Uni (A Larry Stylinson Story) ✅

Nurse Harry

Harry's Point of View

I was getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I heard someone on the other side of the hall.

Half asleep, I thought nothing of it, but as I kept walking, I saw that it was Louis. And he looked bloody awful.

He was pale as a ghost with bloodshot eyes and his pants were torn at the knees, with a layer of dried blood coating each knee. Louis was limping and looked like he was about to pass out.

I rushed towards him, supporting him with my arm as he started to fall. "Louis! What happened?" I asked. Louis groaned and didn't answer. He started falling onto me and I caught him, gently laying him down on the floor.

"Are you Okay? Should I call public safety?" I asked in a panic. I've never had someone pass out on my before and didn't know what to do. "No," he croaked. "I'm fine."

"Well you look awful," I said, shooting a text to Niall, letting him know what was going on in case he came looking for me. "What happened?"

"I just... I don't know," he said lazily. "I ran ten miles and then I collapsed and threw up on purpose and fell and scratched my wrists..."

My face twisted in horror as I realized what Louis had done. He seemed too out of it to censor himself, and I knew in the morning he would probably regret telling me this. But Louis was clearly self harming— in more ways than one. Over exercise, self induced vomiting, wrist scratching. It all started to make sense. His nasty attitude, his barely touched burger in the café, his secretive nature. It probably all had something to do with that guy he had run from in the café....

"Harry," Louis croaked. I looked back at Louis and realized my eyes were watering. I tried to wipe my eyes without him noticing, but to no avail. "You're crying Harry, fucking stop it. Just help me to bed, please. I just need to go to sleep. I'm a little beat up that's all."

I nodded, and helped Louis to his feet, grabbing him under the arms. Louis didn't feel that skinny to me— in fact, he had curves and he seemed pretty strong. But I knew that people of all shapes and sizes could have eating disorders, and I was genuinely worried for Louis and his health.

"Alright, get in bed," I said softly, supporting the arch of Louis' back with my hand as he climbed up to the bed. The room was almost entirely empty aside from a tiny poster on the wall that said 'I don't fucking care.' It made me feel a little sad.

Once Louis was in bed, I quickly left the room and grabbed Louis a glass of water and a wet paper towel with a little bit of soap to disinfect his torn up knees and arms. "Thank you Harry," Louis said weakly, as I washed his wounds. "I... I know I act like I don't I care. But I really do. About you."

My cheeks flushed red and I stared at him in disbelief. He looked so weak and sick in his bed, all tucked in like a child. "I care too, Louis," I said, smiling. "And, you know. Whatever you're dealing with, you probably won't want to talk about in the morning, when you're, you know, mean Louis..."

"Fuck mean Louis," Louis said, rolling over and closing his eyes. "He's a dick."

I laughed and nodded. "He can be. But he means well," I said. "But just know that I'm always here to help and I'm always here to talk. No matter what."

Louis jolted his eyes open and looked up at me, seeming to sort of remember something. "No," he said, staring at me and making a pouty face. "You'll hurt me like Liam did."

And then he laid back down and closed his eyes. I didn't ask who Liam was, mostly because I already knew, but also because I wanted him to calm down. I rubbed his back for twenty minutes until he was asleep and left a granola bar next to his bedside table for the morning. Something told me louis skipped breakfast often.

  "Goodnight, Louis," I whispered. 

Then I closed the door, but left it unlocked, so I could check in on him in the morning.

I returned to my room and went back to sleep, dreaming of Louis cuddling on my chest in his boxers with his two skinned knees.