#lhh

You had been dating Harry for just over two years now having made it through some intense highs and lows with the difficulty of media scrutiny, a constantly loaded work schedule and some intense personal issues. No matter how hard it got, you both loved each other, although it would be hard to tell with Harry sometimes. Nonetheless, you generally didn't let it get to you as he'd been with you through thick and thin, and when he did want to show his love, he really did. Recently however, you were starting to truly question his love for the first time.

His change in attitude was easily understood. Being on tour was a stressful time. He hardly had time for himself, let alone you, so you found it hard to argue when he aggressively shouted at or blatantly ignored you. But as the tour went on his attitude got worse, culminating in some intense fights between you two - mostly fuelled by alcohol and pure exhaustion.

After some months of this treatment, sluggishly travelling from hotel to hotel, spending most of your time locked up inside - unable to go out and explore without security presence due to the vulturous paparazzi - you finally slipped up.

A crew member for one of the many stadiums; a face that you would've otherwise completely forgotten in amongst the hundreds of people you interacted with daily, noticed your downtrodden expression and recognised the needy look in your eyes. In a transaction so swift that seemingly not a single other person noticed, you gained a pot of pills - alprazolam or otherwise known as Xanax. A benzodiazepine mostly used to treat anxiety; when abused a tool to numb the body and mind, erase memories and remove worries.

You'd had an issue with drugs in the past, the years before you were with Harry being spent in a haze of violent relationships and destructive highs, and this was something Harry very much knew about. Still now any movement too sudden would sometimes have you jumping backwards, much to the heartbreak of your closest friends. Certain triggers would make you go silent for hours and when the nights got particularly wild and substances came into play, Harry would keep a very keen eye on you. He would make sure any uppers were being taken in moderation and any downers were far out of your way. Some might say he could be overly protective or even quite controlling when he wanted to be, but you loved him too much to agree with that out loud.

As soon as you got the pot of Xanax though, your two year clean streak meant nothing to you, nor did the thought of Harry's reaction if he found out. You quickly popped two pills and hid the pot in your bag, feeling some relief from your self hatred almost instantly.

When the show finally finished and Harry rushed straight past you into the black tinted sprinter van, the pang of rejection in your gut did not ache as bad as it usually did. You slowly stepped into the second van reserved for unwanted managers and girlfriends with nothing to say. Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, concerned by your lack of conversation, but decided against it, leaving the ride in silence.

Back at the hotel things weren't much more lively. Despite having a huge suite to themselves, fitted with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, stocked mini fridges and comfortable living spaces (as was the case for most the hotels they stayed in), the boys retreated back to their own rooms and passed out - completely exhausted. You quietly slinked into your bed beside Harry, unable to control the butterflies in your stomach every time you looked at him, and pressed your skin to his in an attempt to initiate a cuddle. His hot torso felt like sweet, intoxicating caramel and you were desperate to dive into it, loosely wrapping an arm around him. Harry didn't react, though you knew he was still awake, and so you retracted your arm and curled up on the far side of the bed, holding yourself until you fell asleep.

Most nights went like this, except now that you had your pills and were quickly increasing the dosage, the heartbreak was easier to manage. Not all nights had been loveless. There were plenty of times when Harry would take you out or just order food in. He would pull you into his arms and kiss you passionately - like he couldn't breathe without you. He would speak sweet romances in your ear and fuck you all night long. But they were becoming few and far between and like the pills, just left you wanting for more,

It was a month after you'd gotten that initial pot that Harry noticed anything. You were sat in the back of a fancy restaurant; gilded chairs in a private section far out of the public's view. The night had been nice so far; talking and laughing in the way you craved so desperately, his hand always intertwined with yours or securely on the dip of your back. To truly compliment the night, you were also wearing one of Harry's favourite dresses, a black slim fitting silky one that defined your curves just enough to leave some imagination, and his eyes wouldn't stray from it.

After you'd both finished the main course and had a few more glasses of wine, the conversation started to go awry.

"Your strap keeps slipping down, it never used to do that." Harry leant across the table with a smile and repositioned it before you could. "Have you lost weight?"

"I don't know. Maybe." You answered. "You definitely have."

"You recon? I don't see it."

You almost blurted out "Well that's because only one of us pays attention!" but quickly bit your tongue, taking another gulp from your glass. The awkward swallow and forced silence didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who was intensely watching your every move - having had a gut feeling that something was wrong all day.

"What did you stop yourself from saying then?" He questioned, a teasing smirk on his lips that hid his real concern. Even when drunk he knew how to fluster you.

