Bag of Bones (Larry Stylinson)

1

I'm all used up, pretty boy
Over and over again, my nails colors are wearing off

      Louis's not quite sure when it happened. He knows that it happened in a gradual process, one so minuscule that neither him or Harry were possibly capable of detecting it until it was too late, but he wonders if there was a defined breaking point that brought them so far away from how they used to be.
      Maybe it was the first time Harry had to cancel a date because he had to work overtime at his job in order to make ends meet for them. Maybe it was when Louis first noticed how far apart him and Harry slept in their bed after having sex. Maybe it was the first time Louis woke up in the middle of the night to find Harry smoking a cigarette on the balcony when Harry doesn't like to smoke. Maybe it was when Louis realized they had gone a week without saying anything as simple as "I love you" to one another when they used to say it every day. Maybe it was when one of Harry's friends called Louis to ask what Harry's favorite color was for a gift just for Louis to realize that he wasn't sure what it was anymore.
      Maybe there wasn't one defined breaking point, just a collection of shatters to their relationship bringing it to where it is now: a broken mirror of love that Louis feels trapped in. And with every realization, Louis feels a new shard of it dig into his insides and tear him up. His gut feels so heavy from it all.
      He's sitting on the window sill in their living room looking out to the rainy and dreary night of their town at 11:51 p.m. The view isn't very good, but it's the best one could expect since the only other view was the balcony, and Louis didn't feel up to standing in the cold rain. Louis twists his hands in his lap as he absentmindedly looks out the window of their crappy apartment, more focused on the shredding feeling in his stomach than anything.
      He's waiting for Harry to get home. It's their natural routine since Louis usually gets done sooner with his job as a receptionist at a local business: Louis gets home late, waits for Harry to get home even later, they have mindless sex, and then they go to bed. Louis can't remember when they even ate together last, both of them being so busy trying to manage enough money for rent.
      All the tearing in Louis' stomach can tell him that things are not okay, they aren't no matter how bad Louis wants them to be, and that just makes him more upset. He's so tired, his stomach is so heavy, and he's still expected to face Harry somehow.
      And that's the thing, facing Harry shouldn't be an obstacle; it should be one of the only good parts of his day, and it used to be. But with every realization that dug into Louis' stomach, the more and more he realized how he and Harry didn't really know each other anymore. They were like strangers living in the same house that also slept together as a benefit.
      Just thinking that makes Louis want to rip apart, it makes him want the ground to swallow him whole, because Harry used to be the man that he could never get enough of because he loved him so deeply. And Louis loves Harry, more than anything else in this world, he just doesn't know how much longer he can go on like this. It's funny how love can be the only thing keeping you bound to someone no matter how much you tear at the seams because of it.
      He's all used up, and he feels himself wearing away more and more with each day and each realization. He wants to go out for a smoke, but he also feels like throwing up. He just sits there instead.