All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

16

“Harry, what did he do to you baby?”

Louis can feel Harry tense beside him from where they’re cuddling on the couch, a lazy Sunday full of 80’s movies and salty snacks.

“Can we please not talk about this?”

“I promise you can tr-”

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Lou,” he says more firmly.

“Will you at least tell me why you don’t want to talk about it?”

He can feel Harry shaking. He can feel Harry’s body breaking beneath his skin, can see his jaw moving as he chews the words ‘no,’ and ‘stop,’ and ‘it’s okay,’ into silences. Then, he is getting up.

“What’re you doing?” Louis asks worriedly. He watches Harry slip his shoes on. He’s only in a pair of shorts and a white, stained shirt. Louis bites his lip so, so worried, “W-where are you going?” Harry has never just- left. He never leaves. Louis doesn’t know where he would go. He can feel his heart pressing against his ribs. He can feel himself forgetting how to breathe.

“Harry, babe,” he says softly, trying not to sound like he is pleading, “it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, just come sit down.”

Harry’s hand grips the doorknob, knuckles turning white under the heavy grasp.

“I’m used, Louis,” he says bitterly, “I’m used, and disgusting, and just another hand-me-down. I’m fucking used.”

Louis can’t move. He knows he’s trying to, he knows he can feel himself trying to get up and run after Harry to see if he’s okay, to see where he is going, but his body won’t fucking move, it won’t react. The hurt Louis is feeling is like when you wake up from a dream and realise it isn’t reality. Except, instead it isn’t a dream he is waking up from, it's a nightmare. A beautifully, decomposing nightmare that is reality. And he is waking up with tears pooling in his eyes, and sweat slicking his forehead, and the nightmare is just a little too real.

He texts Zayn, do you feel like skating?

hell ya, meet you there in twenty

Before Louis leaves, he sets a note on the kitchen counter.

the word ‘beautiful’ has been used

to describe things billions upon billions of times, but that doesn’t make the word any less beautiful.

and the same goes for you.

(Louis gets home late. Harry still isn’t home, but the note is gone.

Harry doesn't come back that night.

In the morning when he does come back, neither of them talk about what happened.)

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Yall were getting thirsty for an update.