AN: Harry has schizoaffective disorder in this story. I've never made that clear, and had just said schizophrenia but it's actually schizoaffective disorder!!!

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Harry laid in the hospital bed, conscious, yet uncomfortable. The voices were telling him things. Telling him to do things. All were things that he rejected but couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he were to do them.

Hurt yourself

Right here in the hospital

Throw away your pills

Throw away all the new pills they give you and don't listen to anyone

They only pity you, you know you hate when people only stay to pity you

Like Louis. He's only here to pity you, just tell him off and don't talk to him, stay away from him.

Don't talk to anyone, ever

You can kill yourself, you should

"No!" Harry shouted, his hands covering his ears, clogging all the sound out. That caused his mum and the doctor to look at him, both of them rushing over.

Anne took Harry's hands, holding them tightly and rubbing the knuckles, "Harry, love, you're alright. The voices can't hurt you if you ignore them. Just ignore them," she spoke softly, and Harry's eyes snapped shut.

"They told me t-to hurt myself! A-And to throw away the pills!" he exclaimed, tears running freely down his cheeks, "they told me n-not to talk to a-any of you! And t-to stay away from L-Louis!" he sobbed, letting his head fall into his lap. "B-But I c-can't," he whimpered, "th-they said to k-kill myself," he whispered in between his sobs, and he was so busy breaking down that he hadn't realized his mother crying and clueless, not knowing what to do. The doctor had left them alone to get some sleeping pills for him. She had known all about his mental disorder, and knew that Harry's schizoaffective disorder  couldn't physically hurt him unless he was alone. But Anne was there so the doctor was safe to leave them alone.

"Harry, calm down. They can't hurt you. You won't do any of that," his mum spoke gently, rubbing his back.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, his breathing hard, and looked into his mothers eyes, "W-Why am I h-here? Really," he whispered to her, blinking away at the tears left on his eyelashes.

Anne glanced down and sighed, "When was the last time you ate, Harry? An actual meal?"

"I-I don't know," he mumbled, "last time we saw Dad," he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the end of the bed.

Anne gasped quietly, squeezing her son's hand tighter, "Harry, that was almost over a month ago," she told him. Though he didn't answer, because he knew that she was right and that he was just trying to convince himself that it hadn't been that long. "Harry, love, if you continued not eating for much longer, than you could have done some real damage to yourself," she said, "the doctor told me you are Anorexic. I know you wouldn't want to have to stay here for weeks to fix that."

Harry nodded in agreement. But he couldn't get the word out of his head. Anorexic. He was Anorexic. And he hated it. He didn't want to be seen that way. And he tried to drop the subject of it. But the word kept playing like a song he couldn't get out of his head. As hard as he tried, the melody of the syllables joining together ran through his mind on an endless loop, each time as surprisingly horrid as the last, like a nightmare, like a horror film, and he didn't think he could ever forget the sound of hearing it.

"I'm going to uhm, get your medicine from the doctor," she whispered, nearly audible.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Anne left the hospital room, making sure a nurse was there to keep an eye on Harry. As soon as she got out of the room, she almost lost it. She couldn't beat the fact that her son, who used to be so bubbly and cheeky and full of life despite the voices, was depressed and lonely and beat up. Mentally and physically. She couldn't stand that something as simple as not eating a meal that she provided him three times a day, had gotten him into the hospital.

But the worst thing of all. He looked desperate. Not desperate for a friend or help. But desperate for an escape from all this madness. Escape from the wicked voices in his head, that made him cut open his arms, and starve him, and sent him away from everyone. Escape from the life he was thrown into. Escape from being alone, and helpless even when he could do so many things.

As Anne pushed back the tears, she took a seat, playing with her thumbs and texting Gemma, who had told her that she was going to be here in an hour due to the long drive from her college. Harry's best friend, Liam, had already visited earlier, which made Harry happy since they hadn't been able to see each other lately. It was nice to see him smile a little.

