OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Twenty Two: Therapy

{Harry's POV}

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A distant beeping noise is what brought me back to reality. My eyes were sealed shut with a layer of sleep, and all I wanted to do was pry them open, but my muscles were too weak, and I fell back into a blurry sleep.

The second time when I woke up, I actually stayed. My eyes remained shut, but I was still awake. I still heard the beeping noise, and my ears ringed from the sound. Something soft was in my hand, something warm and soft. It was comforting. I really tried hard to open my eyes, but just breathing was difficult at the moment. When the ringing subsided, just barley, I heard the sound of sniffling, like someone was crying. I really needed to open my eyes.

With all the effort I could muster, I pried my exhausted eyes open, to find Louis sitting in a chair, crying and holding my hand. The sight was shocking at first, and it took long time for my eyes to focus. His head was down, so the chance of him seeing me awake was unlikely. I didn't like seeing him upset. The room I was in was white, with creepy pictures of happy children hung on the wall. It smelled of chemicals and Latex Gloves. Glancing towards the beeping noise, my fears were confirmed-I was in a hospital.

Gathering as much strength as I could, I moved a few of my fingers to notify Louis of my presence. He looked up immediately, and his frown shifted into what looked like a sad smile, the kind of smile you'd have at a funeral when someone says something funny in their death-speech. But I wasn't dead not yet.

"Harry," he muttered, holding my hand tighter and brushing a piece of my fringe out of my eye. My vision was still slightly blurry, but I could see his damp cheeks clearly.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, my voice dry and dense. Louis shook his head and wiped a few stray tears from his eyes.

"I'm just happy to see you awake." I knew he was lying, bluntly lying, but I didn't say anything. I was really confused. Why was I in a hospital? Why was Louis crying? I barely remembered anything. All I knew was my head was pounding and my arms felt numb.

"Why am I here?" I slurred out, looking around the room. Louis inhaled deeply.

"You, um, hurt yourself... again. You passed out. Your mum found you unconscious," he said to me in a quiet voice, his tone soft. I loved his voice, but his tone made everything so utterly fake, like it was painful for him to talk. I looked down at my arms. Thick white bandages covered both of them. Memories flooded back to me in mass, hitting me with an even more painful headache.

"I'm sorry," I said to the older after a pause. I remembered pain, regret, and then pure darkness. I couldn't leave Louis.

He shook his head again. "No, it's okay, don't be sorry," there was a pause, "The doctors say you're lucky to be alive." His head was down, but I could see the tears that continued to roll down his blushing face.

"I didn't mean to," I replied honestly, remembering how I wanted to stop, but I just couldn't. His head lifted up, and I could clearly see how red his face was from the crying.

"Please don't cry," I said to him, feeling beyond guilty. My head hurt, and watching Louis cry over something that was entirely my fault made my heart physically hurt. He rubbed his thumb lightly across my hand, sending shivers down my spine. "I just, I," Louis was at a loss of words.

"I like you, Harry, so much, and I can't live with the fact that at any moment you might hurt yourself," my eyes fell. No. Louis doesn't want to be with me. He can't handle how unstable I am.

No. Please no.

"Please don't leave me," my lip trembled slightly. All I wanted was for Louis to stay, to hold my hand. To be with me. Louis's hand tightened and his eyes went wide.