Let Me Show You How to Love Yourself (Larry Stylinson) ✅

Rehab

Oh my god, Harry thought to himself. I'm going to be sick. He was currently sitting at a large mahogany dining room table with a nurse by his side and a giant plate of food in front of him.Just a few hours ago he had been in his house cuddling under his warm blankets and dreaming about Louis, safe and sound... and well, not happy. But happier than he had been. Now, all he wanted to was curl up in a ball and cry for hours.

"Harold, you've been sitting at this table for over an hour and you've only had two bites. This is unacceptable. We're giving you one more hour before we get the feeding tube put in," the nurse said with a stern tone. Harry glared up at her, his green eyes burning into the back of her head as she turned to speak to an administrator.

"I fucking can't eat this bloody cheeseburger. It's bigger than my head. I'll throw up. I'm not used to eating that much. Do you even know anything?" he asked, snarling. Harry had been to countless treatment programs and the portions had always been large, but never this gigantic. If this burger could barely fit in his large white hands when he want to grab it, how it was it going to fit in his shriveled stomach?

"That's fine. All the other patients finished an hour ago. You can do it. If not, get ready for the feeding tube," the nurse said, folding her arms in front of her. Harry swallowed hard, thinking of the last time he had a feeding tube in. It was so painful and uncomfortable that they ultimately had to restrain him because he kept ripping it out. Ultimately, he lay there in the hospital bed for days wishing for death as his body was pumped with the evil calories.

Harry shook his head. "Fine, I'll fucking eat it," he said, taking a big bite of the burger. He started to gag profusely, nearly vomiting at the taste of red meat and cheese--two foods he had avoided for the past year. He swallowed the first bite and then paused, heaving, and began to take another.

"If I fucking throw up.... it won't be voluntary," Harry nearly screamed as he wiped burger grease from his face. He was only a few bites in and his stomach was screaming in pain. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Zayn and Liam cheering him on. Zayn would probably say something like "that's it, Harry," while gently patting his hand. Liam would smile and tell him how proud he is.

Keeping that in mind, Harry continued to eat the burger, which he was now halfway done with, and then glared at the nurse who was bringing over a glass of milk. "You missed snack time. They had yogurts, so you'll get milk. Can't fall behind schedule," she told him with a blank expression.

Harry swallowed the last bite of the burger, shaking with nausea and emotion, and reached for the milk. "Fucking give me that so I can leave," he said.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"Harry do you know why you're here?" the doctor asked, tapping her long nails against Harry's file, which was secured neatly to a brown clipboard.

"Because I fucking threw up my lunch, and everyone else kept it down and I'm an awful patient. What else is new?" Harry said, swinging a skeletal leg up onto the side of the chair and running his fingers through his patchy hair.

"Harry, this is your sixth treatment program in the past year. Don't you want to get better... or at least try? Why can't you let us help you?" the doctor asked, ignoring his rude response to the previous question.

"Why don't you understand that an anorexic -- that lovely word you all love to call me -- can't keep down a 1000 calorie meal in one sitting?" Harry retorted, his eyebrows furrowing together. Harry was talking but it felt as though his mind was in one room and his body was in another. He felt empty, detatched from his body and lost in his own world.

"I understand it was a large meal, Harold. I know it's uncomfortable for you because your stomach is used to always being empty. But you know the rules here. You can't force yourself to vomit," the doctor said carefully, abruptly cutting off Harry as he tried to explain himself.

"There's nothing to explain," she asked putting her finger to her lips to indicate that he should stop interrupting. "Here's the deal, Harry. We saw your vitals. You have a week left Harry, maybe less. Your organs are failing. Bloodwork showed a high risk of heart and kidney failure. If you don't start to eat now, you could pass away and there's nothing we can do for you."

Harry blinked at the doctor but didn't respond. His chest had been feeling tight and painful lately and at times, it was hard to breathe, but he didn't tell anyone because he was afraid that he would be forced to gain more weight....

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," he replied angrily. He tried to come off as indifferent, but inside he was panicking. He never thought it would get this bad.... he never thought he could die....

"We are absolutely not. I can show you the test results. Harry please," the doctor said, reaching for his hand. "Let us help you. I can teach you how to fight that voice. What to do when it gets too loud. How to deal with feeling full and bloated. How to overcome your anxiety. We have the tools here to retrain your thought processes, to make eating normal for you again."

Harry didn't respond, but the doctor continued. "Harry, when you were younger, what did you eat?" she asked with a small smile. "Dunno," Harry said. She raised an eyebrow. "Well we will sit here until you do," she said, folding her legs.

"Fine. Burgers, curry, sandwiches, pizza, fish and chips, crepes..." he said, trailing off at the end. He had no idea how he used to eat those disgusting, fatty, greasy foods. Just thinking about them made him feel sick.

"Wouldn't you like to be able to eat those things again, in moderation, without feeling nervous? Have a slice of pizza with a friend. Eat cake during a birthday. Don't you want those things back in your life?" the doctor asked, looking into Harry's green eyes, which seemed distant and cloudy.

Cake. A slice of cake.

Suddenly, Harry was in the bakery again, testing cake samples for an upcoming wedding cake. He remembered that day distinctly, where he had tried at least 15 different flavor combinations and was so sick of the sweet taste that the had to brush his teeth. His stomach was so full he felt dizzy. But he didn't panic or go running or throw up. He laughed. He laughed and laughed and picked a flavor and made the most beautiful cake with it. That Harry, happy Harry, would never have expected himself to turn out like this... hardly able to look at a piece of cake let alone stomach one.

"Yes, I'd like to be able to eat cake and things," Harry finally said quietly, a tear streaming down his cheek. The doctor looked at him in surprise, as he had suddenly switched from extreme apathy to extreme emotion.

"Okay, Harry. Then let's start with some mindfulness techniques....."

Harry nodded and listened as she gave him the instructions to the exercise. He wasn't sure if it was going to work. Fuck, he wasn't even sure he was going to keep down his next meal. But he knew one thing was for sure: he had to get better.

A/N: Hey guys! Hope you are enjoying the story so far. Sorry if this chapter was sad or disappointing to read :( I was debating if I should do a chapter on rehab or just have Harry reflect on it after he gets home, but I decided I wanted to show in detail how hard it is for him there... Personally I have never done inpatient, so I don't have the firsthand experience and only wrote this based on what I have heard/read/seen in documentaries.

Do you guys want to see more of his rehab experience? I'm leaning strongly towards fast forwarding from this point on... probably gonna do 2 months into the future. This is getting really hard/triggering for me to write and I don't want to rush Harry's recovery but I'll use the time hop so we can jump into the future and meet a healthier Harry.

I am just getting too sad writing about how sick and skinny he is😪 what do you think of this decision?