Breaking Louis Tomlinson {Larry Stylinson AU}

Chapter Ten

a/n: yay so cute larry is up ahead this chapter was more of a filler but im excited for the next one and yay yay yay 

first of all can we talk about the fact that last chapter for 63 votes and 39 comments thats wild i actually cried you guys are amazing

my goal for last chapter was 6k and we made it all the way to 7.2k excuse me while i cry again

that puts us at 462 votes 4 6 2 w o w

anyway dedications are so fricken hard these days i literally think about them for a while but it goes to @Sarahlovesart101 for giving me a song that reminded her of this story bc wow it was spot on! i really appreciate it lovely!

and yessss i am 14 years old now you all know :) 

Louis considered the rest of the afternoon to be good—as good as it could be considering the circumstances.

He found himself wandering around a local winter festival, hands stuck deep in his pockets and eyes taking in his surroundings. There were various ice sculptures around the tiny park—all half melted and horribly disfigured—along with kids complaining of boredom, tugging on their mummy’s hands and begging to leave because it was too cold. To make the scene even more pitiful, there was a few middle-aged vendors looking desperately at the passing families in hopes they would buy the lousy merchandise for what was really a very miserable attempt at a festival.

Still, Louis wandered through the frozen figures, inspecting their icy features and marveling at the smoothness of their glazed surfaces. He ran his fingers over the statues (even though the signs clearly said do not touch) fascinated by how the cold surface sucked away his body’s heat, always taking but never giving. Unyielding. Merciless.

He began thinking—these ice figures were much like a metaphor for his life at the moment. Harry was the glorious ice—simply beautiful in a way that couldn’t be understood—yet cold, unreachable. He still had secrets that he kept locked away deep inside his icy shell, just waiting to be set free. Harry was the unyielding surface of the ice, always taking Louis’s feelings, his thoughts, his fears—but never returning anything. Sure, Harry would listen to Louis, and sure, Harry would act interested—but he never talked much about himself.

He was as sharp as the ice itself—cutting deep into Louis’s fragile emotions with his actions.

Harry made Louis feel so many things he didn’t understand. He didn’t get how one person could simultaneously make him feel so free, so light—but at the same time—crush him like a boulder. How was Harry his sun when he was also his storm? How was Harry his sense of security when he could leave Louis so easily? And how—how—could Louis still crave Harry even now, even when he felt like Harry was his downfall?

Louis supposed that important things must hurt you before they help you.

For example, Louis often felt like his mind hurt him—crutched him from living a happy life, sucked him out of happiness—but at the same time, his mind was his sanity. His mind provided a safe haven for the bad thoughts that threatened to drown him when he wasn’t too tightly security to reality. And yet, his mind could turn against him at any minute and trap him back in his black moods, suffocating him slowly, inch by inch, breath by breath…

Louis liked to think of it as a double-edged sword.

Yet today—right now—he didn’t want to think of such things. He convinced himself he was enjoying his walk in the park, enjoying the dilapidated statues, enjoying the bitter cold. Yes, this was fun. Fun. F u n.