we'll live to tell the tale (l.s.)

the ribs aren't a cage

tw// blood , implied/mentioned self-harm , vomit , eating disorder behavior , panic attacks

MASSIVE MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK IT MIGHT BE HARD FOR YOU. YOU ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING, NEVER QUESTION THAT FOR A SECOND. IF YOU'RE INTENTIONALLY TRIGGERING YOURSELF, TURN THE FUCK AROUND, YOU ARE WORTH SO MUCH MORE. 

on that note, take care of yourself. you deserve the world. i love you-- dm me anytime. follow me on twitter too! :) 

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after that incident, harry was happy to notice that louis had begun to open up a little bit more. the chest that had had tens and tens of locks before started seeming much more manageable. but the remainder, the ones that would refuse to budge no matter what the green-eyed boy tried, were the hardest to deal with. he'd approach each issue several times, and without fail, louis would run fast and far, leaving more distance than before between harry and his goal.

there were times harry'd considered giving up; everything was much too tiring and damn near impossible, a code that louis wrote for only the most skilled decipherers, and even then, louis would still be a total enigma to them.

the two boys made a habit of calling each other every night, texting throughout the day, and making plans on weekends. without fail, they'd become a crucial part of each other's everyday lives. harry basked in this thought.

but he knew that it wasn't so easy for louis; he wasn't stupid. there were clearly some days that were more difficult than others, the days when he would call the ocean boy only to be left for the cold robotic drone of the automatic voicemail system or, even worse, louis' voice, thick and breaking with tears.

there were times where it was painfully obvious that louis had spent god knows how long in his bed, in his bathroom, crying, before harry had called him, but it was an elephant they had always forced themselves to tiptoe around. at these times, louis was the most vulnerable, the most absolutely shattered, and harry didn't want to make a wrong move and push the boy so far that their relationship would be irreparable. whatever their relationship was, anyway.

since that first night, they'd not done anything sexual, or even remotely romantic. harry would be lying if he said he didn't crave it sometimes; seeing louis' chest rise and fall in this sheets excited him at the worst of times, and he couldn't help it. but remembering the utter terror painted on the ocean boy's face that day made everything vanish into thin air. he'd just end up trying to swallow his fury, over the fact that someone had hurt the boy so much that he would hate himself to such an extent.

it was only three weeks since they had first met, a little under two weeks since the incident with niall, that they'd run into this issue again. but it was louis that had brought it up, with that sad, shaky voice of his that always broke harry's heart.

"hazza?" the ocean boy whispered, voice coming through harry's phone which he had held in a death grip against his ear, so as to not miss a single word, a single implication.

"yes, boo?"

"is... is it really alright for me to hope for something more... out of us?"

"what do you mean?" harry asked, despite knowing full well what the other boy meant.

"you know. i just don't want to get disappointed again. i- i hate being like this with you, because we'd only met so recently... and you're too nice to not comfort me, anyway. like, i know you're just going to tell me that you care and that i should trust you. you are everything i am not, harry. you don't understand what i can get like. i can't ask this of anyone. i can't be this selfish. but part of me really, really, really wants to let you in. there's a voice telling me that it's okay. but it might be wrong, you know? and if i tell myself, all this time, that this is it, he is the one, he'll treat you right, you are allowed to open back him, you are allowed to think about yourself for once. but if i allow myself something like that and it slips past my fingers anyway, i don't think i'd ever recover. and it wouldn't even be your fault—you are entitled to leave at any given moment, it's not some disgusting cultist pact. i don't want to pressure you into anything. but the end of this is inevitable, why allow it in the first place when i know from the start that it's only going to destroy me? harry, i don't even know why i'm here anymore."