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

with thy sweet fingers,

tw// mentions of recreational drug usage , mentions of self harm , eating disorder behaviors , trauma 

i'd just like to add if something happens and i'm for some reason unable to finish this fic (it'll be done in the next month or two, but i'm saying this just in case because i've been thinking more seriously than ever), i'd really like for it to be completed. whoever does can take credit as well if they want. 

stay safe, i love you. getting messages about this fic makes me really glad that i started writing. dms are always open. 

twitter: @louflymehome

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the worst thing about walking the streets of manhattan was living in the constant fear that he'd stumble across jean again. a terrifying thought, really, but at the same time, he wondered what it would be like to meet him again, to see those reptilic features in a place past just his dreams. had he changed? did he have a partner? had he grown his hair out? would louis feel the same tugging feeling he'd always feel when they were together, begging for pain?

he would see jean's face and physique in strangers, and feel his heart drop instantly, only for the man's features to fade as more of the stranger is revealed, reminding him that he was safe.

it was the day before harry's birthday. they were walking down a street on their way to a nearby café when louis' mind was struck by a sudden, intense wave of anxiety. he shook; from what, he didn't know. everything seemed to shift beneath him, like he'd been standing on aone of earth's faults. everything was too loud, too overwhelming, too bright, too suffocating. the smell of people and exhaust that he once loved had been reborn, this time much harsher and much more ruthless. it was imperative, he felt, for him to leave right now. to run as far away as possible and never come back. to choose somewhere beautiful to rest, to finally disappear.

they were at an intersection and the light had just turned green, but his feet were rooted deeply into the concrete.

"lou? what's wrong?" the younger boy asked worriedly.

jean was beside louis again, hand slinking around the small of his back. "i love you so much," he told louis, "what we have, is really everything."

he once considered that day to be the best he'd ever lived. it was him and jean's fourth or fifth date. the day that he became fully convinced that jean was going to be his forever.

jean had gotten him a promise ring that morning, given it to him right before their date. it was extravagant, almost like a proposal. he'd gotten on one knee and louis felt loved like never before.

"lou? do you need to go to the bathroom? what's wrong?" harry grabbed the ocean boy's shoulder, which proved to be a mistake, because he pulled away so violently that he stumbled backward into an irritated looking young man.

there were beads of sweat forming on louis' forehead despite the bite the end-of-january air. "i..." he struggled to focus his eyes with everything seeming like it was crumbling. "i'm alright." the light was red by now, and they were still in the middle of a dense pack of people of all types trying to get past them impatiently.

harry was careful to make his movements slow and telegraphed, only touching the boy when necessary, and extremely gently and fleetingly, as if the touches were never there in the first place. "c'mon, boo. let's get you somewhere less stimulating," he whispered.

"it's-" he let go of a shallow breath he didn't even notice until then that he'd been holding. "it's fine. just need to take a break. we can keep going."