Tfios (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter has mentions of depression and self harm, so, you know, trigger warning. Happy reading. :-)

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January 29th - Day 13

I lay his file on the kitchen table, my feet tucked underneath me, a cup of coffee resting on a coaster near my hand. I was still in my pajamas, enjoying a lazy Sunday. I’d been so tired lately, and it was nice to have a day just to lie about and do nothing. On the other side of the tiny kitchen, Liam reached into the cabinet, nabbing a box of cereal from the upper shelf and pouring himself a bowl. “New patient?”

“Relatively.” I opened the folder, the cover page neat and organized, a washed out picture of Harry at the top, next to his name, age, and lines and lines of personal information. “Met him last Tuesday.”

Liam nodded absently, dousing his cereal in milk. “Our charming late night caller?”

I smiled, the memory of his voice still warm and fuzzy in my mind. “One and the same.” Liam came around to my side of the table, peering over my shoulder to get a look at his file. “Nice hair.”

I pulled the manilla envelope towards me. “Patient confidentiality, Liam.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “I just wanted to see what he looked like.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked, shooting him what he called ‘the sassy gay queen Louis smirk,’ something that I probably shouldn’t have found as hilarious as I did.

“I do actually. Danielle wants to not watch a movie.” He smiled, shooting me a thumbs up over his cheerios. 

“Be safe.” I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the childish expression on his face. What Liam lacked in intelligence, he made up for by being completely adorable, something that only really became a problem when we had to file taxes. 

“You know I will, Lou.” He winked, tossing his bowl into the sink and heading for the door. “See you later!”

“Bye, Li!” I called, taking a long drink of coffee and flipping to the second page, the wordsPatient Overview printed at the top in stark black letters.

I scanned down the sheet, my eyes falling on two words that made my breath catch.Attempted suicide.

The sentences seemed to blur. Overdose. History of self harm. Admitted December 12th. That was only two months ago. I dropped my forehead into my hand, his face swimming in my mind. 

Oh Harry, what have you done?

January 31st - Day 15

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent most of the next few days thinking about him. I knew I shouldn’t spend so much time fretting about this, but I couldn’t help it. Sometimes I really wished I didn’t have to feel like I did, always caring too damn much about things I had no control over. It was part of the reason I was so good at my job, because I was incapable of just walking away.

I could feel a sudden rush of relief as I walked into his hospital room. Harry was just as I had left him, with his blankets pulled up to his waist, computer in his lap, and eyes glued to the screen. “I’m beginning to think you’re attached to that thing.” I quipped from the doorway, giving him a friendly smile.

“I had it welded to my thighs a few months ago.” He replied, not looking up from whatever he was doing. 

I stared at him, wondering if this could possibly have been the same boy who’d called me so early that morning, whose breaths I’d fallen asleep to. It seemed that in the cool light of the hospital room his walls had gone straight back up. I could still see him, the broken boy with the soft voice, but he was hiding now. “Doing well then?”