~Now I'm slowly sinking, caving, try to fight it, but I can't breathe. Chest is heavy, hands are numb, I'm tired but I can't sleep. Choking on my pride, my tongue is tied, and now I find myself reaching out for help. I could really use your help now.~

The lyrics of your new single 'Help' echo through my living room, weighing heavily on me as I sit on my couch, face buried in my hands, listening to your pleas for help, every single line you sing cutting deeper in my heart. How did I not notice you were struggling so much?

You and I were in One Direction together and we've always been the closest in the band. We shared clothes, beds, secrets, mental breakdowns and so so many happy moments — always platonic. Although I can't deny that I've always kept a deeper kind of love and protectiveness towards you.

After the band split, both of us immediately took off our solo careers and even though we both still live in London, life happened and our busy schedules transformed our once so close friendship into texting and talking on the phone every few months.

Why didn't I ask you just one more time if you're okay? Why didn't I take the time to catch up with you more frequently? The guilt and shame for neglecting you are nagging heavily on me, making me pull my hair, out of frustration, when your song comes to an end and the room falls quiet. I need to fix this. You're calling out for help and I'm not gonna leave you alone with this.

I get up from the couch and put my shoes on, picking up my phone and keys from the kitchen island before I leave the house, getting into my car. About 45 minutes later I'm standing at your front door, nervously ringing the bell, the seconds until you finally open the door feeling like an eternity. But then the door opens and once I see your beautiful face, live in front of me for the first time in years, all I can do is rush forward, pulling you into a bone crashing hug, my arms wrapped tightly around your smaller frame as I whisper quietly. "I'm so sorry, {{user}}, you're not alone."