Two Ghosts // l.s

Bruises and blades

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SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING, please read with caution, I love you.

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A month later

Louis woke, routinely flushed away his medication and plodded to the kitchen, head hung low with shame.

Every day had been exactly the same.

He pressed play on his CD player, feeling the tears prick at his eyes as he heard Harry's angelic voice sing 'sweet creature' over again, knowing exactly who the sweet creature was— him. Louis knew he should fight his battle again for Harry, but without him here and with only his voice and a couple pictures it was difficult.

Everything was so fucking difficult. He'd only got worse.

Louis walked aimlessly, humming the final chorus of Sweet creature, feeling the little buzz of happiness as he drew himself into the comfort of Harry's voice. Harry was like Louis' antidepressant, except it made him worse, knowing he wouldn't be coming home for another two months.

Louis scratched at his shredded wrists and cringed as he felt it sting. He was past caring but he really didn't like to destroy his body, for it upset Harry. Sometimes the urge to hurt was so overpowering that he couldn't handle putting the blade back down, he didn't have the self control it took to throw the destructive metal away and move along.

He couldn't help but drag it across his wrists and his small tummy, bringing back every. Single. Insecurity he'd ever had. Loss, pain, self loathing. He'd sit there for hours labelling his hatred.

Sarah never caught on, long jumpers covered his evidence, as did shoving his blade in the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink. She continued to bring him his food, which he had learnt to stash by his foot until she looked away and he could toss it behind his sofa. He did eat— sometimes. It was mainly bread or crackers, just something to fill the painful hole. Yet his cheeks still looked sunken and his ribs sharply sticking out.

It was a gloriously sunny day, completely juxtaposing Louis who sat on the sofa, grimy and thin. He was tapping his foot, surprisingly happy, to 'Boyfriend' one of Harry's new songs. He went about his daily social media check when his eyes rested on snapchat, a headlining news story of a cancelled Harry styles show in Barcelona. Louis shot up, wincing at the pain but then drawing his attention back to the news report. He skimmed his eyes over the 'upset' and 'disappointed fans' but then he connected with the words 'wanting to return home to his lover'

Louis' mouth dropped open and he felt his heart flutter, tears welled up at the side of his eyes. Checking the time it was posted, he googled the flight time from Barcelona to London. Fuck. He only had a couple of hours until presumably Harry would return. Suddenly he felt guilt rise like sick inside of his stomach, he suddenly separated from the person he was a couple of minutes ago. Suddenly needing to erase the broken skin on his stomach and wrists, erase the months of on and off eating.

He ran to the bathroom, feeling like he was going to hurl, ignoring the consistent jabbing pain in his side.

A gloomy figure stared back at him. He hadn't realised how bad he'd got. He pulled at his hair and slapped his face repeatedly, just wanting to pull away this layer of a broken person and reveal the Louis he used to be before, the Louis that had promised his life to Harry. He brushed his teeth for once in what had been a long time, he gargled mouth wash and showered in little time that would have taken him half a day to get up and do.

He paused as he went to the closet, spotting the cases still strewn out as they'd left them when he and Harry had returned. He thought for a second. What if Harry wasn't coming back for him? What if Harry didn't even miss him? What if Harry was just ill and didn't want to return to see Louis but to recover instead— because Louis meant nothing to anyone.

He went back down the spiral.........and the blade came out.

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Louis cried out in agony as he heard the front door crack open, he for once prayed it was Sarah, not his fiancé coming home to a hopeless, lifeless boy.

Harry called out in the most loving majestic way "Sunshine, I'm home!" It took Louis a couple of seconds to realise that this wasn't Harry on a Cd, but actually Harry speaking, actually Harry there. He bit back a scream of pain as he pushed himself off the bed, feeling his freshly cut wound open and drip down his forearm. He whipped himself out of the towel he'd been sat on for so long and pulled on boxers and black skinny jeans, just grabbing his yellow hoodie as Harry trotted into their room.

He stopped and pulled the hoodie tight into his chest, attempting to one, hide the blood and two hide his ribs that were so predominantly there. He hadn't had the time to shove it on over his head.

Harry smiled with the most beautiful radiating sunshine, hair flopping to one side and a red glow coming from his cheeks. His eyes dazzled back a beautiful green, like moss illuminated by the sun. He smelt like home.

Louis felt undoubtedly uncomfortable, realising what a mess he'd become and insecurity washed over him. He stared gobsmacked at his to be husband who stood like a god and he a tramp.

Louis smiled back, looking dazed and then the tears fell down his cheek. He allowed Harry to pull him into an embrace and they hugged for what felt like a comfortable eternity, like the jigsaw pieces had been pieced back together. He pulled away, forgetting everything that had happened to him in the last months to look down at Harry's heavy wedding finger, still captured by the ring Louis had proposed with.

"You're still wearing it?" Louis said weakly.

Harry looked confused and muttered a yes before looking down the the floor, where Louis' yellow hoodie had fallen to. His eyes dropped to a soaked red puddle on the sleeve of the cloth.

"Louis?" He asked worriedly

Louis felt the heat rise to his cheeks and the hurt burn through his soul, he'd dropped without thinking, the only thing that was covering him to the floor. He felt exposed and suddenly bare, he clutched himself around his torso as Harry ran his eyes up Louis' top body, noticing the ribs and the blood smeared on his stomach, the deep red scars scattered his side and finally resting his eyes on sunken cheeks to notice the tears pouring down, dripping onto his abused arm.

Harry grabbed at Louis' wrists aggressively, not meaning to be so abrupt but he was terrified. Louis looked away in embarrassment as Harry whimpered at the skin that had been mutilated into a war zone.

"What have you done.." Harry choked, "w-what have you done to yourself.." Louis let his tears stream down his face as he watched Harry sob.

He only blamed himself, and suddenly he only wanted the blade again.

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A/N

:(

🐝