Misery (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 26

Sorry for the late update!




Harry was a shit boyfriend and he knew it. He saw how Louis was still very insecure. He saw how Louis still constantly asked why Harry would always compliment him. He knew the way Louis looked at himself, and Harry wondered if Louis ever had a single proud thought run through his mind.

The worst part was that Louis- Harry could see it- thought he wasn't doing enough to help Harry. Something was bugging Louis the past few days as well, and he didn't want to share what it was. Harry loved Louis so much. He wanted Louis to be happy more than anything and he felt that he couldn't give Louis the joy he deserved. And Harry knew Louis loved him despite that. Which was quite illogical.

Harry had to say that his relationship with Louis topped his relationship with Jake. He was delusional to even think that Jake and him would get married when they had so many flaws. He tried to refrain from thinking about marriage and family and being domestic with Louis because there was always a possibility that they wouldn't last.

But he couldn't help it. He would have dreams about dressing in a dark blue tux and Louis in a black one, Harry with a bow tie and Louis with a long striped one, holding each other and saying their wedding vows. And then he had fantasies of adopting a baby girl with Louis and giving her the last name Tomlinson-Styles. He would smile to himself in the middle of the night and make funny noises and Louis would pester him to find out what he was thinking about in the morning when they brushed their teeth.

Harry had been clean for five days straight. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He had to do so much to keep himself clean. He kept his promise and called Louis when he felt an urge to cut, and Louis would come running to him dramatically, checking his body to see if he cut and taking him out to do something.

It also meant showering with Louis. The shower itself triggered Harry because that was his place to cut without anyone bothering him. With the impulse to harm floating around in his mind, it was hard to enjoy the sexual atmosphere of their early morning showers. Although Harry did love it. Their sex life was amazing and that was undeniable.

"Hey," Louis knocked on the window of Harry's car, "I'm done."

Harry was already eager to know how Louis's session went. Harry unlocked the car and let Louis sit in his lap. He laced their fingers together. "You look down," he observed Louis's face.

"Dr. Rizzo and I discussed some things," Louis said monotonously.

"Are they... Things you can share? I don't mean to pry or anything..." Harry bit his lip nervously.

"They were about you," Louis sighed.

Harry took a deep breath, unsure how to feel about that statement. "Oh."

Louis frowned. "You're shaking," he observed.

"I- I forgot to take my medication today," Harry answered, images of multicolored pills running through his mind.

"Harry, you should be able to be comfortable with me! You can't be anxious about your boyfriend," Louis whined, hanging his head.

"I'm completely comfortable with you. The days it's only me and you, or us two and the lads I don't even take my pills! It's just that.. That statement would make anybody nervous, Lou," Harry finished. Louis squeezed his hand harder and Harry squeezed back.

"I'm sorry. I got a little worried," Louis said monotonously. "I need to ask you something. Please, tell me the answer? Don't be mad at me. This has been bugging me."

Harry gulped. "Okay."

"Um... So... I was wondering," Louis looked up at Harry with worry in his cerulean eyes, "HaveYouEverTriedToCommitSuicide?" He spoke so quickly that it took Harry a minute to understand what he said. Harry remained silent for a bit. Louis needed to know. They were too close knit for him to keep this a secret.

"You have, haven't you?" Louis's eyes welled up.

"Not exactly but I've contemplated it. Last year," he said in honesty.

"Do you ever think of it again?" Louis buried his face into Harry's chest.

"No, I promise. I'm not suicidal and I don't have suicidal intentions with my self harm," Harry whispered into Louis's ear.

"I'm sorry... I don't mean to sound selfish, but... Can you please never do it?" Louis asked.

Harry chuckled, confused. "You think it's selfish to ask me not to do it? You.. Don't think suicide itself would be selfish on my part?"

"Of course not. I just didn't want to make it seem like I was only putting my feelings into consideration," he explained, "Suicide isn't selfish. I mean for someone to even contemplate going that far, something must've happened."

Harry kissed his boyfriend's perfectly sculpted cheeks. "I love you so much," he sighed, "how'd the rest of your session go?"

Louis sighed. "Well."

"Louis," Harry whined, "you still don't think good of yourself. You still brush off every compliment that I give you. How can I help you out?"

"Harry, I am improving. You can't really see it because it's all internal. But you don't need to help me out, I'm improving!"