Anne looked up, and spotted a teenage boy walking with who was probably his mother. She watched the two, and he smiled faintly as she placed her hand on his shoulder, telling him something. He turned, looking around before his eyes landed on her.

The boy looked familiar, and she didn't know why but she could tell that she had seen him before. Though he quickly walked over, running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"Uhm, y-you're Harry's mum, right?" he asked, and Anne was a bit shocked that he knew her son, yet nodded. "I'm Louis. Am I allowed to see him? I-I don't know what really happened but," he trailed off, looking to the side for a second.

Anne just stood there, stunned. And when she snapped out of it she nodded. "Yes, yes, please, he might be a bit moody but please do. He's, uh, right in there," she sighed, pointing to the door. He smiled at her and nodded before turning around.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Louis placed his hand on the door handle, hesitating before he slowly turned it, and opened the door.

He was nervous. Nervous as hell. Because he didn't know if Harry considered them friends, which Louis did. He wasn't sure if Harry would've wanted him here, or if he would've felt uncomfortable with it. But there wasn't any turning backed seeing that Harry lifted his head, spotting Louis.

Harry's gaze caught Louis', and their eyes locked. No one moved, both too scared to make a wrong move. Harry sort of mumbled Louis' name, not certain if he even got the words out. Though Louis heard it, and took a few steps forward.

"Uhm, I-I don't know if you want me here, but I just wanted to see if you were okay," he told the younger boy, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Harry's eyes widened, catching Louis' attention. "What?" he asked.

Harry shook his head, "You said you wanted to," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the blanket on top of his legs. "That uhm, that never happens."

"Well, now it has. And you should get used to it. Plus, you're not stuttering right now. That's a good sign right?" Louis joked, a smile forming, "I do care about you, though, you know. I like being friends with you," he shrugged, and took a seat on the chair next to the bed.

Harry smiled at this, small dimples showing, "I-I like being friends with you too," he mumbled, "you're the only person who protects me from those guys," he said quietly.

"I don't like seeing people get hurt."

"I know but that doesn't mean you have to stay with me all the time. But you do. Th-That's a good thing though," Harry said, and if a certain thought hadn't run through his head then he would have actually smiled. But he didn't, "I-I'm anorexic," he whispered, more like to himself than to Louis, but that didn't mean he didn't hear it.

Louis kind of froze, and gulped, just thinking, and he wasn't all that surprised by the fact. "I'm sorry, Harry," he sighed softly.

Harry shook his head, "Don't want your pity," he mumbled. And Louis looked down at his feet, whispering a sorry. "It's okay," Harry replied, looking at the older boy, "w-why did you come?" he asked quietly.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, "Because you're my friend-"

"No, I mean like, why do you keep hanging around me. I don't like when people just hang with me to help and pity me or pretend to be my friend to spill gossip about the 'freak'." he told Louis, angry almost, "so if this is a damn game then go on. Go on and tell everyone that yeah, I'm a freak who cuts his skin and starved himself b-because he's a useless idiotic f-faggot and l-listens to voices in his head that tells him to hurt hims-self," he paused, tears forming in his eyes, seeming to be talking to himself instead, "tell everyone that I'm w-worthless and stupid and a b-baby-" Harry had tears strolling down his cheeks when Louis shut him up, leaning forward to press his lips against Harry's, kissing him. Harry was more than surprised, yet let his eyes flutter shut, and slowly moved his lips against the boy's soft ones when Louis did so. It was a short kiss, lasting only a couple seconds, but Harry loved it. And when they pulled away he smiled, actually smiled for real. Nothing fake. Dimples and all.

"That was my first kiss," he told Louis, smiling sheepishly. This made Louis happy, as he was then grinning.

"I'm glad it was with me then," he chuckled, causing Harry to blush furiously, and he answered shortly, looking back to the blue eyed boy.

"Me too."