You giggled, knowing that saying "nothing" wasn't an option, and thought of what to say. The alcohol was affecting you more than it would usually, thanks to the pills - which was something you hadn't considered until you started drinking - and that last sip felt as if it had already hit you.

"I-I was just gonna say well you look good either way."

Harry replied quickly, his face going from considerate to unimpressed in one blurry blink. "I don't believe you." He said, sinking your stomach.

You looked anywhere but his face, fearful that it was within your eyes that he saw the truth, and let out a nervous laugh.

"Why not? You know that you're fine. I don't need to say it."

His unimpressed stare continued on silently, examining you as you started to ramble in a desperate attempt to explain yourself.

"Okay s-so I was going to say you don't pay enough attention to me to know if I've l-lost weight or not. But I know you're busy and it's not your fault! I shouldn't have even thought that." You uncomfortably stumbled on your words, slurring on some, regaining some eye contact again.

Even after years of being together, it always surprised Harry just how much you could make yourself panic, but this was different. Despite your clearly anxious tone and words, your body was strangely relaxed, hands hardly moving and back still leant into the cushion of the chair.

"And I do think you look good! That wasn't a lie. You look good either way-"

"Look at me, Y/N." He interrupted you, his tone soft but laced with clear authority.

You mentally protested but instantly complied, peering up at him through your thick lashes with confusion as you started to speak again.

"Are you annoyed at me now? I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so needy. I-"

"You've taken something. Haven't you?"

And with those words the true panic set in, your body finally reacting as it should've been, shoulders tense and back straight. Harry's straight face gave little clue as to what your response should be, but it was clear that there was no point in denying. He knew.

You took a sharp intake of breath and swallowed, eyes once again darting around the room before settling back in the familiar green of his.

"Just a few anti anxiety pills. Nothing major. I shouldn't have mixed them with alcohol."

"Right. Some benzos you got off a street dealer I'm guessing. Do you want to show me these pills?" Harry spoke bluntly, his assertiveness clear.

"They're real- they're not pressed- they're- they're back at the hotel." You tried to sound confident but just stumbled on your words.

"I suppose you won't mind me looking in your bag then." He grabbed your handbag from under the table before you could, earning a gasp from you as you felt your world start to crumble.

Harry scoffed as he pulled out the pot and read the label; an obviously fake prescription sticker taped lazily around the side; reading a strangers name along with the medication and dosage.

"Wow, Y/N. Are you fucking serious?" His eyes went wide and his voice came out as an angry hiss "How long have you been on this shit? You've not taken anything else - have you?"

You shrank backwards again, your face going pink as you mumbled "No... and just a month."

Harry twisted open the cap and looked inside. "And there's four pills left. You're telling me you've taken almost all of these in a month?"

"H-Harry, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?"

"I mean n-no one has noticed so it's obviously not that bad. I've just been feeling a little anxious."

"That's two years clean flushed down the toilet. You do realise that right? All that therapy and rehab down the drain."

You sat up straight again, attempting to defend yourself though your slurring voice did you no favours.

"It's not down the drain. This isn't a relapse- this isn't... hard drugs. I'm still good. I'll just stop taking the pills when the tour ends. I'm literally fine Harry. Please don't be like this."

He scoffed again, radiating with angry disapproval.

"Like what? Like a concerned boyfriend? Do you even know what's in these? You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"No I'm not. It's not like it was before, they're not even strong-"

"Well I'll take a few right now then."

As he shook a pill into his hand you quickly exclaimed "Stop! You won't get up for practice tomorrow!" knowing as you said it that you were proving his point but being unable to bear the guilt of affecting his career.

"You're not taking anymore, I'm gonna get rid of them." He scoffed.

"No. I'm an adult and they're mine." You reached across the table but quickly stopped yourself upon remembering Harry's thunderous glare, retracting your arm back with a huff and instead grabbing your glass of wine.

Before you could bring it to your lips though, Harry's hand was on your arm, holding it back.

"Stop. You're a fucking mess already."

You heard disgust in his tone and it instantly made you feel ten times worse than you already did. Embarrassed that you'd been caught out by your boyfriend and even more so that he was angry about it. It plunged you into a numb silence that was only broken once in the taxi back to the hotel, though only briefly.

"I can't bloody believe you, Y/N."

"I'm sorry."

"No. I can't bloody believe the way you lied to my face."

"I said I'm sorry Harry."

He sighed, turning to look at you sadly. It hurt him how much he loved you. The tour hadn't been too good on his mental state either.

"I know you are." He moved a hand across the seats to stroke yours but stopped himself, folding his arms across his chest bitterly. He couldn't let himself feel bad for you, no, you'd done this to yourself, you should be treated accordingly.

