The Moment I Knew (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 29

A/N
Just...don't look at me.
Just don't.
So this is the second to last chapter of TMIK, the next one will obviously be the last and then Untouchable will begin!
So hopefully updates will become for regular.
They WILL become more regular! I am determined!!!

Love you!!!

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Louis's POV

Rape was a complex word.
I told Dr. Benson as much once I got back to Doncaster.
I'd spent two more relatively sleepless nights turning what Zayn had said over in my head.
I knew he was right and I was terrified that they wouldn't let Harry live with me. I was scared that he'd continue to ignore me once he got back and I figured that he couldn't do that if we lived together again.
Plus, I remembered how fun it had been living with Harry. I wasn't stupid enough to think that we'd be best friends again when he came back, but I was going to try as hard as I could to get what we had had back.
"Elaborate on that," Dr. Benson instructed.
I shrugged.
I was sitting cross-legged on his couch, wearing a shirt that I had realized was Harry's only after I had put it on.
"I guess I mean like, if you heard or read it, without any context or knowing what it meant, you wouldn't really think it doesn't have good connotations. It's simple and it's short and you probably wouldn't give it a second thought. And when you heard what it means, you still probably wouldn't think about just how complicated it is," I explained, shifting uneasily.
I wanted to get better; I had to get better, and I knew that that involved talking about things I didn't want to talk about. I had so little time and I was scared.
I had talked to my mum the night before, explaining everything that had happened to me.
I hadn't been able to look at her when I had spoken. Part of me, the part of me that was beyond repair, said that she'd hate me for what I'd done, that she'd kick me out and refuse to see me ever again.
Obviously, she hadn't.
She'd bawled her way through my story, distressed that she hadn't been there to help me. She couldn't believe that her baby had gone through so much without telling her.
I'd found myself unable to stop talking once I had told her just a little. We'd stayed up late together, talking. Once she had gone to bed, I had stayed awake, looking out the window for hours, not thinking, until it was light outside.
"Why is it complicated?" Dr. Benson asked.
"When you think of uh, rape, you think of girls getting attacked in alleyways. But it's more than that. They've got to live with that for the rest of their life, some of them get pregnant. And nobody thinks about the fact that guys can get raped too," I said quietly.
"Do you think you were raped?" he asked gently.
I chewed on my lip, turning the idea over in my head for the millionth time.
"Part of me says no, that I wasn't. I contacted him; I knew what I was getting myself into. I initiated it. But at the same time, I just can't help remembering how scared I was and how much I wanted it to stop. I never wanted it. I think...I think that if it had been Harry...," I trailed off.
I sat on my hands to make them stop shaking.
"It would have been different," Dr. Benson supplied.
"Yeah. Maybe. He would have been gentle and loving and he would have known if I really wanted it or not. I think...I think because I never wanted it, some people could classify it as rape. But because I initiated it, I don't know if I can," I said quietly, "I've certainly got all the mental scarring of someone who's been raped."
"Do you feel comfortable with continuing?" he suddenly asked.
I knew that I looked a right mess. I was shaking badly and I could feel cold sweat dripping down my neck. I felt dizzy and I knew that I was probably pale.
"Maybe for a little bit?" I said faintly.
"Alright. Just tell me if you need to stop," he urged.
I nodded, shutting my eyes when the movement caused the room to swirl.
"Tell me everything that happened. As much as you can remember," he said gently.
I nodded again and chewed on my lip thoughtfully for a moment before beginning.
"I was over at Liam's and I'd been outside on his balcony and when I came in, they said that they were putting on some film. I guess it was a horror one; I wasn't really paying attention. Then I just...tuned in, I guess? and there was a girl cutting herself on the screen and then her parents and the police finding her. I remember realizing that the film had been paused and I just got up and walked out and went back to Harry's place," I said quietly, pinching the nerve between my thumb and index finger.
The quick jolt of pain cleared my head.
"You've mentioned staying there before. Why do you do that when you've got your own home?" Dr. Benson asked.
I shrugged.
"I dunno, really. I guess, if anything, it's just because I've not seen him for nearly six months and I miss him a lot. So I stay there because it makes me feel closer to him. In the beginning though, I always stayed there for comfort, I think. I always went to him for comfort when I was upset, so when I didn't have him, I had his bed to sleep in," I muttered, "Plus, it smelled like him, at first. And it made me feel safe."
