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

jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird

tw// self harm , ed thoughts , self hatred.

it's not very graphic but i dug more deeply into louis' character. i'd avoided it before due to how triggering it was and how vulnerable i myself would have to be for this. this chapter was really difficult for me to write.

stay safe! 

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harry couldn't stand being in the same room as the boy after what he'd heard. it was selfish, he knew, but the anger (he couldn't find a better word to place these emotions that were boiling over) had just overcome him and all he knew was that he had to get out. leaving louis alone was an awful idea, but harry was more afraid of what he'd say if he didn't at least take time to think and breathe.

it wasn't the fact that louis was being all cagey again that had set him off. rather, it was the mere image that he had truly believed that he deserved all that pain. he knew that the boy didn't care about himself; or at least he thought he knew. hearing it in person was a whole different story, though.

louis didn't have to say anything for the implications to hang brightly in the air.

"and you do?"

harry could practically hear louis' thoughts. the ocean boy didn't have to give an answer for them both to connect the dots. even so, he still awaited a "no." or at least an uncomfortable laugh. or an unnatural change of subject.

ergo, when it didn't come, all harry could do was run.

he'd been running all his life, anyway. what was the harm in giving himself some time now? he ran from consequences, from bullies, from emotions, from anxiousness, from his asthma. of course, until he couldn't. and when he couldn't, his body would force him to keel over and convulse for air. it was as if he were being punished for being such a coward by receiving a taste of his own medicine. oxygen would be the one to run from him, instead, and it was much faster than he could ever hope to be.

it came to harry's attention after close to a half hour of sprinting away from louis' apartment complex that he had nowhere to go. he didn't bring his wallet, his keys, his phone, or anything. he made sure to prepare so meticulously to stay the night at louis' so that the older didn't have any loopholes to find an excuse for him to leave. his plan was so flawless that even he, himself, could not get around it-- just as the man he was from a few hours ago had wanted it.

the world was spinning too quickly. harry thought that he could feel each and every revolution of the earth, making him too dizzy to be able to comprehend anything, so all he could really do was turn around and head back. back to louis. it was steadily getting darker and darker, anyway. another sobering reality of late-autumn, what many called "depression season"; the sky was always pregnant with this gray heaviness. harry hated it.

back at home, however, louis hadn't moved from the spot he was left since harry had departed thirty minutes ago. but this time, it wasn't fear that consumed him. it was hope.

in a fucked up way, the ocean boy had hoped that harry would never come back. he knew that if he truly cared about him, if he really wanted nothing more than the boy's happiness, then he would cut himself off from the curly-headed one straight away. without a doubt, it would hurt him for a while, but harry could get anyone he wanted. surely, he would be able to find someone good enough for him.

of course, it pained him so much it was almost insufferable to the point of taking it all back and begging for forgiveness again. but he'd already resolved himself to go for what would be the best in the long run for harry. not for himself, certainly, because what did he matter?