cool itself.

He helps me off and tugs me gently outside of the work out area like a child. We keep walking until we reach our familiar hotel room. He disappears into the bathroom and I can hear the shower start up. Harry comes back out and takes my hand leading me inside and then walking out. It's warm and steaming and I wish I could stay here forever. I finally strip and step into the shower. I let out a small hiss when the warm spray hits my tired body. Everything is just going wrong. I'm wrong and a mess. I'm just a liability for Harry and I'm not good enough because I'm not like Lilly. If this is how my life was before my accident (and I still don't know what kind of accident I had) then do I really want to remember?

No. God-fucking no.

I pressed my forehead against the black tiles and I let the water hit me without mercy. I hate this. I fucking hate this. I don't know how or when my life got so messed up but I'm about to break. I feel so alone (despite Harry being glued to my side) and it's not that I need someone. Well I do. But I know that no one outside understands how confused I feel. And I couldn't be mad at them, just because they weren't as unlucky as I was.

There was a quiet knock on the door. " Sweetheart? Are you finished?" And oh. Harry. I fight long enough to wash my body and shampoo my hair. And with all the reluctance in the world I turn off the shower and begin drying myself with a random towel. And okay. Okay I can hold on. I can get through this. "Beth? I'm coming in." Harry says and before he can I throw the towel on the floor and wrap a pink silk robe around me instead. Um, okay. The robe is nice. I walk out and stumble right into his chest. Well. Shit. Harry takes a moment to appreciate my lack of clothing and okay, Harry now is not the time. But the attention is appreciated and I'm cool. Yeah this is totally cool.

I'm totally cool.

Harry clears his throat, an adorable blush on his cheeks. I roll my eyes and tug him into a hug and kiss his ear. "Idiot." That's all it takes for Harry to smile and release all the tension and worry (I'm assuming he's worried) in his body. Soon he's laughing softly and pulling me towards our bed. And yes, our bed looks so comfy and warm and it's surrounded by pillows. He gently stops me and motions for me to wait as he sits on the bed. His back resting against the headboard. He holds his hand out with a cheeky grin. My eyes roll again-and I really should get dressed first-but Harry's there laying down and oh, fuck clothes. I grab his hand and let him guid me down to sit in between his thighs.

"Tired?" Harry asks, dropping a kiss on my shoulder. And oh, fuck. I am. I nod wearily. "You've been distant." He accuses his voice staying natural and oh. Okay. It's not really me being distant, I'd call it distracted.

"Not distant. I'm distracted." I say a little sheepishly. I'm sorry but I'm also kinda not sorry, because at least this way Harry won't have to deal with my mood swings. Harry begins to rub his hands up and down on my thighs and if he'd like for me to stay awake he should probably stop that.

"I think you need let go." Harry finally says.

I'd like to deny it. I'd like to say it wasn't true. But I can't. So instead I just shrug a little. "Maybe." I manage. But it's not very clear because having Harry's hands on my thighs is so soothing. It takes me a few minuets to realize that I'm mimicking his actions by running my fingers up and down his arms. "But not right now." I say quietly as my eyes close. Harry's hands massaging gently and I know I should get up and put on some actual clothes but I just don't have the energy. But Harry hasn't moved away or complained and I decide the forgoing clothes right now is okay because this feels nice and it feels natural. Two feelings that I appreciate more than anything, especially when I can't remember shit.

I honestly don't know how long we stay like this. Our hands idly rubbing and soothing each other before there's a knock on the door and we both freeze my eyes shooting open.

"Harry? Is Beth in there?" Louis's voice calls through and I think I can hear his worry through his words. It has me closing my eyes and trying not to notice.

"Yeah," Harry calls back after a second. And he makes no move to stand and open the door. Thank god. "But she's busy."

There's a pause. "Gross. I just wanted to see if she was feeling better. But that can wait until you're both, less gross," Louis says in a teasing voice but I can still here his worry. "See you at breakfast?"

"Yeah," Harry calls out and we hear Louis moving away.

As silence fills the room, I'm very aware that I am indeed naked and slightly damp. And if I were alone I wouldn't mind sleeping like this, but with Harry here. That probably won't work. As if Harry has become aware at the same time, his arm slowly wraps around my barley clothed stomach. He squeezes gently in a sort of back hug. His hand keeps moving until I'm tightly pressed against his front.

"I need to get dressed," I say quietly and so immensely grateful that my voice stays steady.

"Yeah. You need to rest after the six marathons you ran today." Harry says as his thumb strokes my middle. "Don't do that again, okay? Rather have you throw stuff." I chuckle against him and nod mutely. "You'll talk to me soon, yeah?" I nod again even though I don't know if I would actually talk about this. How can I talk about something like this? He wouldn't understand. None of them would.

I get up and his arm drops. I turn to look at him still sitting on the bed as he watches me carefully. It's so strange. I don't remember Harry. I don't remember meeting him and I don't remember becoming friends with him. And it's so fucking strange that I trust him above my family. Above anyone else. I look back down and the small tattoo on my wrist catches my eye. And I know if I don't ask now I'll never get the courage to do it.

"If I ask you something, you promise to be completely honest with me?" I say and I can feel my heart beating painfully against me. And one day it's going to beat right out of my body. He nods and offers me a small smile.

"Always." He says easily.
I walked towards him and held out my wrist, with the tattoo facing up. His eyes widen like he forgot it was there. His hands grab at my wrist softly and his finger trace the lines of ink on my skin, like he's making sure they're permanent. And they are. Trust me. I've spent several minuets in the bathroom making sure.

"This," I say. My voice above a whisper. "This was because of you, wasn't it."

He places a soft kiss where the initials stood. He looked up and my eyes widen at the way his eyes were already filled with heart breaking tears. Oh, baby. No. Please, no.

"Yes."

Notes

So much yass.