"Did you feel safe around him before?" he asked.
"Always," I said, nodding.
"Keep going. What happened after you returned to his flat?" he asked.
I slid my thumbnail between my teeth and nibbled on it while I thought.
"I just...there are times where I just get so desperate to understand what happened and what went wrong with him and why he did the things he did. I cut myself once, just to see if I could see the appeal in it, which I didn't. But he told me in his note that we slept together when I was really drunk once and I dunno, I was by myself in his flat and I just had to know what it felt like for him," I said, "I just go crazy for a little while, just needing to know because people won't tell me stuff. So then I end up doing stupid things."
"I've noticed the scar on your wrist before. I never asked about it because I figured that if you wanted to share what it was from, you would," Dr. Benson said.
I nodded, tracing my fingers over it. It sort of was covered up by my tattoo, but not completely.
"Feel free to continue," he added.
I nodded for probably the hundredth time. I was beginning to feel like a bobble head.
"I um, I had met someone at a club once. He has a boyfriend, his name is Harry, but I called him and asked if he knew anyone that was looking to um, yeah. He didn't want to at first, but I guess I convinced him because I started getting texts from the guy, um, Ben, a little later and Lucas sent a picture," I said.
I was beginning to feel dizzy and my skin was starting to crawl. My shirt clung to my back with a cold sweat.
"He was texting me, telling me to um, to um, get myself ready, you know. And I didn't really know what he meant so I told him that I'd never done anything before and I think that was probably a mistake. But um, I tried to like, um, stretch myself out like he said to but I didn't like it so I stopped. And then he um, he got to Harry's place and um. I was so fucking scared but, like, I opened the door anyways. Why the fuck did I do that?" I whimpered, pinching the skin between my fingers again.
"You can stop if you're not comfortable," Dr. Benson suggested.
I shook my head.
"I have to!" I said quickly, and then I took a deep breath and continued, "He like. I don't really remember exactly what happened cos' its all like really foggy, but um. He made me get on my knees and he like...he like...he made me like...I dunno, like he made me blow him but he was like really rough about it and I couldn't breath and I thought I was gonna vomit but he kept going and I couldn't get him to stop and I thought I was gonna suffocate but like, then he stopped, so I didn't."
I was sort of babbling at that point, but the illogical part of me thought that the faster I talked, the easier it would be.
It wasn't any easier.
"And then, um, I took him to Harry's guest bedroom because I like couldn't do what we were gonna do on Harry's bed. But he like...he, you know, put his fingers in me and like...it just hurt a lot and I wanted him to stop, but I couldn't say it," I whispered.
I could hear my heart racing; it's frantic thudding almost drowned out Dr. Benson.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I...I don't know. I really don't. It was like I was fucking paralyzed or something. But it hurt so bad," I said, twisting the hem of my- Harry's- shirt around my fingers until the tips turned purple.
I took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. It didn't feel like enough. I felt like I was suffocating.
"He-he didn't even give me any time to adjust or anything. He just shoved in and fuck-" I gasped, "It hurt so fucking bad and he didn't even wait, he just started moving and I thought that my fucking arse was going to split open and I wanted him to stop, I wanted him to stop so fucking bad but he wouldn't believe me when I finally told him to stop and then I think I said something about having a fiancée and he did stop and he hit me and called me a slut and maybe a whore or something and he left and I threw up and called Eleanor and I was just so fucking scared and alone and I wanted to die!"
I stopped, my chest heaving for air and my eyes overflowed with a sudden onslaught of tears.
"I just wanted Harry!" I wailed.
Dr. Benson waited patiently as I sobbed into my hands. He made no move to comfort me. He knew that I didn't want to be touched and that words wouldn't help either.
"Louis?" he said gently after a good twenty minutes.
I looked up. He was blurry figure through the film of tears in my eyes.
"You may go, if you want. Your time is up," he said.
I nodded, wiping the tears off of my cheeks and out of my eyes as I stood up.
"You did very well today. Personally, I'm very proud. You should be too," he said.
I stared at him for a long moment before turning and leaving.
As he always had, Stan was waiting outside in his car.
He seemed a little taken aback at my disheveled appearance. He watched me warily as I got in.
