"You can still be broken, even when nothing's wrong."
. . .
"I've taken care of myself for three years, I don't need someone to take care of me now. I'm eighteen in two years, mom." She believed her mom when she said that Liam was kind. But she did...
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Trigger warning: mention of self-harm, death and suicide
Take care of yourself <3
When Louis woke up to a terrified shrill, he sighed deeply. This was definitely a repeat of last night, the night before that, the whole week really.
Harry was up already, a soft light illuminating his strong muscles as he put on a pair of teal shorts. Any other day, Louis would've spent hours them, tracing his fingers over his skin and the beautiful artwork coating it. He would've told him how pretty he was, and Harry would blush and comment on Louis' own body, and they would exchange compliments until they were both giggly, kissing messes.
Tonight though, Louis stretched, careful as to not wake up the trio still sleeping soundly. He walked behind Harry, gently placing his arms around him, a sort of backwards hug. Harry sighed contently, turning around for a quick kiss.
Silently, they walked out of the bedroom and strode across the hall, opening the door to Genevie's cutely decorated nursery.
The poor girl was still in her nightmare, trashing around while begging, pleading for forgiveness. The sight breaking both Harry and Louis' hearts.
Louis stepped to the side as Harry gently shook the girl, her distressed response nothing more than another meek "I'm sorry", whimpered out into the air. Louis could feel the tears in his own eyes while watching, not letting a single one slip out right now. He needed to be strong for their little girl.
Harry shushed her gently while trying to wake her again. This time her eyes springing open, immediately looking from side to side, frantically inspecting the room before her sight fell on the two men. They both were in front of her now, as much as they could while she was still laying down in her crib.
When the first tear escaped Genevie's eyes though, Harry quickly brought her into his warm hold. Louis sat down besides them, running his soothing fingers down her hair, feeling a layer of sweat coating her from the evidently intense nightmare.
A few minutes later she calmed down, the tears now reduced to cute sniffles. Harry could feel the wetness in her bed and on his lap. He knew the night wouldn't be an exception to the long hours the week had turned into.
No matter how many times they tried, the girl would refuse any type of diaper or protection to avoid the mess from her nightmares.
Harry eased the girl out of his neck when his husband spoke. "Wanna talk about it, darling?" Louis asked carefully, hand still drawing small circles on her upper back. The movement was comforting for the younger one, who's mind was still occupied with overwhelming guilt and memories.
She shook her head, bringing a sleeve of her blue onesie to wipe under her nose. She wasn't ready, not right now. Not yet. It was still too fresh on her brain, too many feeling to put into words. She would tell them. She had promised herself that. The question was just when.
