Some Say the World Will End in Fire |l.s.|

eighteen

Harry's texted me every morning to take my meds ever since that day. It makes me both happy and sad. I hate taking that fucking medicine with every inch of my being, but the fact that he thinks about me so early in the morning makes me smile so wide. I don't think he knows what those small gestures do, when he shows me how much he cares through just letting me know he's thinking about me.

Walking downstairs, mum's got a plate of pancakes in the center of the table. She used to always do this, but she's had work a lot recently so she's either asleep or working. I've always let her know how much I appreciate her by doing things like washing the dishes or taking out the trash. I'd work day and night if she'd let me, but she wants me to be a teenager. As ironic as it is, that's not going to well these days.

"Morning, darling," she smiles at me. "I made breakfast, take as many as you like, there's plenty to go around."

"Thank you, mum," I say as I sit down and take a pancake. I drizzle syrup on it, but not too much because I've always found it sickening to have my food drowning in any type of sauce or condiment. I pick up my fork but instead of taking a piece and eating it, I just poke around for a bit, my stomach feeling uneasy.

"Boobear, why aren't you eating?" she asks me as she cleans the pan she used to make the breakfast.

"Not really in the mood, sorry," I say. "It really does smell delicious, though."

"Please, just eat one. I can't stand it when you skip meals like this," she tells me with a long sigh, a slight shakiness to her voice.

"I can't help it, I'm just not hungry right now. Maybe lunch, we can go out and get something?" I offer.

"Louis, I'm telling you this as your mother, you need to eat," she says, suddenly firm.

"Mum, really," I try again.

"Don't you get it?" she asks me in frustration. "You haven't been eating and I'm telling you to because it isn't healthy anymore. You're wasting away, baby, one meal at a time, and I can't stand to watch it anymore."

"Mum, I'm not wasting away. I'm just-"

"I don't care what you want, Louis. This is about what you need. You've been throwing your life away and it hurts me as your mum to watch. It absolutely kills me, makes it hard for me to get out of bed and to live my life without worrying about you constantly!" she says, tears filling her eyes and she doesn't bother to wipe them from her face as they begin to flow freely.

"Mum," I sigh.

"I know this is hard for you, sweetie, but it's hard for me, too. I can't live knowing my baby boy almost died that day. You've been given the chance to live and you're throwing it away. I can't do this, I really can't. You're hurting the ones around you, the ones who have been there every step of the way to care for you and to support you. We all give up so much for you to get better; me, Harry, everyone!"

"Fine!" I yell. "I'll eat the fucking pancake, just please, stop!"

"I'm telling your therapy group about this," she says before walking out of the room with tears still falling from her eyes. I let the tears fall, too, as I slam my fork onto my plate with a loud clink. I curse to myself, tears falling and mixing in with the soggy pancake that is now even more unappetizing as I try to figure out what I did to make myself such a burden.

I hurt my mum. I hurt her because I'm not strong enough for this shit. I hurt her, I hurt Harry, and I can't fucking stop the pain because it's got me, too. The common denominator here is clearly me. Neither of them deserve me in their lives, they deserve so much better. I'm the problem.