The Moment I Knew (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 12

A/N 

This was basically a bunch of ideas I had for different chapters condensed into one.  

Love you!

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Harry's POV

Felix was excited. He hadn't seen his family in ages. 

"What's your sister's name, Felix? I never asked you," I asked, mostly to give him something else to think about.

He was pacing and fidgeting restlessly and it was starting to irritate me. 

"Addison. We call her Addy though," he said.

He smiled when he said her name. 

"I thought your parents didn't want you to see her until after you left here," I said.

"I've been begging them to bring her. I tried to convince them that I was clean enough to see her, and I think they believed me," he replied, sounding rather proud of himself. 

I was about to say something else when the door opened. A man pushed in a wheel chair and a women slipped in beside him.

There was a girl in the wheelchair. Her head lolled slightly to the side and her eyes were unfocused and her mouth hung open. 

Felix grinned so brightly that I could have sworn rainbows shot from his teeth. 

"Hey Mum and Dad! Hi, Addy!" he cooed.

He knelt down by the girl. She gave a little shriek and bounced in her chair. 

"Guess what, Addy? Look who my roommate is! Harry Styles, from One Direction! You still like them, right?" he asked.

Felix was absolutely glowing. 

He talked about Addison all the time, but he'd never told me that she had a metal disorder. 

"Hi," I said, waving towards her.

She shrieked again and her eyes rolled in my general direction. 

"It's great to meet you," I added, then I looked at their parents, "You guys as well."

I crossed the room to shake their hands.

"We've heard a ton about you," Felix's dad said, "Don't worry, it's all been good things."

"He talks about you all the time," I replied, gesturing towards Felix, "I've never seen him so excited before."

"He loves his sister. I've never really seen a connection like theirs. Let me tell you, Addy is never happier than when she is with him," his mum said. 

I sat down on the bed and watched Felix talk to Addy.

It didn't matter to him that she couldn't speak to him like a normal person, but he seemed to understand her anyways. 

He loved her so much even though there were so many complications in their relationship.

It was actually incredibly touching. I wasn't an extremely sappy person, the lads would probably disagree with that, but I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

Rehab messed with my emotions. I felt like I was PMSing, in all honesty. 

I talked with his parents for a bit while Felix visited with Addy. He talked to them as well, but the second Addy so much as moved, his attention was relocated. 

I kept my wrist turned inwards the entire time. I felt extremely self-conscious of the scars that marred my wrist. I didn't want Felix's parents to think badly of me. I wasn't sure if Addy could really see, and I really didn't want her to see them. It was bad enough that I was quite noticeably underweight. 

"Felix, we should get going," his mum said finally. 

His happy expression wavered slightly and he sighed. 

"Just a while longer till I can come to California, yeah?" he said.

His parents exchanged a look.

"We're thinking about moving back here, actually. We've found a very highly recommended therapist for you," she said.

"There's a lot of people out in California that we think could influence you negatively as well," his dad added.

"All the people that smoke weed, right? There's people like that everywhere! I'll be fine, I have no inclination to ever go near drugs again! Why can't you just do what's best for Addy?" Felix snapped. 

"She was doing well here, you know that. It isn't a big deal for us to move back. We want what's best for you," his mother tried.

"And you don't care what's best for her!" Felix yelled, "You know that she doesn't get what she needs in London! The people at her school pick on her and you can hardly take your heads out of your arses to notice!" 

"That's quite enough, Felix. You're upsetting your sister," his father said roughly.

Addy was fidgeting in her wheel chair and flapping her hands.

"Oh, but it's alright when you upset her, isn't it? Just get out. I'll see you when I come home, wherever the hell that ends up being," Felix growled.

He stormed off into our bathroom and slammed the door.

Addy gave a shriek of unhappiness. 

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Harry. It was very nice meeting you," his mother sighed.

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too," I said.

I knelt down next to Addy.

"Hey," I murmured, "Don't tell anyone, but when I get out of here, I'll let you backstage to one of our concerts."

She flapped her hands excitedly and gave what look like a smile.

