take my hoodie ✓

twenty-seven | spilled

honestly i cba for tws all of this is sad shit so

i know its "shame shame shame" but allow it

happy birthday sis

-the day i wrote this

oh my vape just died </3

~no pov

Harry opened his eyes about five minutes after the flashback was over to see the entire Dursley family staring at him intently.

Something smelled bad. And he soon recognised it as vomit, his own vomit, and his breath. Luckily, none of it fell on him.

Still, the Dursleys were pissed.

Vernon stood red-faced next to his repulsed wife and confused son. "Finally awake, boy?!"

It felt like he'd spent hours sat on the floor, against the wall, curled up in a ball as he remembered every word and felt every touch. He'd only spent ten minutes doing that, and five composing himself.

Harry stood up, ready to get hit.

"What happened?" Petunia asked. "And why is there vomit on my floor."

His stomach hurt, and not just from vomiting.

"I just remembered something." Harry shrugged.

Dudley stared at him. "What was it? Your eyes looked weird. Glassy or glazed, something like that."

"Just something." Harry looked down, staring at the vomit-spot on the floor. He wanted to throw up again, and looking at it didn't help. But he'd prefer that than looking at his relatives.

"Get up." Vernon ordered. "GET UP." He shouted again when he was ignored.

Avoiding the vomit, he went next to Harry and picked him up by his hair. He tried so hard not to be sent back to the memory of Louis doing the same.

"No, no, stop, please." Harry begged, knowing his hair would fall out in a clump like it did back then. He was trying so hard to get it to grow back.

Vernon kept tugging at the damaged curls. He found it funny to see his nephew beg him to stop. He found it empowering. Controlling.

He was a sick bastard.

"Let go, please, please." Harry repeated over and over, even trying to take Vernon's hands off by himself. He couldn't. He was weak, and in a bad state, and needed to be alone. "Get off me, get off me. Stop it. Stop it Louis."

"What?" Vernon recognised the name Louis. He had a Louis that worked at Gunning's. Small town, could it be the same one that assaulted Harry? "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You said a name. Tell me the name and I'll let go."

"L-Louis."

"Louis Clarkson?"

Harry didn't know the man's surname. He didn't want to know him at all. "I don't know."

"Tall, yellow teeth, grey hair? Married?"

It all matched perfectly. Louis towered over Harry, he smiled with his disgusting, decaying teeth, left a lock of grey hair on Harry's shirt and had a photo of a woman in his wallet. He also had a silver band on his finger, which Harry ignored back then.

"I think so."

It was almost as if Vernon clocked it there and then, and dragged Harry away from the two other very confused people in the kitchen. Once Harry was in his bedroom with his uncle, door shut, he began to panic.

he's gonna finish what louis started omg

"You. You went out this time last year and came back looking like a mess." Vernon said quietly, his voice still absolutely terrifying.

Harry nodded.

"Did you go to a pub?"

The Dursleys knew Harry drank. He'd often stolen alcohol from them, resulting in beatings, and overdosed with alcohol too.

Harry stayed silent.

"Louis went to a pub with some other work colleagues last year. He came back from talking to a young boy with black hair cut up and with a bruise on his face."

shit shit shit

he knows. vernon is about to know my biggest fucking secret. the one that i told no one about.

"You. You were the boy with black hair."

Harry shook his head so fast he became dizzy. His secret was spilled. The real question was, how much did Louis say?

"Yes you were. Don't lie." Vernon hissed. "You cut up my colleague."

"I didn't. I didn't, I swear, I-"

Harry was quickly slapped in the face, silenced. And it felt like being with Louis all over again. He kept having his words stolen from him.

"Why did you cut him up? Why were you in a pub, lying about your age and getting older men to buy you drinks?" Vernon was towering over Harry, just like Louis. "You tell me the truth right now or so help me god I will push you out of that window and jump out on top of your body."

Harry knew he was bluffing, but it didn't mean he wouldn't leave this conversation hurt in some way. But, Louis didn't tell anyone how he assaulted the young boy from the pub, so Harry knew he could lie.

"He cut me so I cut him back." No sexual assault mentioned.

"Liar."

Harry unrolled his sleeve, ignoring the several fresh cuts because he knew Vernon didn't give a shit. He pointed at the long scar that went down his wrist like a vein. "That. He did that to me and called me an emo little slut."

"Slut?"

shit shit shit

Harry had a few options: spill the story of him getting assaulted, lie and say he told Louis he was a whore or say that he willingly wanted to have sex with Louis.

He chose none.

"Did he touch you?"

Harry gulped, and looked down at the floor. His eyes were rooted to the spot and tears formed because it was out. His story was out.

And then something else clocked in his brain. "You're a slut for a man? A man. You're a faggot?"

shit shit shit

"No, no, please, I swear I'm not." Harry knew how openly homophobic Vernon was. He hated the idea of a man liking a man, but found it "hot" when women liked women.

It was disgusting, really.

"You like men?"

Harry shook his head over and over and over, not helping his dizziness. "Please, sir, I swear I'm not. I'm not. I'm not." He was getting more and more lightheaded as he spoke.

"Prove it."

how the fuck do i

Harry promptly passed out.

shit.