i remember when » l.s

chapter 4

hey guys, i'm so sorry that you had to wait so long just for this update, idk if any of you were actually waiting but heehee thank you so much for reading this. i promise the next chapter will be better and longer!

WARNING; this chapter may be triggering. please dont continue with this book if you are easily triggered! i love you and i's rather you not read this book if it means its possible you might hurt yourself because of it! ilysm
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before him was harry, a sleeve of his jumper raised to his elbow, a razor pressed to his wrist. he was making quick cuts along the vein in his arm, little sobs escaping his lips.
"harry, w-what the fuck?" louis features softened as he bent to his knees, grabbing the razor from harry and tossing it behind him. harry jolted and looked sadly at louis. his green eyes were red and he sniffled sadly and opened his mouth.
"i want to die."
louis' heart dropped to his stomach. he could feel the bonds holding his heart up let loose one by one and his heart crash down in his ribcage.
"harry.." he choked out with a sob, "i-i didn't mean this. i didn't mean this at all. i just-"
"it's okay louis. i know. i-it's okay. i deserve it. a lot," harry stuttered, barely able to get the words out.

"fuck," louis muttered through tear choked sobs. he didn't mean this.

fuck. why couldn't he just bite his tongue and keep his mouth shut for once. he had caused this, everything. he was the reason why harry was cracking. harry would be broken in no time and there would be no one able to fix him, not even louis. he fucked up. what if-

louis shifted his focus to the boy that kneeling against the wall, grabbing the razor again, holding it against his arm. the sight made louis want to curl up into a ball and never speak to anyone again.

"harry, no! you can't do this harry, you can't do this to yourself!" louis twisted the razor out of harry's tight grip and brought it against his knee, snapping it and throwing it into the trash.

these words are knives and often leave scars.

harry wobbled against the balls of his feet, gently humming the lyrics to this is gospel by panic! at the disco that louis loved so much.

why was he so fucking stupid? people never realize how much words hurt, sometimes even more than punches. words were like a blow at someone, physically and emotionally. words caused people to hurt themselves even more than a broken nose or a busted knuckle. words are the razor that cuts into skin, leaving a scar there forever; words are the rope that ends a life, words are the pills that cause someone never to wake from a deep sleep. louis' words had put those cuts onto harry's arms. he was the reason harry felt so depressed and broken.

louis came to his senses, tearing up, and realized that harry was using his nails to pick at the cuts he had made, opening them and not letting them heal, mumbling things like, "first it was jared now its him." he was a danger to himself. harry could use anything as a weapon.

"h-harry," louis hiccuped, helping a tearstained harry up from his spot on the floor, and supporting his weight on to his own, leading him not to the guest bedroom, but his own bed.

but why are you helping him? you hate him, remember? he's the reason that you're depressed. he's the reason you can't wear short sleeves in the summer. he's the reason that your family hates you. let him suffer. let him feel the pain you felt when your parents insult you because of him. he deserves it.

"harry.." louis trailed off, unsure of what to say, pushing away his terrible and putrid thoughts.

nobody deserves to be sad. nobody deserves to scrape a blade across their skin. absolutely nobody. so what if he hated harry? harry should hate him more. how could he be such a selfish bastard and hurt harry- anyone like this? how could he say such a thing? he was so dumb. and nobody deserves to be sad. it's a right not a privilege. louis fought back with himself.