I patted her shoulder.

"I'll see you soon," I said to her. 

Her parents smiled at me and left.

I hurried over to the bathroom.

"Felix?" I called, "They're gone."

"Leave me alone, Harry. I'm fine," he snarled from inside.

I could hear the breaking in his voice and I knew that he wasn't fine.

"No you aren't, Felix. Come on. Let me take care of you for once," I murmured. 

There was a hesitant silence before the door clicked open and he stepped out. 

His eyes were rimmed red and his cheeks were flushed angrily.

"I just really fucking hate that they don't care about her just because she has autism," he spat, beginning to pace.

I pulled him towards me and tugged him over to his bed.

For once, I let him hide himself in my shirt instead of the other way around. 

"They wanted to give her up for adoption when they found out she had autism after she was born," he mumbled, "But my little eight-year-old self wouldn't let them. I still don't know how I convinced them."

I didn't say anything. I knew that he just needed to talk.

"They've always treated her differently, but not in a good way. Like, instead of trying to accommodate for her condition, they just sort of threw her chair and therepy at her and hoped for the best. I always ended up having to take care of her. I knew that she couldn't eat like we do, so I had to make her separate meals when my mum tried to force her to eat what we did. I had to help her bathe herself when my parents didn't. Honestly, I'm more of her fucking parent than those two have ever been," he ranted, "She got picked on at school. She'd come home with scratches and bruises and she didn't even need to tell me where they came from because I just knew. California is a good place for her; she needs a change and my parents don't give a damn! They just care that their son doesn't overdose, so they threw me in here!" 

I stroked his hair comfortingly. 

"I'm sorry," I sighed, not knowing what else to say.

"No. It's really...it's not bad. I'm just worried about what's going to happen whenever I leave the house, you know? Who's going to take care of her like I do? I thought about running away a lot when I was younger, just me and Addy. But then reality kicked in and I realized that she needs her medication and therapy and so on and so forth," he mumbled. 

"You're amazing doing what you're doing, Felix, really. I never knew she had autism, and when I saw you with her...I was kind of jealous, in all honesty. I have people that I love who love me like that, but you two are just so...inspirational, for lack of a better word," I said.

"Thanks, popstar," he mumbled, shifting so that his face was pressed into my neck. 

There was a few moments of peaceful silence, and then there was a sharp stinging on my neck.

I yelped.

"Did you just bite me?" I asked incredulously, wiping spit off of the side of my neck.

He grinned and nodded.

"I gave you a nice little mark, too," he laughed.

I growled playfully and tackled him, pushing him into the mattress.

And just like that, he was alright again.

 

Louis's POV

I woke up with a splitting headache and an extremely dry mouth. I rolled over in Eleanor's bed, which was not meant for two people, and shuffled to her bathroom to get a drink and something to help my headache. 

She was already awake, sitting on a sofa and reading. She looked up when I walked into the room and she winced sympathetically. 

"How're you feeling, babe?" she asked.

I mumbled something that even I couldn't understand and flopped onto the couch, hiding my face in her lap.

I was kind of used to feeling like absolute shit all of the time. I got drunk nearly every night, which meant that I had to deal with a hangover nearly every morning. 

That didn't mean that hangovers weren't still absolutely miserable though. 

She ran her fingers through my hair and I sighed. 

"You up for doing anything today?" Eleanor asked.

I rolled over and looked her in the eyes. 

"I need to head back. We've got some meeting or something later tonight," I muttered.

We both knew that it was a lie, but she didn't call me out on it. I saw how her eyebrows furrowed and how her mouth turned down into a frown. 

"I love you," she said softly as I grabbed my jacket. 

"I love you too, El," I replied. 

I ran my fingers over the ring on her hand. 

"Do you wear this when you go out?" I asked.

"Yeah. But on a different finger. I know that you don't want to make it public yet, but I like knowing that I really am engaged to you, so I keep it on," she said, smiling. 