"Whatever you say, babe," Harry kissed Louis's nose, still worried. "Get into shotgun, yeah? Let's go back to campus."

*********

Harry sat alone in his dorm, for once not being fond of the sound of silence. It gave his unorganized thoughts the opportunity to get louder and more obvious in his head. He swallowed the colorful pills in his hand to numb his anxiety symptoms when they would hit like a freight train.

Everyone was busy. He knew that if he called Louis saying he got an urge, Louis would run dramatically across the hallway and break into his dorm, pressing kisses onto every inch of his body, murmuring sweet little things to calm him. But Harry had become too dependent on Louis. He needed to take care of himself for once. He needed to be strong enough without someone helping him. Also, he needed to be more considerate of Louis. Louis was playing footie and Harry couldn't bother him.

Harry wondered if Niall was available to come over and cuddle with a black and white movie playing on the T.V. screen, or if Liam could stop by and take him out to eat. He wanted Zayn to be back from his job teaching kids how to draw at a program in the local high school. When Harry was even more socially anxious several months ago, the idea of friendship seemed foreign to him. But now he lived off of it, asking Niall, Liam, and Zayn if they wanted to hang out every free second he had.

Harry decided to call Gemma and talk. He hadn't talked to Gemma in a while, and he hadn't said a phrase besides "How're you doing?" to his mum ever since he found out about her engagement.

"Hi, Hazza," Gemma said, opening Skype.

"Gems, I haven't spoken to you in a bit," Harry sighed, "how's life?"

"Medical school is going well. Why haven't mum and I been hearing from you? I'm not sure if I like Louis, he's stealing you away," Gemma said with a wink.

"I'm sure you'll love Louis just as much as I do," Harry laughed.

"Funny. A while ago you were rambling on about him being too good for you," Gemma took a spoonful of the soup she was eating.

"How is mum?" Harry asked, mentally praying that Rich wouldn't be brought up.

"Oh she's pretty whiny, you know the whole marriage arguments. It ranges from the color of the hall to the type of eyeliner mum plans to wear," Gemma chuckled, "but Rich loves her anyway and I'm glad mum is finally happy, and with someone she's adorable with."

Harry gaped. "Yeah. I have to go Gems, I'll talk to you later."

Harry tried to remember what Louis said about delaying the impulse. But it was floating around Harry and Harry couldn't just simply ignore it. The impulse to self harm was extremely powerful. It sure as hell didn't like being ignored. Harry wanted so badly to see red marks on his body once more. The old ones were fading and he didn't like it.

He crawled out of bed, finally giving up. He couldn't do this anymore. He was done with trying to get better. The little spark of hope growing inside of him had been put out.

Harry was simply not going to live like this; he wasn't going to sit around and have a bubble in his brain that could only be popped with a sharp blade, and through his skin. What was the point anyway? Even if he stopped hurting himself he would still feel like shit.

He walked into the bathroom, the hesitance in the back of his mind being overpowered by the demons inside of him. He looked at the little blade in his hands. He remembered when Louis confiscated them, because he didn't understand what it was like then. Now Louis understood, though.

He won't hate me, Harry thought. Louis will eventually leave anyway.
His overflowing pessimistic thoughts easily brought tears to his eyes. He stripped off all his clothes and stared at his body in the mirror, thinking about where he should cut first.

All of it, the parasite in his brain told him. CUT ALL OF IT. EVERYBODY LEAVES YOU AND YOU SHOULDN'T TRUST LOUIS.

He stared at his clean thighs. He never damaged any skin there. Wrist cuts would be hard to conceal. The hips and shoulders were out of space. Harry nodded to himself.

-I'm not going into gory detail with the cutting-

Harry looked at the bright red marks on his thighs, blood dripping down. He didn't feel relieved. The bubble in his head was gone but it was replaced with a gut wrenching feeling known as guilt.

"What have I done?" Harry murmured to himself. He was getting better. He was actually recovering and he gave into the wrong decision. He looked at his barren body covered in self inflicted wounds. He sat on the floor of the shower, crying.

Why did he have to screw up so badly? Why was being clean so hard? He curled up his knees and bawled into them. He then realized it was only five days he'd been clean. God, he was so pathetic. He couldn't go a damn week without ripping his skin open. An almost 20 year old man was letting his life get dictated by little sharp objects.

