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

hemimetaboly

tw// mentions of past trauma , mentions of eating disorder , mentions of self harm

i actually quite like this chapter. we're wrapping up (kind of). i like writing about hurt and grief and pain but i also find myself happy to write about just nature and colors and beauty and music and literature. sorry that everything is so ooc. lmk what you think. 

i iterated this on my twitter, but i plan to take a little more time to be careful in the final chapters. and throughout next week, on the weekdays, i may upload less frequently because i want to take the time to correct the first fifty chapters before ending this all!

next story is going to be based off of childhood. childhood friend au and all that. i love writing about memories and i love figuring out what tenses to write in. 

things are getting kind of better for the people who care? like my brain isn't being much nicer to me, but i really don't want to be sent to like, iop or php again. idek how that would work, because when i did it for my eating disorder, everything was so heavily centered around distress tolerance after meals, i can't imagine just sitting there and actually having to talk about my feelings all day. so i'm doing my best to avoid it. 

don't be like me, though. seek help if you need it. it does actually help if you allow it to. my dms are open. 

twitter: @louflymehome

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it was already may, he realized, when the wind hit his face and it wasn't cold in the slightest. a pleasant breeze, really; one that made uncut blades of grass sweep back and forth, imitating waves on a calm sea.

he thought about how much time had passed, how much had happened in such a short window. it all made time and space seem less real, more fabricated, uncontrollable.

the venue was outside. harry prayed that the weather would be compliant, and it was. perfect, really. better than he could ever ask for.

it was small, but larger than the first gig. there were people there for him, who knew that he was performing and decided to come. the thought alone was daunting yet terribly flattering for the boy, and just put more pressure on him to do well. this was the first time the world would be exposed to his album, as it was going to drop as soon as his performance ended. strategic marketing at its finest, he thought.

he and louis had to get there a few hours before he was actually scheduled to start, just to set up some technical things, like speakers and mics. harry spoke briefly with his band about some procedural bits before warming up his voice and running through the set list. louis finally was able to get plenty of time to sit and admire the boy, never having had the luxury before to simply peacefully observe him while he was being all professional with red-lipped beauticians pawing him and fixing his hair and adjusting his clothes.

what was there to fix? louis remembered thinking, even after the first gig when harry had mentioned the makeup that'd been caked all over his cheeks.

and it wasn't exactly fixing any of his features rather than emphasizing the beautiful shape of his face, he grew to realize, further accentuated in the better lighting that the sun provided as it shone onto the stage at an angle, pleasantly soaking through the plains which the stage was erected.

he sat beneath a willow tree beside the stage, and the branches held themselves heavily atop the air, wind suspending the leaves before letting them droop again. these days made it especially easy for words to pour out of his pen. he could feel the stillness ensnaring him into its embrace, and by the time he returned from the deepest orifices of his mind, more time would have passed than he'd prepared himself for.