I smiled back, but my stomach twisted at the word 'engaged'. Being engaged had nearly taken Harry's life and destroyed mine. I hardly considered it a good thing. 

"I like knowing that I'm engaged to you too," I said, and I heard the uncertainty in my voice. 

I hoped that she didn't. 

"Louis...I know that this...this thing with Harry isn't easy for you, and I understand. But I'm so worried about you," she sighed, "You look so tired, babe. And you've lost a tiny bit of weight, haven't you?" 

I bit my lip and avoided her look. The boys lectured me, my mum lectured me, the fans tweeted about me, but hearing Eleanor was different. I knew that she completely understood me and how I thought, which was why she was so perfect for me. I loved her a lot and I hated knowing that I had her worried. 

"I'll be fine," I assured her. 

We both heard how doubtful I sounded. 

"I love you, okay?" she murmured as I pulled her in for a hug. 

"Yeah, I know. I love you too," I replied. 

With a small, tight smile and a wave, I drove away. 

Once I reached London, I decided that I really didn't want to go to Harry's flat. I walked around the city. I wasn't paying attention to what went on around me; I was lost in my own thoughts. 

I knew that I wasn't really supposed to go out without some form of security, but I couldn't be bothered to call. I could only hope that if someone recognized me, they would realize that I wasn't in the mood to talk. 

I walked past the London Eye and watched the throng of people in line for it. Most of them I could tell were tourists. 

I remembered when Harry and I had first bought our flat together. He'd been so excited. We'd walked around London the day after, and he had insisted on being complete tourists even though we had both been there before. 

He'd dragged me in like for the London Eye. I'd snapped at him multiple times for making me wait in the miserably long line, but in typical Harry fashion, he'd grinned at me and cracked some terrible joke to make me laugh. 

When we finally got on, I had thought that he was about to wet himself from excitement. 

He'd grabbed my hand excitedly and pulled me close as we had started to move. 

We'd stopped at the top and he had been so happy. He'd darted around, pointing out different places that we had been that day.

"That's our flat, Lou, right?" he'd squealed. 

It turned out that he hadn't even been looking in the right direction, but I remembered how his eyes glittered with happiness. 

Had he been in love with me then? When he had grabbed my hand when we started moving, had it meant something more to him? 

I realized suddenly that I had started to cry. I bit my lip and blinked rapidly as I struggled to stop. 

I turned and ran, bumping into people as I fled from my memories. 

I ran until I physically couldn't anymore. My legs screamed at me to stop and my lungs burned. I collapsed against the side of a building, giving into my tears. 

I had no idea where I was. I couldn't even see through the film of tears. Between the ache in my chest from running and my sobs, I could hardly breath. 

I picked up my phone and dialed Liam. 

"Louis?" he answered.

He knew that I had been with Eleanor. He probably thought that I still was.

"Li? I don't know where I am," I whimpered, "I was at the Eye, you know, and then I just remembered how happy Harry was when we were there and I had to leave and I ran and I can't fucking see any bloody street signs and I don't know where I am!" 

I heard him sigh heavily. He sounded exasperated. 

"Lou, just find a taxi or something," he advised wearily. 

"When did he start loving me, Li?" I asked, standing shakily, my muscles still burning, and looking for a taxi. 

I had been dying to know when Harry had started to feel differently about me. Had he always? Or had it been recent? I didn't know and I needed to know. 

"I'm not sure, Lou. Maybe a little over a year? It started before Eleanor, but not much before," Liam replied, "Listen, I'm kind of on a date with Dani and there's only so long that I can pretend to be in the loo." 

That explained why he sounded so rushed. 

"Okay. Thanks, Li," I sniffled.

I saw a taxi and I flagged it down. I instructed the driver to drive me back to Harry's. When we reached his flat, I payed the driver and went inside. 

I leaned against the door and sighed deeply. 

I went to the toilet and splashed water on my face. The cold made my eyes burn. They were sore from exhaustion and crying.

I wiped my face off and started to leave when I noticed my razor on the sink. 

I had yet to bring my electric one over from my own place, so I had a disposable one for the time being. 

