Wilted Flowers [Edited]

13. Too Afraid

Niall isn't sure why he gets the bright idea of making French crepes, but he wishes he hadn't. As he sifts the flour, he realizes that most had missed the mixing bowl and is now sprinkled all over the counter.

Nonetheless, he hopes his efforts won't go unrewarded as he calls Louis to the kitchen. He prepares their plates and mumbles a silent prayer to himself - that the food is edible and he won't have to clean up glass from the floor.

"Nice Band-Aid," Louis giggles as he observes the hello kitty bandage covered around Niall's index finger.

"It's all I could find!" Niall retorts back. "I cut my finger cutting strawberries."

Louis opens the crepe and examines the inside. He pouts when he begins to mentally count the calories. Judging by the mess, he knows that Niall tried really hard. The idea of consuming all these carbs, though, is making him panic.

He rakes his fork over the cream cheese filling, trying to cut it into smaller portions. Since the crepe is so thin, it begins to fall apart, and the filling oozes all over the plate, creating even more chaos in Louis' mind. He divides the strawberries around the plate, counting them to make sure they're an even number.

"Harry's been coming over a lot, huh?" Niall teases. "Well, I think it's good for you. You don't get out of the house much. Well, you do go to class, sometimes. Personally, I like Harry. I think he's a good cuddle buddy, especially when one's scared. Don't you agree?"

Blushing, Louis turns his attention back to his food and continues to try and organize it. Niall watches him and tries to make sense of it all, but he can't rationalize the behavior.

"I know I'm not the best cook in the world and thank you for giving them a chance. Crepes are a no for the future," he laughs at himself. "There's still plenty of strawberries left, though. I'll get you a greek yogurt, and you can pair them together."

"No, thank you," Louis scoots his chair out and begins to put his food in the trash. "I think I'm going to lay back down for a while, but I promise to eat when I get up." He quickly walks away, not giving Niall the chance to argue with him. He retreats to his bedroom and strips, stepping on the scale as he wiggles his toes. He tries to remain patient as the three-digit number appears.

Once the number begins to flash, he nearly gags. Not even Clay abusing him could compare to the sinking feeling in the depth of his soul. He is the same as yesterday, not even an ounce difference. He counted his steps which were equivalent to 7.4 miles. He measured his calorie intake: 560. 16 ounces of water.

Not losing weight sends him to a period of mourning. Every day, he wakes up to the same goal, over and over. His existence revolves around small victories. In the beginning, he could take refuge that if he didn't gain any weight, he was doing a good job. Yet, when he reached his plateau, he hated staying complacent.

He feels his throat closing together. The room is spinning. His previous therapist called this dissociation. He glances at himself in his mirror and realizes how much he truly hates himself: from the inside out. He's fat, Mundane, and lacks charisma. He's, in fact, lazy, insignificant, and pessimistic.

There's no way he can keep his date tonight.

Hours later, when he hears the doorbell ring, he puts his pillow over his head and tries to disappear. He hears Niall answer it all cheerfully in his Irish accent. Saline collides with his tongue as tears stream down his face. He hears clumsy footsteps and a quiet 'ow as Harry bumps into the furniture. It's so endearing; it makes him cry harder.

"Lou, you in there? Harry's here!" Niall calls out and twists the doorknob. To his surprise, it's not locked.

Louis catches a small glimpse of Harry before Niall shuts the door. He's so fucking gorgeous, he thinks. The thought only makes him more depressed. In his eyes, he'd never be good enough for Harry. If people saw them together, they'd think that Harry only took him on a pity date.