"Harry?"

"Hi." Harry looked up, shutting his journal.

"Hello. Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

"Can I have your phone number or something for when you leave?"

"Oh, um yeah. You can...but I don't, I don't really use my phone or anything much. So, yeah, but yeah..." He mumbled, twirling the pen in his ring-clad hand.

"I don't mind. I just don't wanna lose contact with you completely."

"Okay, yeah. Um, do you want me to put it into your phone?" Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek, placing his journal on the table in front of him.

"Yeah." Louis pulled his phone out of his back pocket, handing it to Harry who typed his number in, with as his name. "That's boring."

"You can rename me as you please. I was just giving you a starter."

Louis hummed, immediately renaming Harry to .

"Best I can think of for now."

"Why Curly?"

"Why do you think, Curly? Because of your curls obviously." Louis moved forwards, ruffling Harry's hair.

Harry blushed a little, looking down to avoid Louis's eyes. "I like my hair." He said shyly.

"I like your hair too"

"Thank you." His cheeks flushed darker and he continued to play with the pen and his rings.

//

Harry wasn't seen much that day. Come to think of it, Harry had been distant most of that week. He had been sat in his room or sat in the garden, just painting and writing.

He still sat with Louis for meals, but his replies grew shorter and shorter and Louis wasn't quite sure what was going on.

"H, what's wrong?" Louis finally sighed during dinner that night.

"Nothing." Harry answered shortly, looking down to his plate and pushing his food around.

"Something's going on."

"It's nothing Louis, leave it." His voice became snappy and he immediately looked up with softer, apologetic eyes.

"Okay." Louis nodded, "just, if you change your mind please talk to me about it. I'm here for you."

Harry gave him a curt nod, before standing up, "I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Oh." Louis frowned, "okay. Do you want to take your food up with you?"

"No." He shook his head, picking up the plate and moving in the direction of the kitchen.

"I can do that."

"I'll do it."

"Alright. Um, yeah. Okay." There was definitely something up, and Louis was incredibly concerned.

Harry was pushing Louis away, and he seemed frightened. Louis wanted to know why.

After finishing his meal he began to tidy up the kitchen, thinking about why Harry could be so upset. The only reason he could think of was that Harry was scared to go home. He didn't have fond memories, and if Louis were in his position he was sure he wouldn't be able to muster up the courage to leave.

Louis eventually ran out of things to tidy, and so he settled down on the sofa, turning the TV on.

Harry remained in his room, just staring at the wall. He had finished his painting, and he had finished his letter, and now he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

He was trying not to cry, desperately trying not to cry but there was a lump in his throat and a knot in his stomach. Everything was overwhelming him and as much as he didn't want to go back to his old ways he felt the urge.

He dug his nails into his thighs, sighing at the feeling of release and before he knew it he was sat on the bathroom floor with a blade in his hand.

With shaking hands he lowered it to his bare thigh, slashing the sharp metal against his skin. Immediately he felt a release, a release he hadn't felt in a long time and he pressed his lips together to stop the sobs escaping.

All at once he felt overwhelmed and free so he kept cutting his thighs, sometimes overlapping with the cuts from his past.

His thigh turned scarlet and he eventually stood up, though his legs were trembling. He rinsed off the blade and stepped into the shower, washing away the blood and tears and wincing at the sting of the water against the cuts.

But it was a good sting. It felt good. Good and familiar.

He turned the water off a few minutes later, drying himself off before pulling on his clothes- except his trousers- and limping out to the bedroom.

He rummaged through his bag, finding what he was looking for and taking out the bandages. Carefully he wrapped up his leg, pulling on some loose trousers afterwards. He had forgotten how empty this made his body feel. As if every single ounce of blood had poured out.

Of course he knew that was silly- his leg still looked a normal colour at least. Looking down one more time at the now clothed thigh he pulled a hoodie on, putting the hood up before ambling downstairs.

Silently he entered the living room and sat next to Louis on the sofa. Louis glanced at him but left the TV playing. The cats were curled up on Louis's lap but Caspian stood up and jumped onto Harry's instead. As soon as Caspian came into contact with Harry's leg Harry yelped, flinching slightly. He immediately stroked the cat's head, making sure he hadn't upset him before looking towards Louis.

Louis was staring back at him, puzzled blue eyes and knitted brows. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. He just dug his claws into me." Harry croaked, "took me by surprise, that's all."

"Don't surprise Harry again Casp." Louis waggled a finger at the cat with a stern voice and it was enough to make Harry crack a small smile.

"What are you watching?"

"Criminal Minds."

"D'you mind if I sit with you for a while?" Harry asked timidly.

"Of course not." Louis smiled warmly, and went on to explain what had happened so far in that episode.

Harry sat, quite contently, for the rest of the evening. A cat on his lap and a cat on Louis's, both the cats and the boys watching the TV with large unblinking eyes- except for when Louis would glance at Harry for a second or two.