"I failed Louis," he said to himself, like a psychopath. "I'm sorry Louis," he cried, "I fucked up Louis, don't leave me!" He knew Louis would be disappointed and he wasn't ready to see that look yet. Here he was, rocking back and forth, grabbing onto his knees and murmuring to himself. He was a huge ball of nothing but failure.

He checked the time. Louis's footie practice ended exactly a minute ago, which meant he must be on his way to the dorm to watch the rerun of Supernatural with Harry. Well, fuck that.

Harry bawled louder. He didn't want to see Louis and he never felt that way. Matter of fact, he didn't want Louis to see him. He looked disgusting and psychopathic.

Harry heard knocks on his door. He didn't budge from his position. He continued to sob hysterically.

"Harry?" Louis's soft voice called, "Are you there?"

He then heard the door creak open. The bathroom door had a little open crack and the light was on. Louis would definitely notice. Harry dreaded seeing the look on his face.

"Harry!" Louis kicked open the bathroom door and gasped. "No!"

"Go away," Harry hissed.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Louis pressed his lips into a thin line.

"I don't want you to see me like this. Go away, I'm disgusting."

"No," Louis bent down and kissed Harry's shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. It's okay. We'll get through this together, yeah? You're doing great."

With those sweet words and soft touches, all of Harry's doubts and terrible thoughts went down the drain. He saw reality. Louis wasn't disappointed. Louis understood. Louis wasn't going to leave him. And he was far more than trustworthy. "I'm so sorry," Harry's sobs reduced to shudders and he sniffled.

"Don't be," Louis kissed his cheeks and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"I had these horrible thoughts that... That you would leave me anyway and that I should give up," Harry told him, crying more.

"That's not you thinking, that's your addiction. Addictions are diseases Harry. They're parasites. And I hope you know that none of that is true," Louis grabbed his hand and helped him up. He wrapped Harry in a towel and walked him over to the bed.

"How do you know so much about this?" Harry asked, curiously watching as Louis unwrapped the towel and looked around for some antiseptic. Harry pointed to a drawer to help him out.

"I stay up almost every night reading articles about self injury. I don't want to take the chances of accidentally saying something offensive and I want to understand everything," Louis smiled, dabbing Harry's eyes with a tissue.

Harry blushed. "Really?"

"Yeah," Louis chuckled, "I love you, Harry. You're my entire world. I don't want you to hurt yourself but I understand why you do it. I'm not going to stop helping you recover."

"I love you too. I'm not going to stop with you either," Harry kissed Louis's chin which was directly above his own lips. He watched Louis pour a little antiseptic on his hand. He gritted his teeth as Louis inched closer to his skin, his wounds burning. Harry had cut so deep that even a quick touch would hurt so badly. Louis's free hand held onto Harry's.

"You okay?" Louis asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. He watched Louis rub other first aid materials onto his thighs. He pulled a pair of boxers onto Harry's legs and kissed him passionately. Harry wanted to vent to Louis so badly. And Louis noticed it.

"What's on your mind?"

"Louis," Harry bit his lip, silent tears flowing down his face, "I kept getting these horrible thoughts. I kept thinking I'm a loser anyway and you'd leave me and I can't trust you and you'd leave... And I wanted to cut my entire body," Harry sobbed.

Louis pursed his lips. "I can't pretend I'm okay with that. But that's not you thinking, love! You wanted to cut so your brain gave you excuses to do so. I'm not leaving you."

"I'm so sorry. Lou, I'm so terrible," Harry sniffled, his eyes swollen and puffy, "I suck. I'm so weak."

"Are you kidding?" Louis inched closer to him, lacing his small fingers through Harry's large ones. "You've been clean for five days. I'm so proud of you."

"My mum called me and she talked about Rich," Harry continued.

"Gosh," Louis caressed his cheek, "I'm so sorry, love. I don't know what to say about that. Have you ever considered telling her? You can't stay quiet about this."

Harry widened his eyes. "No! Hell no! I'm not ruining her life like that, I'm not!"

"Okay," Louis calmed him down again, rubbing his shoulders, "it's okay." Louis picked up a T-Shirt and pulled it over Harry's head, then wrapping him in a blanket so he wouldn't shiver. Harry looked at him and felt nothing but unnecessary guilt. Louis wasn't mad and he wasn't disappointed. He understood completely, but Harry still felt so terrible for him. He must be trying so hard and he must be so confused.