"I just wish you were around more." You sighed "It feels like you don't like me."

Harry just tutted and rolled his eyes at that.

Once back at the hotel, you went straight to your bedroom, desperate to cry alone in the shower, whilst Harry swaggered into the kitchen. Louis and Zayn were sat in there already, drinking from an assortment of bottles, and Harry was quick to join them. Neither of the boys asked him what had happened between you two, knowing better than to set him off when he was drunk - especially off about you. But after an hour of drinking, his brain still couldn't drop it - instead the rage had been festering.

"You know.. Y/N has really pissed me off today." He slurred, catching a confused frown from Louis and an eye roll from Zayn.

"Let me guess. It's over something completely fucking ridiculous and you'll make up in the morning anyway." Zayn stated matter-of-factly, though his tone was laced with a drunken taunt.

"No, dickhead. She's been taking some fake fucking Xanax, God knows where she got them, lying to my face about it." Harry scowled. "And then she had the nerve to claim that this isn't a relapse. Like it's so much better just because she's not shooting it into her arms-"

"Is she alright?" Louis cut him off, genuinely concerned whilst Zayn casually responded "And you're surprised?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked Zayn accusingly, his mind suddenly racing with new worries and suspicions.

Zayn took a few moments to answer, lighting a cigarette in blatant disregard for the fine (as usual) and starting to casually suck on it.

"Tour's stressful. There's drugs everywhere. Can't say I blame her."

"Of course you think that. You're a fiend for that shit too.” He mumbled irritatedly, earning a stern look from Louis and a scoff from Zayn.

"Yeah whatever, bro. You just love having a reason to be a dick."

Harry began to rummage through his pockets for the pot, slamming it onto the counter once he found it and thinning his eyes at Zayn. Louis picked up the pot first, reading the identifying information with little understanding and then handed it to Zayn, who opened the pot and was disappointed to find just four inside. He popped one anyway.

"She's eaten all of those in just a month! Now try and tell me I'm being a dick!"

"You're being a dick, Harry." Louis answered. "How can you be pissed at her for something like this? You know how stressful the tour is."

"Exactly! I know! What does she know? Nothing!" He hissed. "I have a right to be pissed! I paid for her rehab and all of her bloody therapy!"

The way he spoke about you made Zayn angry. He'd wished to be in Harry's shoes, though he doubted in himself that he'd treat you much better. He knew that it was a completely selfish desire. He took another swig from his drink, attempting to cool the frustration bubbling in his chest.

Meanwhile, you had been sobbing so hard that you were convinced Niall, in the room next door, must've heard you through the walls. You’d cried in the shower, then you cried in the bed, then you tried to sleep but couldn't because you didn't have your pills, and so paced around the room for twenty minutes while you tried to keep your eyes dry, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to do so. You'd decided on a plan, you would sneak past the kitchen, go to the pharmacy to buy some sleeping pills and then talk to Harry in the morning.

You brushed your hair and wiped your face clean of any remaining mascara smears, then pulled on a clean set of clothes. It was around midnight but you were currently staying in a bustling South American city - so you weren't worried about the pharmacy not being open.

Your plan was halted though, as the open kitchen space meant that all three lads saw you as you headed to the door, and Harry instantly called you over.

"Y/N, come here." He slurred, though his tone was already agitated.

"I'm going to the shop." You muttered, pulling on your shoes.

"I don't care, come here." He demanded, and you slowly turned to him.

Louis and Zayn were looking at each other worriedly and as you spotted the orange pot on the counter, you felt heat rise to your face.

"Harry, I-"

"Do you want me to forgive you or not?"

"Dude, what the fuck." Zayn scoffed and Harry's head snapped to him. You used that as an opportunity to leave, quickly shutting the door behind you before making your way to the elevator.

At the pharmacy you picked up some pills, then went to the shop next door and picked up a little bottle of wine. You were terrified to go back to the room, but you knew that you had to, so you downed most of the bottle before stepping into the hotel, your feet swaying. Perhaps drinking more was a bad idea, but it calmed you considerably. You decided that you would just try to walk straight past the boys and go straight to bed, maybe Zayn would keep Harry distracted for you. They were probably still arguing after all.

As soon as you opened the door though, Harry was pacing towards you, angrier than you'd ever seen him before. You were quick to notice the marks on his face and the mess in the kitchen. A chair was strewn across the floor, a vase smashed, and Zayn was clambering up from a corner, a concerned Louis stood over him. They had obviously been in the midst of a fight. Louis was shouting "What the fuck is wrong with you?" at Harry, whilst Zayn had blood dripping from his hands.

