Smoke || larry

31

The pitter patter of the rain falls heavily on Harrys roof. His mind is fuzzy and lost and the pills beside his bed are the cause of that. He took some sleeping pills because he hasn't slept in three days. He's always high and the high eventually ruins your sleeping schedule.

Louis won't answer his calls or texts, his voicemail the closest Harrys gotten to hearing his voice in two weeks. Anne brings the mystery man home more, but Harrys grown used to his muffled moans and can easily block them out. This house is colder than usual, Robin only coming home to yell and last week hit Harry.

Harry just lets it all go. He just smokes away his problems. He puts the pipe to his mouth and watches as the smoke fills the air, stealing his problems and insanity as it disappears.

He's lying in bed with Louis' plaid pyjama bottoms and Louis' cross necklace around his neck. He put it back on when Louis dropped him off and he hasn't taken it off since. The gold chain looks too pretty to be lying against his sick, almost grey skin. Harry looks dreadful. The drugs are starting to ruin his hair and skin, but he can't stop. If he stops then he hurts. Then he can feel the absence of Louis and Liam and Gemma and his mom and Robin. He can't feel that in the state he's in.

His body feels like lead as he lies there and his heart matches up with the slowing pace of the rain. It's only midnight and his house is dark and empty. The rain the only sound to be heard.

Harry wonders if he'll die if he drinks some vodka. He shouldn't because it may react badly with the sleeping pills and he doesn't want to die. Despite everything happening Harry does not want to die. He likes being alive even if everything he feels is through drugs. Artificial feelings. His mind starts to slow even more and he lets his eyes drift shut and for the first time in a long time he falls asleep.

When he wakes up the sun is in the sky again and Harry feels like he slept more than 24 hours. Of course when he checks it's only been 14, but that's still a long time. He stretches, listening as his body cracks back into place and then climbs out of bed. He smells terrible and he decides to get into the shower.

He turns on the shower and strips down so he can stand under the hot spray. The water hits his skin, making him hiss. He feels weak and his body still feels tired. He wishes Louis was with him, his gentle fingers massaging soap into his hair. He isn't here though and Harry has to clean his own hair and cry while he does it.

It's December and it's yet to snow. Harry thinks about the snow when his body feels like caving in. He's lost so much weight. The drugs fill him up and keep him from feeling like the world is crashing. He thinks when the snow starts he's going to quit. He'll give up on Louis and apologize to Liam. He'll feel better once the snow starts.

He turns off the water and steps back out into the cold air. He wraps a fuzzy towel around his waist and walks the short distance back to his room. His room smells of vomit and chemicals. Harry remembers last week where he just drank until he blacked out. He'd call and text Louis, begging him to forgive him but Louis never replied. Louis' gone.

Harry sniffles at the thought and then let's his body crumple to the floor. His skinny frame racks with sobs and his flat, dead hair hangs loosely over his wet forehead. His eyes are constantly glossy and sad. Always so sad. It's incredible the amount he misses Louis. How his body aches at just the thought of him.

Harry eventually picks himself up and slips on his boxers and then a large university hoodie. It belonged to Gemma and he stole it from her the week she bought it. He hugs it to himself and instead of smoking or drinking he creeps back into the hall and then into the forbidden room.

Nothing's changed from when he was in here last. The garbage bag still sits in the middle of the room and the bed is still unmade.

He remembers when Gemma was alive and when he was upset he'd creep into her room and cuddle with her. When he was young it was because he had a nightmare and then it was because Corey Walsh broke his heart. He used to sit on her bed and she'd run her hands through his curls. She'd tell him stories with a soft voice or pull out her secret stash of alcohol.

Now, he moves and curls into her bed, curling himself within the covers and inhaling the scent. It doesn't smell of her anymore, but Harry still finds this comforting. He doesn't feel her presence like he usually does. He just feels this sense of peace and home. He feels at home.

"I miss you, Gems. You're gone and I lost myself and I don't know how to get back," Harry whispers. A tear rolls from his eye, landing on her purple pillow.

"I just want you here. I need you to tell me I'll be alright. I don't think I'll be alright," Harry cries, squeezing his eyes shut. "I won't be alright. I need him to come back. I miss him. I miss you. Come back."