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

he'll decide to burn bright

tw// mention of sexual abuse , eating disorder , self harm 

sorry if this is bad, i'm deciding kind of where to go. let me know what you think. maybe my fic is kind of fizzling out, i feel like? not sure. i hope it's not just straight awful. probably going to hit chapter sixty or something and wrap up. 

how are you all?? i'm curious. also comments make me really happy so a;dkjflskajd pleading face

twitter: @louflymehome

-

for louis, it was a clockwork orange that made him first question the duality of human existence. the good and the bad, commitment and neutrality, man and machine. he always wondered if it was a conscious decision that matthew made, to touch a child in ways that normal people couldn't even imagine. if jean had really wanted to hurt him like he did, to humiliate him and pull him apart like he was made of thin plastic, disposable. worthless. he wondered if they regretted it at all. if, when matthew died, louis was part of the clips of his life flashing before his eyes. if, when louis died, all he would be reminded of is his trauma. if it could be called trauma at all.

a man, after all, is free to choose whether to be moral or not; that is what makes him human. which meant, by extension, that both morality and immorality were inherently human. jean and matthew are, and were human all along, doing what they did. made with the same flesh and teeth and blood and hair as him.

how was humanity and freedom and morality measured anyway? what proved that they held any actual meaning at all, and weren't just words that pretentious white men tacked meanings onto to make them feel like they lived a virtuous lifestyle?

it's frustrating, louis thought, that all man does is try too hard to find the meaning of life when theories can never be proved correct or incorrect; it is all just false closure for a false sense of justice.

tom, was playing a record on a glossy-black turntable, dancing with gold embellishments. it wasn't unpleasantly loud, but loud enough to cover up the noises of a screaming patient a few rooms down. appalachian spring, harry whispered, for just louis to hear as the office door tore open and allowed the sound to resonate inside of the three of them as they entered.

"so," tom said, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward attentively, "why don't we get started, if you're comfortable, louis. we can speak and harry is here for moral support."

"right." he swallowed, glancing at the younger boy, who was nodding reassuringly beside him. "i... i don't know where to start."

"we don't have to start off so heavy. you've just been alluding to things that seem unprocessed and i think it's important to process them for the sake of closure, at least. but this is your space, louis. we go at your pace."

clarinet played gently in the background, dark tone and elegant timbre caressing him, as if whispering at him to breathe, that he could do this, that it would feel so much better. "that's alright. i'm doing okay. i just... i needed harry to hold me accountable, i guess. and he makes things easier to talk about, especially since he already knows." tom only nodded, so he continued. "i guess there's something that can be seen as the root of my problems. well, maybe not the root, but a part of it. a big part of it. but i don't even know if it's okay to feel this way or not. i don't hold any resentment for anyone or anything that happened. i'm just scared. and maybe it was me. i am the common denominator, after all. i'm complaining but everything might have very well been my own fault. i- sorry. i don't know."

"you don't have to know yet. it's alright, love." harry said, squeezing his partner's knee. "but never say that it's your fault. everything that happened was very, very real. nothing can change that. your feelings are real." his eyes met tom's gray ones, startled by their clarity and quiet courage. "sorry. i didn't mean to interject. not my job today, is it?" he chuckled.