"H-Harry." You began to stutter but he was in your face scolding you before you could continue.

"See how you’re making me act?" He slammed his hand against the door and held it shut, his body towering over you. "All you had to do was stay and talk, but you chose to disrespect me and run away instead. Fuck sake, Y/N! When did you start being like this?"

His breath reeked of liquor and you could see in his eyes that he wasn't himself. He'd never been so aggressive before and it was scaring you.

"I-I'm sorry. Please stop." You whimpered, but he then also smelt your breath and became even more visibly enraged.

"So you've just gone to a bar? You decided to drink even more after taking all those bloody pills! Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?" He shouted in your face, unmoving even as you flinched.

"Harry stop it!" Louis shouted but was ignored.

"I went to the pharmacy! I wasn't at a bar! Please, I'm sorry Harry. Please stop." You pleaded, feeling your eyes well up with tears.

He lifted his hand from the door for a second and you instinctively reached for the handle, flight mode kicking in, but he spotted your movement and grabbed your wrist, gripping it hard in his hand.

"Get off me! Stop it!" You cried but he scoffed.

His other hand dived for your hoodie pocket, aggressively rummaging around until he pulled out the pot of sleeping pills and the mostly empty mini wine bottle. He gripped them like they were some crucial pieces of evidence, storming across the kitchen whilst roughly pulling you with the other hand before slamming them down on the counter.

"Get off her!" Louis and Zayn both shouted.

Zayn squared up, puffing out his chest and holding up his fists.

"What the hell is going on?" Liam emerged from his room with a concerned expression but was ignored by everyone as Harry shouted back at Zayn "What and just let her kill herself? Because that’s what she’s gonna fucking do. Stay of my business!"

"I'm not killing myself!" You shouted but also went ignored. Instead, Harry grabbed your other wrist and pulled you so that you were inches from his face, holding you still with one arm whilst the other gripped the pill bottle on the counter.

"If I ever catch you taking anything again, we're over. You understand?" He growled.

"You're hurting me!" You cried and he squeezed harder, making a pained shout come from your mouth.

"Get off her!" Zayn shouted.

"Do you understand?" Harry repeated and you nodded quickly, your heart going a thousand miles an hour.

Then as he let go of your wrists, he did it with a push, sending you to the ground where due to your drunkenness, you landed badly, banging your head.

Things became slightly blurry for a few moments after that, but there was a sudden increase in noise and you could make out two blurred figures colliding into each other. Panic rose in your chest and you felt your breathing starting to get heavy, then a hand touched your side and you quickly flinched away, crying out "Don't hurt me" before your vision started to clear again.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." Louis' soft voice matched with his worried eyes. "I just need to look at your head. Can I do that?"

You took a few moments to respond, groggily pushing yourself up so you were sitting straight and looking at the scene in front of you. Harry and Zayn were fighting and Liam and Niall were seemingly trying to break it up. As they threw punches they were shouting at each other, but you couldn't make out the words they were saying, entirely overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"My head? It hurts." You finally mumbled in response, focusing on the fight and not on Louis' concerned touch. His fingers traced across the back and side of your head and you let out a hiss of pain when they reached a tender spot, coming back stained red.

"Okay, right. We should go to a hospital." He said, containing his panic so as to not upset you more.

You didn't want to go, but you trusted Louis and so you slowly nodded, unable to concentrate on anything other than Harry. Liam had his arms wrapped around his chest and was trying to pull him back but visibly struggling to do so whilst Niall was also struggling with Zayn. Only when you stood up, helped by Louis, and a gush of warm liquid trickled down the side of your face, did the fighting stop as all eyes landed on you.

There was a short second of silence, then Harry gasped.

"Fuck. Are you okay Y/N? Did I do that?" His eyes widened and he quickly stepped towards you.

You flinched back so that you were stood right against Louis, and Harry's pace stopped, his expression a mix of confusion, anger and worry. Louis put his arm protectively around you.

"We're going to the hospital. She needs stitches." He scowled.

"Hospital? What if paparazzi see you?" Harry slurred to which Louis loudly scoffed "Well you should've thought of that before being a cunt, shouldn't you?"

My first 1D post on here lol believe it or not but I started my fandom life as a directioner when they were on X factor and here I am still loving this shit. I wrote this literally three years ago and completely forgot about it. I definitely intend on finishing the second part I started to write ASAP! The title is (obviously) based off the Mitski song, which will become relevant in part two I PROMISE I hope y’all enjoy this, and sincerely rest in peace Liam Payne. My heart is still broken.