Frame of Hearts - l.s.

Chapter Fourty Five

Important: Hi, I've returned to edit this (kind of) after a good 4923 years so now it's the 18th of January, 2016. It's been around a year since I've actually completed this book, and I just wanted to say a few things.

I've been more so concerned about the comments towards how people are reacting to a situation which I totally understand would be unbearable in real life, and there's comments about not finishing the book due to what has happened previously. I don't really get the logistics of reading 100,000+ words of something to not end up finishing because the climax was too extreme but it's kind of whatever for me. It's not going to be a loss for myself if you don't end up finding out what's going to happen.

For all of you that are commenting about the ending. No one dies. I would have stated that at the beginning because character deaths I know are a massive trigger. YES, there is a HAPPY ending. It may disappoint you due to how fast paced it is. When I was writing this book, I had to finish it up as quickly as possible and that was a massive mistake, I know, but I can't go back and rewrite it... or can I?

No I cannot, ha ha ha, sorry. 

I've wrote a few things in the previous chapter because there's some things about Louis that I think some of y'all are a bit too angry to really consider. I'm hoping you'll kind of see a better side of Louis in this chapter, because he really wants to help himself. It's a brave thing to do. Just read and I'll see you at the end of the chapter. 

: :

He sits on the lounge chair with his back upright and his hands laced together, twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip with paranoia. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably; he should know that he's okay though. He's perfectly okay. This is the safest place he's been in for a while.

The doctor comes in and she smiles softly at Louis, taking the seat in front of him with her dark skin glowing in the light room. Louis hasn't been in this nice of a room before, it's all simplistic and smells like cherries. It doesn't calm Louis down though. He feels more embarrassed than nervous, actually. He's come back. He shouldn't have had to come back, but he has.

"Louis," she says, and Doctor Wilkinson is so, so nice and so, so lovely. She's definitely one of Louis' favourite people. "Tell me all about it."

Louis knows what this means. They had an hour conversation on the phone on Thursday. She knows that Louis is struggling. He's struggling to the point where he hasn't eaten properly in three days. He's told her about Harry. He's told her about Sam, about how everything always trips him up and ends with him on the floor with tears. He doesn't have Sam anymore, he's gone, and it's only been a week since this all came crashing down and turning into a stockpiled mess of a thin needle in a haystack. Louis needs to find out where he went wrong.

So he tells her, eyeing around the white room where psychological posters and a clock is hanging on the left wall, and windows are illuminating the room on the right. He never makes eye contact with her, it's too awkward to do that. Louis thinks he might start crying. Eighteen years old and he can't even admit to himself that he's fucked up because he fucked with someone else. He can't even find a way to help himself at this point. Eating doesn't seem to be the answer, so he avoids it. He's tried calling Harry, texting him - hoping for some forgiving miracle but it never comes, like Louis should expect.

She writes everything down and nods every so often to when Louis' voice fills the room. He squeaks sometimes, feeling his throat choke up to how horrible the entire situation sounded when being told out loud. It sounded horrific, almost, and Louis wants to take it all back.

"You know, Louis," she calls and looks up from her clipboard, giving a gentle smile, "I think you might need to consider that Harry is indeed feeling under stress as well, and that maybe the best thing to do is let out a little more steam before attempting to talk again."