It Takes a Fool to Remain Sane - Larry

Take it to the Stage

Louis does honestly wish he never told Harry. It's been four days since he told him and he feels as if he's going insane.

Harry googled things about eating disorders and has now hid/thrown (Louis isn't sure which one, because Harry won't fucking tell him) the scale. This frustrates Louis to no end because weighting himself was part of his daily routine and it fucking sucks to not be able to do that. He feels as if he's already gained twenty pounds, because Harry is now making sure they both sit down and eat together. Louis has been eating three (three!) meals a day and okay, it's not like Harry is forcing him to eat pasta or a hamburger, it's mostly light meals like salmon salad or other "healthy" meals. But it's still too much, it's too fucking much, so Louis throws it up. He's not proud of it, but he can literally see no other possible way to handle all this food. He just can't eat it and be okay with that. It doesn't work like that, he doesn't work like that. Louis can't eat. Simple as that.

Harry doesn't know about the throwing up, of course he doesn't. And yes, Louis does feel slightly bad for keeping that away from him, but still. What did Harry expect? That Louis would be able to eat three meals a day, not weigh himself or exercise? Yea, right.

That's another thing, Harry won't' let Louis do any kind of exercise or anything that can burn off those disgusting calories that are packing in his body. The calories that Louis so badly needs to work off.

He's restless to say the least and he feels so out of control that he doesn't know where to turn. And he's so mad is the thing. He's so fucking mad at himself for caving in and telling Harry about his diet thing (it's not an eating disorder). He doesn't understand what he was thinking. Maybe a bit, because he knows he's fucking terrified that he dropped below ninety pounds (he probably weighs more than it now), but when he really thinks about it, was it really that much of a big deal? Ninety pounds is very little, he can admit that, but does that number matter if his belly is still hanging over the waistband of his pants or when his thighs are still touching each other? The number on the scale doesn't match his reflection in the mirror so that number is useless really and he shouldn't have freaked out about it. He should have written the number down like any other day and then moved on and kept fucking going. Not caving in and "admitting" that he has a disorder that he doesn't even have!

He's so angry with himself that he doesn't really know what to do.

The radio in the car is sounding lowly and Louis can make out Harry singing along to it in the driver's seat, but instead of appreciating his boyfriend's beautiful voice, Louis feels annoyed. He wishes that Harry could be quiet so Louis could have some kind of peace. And he wishes they weren't driving to a doctor's appointment he doesn't need nor want. He wished he was home with an empty stomach (he did throw up before they left, but it's not the same as never having had anything in it) and he wishes his muscles were aching from the exercise they had gotten.

But you won't always get what you wish for, which is why they're now pulling up in the parking lot of the restricted area of the hospital and Louis feels like vomiting again (he takes some pride in knowing that there is nothing left for him to throw up, he has made sure of that).

"Are you ready?" Harry's voice is gentle and he's looking at Louis with his stupid green concerned eyes and Louis fights the urge to scream at him. Tell him that this is stupid and that they shouldn't be here. That Harry is wrong to be worried about him and that he is totally fine as he is,, that he doesn't need any help. He just needs to lose weight.

Louis gives Harry a tight smile in response and a nod that can barely even count as a nod, before he leaves the car and ignores the dizzy spell that hits him once he's upright.