"I could really go for a bloody drink right now," I said simply.
"Don't joke about that, Louis," he said, his voice strained.
"I'm being completely serious. God, even some shitty beer would be nice," I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead, working against the steady pounding inside, "I'd prefer something really strong, though. I just want to be able to forget for a little while again."
"If you think I'm going to take you anywhere, you're sorely mistaken," he growled.
I shot him a glowering look.
"I'm not about to fuck this up, Stan. I've got the lads just barely considering letting Harry live with me. I'm not going to let that get away," I snapped, "Just fucking take me home already."
He nodded silently but made no move to start his car.
"I'm just curious, Lou, please don't be offended, but do you really think that you and Harry living together so soon is a good idea? I mean, you two haven't spoken in six months and-"
"It will be fine," I spat, "It'll help us both, you'll see."
"I'm just-"
"Worried about me. Fuck, Stan, I know," I growled.
"I know you know, Louis, but do you even care? You've treated me like shit since you came back here and you didn't talk to me at all before that! Am I just another person for you to take down with you?" he yelled.
I felt the fight go out of me. I was supposed to be getting better, not making things worse. I only had two weeks to convince everyone that I was okay enough to live with Harry.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking down at my feet, "I really am sorry. I don't even know why I say half of the things I say. I don't mean them, though. I'm sorry."
My eyes burned and I hoped that Stan didn't notice. My face was already tear-stained, so he might not have noticed the fresh tears threatening to slip out.
I knew without looking that Stan was staring at me.
"I didn't think the word 'sorry' was in your vocabulary anymore," he said, with a little half-laugh, "But it's okay, Lou, I think. I'm trying to imagine what it's like to be you right now and I can't. So I guess it's pretty shit, yeah?"
I nodded.
"I don't feel like myself anymore," I muttered, "I feel like I'm somebody else or something. Because these things are supposed to happen to other people, not me."
"I get it. Trust me, I do," he said gently.
Stan finally started his car.
"I might've been raped," I said.
Stan stopped his car.
"What the fuck are you even talking about?" he said.
"Why Eleanor broke up with me. It was cos' I slept, sort of slept, with a guy. But I can't decide if it was rape or not, cause I called and asked him to but I didn't want him to and I was so scared," I whispered.
There was a painfully long silence.
I risked a look at Stan. His eyes were wet and his eyebrows were furrowed together.
"That...would explain a lot," he said slowly.
"It's okay if you think I'm disgusting," I mumbled.
"Why the fuck would I think that, Louis? That's completely ridiculous!" he exclaimed, "Sure, I think it was a bit dumb of you, but I don't think you're disgusting at all! Christ, Louis!"
I flinched.
"I think that I'm disgusting. I let him use me like that. I didn't make him stop until it went too far. I could have made him stop!" I whimpered, drawing my knees up to my chest.
"Louis," he sighed.
"I'm so tired," I said into my knees, "I want to sleep."
All at once, hot tears broke free from my eyes and I started to cry.
"I'm so fucking tired!" I sobbed.
Stan pulled on my shoulder until I had my head tucked into his neck. He gently rubbed my back as I cried.
"Let's get you home, Lou. You can sleep then," he said gently.
"I can't," I sniffled.
Stan didn't reply. He started his car again and began to drive. He let me cry into his neck as he drove.
"C'mon, Lou," he said when we arrived.
I slid out of the car and shuffled into the house.
"Jay?" he called.
My mum appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She took one look at me and began cooing over me, pulling me close.
"He's tired," Stan explained.
"Alright. I've got him, unless you want to stay," she said.
"Nah. I'll talk to you later, Louis, alright?" he said.
It was a rhetorical question. He knew that I wouldn't respond.
My mum led me up the stairs and into my bedroom.
"Kit off, darling," she said.
I slid out off my clothes and a pair of trackies and a jumper were pushed into my hands.
"I'm tired, mum," I whimpered as I crawled into bed.
I looked up at her with bloodshot, tired eyes. I felt like a small child and I found that I didn't mind. I needed desperately to be taken care of like I was little again.
After she gently tucked my covers around me, she sat down on the edge of my bed and slowly ran her fingers through my hair.
