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

and i thought, what a beautiful sight

tw// mentions of sharp objects , implied past self harm , alcohol use , implied past drug use , eating disorders

a lot of this chapter is very technical and based off personal experience-- i'm not sure if healthcare is the same over there as it is over here, and i'm sure it's not, so i just tried to the best of my ability. let me know if the ending felt abrupt. i'm not sure how i feel about it, and i'm thinking about taking a day or two off of this. just to figure out where i'm going. 

thank you for all the kind feedback, it really really makes my day. trust me. also the title is from a song called 'to see you alive' by flatsound. i recommend you check it out. i love his work to a fault. stay safe! remember that you are loved. my dms are open. 

twitter: @louflymehome

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four days passed. the weather outside getting chillier and the days were getting shorter. not that it mattered to louis, as he spent his days inside reading, feeling like his life revolved around the meals that were distributed to him. it was much easier trying to imagine himself in the shoes of another.

every day looked fundamentally the same, except louis had finally convinced harry to go to his classes, and that he'd be fine alone. whether he liked it or not, there was no way he wouldn't be fine; nurses were watching his every move, and even if they weren't, it's not like he could just stand up and jump out the window. the glass was bulletproof and bolted shut. not to mention louis was only on the second floor.

not much progress had been made with dr. demarest. louis wasn't able to open up to harry, much less some stranger who was being paid to see him. his pale complexion and contrasting dark features didn't help the situation.

every morning, louis was woken up at seven o'clock sharp to have his vitals taken. and every morning, the nurses tutted in disappointment at his lack of weight gain. that's what he assumed it was, anyway, as they forced him to step onto the scale backwards, so he wouldn't see the luminous red number flashing, screaming at him. he wasn't able to finish his meals any easier than before, and it proved even harder when harry wasn't there. he'd come at seven thirty every morning, but had classes throughout noon and could not accompany the older boy for lunch.

he hadn't remembered food to have tasted this bland. maybe it was simply hospital food, but it all seemed to be the same sterile white as the walls, the sheets, the curtains, the tile floor. it was like he had suddenly been thrusted into a world with no color, other than harry's green eyes.

louis loved harry's eyes almost as much as harry loved his, though he didn't talk about it nearly as much. or at all, really. he felt bad for not appreciating the younger boy more, but thanking him or telling him that he loved him meant that he would be accepting harry's kindness. which meant that he would be allowing himself into a pitfall of trust and warm feelings and gentleness. a pitfall that he knew would someday end, and he'd land face first on the cold hard ground, bones shattering at contact, and stuck all over again.

he'd try to tell himself that it was okay, that harry was not like jean (pronounced john, but spelled pretentiously, an attribute that louis used to love, but now left a bad taste in his mouth), and that it was okay to allow himself just this. but he'd just be immediately plunged into a world of memories that he thought he'd forgotten and decide that no sort of comfort would ever be worth the potential pain.

not to mention, he wasn't worth it.

he'd said this before, but harry was everything he was not. all smiles, kindness, sunrises, and pretty valleys. he was scarily intelligent and had this way with words that made louis gravitate to him as if he were the moon and harry the earth. the very idea of someone like that being wasted on someone like himself made him feel so sickeningly selfish.