True Colours

Rise beyond destruction

Trigger warning: self-harm/described act of self-harm, blood.

Once again as an assurance: it gets better after this chapter!

And also at this point a thank you from the bottom of my heart for the love you give this story and your comments. 💕

Here he is sitting on the bathroom floor. Hours later after Louis left. Harry feels like a failure without being able to put his finger on what exactly it is. He stares at the wall opposite him, silent, numb. Doesn't really feel connected to his body and in a way it's liberating and yet it doesn't feel right. He would like to cry if he only knew why exactly - he has too many reasons. He would like to free himself from what is wafting inside him like fog and sitting like a whispering shadow in the background. But it is intangible. All he knows is that he is a mistake. That he failed.

How can he be so calm and at the same time he feels so upset? He wants to get out of this state and lose himself in it. Thoughts flash through his head that he doesn't want to finish and yet longs for what they entail. Memories come next as he saw the pain in Louis' eyes when he woke from his sleep and saw Harry standing there with his arms bleeding. Despite his guilty conscience, he wants to inflict pain on himself again, knowing it would be so bitter-sweet, so good. He does not feel good. Not at all. His Louis is no longer there. Didn't believe how fast Harry’s heart beats for him alone. And if that isn't the biggest tragedy in his life.

I would give anything to go back in time and choose my words differently. Maybe not to say anything at all. My heart is coated with a thick tar on the inside burning and a heavy head that won't stop turning.

Harry reaches for one of the fresh blades. Wants to numb his insides again... last night felt so good.

My fate feels like a bad collision and my mind is an open highway, no longer able to grasp the thoughts that are just racing along. One last ride on a sunset sky lane with Louis in my passenger seat.

With his eyes closed, he sees him smiling next to him as he presses down on the gas. And everything comes back. Their kisses, their conversations, their caresses, their conversations. Louis is always so damn perfect.

The first cut this time closer to his wrist. The part he left out the first time, too afraid of causing something he didn't want to do. Still don't want to. It's all about the pain.

I can feel the walls around me closing in. Just driving forward, stepping further on the gas, escaping a life like in wires.

Blood comes out of the cut and Harry can breathe freely again for the first time. He briefly looks at the red tear of his soul before laying his head back against the edge of the bathtub and feels after the sweet pain.

It’s like seeing his past on the empty ceiling above him as he looks up and Harry plays along with the life signs. In reverse, Louis is all his symmetry. A parallel he would lay his life on.

Harry looks at his arm again, needing more. He places the blade again close to his fresh cut, slowly drags it over the skin, opening his skin so that the darkness within him can flow out.

Harry just needs to leave this part of him behind. The one that Louis had left behind. Even his little red monster with heart eyes is crying bitter tears in the corner.

Will Louis remember me in the future, when the rain gathers? Because I was never sunshine. But the night within me belongs to Louis. Just like the memories of our last night, the break between us, the break of my heart.

The memories of what Louis looked like when Harry saw him leave, mix with what his demons add to him to torture him more. Everything is so much darker.

In his imagination the whites of Louis' eyes turn black in the low light, no more affection for Harry can be read in them. But his little red monster fights, tries to hold back with all his strength, and wants Harry to see how good it was despite the end. How they tangle endlessly like lovers entwined.