"You know, when you were younger, you would get so grumpy when you were tired, but you'd never admit it. You were so high-energy and you needed a nap everyday or else it wouldn't be pretty. But you hated admitting that you were tired, so I'd send you to play in your room every day for a little while but I knew that you always took a nap then," she said quietly.
I sniffled, blinking slowly.
"I worry about you because of that, you know. It's silly, of course. But you always tell me how exhausting your life-style is and I want to ask if you still take a kip everyday like you used to," she said.
"I can't sleep anymore, mummy," I said thickly, "Most nights I don't sleep at all. I'm so tired. But I don't want to take medicine."
"I understand, sweetheart. Of course you don't want to. But what happens when Harry comes back and you have to run around like crazy every day and you've gotten no sleep?" my mum said.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"How about we try it? Liquid stuff. I think it'll be easier than pills for you," she said.
"Okay," I said hesitantly.
She got up, joints cracking. She returned a few minutes later with a bottle of greenish-blue liquid and a glass of water.
"You've always hated the taste of this," she explained as she set the glass down next to me.
She used the cap to measure out the right amount of the medicine and then she handed it to me.
I stared at it. Something like it had almost killed Harry. It made my stomach turn. I could put it in my mouth but I didn't know if I could swallow it.
"C'mon, sweetheart. It's just a little bit," she cooed.
I took a minuscule sip and wrinkled my nose at the bitter taste.
"Drink the whole thing at once. It'll be easier," she suggested.
Well, no shit.
I tipped my head back and downed the liquid in the cap quickly, gagging slightly.
I drank about half the water in the glass.
"I gave you a little less than it said to, just so it would make you a little more comfortable with it," she explained.
I nodded. I knew that I was probably just imagining it, but I felt like I could already feel the medicine working in my body.
I yawned and pulled the duvet higher.
"Can you stay with me?" I asked softly, "Until I fall asleep?"
My mum nodded, sitting at the edge of my bed. She started petting at my hair again and I shut my eyes. It felt good, relaxing.
Then I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was rather confused. I couldn't remember what time I had fallen asleep at so I didn't know how long I had slept.
I blinked the sticky feeling of sleep out of my eyes. I felt so awake that it was almost alarming. I had nearly forgotten what having energy felt like.
I kicked off my covers and padded downstairs.
"Thought you died or something," Lottie said as she walked into the kitchen.
I looked up from where I was making myself tea.
"Classy," I remarked.
She looked that slightest bit guilty at how she had phrased her sentence, but she simply shrugged.
"How long was I asleep for, anyways?" I asked curiously.
"Assuming that you slept the entire time, about twenty hours. You could have figured it out yourself. You came home in the evening. It is now the afternoon," she said.
"Christ, I just wanted to know," I snapped.
I blinked down at the water that was starting to boil in front of me. It was weird. I hadn't slept for more than four hours at a time for months and now I had slept for twenty.
"You look better," she said, "You don't have those nasty bags under your eyes anymore."
"Thanks," I drawled sarcastically.
Lottie hesitated for a second before saying, "Mum told me. About that, um, thing."
I knew without asking what she was talking about.
"I said that she could," I said quietly.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"You shouldn't be. It was my mistake. I literally asked for it. It was my fault that it happened in the first place," I said, gripping the mug in my hand tightly.
"Still," she said, "Look, it's obvious that you went a little crazy. It's not your fault. It's your crazy side's fault."
"I'm still crazy, I think," I sighed, taking a tentative sip of my tea and recoiling when it burnt my tongue.
"Not quite so much," Lottie assured me.
I gave her a small smile.
"But you've always been crazy, so," she joked.
I snorted, "Must run in the family then, 'cause you're crazy too."
She smiled.
"You know, it's nice to talk to you without wondering if you're going to bite my head off," she said, "This whole time, all you needed was some sleep, cranky Lou."
I sighed and drummed my short, bitten nails against the side of my mug.
"I needed more than just sleep, Lottie. I still need more," I said quietly, "I just don't know what it is that I need."
"Harry?" she suggested.
"Well, yeah. But it's bigger than him now, I think. Just like how his problems got to be bigger than me," I said.
Lottie was quiet for a while before stepping forwards and stealing a sip of my tea. I made an indignant noise and she shrugged in response.
