Louis isn't coping, how is he supposed to cope? Harry wasn't coping at all so if Harry was in that state then how the hell is Louis supposed to survive? He gets out of bed after a night of absolutely no sleep, tossing and turning from side to side. He's angry, heartbroken and frustrated. He pads to the bathroom and leans on the sink. Looking to the mirror, what he sees isn't him. This man, he was a stranger. His eyes had lost their shine, now dark, full of pain and sorrow the bags under them were noticeable from space, his sleepless nights are the blame for that. His skin is pale, hair is just a mess, and his lips are dry and lifeless. He thinks at some point yesterday he actually died. His soul has left his body and gone into the after life and he's stuck here with what little he has left of his brain, reminding him daily of his mistakes. He let Harry in, it's his own fault that he's hurt, he deserves this. He deserves it all...
"Fuck!" He shouts, anger controlling his body. He balls his fist, connecting it with the mirror, smashing it into a million pieces, glass flying all over the bathroom. Pain shoots up his arm but it's a relief, his knuckles burn and he feels the hot wetness of blood form. His anger dissipates and the aching sadness returns, in a way the anger was better, made him feel strong. The sadness didn't, it was tiring, weak. He looks at the broken pieces on the floor that represent himself and sighs, two mirrors are broken now. It's ironic, he's been told before that him and Harry are mirrors. He sinks to the floor, clutching his throbbing, bleeding hand with his other. He lets out a strangled moan because his hand doesn't hurt even half as much as he does inside. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his head on top of them. Glass scrapes against the floor causing an awful scraping sound and both of Louis hands tug his hair trying desperately to stop the image of Harry sobbing on the floor, completely broken. The image won't disappear and the blood from his hand gets into his hair making it sticky. Louis draws in a deep breath before standing up. He shakily walks to the kitchen, getting out a big bowl and picks up the bigger parts of the glass, they clink in the bowl and Louis gets irritated at the noise. He cleans up the rest with a dust pan and brush before stripping and switching on the shower. His injured arm is a complete mess. The blood has run up his arm and has dried and his knuckles are busted open, sticky with blood. He cringes at the sight of it and hopes he didn't get the blood anywhere whilst he was cleaning up, he also hopes his hand isn't as bad as it looks. The shower is almost too hot, it burns his skin and makes him wince as the water stings his hand. Once the blood is gone it doesn't look too bad, one knuckle is worse than the rest and is stilling bleeding slowly but the others are just grazes. The shower does nothing to clear his head but it does stop his frustration, it disappears into the steam. Once he is out and dry, he pulls on one of Harry's jumpers, so what if it's a setback, and some sweats. He wraps up his knuckles and puts some ice in a tea towel before holding it to the wound, hoping to stop the swelling. It was beginning to hurt now and he bites back a sob, he was not going to cry. He finds his phone which has four unread messages and two missed calls from Zayn, two texts from Liam and one from his mum. He was ignoring Zayn because he knows Zayn would make him talk about his incident on the phone a few weeks ago. If he answered Liam then Zayn would find out so he decides to just open the one from his mum. As usual she's worried about him and wants him to go and see her soon. It'd been about two months since he had seen her and yeah he missed her but he didn't want to tell her about Harry. She adored the boy, well everyone does. He uses his good hand to text her back saying that he's fine and that he will come to see her soon and he remembers the promise Harry had made the last time he went to visit her. They'd both gone to stay for a week and the house was crowded and loud. Lottie had moved into Louis room the moment he moved out so that she didn't have to share with Fizzy and with the new set of twins the spare room was taken up too. Louis and Harry had ended up sleeping on the small futon in his step dad Dan's office. It was barely big enough to fit Harry's lanky body on it, let alone the both of them. Harry slept on his back and Louis slept on his front on Harry's chest the whole week with Harry's arms wrapped tightly around him so he didn't fall off. It was cramped but he must admit that was the best weeks sleep he had in his life, even though the babies kept waking him up. When they got back home they slept just as close even though they had much more bed space but it was nice like that, there's something about falling asleep to Harry's heartbeat, in Harry's arms, which made them feel somewhat closer. The day they left his mum's, two months ago, they had both received a thousand hugs and his mum was a little upset, over tired because of the twins, Doris woke whenever Earnest did and Earnest seemed to constantly cry.
