Dougie's POV:
When we got back the next day, I told the guys I was tired and ran straight up to my bedroom, locking myself in there. I paced around for a while, practically pulling my hair from my head. The urges were back. I had just eaten breakfast, McDonalds breakfast, the unhealthiest breakfast meal known to man, and I could feel it swirling around in my stomach. My body screamed at me to get it out, just like I used to do, but I couldn't. I couldn't let Harry down! I instead walked around and around my room before I suddenly thought of something to get my stress away. I'd heard about it working in the past and so I did it. I punched something. I punched my bed first, followed my the small chair I had, followed by the desk, which I cleared of its contents with one sweep of my arm before I snapped and flipped it. I saw it fall apart in the corner of my room and so I walked round, carrying on with my rampage, ripping up posters and breaking furnature until not a single thing was left intact in my bedroom. Why hadn't it worked? I felt more sick than I had before I'd smashed up everything I owned. I unlocked my door and sprinted to the bathroom. There was no thinking about it this time, it had to be done. I quickly knelt beside the toilet and rammed my fingers down my throat. I threw up all of my breakfast into the toilet before falling back on the floor, feeling weak and insecure. I pulled myself up from the floor and stood looking in the mirror.
'One more thing...' I said to myself before violently throwing my fist against the mirror, smashing it into millions of tiny pieces. Two of them flew and cut my face whilst another got wedged into may hand, spurting blood everywhere. I panicked. I'd always hated blood. I sprinted to my bedroom, not bothering to shut either my bedroom or the bathroom door, and leaving a trail of blood on the cream carpet of the corridor. When I arrived in my bedroom, I looked down at my hand again. I felt dizzy for a second before everything went black and I fell to the floor in a bleeding, insecure, unloveable mess.
Harry's POV:
When we got back, Dougie said a quick 'I love you' to me before going to his bedroom, complaining of tiredness. We all just accepted it and sat down in the living room, watching a film with all of our surround sound speakers on. We got bored halfway through and sat just talking, before suddenly, we heard a loud smash, like a window or mirror had just been broken. We stood up and walked cautiously up the stairs. The bathroom was the first door next to the stairs and so we walked in. We stopped upon seeing the sight. The mirror had been smashed into thousands of tiny pieces and there was a large pile of blood on the floor. We looked around further and saw the toilet filled with vomit.
'Shit! Dougs!' I said quickly, running back to the door. It was then that I saw it. The trail of blood between the bathroom and my boyfriends room. I quickly ran towards Dougie's room and in through the door. I froze and looked around at the room. Everything was in pieces, all of his pictures and posters had been ripped or smashed and all of his furniture was flipped over or had pieces broken off with it. I quickly pulled myself from my thoughts and knelt beside Dougie who had passed out on the floor. I put him into a comfortable position on his bed and inspected his injuries. He had a piece of glass stuck in his hand and two in his face. I sent Danny and Tom to get some tweezers, some water and a first aid kit. They did as I asked and returned a few minutes later with everything that I needed. I removed the glass from Dougie's face and hands with the tweezers before cleaning the wounds on his face and placing small plasters on them. I then cleaned up his hand and pulled the cut back together with steristrips before wrapping it in a bandage. Once I was sure that he wasn't hurt anywhere else, I lay down beside him and took him in my arms, keeping him safe from anymore danger that was coming his way.
'I love you beautiful. And I'll never stop loving you. It's just time for you to love yourself.' I whispered to him, planting a small, soft kiss on his lips as a single, lone tear ran off my cheek and down onto his. I wiped it away before resting my head beside him and slowly falling asleep, ready to be the comfort he'd need when he woke up.