Recover (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter Thirteen; Opening Up

"I'm always the one who loves more. That's my problem."
- Anonymous 

Harry stared at Louis, nervously biting his lip. He was contemplating; should he tell Louis what really happened or should he do what he always did: lie?

Harry knew Louis now. He knew the way Louis would run his hands through his hair and he knew the exact number of crinkles Louis had when he grinned. He knew the shades of Louis’ hair. Every single one of the shades. But did Harry really know Louis?

Oh, who was he kidding? Harry knew Louis like the back of his hand, and they just met.  He was going to tell Louis; no more lying. He was done with that. He'd lied enough in his life; to his mum, to his sister, to his classmates, to his teachers. He was done with that life. He was going to get better and he was going to be happy. He was going to make Louis proud.

“I—I don’t know where to begin,” Harry stuttered, casting his eyes to his hands folded neatly on his lap. The couch where they sat bounced a little and he felt Louis’ arm droop around his shoulders, gently squeezing.

"Let's start from why you feel like you need your lighter, yeah?"

"Um. It's just. I was out job hunting today, since I needed to pay you back for the sessions we had. So I went over to a restaurant where I knew the manager quite well ..." Harry proceeded to tell his story to Louis, trying his hardest to keep his tears at bay. He knew that this was something small to get upset about, but really, he was just looking for an excuse to use his lighter.

"Oh, Harry, baby, I'm so sorry that he did that to you. But if he can't see how special and wonderful you are, maybe he doesn't deserve to have you work for him. Have you ever thought of it that way? You're not missing out here, Harry. He is."

And that was when Harry started crying because no one had ever said it before, said it out loud in the open. No one had ever told him that he was better than this, that he was better than them, and now that he heard it, it was like another door opened for him and it was too much to handle.

Louis quickly pulled Harry in, hugging him and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear.

"It's alright, Haz. You're good, you're doing so so good."

"I'm not, Louis. I'm not doing good at all. I'm not good. I'm bad. I'm so bad, I am badbadbadbadbad--"

"Now, that's enough Harry. Stop talking, stop trying to hold it in. Just let it out. All of your frustration, your anger, your sadness, let it all out, baby. Can you do that for me?"

So Harry ignores the voice in his head and listens to Louis, letting all of his walls go down and allowing himself to feel, and he hasn't done this in such a long time and it feels good, it feels good to let it all go and cry to his heart's content. 

"There you go baby," Louis murmured into his hair. "Just let it go, let it out. But don't forget to breathe."

Harry took in a gulp of fresh air then, remembering that he did indeed need oxygen if he wanted to survive. After several long minutes of continued sobbing, it finally settled down. Harry hiccuped, feeling embarrassed that Louis saw him like this. 

As if Louis read his mind, he said, "Hey, love, don't be embarrassed. It happens to the best of us."

Then, Harry's hand unconsciously went to his wrist, where he started digging his nails in. Later on, if you were to ask Harry why he did it, he wouldn't have been able to tell you. It was starting to become like a habit, almost. A defense mechanism. Whenever he felt alone or uncomfortable, it was his first instinct to hurt himself in some way.