Manwhore- Larry Stylinson #wattys2015

Chapter 7

Have you ever gone through a change so big it was too overwhelming for you to deal with? And you felt like every second you might just fall over the edge? Have you felt like if anything else was to touch you, you would break? That time after the drastic change I went through was one of the hardest for me, and I was vulnerable and very fragile. Luckily, I had one person I could trust to hold me if I break.

I tried to take a part in everything that has been done there, I did everything Louis did, and he explained me what I needed to do and why. At the part everyone got on their knees he explained in a whisper that now it's every person and his own prayer. I got on my knees and in the position everyone were in, and just said the first things that came to my head when I thought of a prayer.

I thanked for being saved like that, thanked for having Louis coming into my life like that, thanked that someone really cared about me, prayed that the situation, which was very tough right now, would get better, prayed for the sake of all of the friends I've left behind, prayed for Louis' sake, because for some reason, I felt that if I'd lose him right now, I'd be lost myself. My last prayer was to get a normal life, have my biological family, have a job, have a relationship. Oh, and that he and her will be punished and that me and everyone else who were there with me will get a happy ending. Then everyone got up and back to the benches, me as well.

"Aren't you relieved?" He asked on our way back, I just shrugged, not tearing my gaze from the street I was looking at through the window next to me.

Louis sighed "Too much?"

I shrugged again. Louis sighed again but didn't say anything. When we arrived I went up to my room, threw myself on the bed and fell apart, finally letting out all the tears I held back. After a while I heard footsteps and felt a presence sitting on the edge of my bed, and he slowly put his hand on the upper part of my arm, his thumb stroking the area slowly and gently. I looked at him through the tears.

"Just thought you might need someone, I can leave if you want me to." I shook my head, sat up and buried my face in his chest. He froze for split a second and then he wrapped his arms around me, I wrapped mine around his waist and his chest swallowed and quieted down my crying, his hand rubbing up and down my back soothingly.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?" He asked after a while, and I shook my head, I really didn't wanna talk about it. I wanted to just forget everything. Louis didn't say anything further, and I was grateful for that.

Eventually I fell asleep, still in his arms, and for some reason it felt right, as if this was supposed to happen. When I woke up he was still there, watching, making sure I was alright, guarding.

The first week was very hard. I'd cry almost everyday, missing my dear friends that I loved so much. One of the only things that were holding me was the new faith growing in me, and I seriously considered letting it grow, it made everything better and gave me a whole new perspective of all that I've gone through, but also brought many questions.

And then it happened, on Wednesday, the breakdown arrived.

I was sitting on my bed, the door was closed all day since after breakfast, hiding my sobbing figure behind it.

"Ashley, Melissa, Vanessa, oh God." I cried, hiding my face in my palms. I started smacking my own arm, my punishment to myself for leaving my good friends behind and running away just like that, like a coward. Of course there were more friends, but I just couldn't think straight anymore, not enough to name them. Then I remembered something, I stood up and walked to the desk that was in my room, I opened the top drawer, where I kept the only three things I brought with me; the tight orange boxers I wore that day, my phone which I had shut down, and the only thing Louis didn't know that I had. It was a plastic bag, and in it there were all the stuff I needed to make a joint out of them, and that's what I did. Then I held it between my lips, grabbed the lighter that was in the same bag and lit it up. I inhaled the substance and felt the effect of it on my senses. For a while I managed to forget, just like I wanted to. And then the door opened.

"Dinner's re- oh my God Harry, are you smoking?!" His eyes widened comically at the sight of me holding the joint.

"I-I have to..." I mumbled.

"No you don't! God, Harry, this damn thing is destroying you!" He took the joint from me and put it out, then threw it into the red garbage can under the desk, along with the plastic bag. I bursted out crying, and for a while he just stared at me, shocked. Then he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close, and I let myself cry and scream into his chest, and he slowly took us to my bed, he sat down and sat me down on his lap, hugging me, close and safe.

"Harry..." He said when I calmed down a bit.

"Yeah?" I looked up at him, voice small.

"Why won't you tell me?" He asked concernedly.

"Tell you what?" I asked.

"Why you're being like that, why I found you in a gay stripping club in the first place, why you're smoking. I wanna know about your past, maybe I could help."

I sighed, I didn't believe he could help in any way. "You can't help. I'm hopeless. I'm a disgusting, hopeless, hollow creature without any feelings at all."

"That's not true, you're crying for a reason, it's already a feeling." He protested quietly. "Can you at least let me try? I really wanna help you, I really want you to get better, and I think I can help if you'd just let me, I'll do anything, Harry, please, just let me try. Just tell me what happened.

I sighed. "It all started when I was 3 years old." I already felt the tears in my eyes.

I wasn't quite sure I wanted to do that.