I picked it up and examined it. What did Harry think when he saw a razor? Did he immediately crave hurting himself? Or did he just look at it for what it was, a razor?

I licked my lips and my hands started to sweat. 

I wanted to know what Harry saw in hurting himself. How did he see any good in it? I didn't understand how he used pain to get relief from pain. 

But I wanted to understand. 

Shakily, I broke the plastic casing on the razor and picked out one of the blades. I winced when it nicked one of my fingers. 

I studied it for what felt like hours. This little object was so precious to Harry. 

I knew that what I was doing was extremely reckless and stupid. I was infamous for my idiotic ideas, but what I was doing had to be by far the worst one.

The majority of my mind screamed at me to not do it, but I was desperate. I needed answers that Harry refused to give me, so I was taking matters into my own hands. 

I pressed the tiny blade the the inside of my wrist. My hands were shaking so badly that I had to press hard to keep the razor from moving.

I shut my eyes tightly and jerked it across my wrist. I hissed at the sudden, sharp pain and my eyes snapped open. 

I dropped the blade and grabbed my throbbing wrist.

How the hell did Harry like hurting himself? I felt no relief, just intense, sharp pain. 

Blood bubbled up from the cut and started to drip down my arm.

I frantically wiped it away, adrenaline and horror rushing through me. 

What had I been thinking? I was no closer to understanding Harry and I had a bloody cut on my wrist. I knew that if one of the boys saw it, they'd probably send me off to wherever Harry was. 

That actually wasn't a bad plan. 

I shook my head violently and put a bandage on my cut. I wandered into Harry's kitchen. 

Almost on instinct, I stretched to reach a cabinet and pulled out a bottle. I read the label, it turned out to be liquor, and I nodded in approval. It would do. 

I felt absolutely horrid and I didn't bother with a glass, so I uncapped it and took a large swallow straight from the bottle.

It burned deliciously on the way down and I shuddered from the bitter taste. 

I made my way to Harry's room and I laid down on the bed, curling around the bottle. I closed my eyes, periodically taking a drink. The alcohol was calming. I felt light-headed and weighed-down at the same time. It was like I was anchored to his bed and I couldn't try and move even if I wanted to. 

I wondered if I really didn't know why Harry hurt himself. What I was doing was similar to his cutting; it was a way to forget everything and focus on one thing. For me, it was alcohol, for Harry, it was essentially destroying his body to forget about me. 

Did he do it to forget about me? Did he want to forget about me? 

My head spun and I suddenly really needed to throw up. 

I leaned over the bed and retched into a very conveniently placed bin that Harry kept next to his bed. 

I hadn't eaten much, so it was just bile and liquor. It burned as I vomited and my eyes watered painfully. 

When I figured that I was done, I laid back on the bed and breathed in deeply. 

Then I took another drink of liquor to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

 

Liam's POV

I let myself into Harry's flat. I needed to know if Louis had gotten back after his small breakdown at the London Eye. 

"Lou?" I called. 

There wasn't an answer. I figured he was either not back yet or he was sleeping. I sincerely hoped that he was asleep; we all knew that he really wasn't taking the sleeping medication. 

I nudged the door to Harry's room open slightly. 

The first thing that hit me was the strong scent of alcohol. The second was the strong scent of vomit. 

Louis was curled up on Harry's bed, practically clutching a bottle of something to his chest. 

He had evidentially made himself sick, as there was vomit in the bin and I wrinkled my nose as I saw a bit on his shirt. 

"Oh, Lou," I murmured. 

I took the bin out of the room and made a mental note to take care of it eventually. I pulled the bottle- it turned out to be liquor- from Louis's grasp and took it into the kitchen. The cap was still sitting on the counter, so I closed the bottle and put it back in a cabinet. 

I wondered how drunk Louis was and if it would be a struggle to wake him up. 

I went back to where he was sleeping- or passed out, I really wasn't sure. 

I shook his shoulder gently. He gave a muffled groan and felt around the bed.

"The fuck?" he mumbled. 

