i sleep naked ➸ larry stylinson

forty

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm

harry didn't know why his wrists still itched even when they were cut open, bleeding. the damage was already done, but he still wanted to feel more pain. he wanted to feel more pain when louis stalked out of the room, but the thing was, he didn't hear the front door open and shut. maybe it was because of the storm raging outside.

harry wanted to hurt. he wanted to hurt to distract him from the awful, horrible pain in his chest. louis' words felt like knives literally stabbing into him, piercing his skin and thin layer of armour that he was in the middle of constructing. it pierced him all the way to the bone, and now he was bleeding out because of it.

harry took a deep breath, scratching his nails across the open gashes in his wrists and fingers. he was shivering, either because of the pain or because, every time he had an anxiety attack, he would feel hot and cold at the same time.

it stung. yeah, it stung a lot. but it wasn't enough. he was still suffering so much on the inside, and this pain wasn't even close to what he needed to feel.

he rammed his fist into the wall next to him suddenly, and it was agonizing. but it felt good.

so he punched the wall, over and over and over until he felt a loud voice right before a boom of thunder.

"stop! crap harry oh my god crap harry stop! please!"

harry didn't stop though, he punched and punched until he felt like his knuckles were broken; they were literally numb.

he kept doing it, and he was thrashing when fingers wrapped around his forearms and tried to control his hands. he let out a scream as he was pulled away from the wall, and dragged to his bedroom.

"no!" harry cried. "let go of me, let, go, of me! i hate you!"

"baby it's okay, just lay down, calm down, sleep," louis said lowly, reaching out and pushing his fingers through harry's sweaty curls, tugging slightly. normally, it would be comforting, but the smell of honey was overwhelming harry. louis was sweating too; his breathing was so heavy and his eyes were rimmed red. harry pushed away any thought of beautiful and decided that louis was ugly. louis was so freaking ugly. he smelled like this awful boy sweat smell and laundry detergent, which made him nauseated, and his blue eyes caused chills to go down his spine.

"i'm not gonna sleep!" harry yelled, elbowing louis as hard as he could in the stomach, that tummy that he knew every inch of. louis reached for him with the hands harry had memorized, with the tan arms harry had fell asleep in. "don't touch me! please, please don't touch me," harry hiccupped, his tone changing from angry to pleading. "please, louis, no."

"i'm sorry."

harry glared at him, scrambling to the other side of his bed so he almost fell off. "no, no you're not. you're not sorry, if you were sorry you wouldn't have, you wouldn't have cheated on me, cheated, you cheated on me, you cheated on me, you cheated on me."

"harry i-"

"you. cheated. on. me."

"harry! let me explain!" there was some sort of regret in louis' watery blue eyes as he gazed at harry. "i di-"

"please, just get out!" harry yelled, exasperated.

"let me see your wrist," louis said softly. "you can hate me all you want, but please, please let me see your wrist. i know i don't deserve to even look at you right now but please. for me."

"why would i do anything for you?" harry spit, his throat aching as the words came out of his mouth. "you've done nothing for me."

"c'mere," louis breathed, and harry fought the instinct to crawl into his arms, to let the warmth seep into his body.