Louis pressed a few kisses onto Harry's face, wiping it with a cloth. "Harry, don't feel bad. You're trying to get better, and you actually are improving. There's no reason for you to feel bad."

"Take my razors," Harry said suddenly.

Louis was speechless for a moment. "What?"

"Take my razors and hide them. I need this," Harry said.

"Harry, are you sure? That's a huge step to take when you're still so early into recovery," Louis was smiling, and Harry knew it was because he was proud, but he was still doubtful.

"I'm not ready for it yet but it's worth a shot anyways," Harry shrugged. "C'mere," he patted a space on the bed next to him.

Harry didn't know how Louis wasn't disappointed. He didn't know why he wasn't upset with Harry. He simply didn't get it but Harry didn't know how to confront him about it. He snapped out of his deep thought when he felt Louis's fingertips on his cheek.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Louis asked, his lips lightly pressing against Harry's cheek.

"Nothing," Harry shrugged, because nothing actually was wrong.

"You're still not convinced I'm not disappointed?" Louis asked, sighing. Harry shook his head. "I'm not, Harry! I know you're trying to get better and we're only starting."

"Tell me how you feel about it," Harry pleaded, "please tell me how you feel about my situation to put me out of my curiosity?"

Louis scoffed. "What?"

"How does," Harry gestured to his body, "this, make you feel?"

"Okay, my little therapist," Louis chuckled, wrapping his arms around Harry's torso. "I feel terrible about it honestly. I spend most of my time worrying about you and whether you've cut. At first I thought it'd be easy for you to tell me whenever you did but I understand it's not. I thought this would be easy but it's not. I know. And Harry, I have to hold back my ugly sobs whenever I think about the fact that someone I am in love with is hurting themselves."

Harry expected to feel guilty but instead he felt sort of relieved now that he knew. Of course Louis was crying on the inside, who wouldn't be? "I think it'd be helpful if you let out your ugly sobs," Harry suggested, "not just about me. About everything, Louis. So I can soothe you for once, and you don't have to bottle it up."

"Harry, that's ludicrous," Louis shook his head.

"It's not. Trust me it's not. It's helpful," Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to his head, "it's about time you let it out. I'm always sobbing, and I've hardly ever seen you cry."

Harry caressed his boyfriend's soft, sculpted cheeks. He mouthed "I love you" a few times and pressed a few kisses to his nose. Louis was such a closed up person and Harry wished Louis wasn't so ashamed of himself. He watched as Louis's eyes welled up, and the first tear rolled down his cheek. It started out as a few silent tears but then it escalated into noisy sobs.

Harry felt his heart break at the sight. He immediately cuddled Louis and rocked him back and forth in his arms, whispering sweet things into his ear.

"I love you so much Harry," Louis said, between heavy breaths, "I'm sat here complaining about nothing when you've been through so much..."

"Hey, don't say that. You can't measure what people have been through; everyone feels miserable about different things," Harry explained. And he wholeheartedly believed it. He didn't like when people compared their self harm, their horrible pasts, or how bad they had it in general.

"Fuck, I hate being a fag, I hate I hate I hate being a fag," Louis cried, "I hate what we have to damn go through! I hate how we're treated! I hate everything I lost because I like penis!"

"I know, love, I know," Harry sighed, "would you choose to not be gay?" He looked into Louis's cerulean eyes, bloodshot and puffy.

"If I were straight I wouldn't be here with you," Louis sniffled, "so hell no."

"That would be a huge sacrifice," Harry said, feeling so overly flattered, so amazing that Louis love him that much. But Louis probably didn't mean it.

"In high school if I had known that I'd find someone like you in college, I would get through it, Haz. I would freaking volunteer to be slammed into lockers. I wouldn't screw girls in hopes of becoming straight," Louis punctuated every sentence with a kiss.

Harry hated himself for tearing up as if they were in a romantic comedy or a chick flick. He hated how cheesy they were both being. He was not a kind of guy who did that, but at the same time he also loved the cheesiness of their relationship at moments like this. It reminded him that the never ending desire to grab and hold Louis and never let him go, the huge hole in his stomach filled with weird emotions, the big part of his brain that couldn't care less about anything unless it was Louis Tomlinson, it was mutual. Louis felt the same way Harry did, and that made Harry so happy.