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

time is a gatekeeper

tw// mentions of self-harm , mentions of purging , other eating disorder behavior , mentions of weight and body checking

hi! my chapters seem to be getting longer. i hope you guys enjoy. i sometimes question the quality of my writing haha. feel free to give me some constructive criticism. 

things have been hard, low key, but we'll push through. the best is yet to come. 

twitter: @louflymehome

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days came as quickly as they passed, and winter was approaching. as the weather got colder, so did louis' sense of self—he'd always thought that spring or summer was the worst for him in terms of flashbacks and general hopelessness, blooming right along with the flowers, but now he was beginning to question if whether he'd just always been in a constant state of misery.

he hated moping around and feeling bad for himself, but some days, it was just so hard to hide. harry would insist that it was okay, that he wasn't being a pain, but he knew that the younger boy, deep down, dreaded the times he would act like this. all heavy and cloudy and so difficult.

eating got a little bit easier as time went on, though—he realized how hungry he had constantly been. now that he was allowing food into his body again, it was beginning to grow accustomed to not being empty all the time. it was slowly learning to trust again, like some small, abandoned animal.

there were days he'd feel okay nurturing the animal, able to see it as a separate entity, one that had no correlation with his mind, and therefore was allowed to eat. there were days he'd imagine throwing it against the wall, over and over again to make it cry out, until it eventually fell silent and stopped breathing. there would always be this sick sense of satisfaction that accompanied his self-destruction, one that saw hurting himself as something on a to-do list that he needed to cross off.

of course, even on his good days, he still didn't deserve food, he told himself. or happiness. or harry, for that matter, who was both of those, in a sense. don't get used to this. happiness is more fleeting than time could ever imagine itself to be.

and time was terrifyingly fleeting. he liked to refer to the idea as a gatekeeper. one that locks away all good memories as something reserved only for dreams and death.

the passing months meant that christmas was rolling around the corner; a holiday which he spent his childhood trying to make each year better than the last for his sisters. his mother, of course, was always trying her best to spend as much time at home as possible, but especially with the divorce, it grew harder and harder to maintain financial stability, even with mark entering the picture—meaning louis often had to serve as the babysitter, the one to, he would daresay, "parent" the girls.

he was okay with it, of course. the smiles that would spread and stain their faces for the entire week leading up to christmas always made the preparations worth it. if all that was needed to spark joy was colorful, strung-up lights, toy trains, angel ornaments, and candy canes, then that much he could achieve. anything for lottie, fizzy, daisy, and phoebe to experience a normal childhood.

he'd also always try to do something special for his mother, who had such a busy work schedule that she hardly had any time to breathe. he loved her dearly; she was the only constant in his life, after all. things changed, time passed, people came and left, but his mother had been there with him from the very beginning. so if there was anything to be grateful for, she was it.

it would be a lie, though, if he said that her busy schedule didn't disappoint him, at times. like when something had come up right on the day of the final performance of the school play before graduation, and she wasn't anywhere to be found in the audience. he'd hoped that she had gotten lost, or was on her way, or he'd just missed her while scouring the crowd. he'd be lying, if he said that in that moment, he didn't feel completely alone.