Hold me close {{Larry one-shots and drabbles}}[ON HOLD]

Promises to keep

You see Harry stopped believing in an ending even remotely happy. He stopped believing when he was left alone after the car crash that killed his entire family. He stopped believing when the beatings began at his first foster home. He stopped believing when he was running in the dark of the night after knocking out his ‘dad’ at his sixth (or is it the seventh? Harry doesn’t care or remember). He stopped believing long enough.

Long enough.

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Louis thinks it’s stupid the way he’s arranging his room-he definitely doesn’t need any of the things in it. Like he doesn’t need those worn out paperbacks, he doesn’t need the same boring band shirts or the scuffed pair of converse. He doesn’t need his phone or anything. Those things are useless when you’ve decided to die- what you need are those precious last moments.

Really.

--- --- ---

The restroom of a gas station isn’t the best pace to carry out your death wish, but Louis thinks he can make do with that. So that’s why he’s leaning against the door of the lone stall, hand clammy as he grips the shiny piece of metal. He thinks this is the easiest way to go, and he’s determined to go.

So he slides the blade across his skin, not too deep just enough to cut across the skin in a thin red line. He does this a few times until his body has stopped trembling, his mind is settling into a kind of numbness. He grips the blade a little tighter and moves it further up his arm, placing it right above the vein that’s visible.

“Are you fucking done?” a rough voice calls out even as fists pound against the door. Louis is so startled that he drops the blade, the metal clattering as it falls.

Suddenly it’s all so clear, it’s so real what he was about to do.

Fists continue to pound and it’s only when he hears a choking cough that he scrambles up from the floor, yanking the door open.

He isn’t sure what he was expecting or who he was expecting. But he certainly wasn’t expecting the tall, lanky boy with a head full of unruly hair and green, green eyes staring back angrily at him even as he clutches his stomach in a vice-like grip.

The boy’s eyes suddenly flit towards Louis’s arm, eyes widening when he sees the blood that’s staining his clothes scarlet. The anger in his eyes is replaced by shock and Louis doesn’t waste any time in pushing past the boy and makes his way out, trying to hold back the tears.

--- --- ---

Another painful clench of his stomach snaps Harry out of his daze of tear filled blue eyes and that pale face. He can feel the way his body’s rejecting the measly amount of food he’s eaten, he can feel the familiar burn pass through his throat leaving a bitter, bloody aftertaste.

He knows he should eat but habits are a little too hard to break.

--- --- ----

Louis thinks he’s never been more humiliated, never been more ashamed of what he is than he was an hour ago at that dump of a washroom and try as he might he can't get that  stupid boy  and his wide eyed gaze and that pained look on his face out of his head.

Louis is fucked. He’s messed it up again and this time for no fault of his. He could just end it now, he thinks, sitting in the corner of his almost living room. No one would know , no one would be hurt, But he can’t- not when his skin is still burning with the earlier cuts, not when he remembers the faint ‘sorry’ said by the boy just as he left.

--- --- ----

Louis thinks he has some past life connection with the gas station just outside his small town, and especially the restroom.