They say when the sun sets, sunflowers face each other. But what if there was no other sunflower to turn to? What if each sunflower had been plucked out, leaving one to its misery, lone and terrified, with no kind of its own, a cruel world in its wa...
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(TW: Self Harm)
Louis remained a ghost in his mind for five days, never confronting Harry. Harry knew Louis was still in his flat, still went to work, came back, but he also knew that Louis was ignoring him. The alpha was not subtle in any way, rushing out before Harry went to work and crawling back into his at the dead of the night. It made Harry want to die.
He did want to die.
Louis' betrayal was like a crack to the door of his miseries and darkness, a crack through which they all flooded back into Harry, corrupting him. He could no longer smile at anyone, or touch them, or near them. Every touch made him feel filthy, like they were touching him merely because they knew how easy he was, that he'd let anyone take him, play with him. He wasn't though, he told himself, he would not let anyone do those things to him. But there it was, that voice, inside his head, telling him all those things, things that made him want to take those pills again and not open the door this time.
Louis did not just break him, he ended Harry. Harry did not exist anymore, he breathed and he walked and he worked, but there was no light in his eyes, no warmth in his core. Cassandra realised something was wrong, so did Cameron. He flinched when Cassandra tried to place a hand on his shoulder, cried when Cameron tried to near him. They did not ask him again, but they were more gentle, more understanding, allowing him his space.
He had picked Cow back from Eric's, and the alpha had realised something had happened when his face twisted from delight to pity, softening eyes as he let out an 'oh, Harry,' to which Harry merely shrugged, ignoring his tightening throat.
He put a blade to his skin when he watched Louis stumble in with an omega one night, intoxicated. He watched the way he pressed the blonde omega against the door, and then his mouth was on hers, hands tracing her perfect body, a body he did not have. He needed to forget the pain that coursed throughout him, he needed to stop it, even if for only a moment. He had not even realised what he was doing until he was on the floor with a bleeding wrist, two gruesome cuts mocking him.
But it helped, it truly did, as he stared at the thick trail of blood drip onto the white of his floor, drop after drop until there was a tiny puddle — he did not think of the pain he was feeling within for those moments. He stared entranced, thinking about the way the only thing he could control was his body; starve it or fill it until he had nothing in his mind, cut it or burn it or let anyone take him, make him feel special for a night, that faux sense of being loved. Just for a night.
On the sixth day, the day he had an off, he saw Louis approach him.
He was walking Cow in the park across the street, donning a pair of sweats and a jumper. His wounds itched as the material of it rubbed against his skin, but even that itch felt better than what was going on within him. He did not even see Louis coming, zoning out while Cow was having a wee, until his scent hit him, then the melody of his raspy voice.
