He's not sad anymore or depressed even. He's absolutely livid. The fact that he could just leave Harry and not even seem to care about it. When Harry gave him everything he had. (He tried to, anyway.) Liam was his everything. He always was. Part of him thinks that he always will be. (That's the sad thing isn't it, we never stop truly loving people, we just push our feelings onto the back of our tongues and swallow them like a bitter pill).
He writes in his journal with shaky handwriting. His tears are dried up but he can't think of what to scream into the pages anymore. He's beyond words. He can't begin to feel what he needs to. Not yet.
He breathes in, feeling the air making its way down into his lungs. It's a very relaxing sensation. As he breathes, he counts. One, two, three... his mother had taught him this. Anxiety kills. He knew all too well what it could do to someone's brain.
Before he knows it, he's shaking. He can't stop it. And it's honestly because he saw a picture of them at Liams' parents' lake house in the corner of his vision and there it is. The sadness returns. Thoughts of self-doubt creep in, and he doesn't know where they lurked because he had been so confident just minutes before.
He puts his head in his hands as his thoughts darken further.
YOU ARE READING
THE WRECKAGE OF STARS
Random[larry; completed] It's been over three months and I am continuing to pick shards of him from my skin. © caumet this is also posted at ao3 under the same username. that's still me