"We were all scared. Not just for you, scared of you too. You were swearing all the time and you didn't care about us hearing and sometimes when you got really angry, I was afraid that you might hurt somebody, mainly yourself. And you get this look, Louis, where it's like you're a million miles away and wherever you are isn't a good place. Whenever you first came home and you'd spend all day in your bed or on a sofa, you were like a robot or something. It was scary, Louis. Please don't let yourself get back to that," she blurted.
I shut my eyes tightly. I didn't need to cry anymore, but Lottie had struck something deep inside of me.
"I don't think I can promise anything just yet. But I think I'm getting better. And hopefully whenever Harry comes back, we'll be able to fix our relationship at least a little bit and that'll probably help the big picture too," I said.
"I miss him. Harry," she admitted, "He used to visit with you and I haven't seen him in ages cause he stopped coming."
"I didn't realize how far we grew apart until it was too late," I replied.
Lottie opened her mouth to reply, but an indignant squawk came from another room, followed by a shriek.
She rolled her eyes at me and disappeared to settle whatever dispute our other sisters were having.
I watched her go and I smiled at my still-steaming tea.
I'd forgotten what having a normal conversation was like.



Harry's POV

I wrinkled my nose at Felix, Liam and Zayn. Niall was in Ireland.
"No, I'm not living with him," I spat, "That's a terrible idea."
"Look, babe, I think it's a good idea," Felix said.
"I know you've mentioned it, but I never thought that you were actually being serious. Christ, that's like learning to swim and jumping straight into the middle of the ocean or something," I said.
"If you want, you can stay with me for a week or so," Liam suggested, "It's just that people will see how off you and Louis will be with each other. Look, I know you'll never be the same with each other, but you need to at least be tolerable. You guys got so close when you lived together before."
"I just don't want to live with him. It'll be stressful and it'll make me anxious and panicky and I just don't think it'll be healthy for me," I said.
I could already feel my heart rate accelerating at simply the prospect of living with Louis. That meant that I would have no choice but to communicate with him on a daily basis. I'd have to see him behind closed doors, when he was the best Louis. The one that I loved best. The cuddly, soft one, sometimes fresh from a shower, smelling good and skin warm one. The one whose eyes shone brighter than they ever did onstage or when they looked over a crowd of hundreds, thousands of people screaming his name. The real Louis.
I wasn't prepared for that Louis.
"What does he think about it?" I asked hesitantly.
"He's scared, obviously, but he wants it quite badly. He wants to connect with you again, Harry," Zayn said.
Felix ran his thumb over the back of my hand, sensing my unease.
"Maybe I don't want to connect with him," I muttered.
"I know you're scared to death. But it'll help you heal, you know that," Felix said.
"Or it'll just take me back to square one," I retorted.
"You're going to have to interact with him regardless," Liam pointed out.
"Chatting with him during rehearsal and living with him are two different interactions," I argued.
"Just try it, H, okay? Give it a few weeks. Then you can live with one of us if you really hate it," Zayn suggested.
"I'm scared," I admitted, picking at a loose thread on my shirt.
"You have every right to be," Liam said.
"I still love him. What if it only gets worse again?" I asked.
"It probably will," Felix murmuring, hooking his chin over my shoulder, "I can show you how to deal with it and how to wank over something that you'll never have."
I couldn't help it. I giggled quietly, even though I knew that he was in my same situation.
"I don't want to," I said helplessly.
They all stared at me for what felt like forever.
"Promise that if I can't do it, you'll let me move out?" I asked.
"Promise," Liam said.
Zayn agreed with a nod and Felix pressed his cool fingertips into my side.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Normally, people's guardians, for lack of a better word, come here and have a psychiatric test done to make sure that they're okay. I think we can get that guy he's seeing to do it, though," Zayn said.
"What guy?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
"Two weeks left," Felix sighed as Zayn and Liam discussed arrangements.
"In the beginning, you told me how fast it goes. You were so right. I'm so scared to leave," I said quietly.
"I think you'll be fine. I know you, H," Felix assured me.
"I don't know me," I mumbled helplessly.
"Lou's gonna be so happy," Liam said.
"But I'm not happy. I'm terrified," I replied.
Deep inside my chest, I wanted to live with him. I wanted everything to go back to how it was. I wanted to be able to sneak into his room for cuddles like I had used to.
I just wanted Louis, no matter how much I pretended that I didn't.