The Degradation

Polaroid #2

Song: Dishwalla - Candleburn

***

To see him trying unsuccessfully to fight with anxiety was terrible, but to feel him hanging on me in the hope that I would help him do it was even more terrible because I had no idea how. I was mad at the whole damn world and just held him in my arms, stroking his hair, telling him I was here, and he finally calmed down. He fell asleep, and I don't let him go. Even when he had his third dream, I still held him tight. And then I brainstormed myself. I don't know anything about his illness, and it's scary. All this time I've been trying to convince myself that I strong enough to help him get through but... no, I just can't. I'm strong enough to be around, but not to heal. Compared to his... Ill-being, I'm just a minor bug that's easy to crush and can't do anything.

I had long ago realized that he was afraid to wake up next to me because of the incident with Samantha. Okay, that's okay. If the word "okay" still has any meaning at all... I naively thought that his fear was justified and constructive, but... fuck it, Louis, he's mentally unstable, what logic can there be? He shouldn't have panicked like that. I shouldn't have been so hysterical. But he's afraid I'll leave. I mean... really afraid. Not a couple of times a day when I suddenly disappear, but all the time. Like I could disappear at any moment. Maybe it's because of the medication? They caused him to have hallucinations that disappeared as quickly as they appeared, and he is afraid that the same thing will happen to me? Or is it just a phobia? Don't know. And if I don't find out, I won't be able to help. And I'll always be a useless bug.

I also realized that he was mad at himself. He doesn't want to be afraid, but he's afraid, he doesn't want to panic, but he's panicking. He's like my ex-girlfriend who was obsessed with dieting. I desperately wanted to lose weight, but every night she still broke down and stuffed her stomach. She didn't want to, but she did. Harry gets mad at himself every time he hurts me, every time he snaps, but he still does it again. He doesn't want to do any of this, he wants to be with me without twitching every time I get out of bed, but he can't. He can't control it, and that's the worst part.

He doesn't control his illness, but it controls him.

I wake up from the smell of food, opening my eyes hard. It's 3:05 pm. I stretch, yawning loudly, and roll onto my back. I barely notice that I'm alone when the door to the room suddenly opens. Harry is standing in the doorway, holding a tray. He looks tired, but he still tries to smile at me.

"Hey..."

"Hey..."

I stand up on my elbows, adjusting the blanket so that he can put the tray on it. He lies down across the bed, holding his head in his hands, and, according to a good old tradition, avoids my gaze.

"Harry."

But he just shakes his head. Doesn't want to talk? I've seen it somewhere before. I look at the breakfast and freeze. Damn. I told him I went out to buy us something to eat, and I came back empty-handed. Well done, Louis, you're just saving the day. I know he doesn't want to talk about it, but I don't want him to get it wrong.

"You know I wasn't going to leave you, right?"

He tears off a piece of bread and looks at it as if it were made of gold.

"I know."

"Then what happened?"

He doesn't answer. He keeps looking at the bread crumbs. Yes, I shouldn't push him, but... fuck it, of course, I should, there's no other way to deal with him. I don't need to know the reason for his fear to get rid of it.