Misery (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 7

(A/N: hello!
Okay, so I already finished 22 parts to this story they're just drafts though!! After it gets a certain amount of reads I'll update.
This story was inspired by my own self harm recovery story, so the fact that there's over 100 reads makes me literally so happy. Enjoy xx)


(Harry's P.O.V.)

"Harry?" Louis asked, his face muddy and his fringe drooping from the heavy rain outside. Dirt was scattered on his jersey so heavily that 'Tomlinson, 28' was hardly visible.

Harry ignored him, continuing to storm down the halls to get to his dorm.

"Harry," Louis was a much faster runner, causing him to catch up to Harry with ease. He put his small hand against Harry's chest, pushing him against the wall. "Stop it."

"I just want to go to my dorm."

"Why are you crying?"

"I sort of had an anxiety attack," Harry bit his lip, hanging his head. It had been a couple of days since he figured out that Louis knew about his issues-that is the anxiety- and he knew that he could talk to Louis because he was trustworthy and good to chat with. He didn't know why he had such trust for a guy in less than a week but he did. There was something about Louis that he liked a lot.

"Come to my dorm, it's closer," Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry's palm, pulling him with a lot of strength because Harry was so much bigger than him.

Harry cringed at the messy bed sheets that had mud on them from not being washed after the football games. Niall's beer cans were all over the floor, and Harry had to watch his feet so he didn't step on them.

"Sit," Louis gestured to his messy bed.

Harry shook his head at the mud. "I'd rather not. I'll stand."

Louis shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. Pull up a beanbag chair or something." Louis tossed him a beer bottle which Harry opened and began to sip because he was too sober for the upcoming conversation.

"So?"

"So?"

"Harry."

"Right. Sorry. I just panicked," he shrugged.

"Yeah I got that much, wanker," Louis sighed in exasperation. Harry, for some weird reason, loved how Louis called him 'wanker' already, because jokes like that to Harry symbolized friendship.

"There's this kid, Josh Devine. Um so I think he's an amazing football player but I heard he's a major homophobe and he was looking at me weirdly and I got scared because what if he sensed I'm queer like you were able to?" Harry noticed how Louis looked alarmed, his eyes wide and his bottom half shifting uncomfortably. Usually Louis would've said something by now.

"Louis?"

Louis hung his head. "I've been... Victimized let's just say... By him."

Harry wasn't the man to soothe or console people, but poor Louis looked so upset and distraught by something that Harry couldn't help but try. He placed his palms on Louis's shoulder, like Louis did to calm Harry down, and he used the other hand to lift up his chin.

"What happens with him?" Harry asked, a bit afraid to find out the answer.

"He beats the living crap out of me. He harasses me verbally by telling me that I'm a faggot and stuff but when Coach isn't there and we're alone he beats me up," Louis frowned, "he thinks that gays shouldn't play football. And yeah."

"You really should tell somebody about this," Harry suggested, but he knew Louis wouldn't.

"Harry I'm 21. I'm a grown man. I shouldn't be telling people about my problems, I'm an adult. I can handle a few beatings, I don't want to seem like a pussy. I want to prove that I'm a persistent team player," Louis explained. Harry wanted to tell him not to say that, to do something different, to stand up for himself, but Harry would've done the exact same thing.

"You're not a pussy. Louis...."

"No Harry," Louis shook his head, "don't. Just stay out of this okay. Please."

Harry didn't want to, but would Lou abandon him and not ever talk to him again if he did? Would he ignore Harry forever if Harry said something? He knew it wasn't his business, so he agreed to stay away from it. But what about Louis? He couldn't stand to see Louis get hurt.

"Harry, you're getting tense again," Louis sighed, frowning.

"I guess I do that when I think too much," Harry shrugged, "sorry."

"Is that why you get anxious, cause you over-think?"

Harry pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Yeah, yeah I think so."

They both stayed silent for a while, but Harry observed Louis's thinking face. He made weird motions with his lips and squinted his eyes. Harry really admired how determined Louis was to help out with this situation. It meant so much to Harry.

"Have you ever thought about taking meds?"

Harry froze. Medications. Medications. Harry thought about popping multicolored pills into his mouth every morning to get rid of the anxiety that overwhelmed him. Honesty, he'd rather just talk about his feelings. But wouldn't it be great to stop all the thoughts for a little bit? It'd be amazing to talk with someone without pissing. But bottling up feelings and throwing them under a pile of medications probably wasn't the best idea. What about the side effects?

"Harry. Harry. You're doing it again," Louis snapped in his face.

"Sorry mate."

"You can't stop what flows through your brain because you can't control it," Louis took a sip of beer, "y'know? But it's your decision. My mum is a psychiatrist. She can help. She is only two miles away. We can continue to just talk if you want."

Harry frowned. "Why do you care so much about this?"

"Because you're helping me out too, I have someone who I can talk about the homo problems with," Louis smiled.

"Alright. Let's go. Make an appointment," Harry nodded. His brain was telling him that he shouldn't have agreed, and every instinct was telling him that it wasn't right. But he trusted Louis. He didn't know why, but he did.