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

i hope you die when another has your heart

tw// rape , pedophilia 

let me know what you think of this. not sure if it's rushed or not, i kind of had trouble depicting this in a way that seemed smooth and made sense. 

stay safe! also, this subject is pretty personal to me as well, we'll delve deeper as we progress through the story. we are only just now finding more about louis!

also, please let me know, are the chapters too short? should i postpone my posting of them so that when i do, they're longer? 

take care of yourselves, i love you, and you are worth so much. remember that. it's hard, but it'll be okay. sorry again for my writing. 

-

he awoke to the sound of harry's voice. his words were licking with flames, causing louis to flinch at the malice that seemed to cling to the younger boy's lips. he'd seen him angry before, but never with such intensity; the kind that was ready to plow down anything in sight. harry hadn't seemed to notice that he'd regained consciousness, since he only continued yelling at his phone, which he was holding so tightly, so severely, that louis thought it would shatter in his hands.

"i don't fucking care, nick. i don't care how high or drunk he was! find out who he is, and find out now, so that i can hurt him. the fact that you'd invited someone like that in the first place is ridiculous!" harry paused. "how dare you? you should have seen what louis looked like when i found him. you try finding the person you love bleeding, shaking, drenched in another man's fluids. he was raped, nick. you're a piece of shit for not believing it. i guess there's no point in arguing with someone with shit for brains. you know what? fuck you and fuck anyone who agrees with you. i can't deal with this." he slammed the phone down, still seething.

nick, louis remembered, was the person that hosted the party, the person whom the house belonged to. "harry?" he rasped, voice still scratchy and painful.

"fuck, you scared me. you're awake? how are you feeling?" harry immediately softened, a completely different person from before. "are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"i'm sure. just want to go home." the ocean boy replied, not even considering it. the doctors didn't actually care about these kinds of cases, after all. he'd go if he began noticing infection, but otherwise, he didn't want any more trouble than necessary. no one would ever help him before, so why now?

besides, he technically gave consent. not at first, but near the end—he was the one who let it happen. it was his fault. he wished that he could articulate that to harry, but the boy refused to listen.

"i think the guy would be better off in trouble, no? so he can't hurt anyone else like he hurt you."

"no. i- i know this is selfish. i'm selfish. but i really don't even want to ever think about it again." and fuck, he was about to cry again. "just let this go, yeah? i'm sorry for ruining your night. what time is it? is it new year's yet?"

"hey, stop. that's the least of my concerns right now. it's nearly one o'clock. but i don't fucking care about any of that. right now, i just want you to worry about yourself right now."

"happy new year, i guess," louis said bitterly, knowing that nothing he could say would change the boy's mind. he remembered the feeling of the man blow a load inside of him, filling him up with red-hot filth, with unworthiness. the memory made him want to claw through his skin and rip out his guts. he wanted to hurt. he wanted to bleed himself dry; clean of the impurities. "i'll be fine. want to be alone."

they pulled up into the garage connected to louis' apartment complex, harry swiping the keycard that he'd since kept in his car after getting close to louis. "alright. we can talk about things in the morning. i just want you to be safe. i love you, lou."