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

wherever it is we're supposed to be

tw// mentions of self-harm , binging/purging , restricting , ed behavior. stay safe xx

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louis had harry leave shortly before he was to get ready for class, despite harry's protests of wanting to drive him to campus. but eventually, he conceded and went his own way, much to his dismay.

he'd hoped that louis would eat something, anything, before having to walk to the nearby stop to catch the 2:40 bus. sometimes, he'd dream that he'd get a call from the hospital telling him that louis had passed out along the sidewalk, and was in critical condition. if the current situation pressed on, he realized, that dream would not be a stretch from reality at all.

he hadn't had the time to process what he saw the night before until now, being so focused on the tasks in front of him—comforting louis, getting food he thought louis would like, watching to make sure louis didn't do anything dangerous—that he hardly had time to really think at all. when he went to the grocery store earlier, the only thing that concerned him was choosing whatever things seemed even remotely appropriate for louis, and rushing back home. he didn't want to leave the ocean boy alone for too long, not after what had happened.

now, thinking back, it would be quite irrational to not trust louis to fend for himself while he went about the things he needed to do; as louis had survived on his own for this long, astoundingly. he had a childhood friend, but from what he'd heard, the friend had their own things to worry about, which he couldn't blame them for, but was it really that much of a stretch to at least check on your best friend to make sure he wasn't ruining himself? and he was, with absolutely nothing done about it.

harry imagined nights like the last, where louis suffered, probably emptying out the contents of his stomach while crying and choking and hurting himself. but there would be no harry to call, and he'd be alone. maybe he'd pass out on the bathroom floor, only to wake up sticky with blood and vomit the next morning, being ripped back to reality by the harsh sunlight. the very thought made harry want to be sick, himself.

he decided to go to the library, where he'd spend his days studying the more conceptual parts of music, or look for new novels to bury himself in. like louis, harry had always loved books, as he'd read everything in his personal library at least twice. but he, on no level, could analyze writing like louis could, nor could he write such intricately strung sentences. he could write lyrics, he could write music. but he could never really articulate his thoughts properly, so they'd all remain jumbled in his head as he'd try to explain why exactly he functions as he does.

the green-eyed boy found himself missing louis already, and in his mind he already thought of louis and him as more than friends, despite getting rejected the night before. it didn't really make sense to him- if louis wanted him, and he wanted louis, then things were perfect, right? this would be their happily ever after?

but the cold, bitter actuality of things was that it would never be so simple. for harry, it was always a straight line. he'd meet someone, they'd get to know each other, become close friends, then eventually date and break up. but he knew he was fortunate in that regard, that he lived a good childhood with a mother that brought him up well.

that isn't to say that louis' mother didn't. from the way louis spoke of her, he loved her very much, just as she did he. but she was always such a busy person, even before he fell ill, one with seven children to take care of, louis never wanted to make things harder for her by burdening her with his feelings.

harry understood, in a sense. the desire to be strong for the sake of others, to seem reliable no matter what. he, himself had definitely had experience with that in his life. when his father left, he was the only man left in his family, and despite being the youngest, he wanted to be the one to protect his sister and his mother.