He opened his eyes and sighed when he saw me and not the bottle of liquor.

"Lou, you've got vomit on your shirt. Come on, at least get changed," I said. 

"Go away, Liam," he grumbled, but he sat up. 

He scrubbed at his eyes with his hands and breathed out heavily. 

"Where'd you put it?" he asked wearily. 

I knew that he was talking about the liquor. 

"Away. I know you went out last night, Lou; the pictures were on Twitter. You don't need to drink any more," I chastised gently.

I opened one of Harry's drawers and handed him a shirt that I found.

He stared at it for a long time and I realized that it was Harry's 'Love is Equal' shirt. 

"It's my way of dealing with things, Li. There's nothing wrong with getting drunk sometimes, alright?" he snapped.

He stood and shoved me away from the drawer. He pulled out a different shirt and stuffed the one I had given into the drawer.

He was moving slightly unsteadily and I figured that he hadn't thrown up everything that he had drunk. 

"I'm just worried, Lou. You're more hungover than not, and if you aren't, you're drunk anyways," I sighed.

"I'm fine, why can't you believe me? You just can't understand, Liam. You don't know how I feel," Louis barked. 

I cringed as I remembered having conversations with Harry that were eerily similar to the one I was having with Louis.

"I just don't want you to end up depending on drinking like Harry depended on self-harm," I said gently. 

Louis went ridged and his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

"Don't you ever compare what he did to himself to me!" he snarled. 

He stormed out of the room, jerking his dirty shirt over his head and letting it fall to the floor. A few moments later, I heard a door slam and the shower start running. 

I picked the shirt up and took it to Harry's washing machine. I ended up collecting what I figured were dirty clothes from around the flat and washing them.

I wondered if it wasn't a bad idea to take all of the alcohol out of the flat. But I knew that Louis wasn't stupid; he knew when enough was enough. I decided to go against my better judgement and trust him to be responsible.

Then I remembered that 'Louis' and 'responsible' didn't really go together.

The shower stopped running and Louis shuffled out a couple of minutes later. He eyed me warily as he tugged on a clean shirt and track pants. 

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, "I'm just worried about you." 

"You don't need to worry about me," he said, but his tone had less bite to it. 

He seemed slightly more sober and as he walked past me and his cold skin brushed me, I realized that he had taken a freezing cold shower. 

He reached up to fluff out his wet hair and I froze.

I grabbed his wrist and flipped it up. There was a cut about halfway across his wrist. It was thin and straight and slightly tinted a reddish-pink color. It looked exactly like Harry's had. 

"What the fuck is that?" I demanded, clenching down on his wrist so that he couldn't get away. 

"I dunno. I probably scratched it when I was with Eleanor last night," he replied.

He didn't give any hint that he was lying, but I knew that Louis was a good actor. I knew him well enough that I knew what to look for if he was lying. 

"Louis, look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do that to yourself," I demanded rather shakily. 

He stared directly into my eyes.

"I dunno. Maybe I scratched myself accidentally! I don't know were the fuck it came from, but it's been there since this morning," he spat. 

There. A flash of panic clouded his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He was lying, I knew it. 

"What the fuck, Louis? Don't you dare get made at me for saying your drinking is like Harry's cutting when you're doing it too! Jesus, Louis! How fucking stupid are you?" I yelled. 

I couldn't believe that he would do something like cut himself when he was being effected first hand by somebody else who did it. 

I was so incredibly furious with him.

He jerked out of my grip, his eyes blazing. 

"The question is, how stupid are you, Liam, for thinking that I'd fucking cut myself? I can't believe you would think that I'd do that! You know what, just get the fuck out!" he screamed. 

His face was red and his eyes were dark with anger.

I began to question my safety with him, so I backed up. 

"I know that you're lying, Louis," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. 

I exited the flat quickly, ignoring him yelling at me as I slammed the door. I dialed Zayn. 

"What's up, Li?" he answered.

"Louis cut himself," I whispered. 

There was a whole lot of swearing on his end.