Together (Larry Stylinson) ✅

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Louis' POV

Fuck.

Just fuck.

After Harry left, I instantly regretted what I had done. I felt absolutely awful, sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe I let my body insecurities completely takeover my true desires, I couldn't believe they had caused me to push the person I loved away like that.

I had been wanting to be with Harry for weeks — months even. His phone calls were what was getting me through recovery, the thought of his face were what pulled me through the darkest days when the meals were unbearable and my clothes clung tightly to my skin. And He was hardly all I ever talked about with my therapist, especially when I spoke of the future. "I'm doing this for mum. And for Harry. I want to get better so I can go back to Harry," I would always tell her when she asked what my motivation for recovery was.

Come to think of it, It was crazy how much my love for Harry grew while I was in recovery. The better I got, the more I realized how irrational and ungrateful I was being when I refused to let him help me. When I refused to let him call 911; when I hardly spoke to him on the way home from the hospital. I was just so sick and my judgment was so clouded at the time— I couldn't see how thoughtful he was being, how much he cared.

During treatment, I really began to work on forgiving him and trusting him again. I learned to stop questioning and to start believing. Because if he didn't care for
Me the way he said he did, there was no way he would still be in my life right now. There was no way he would be calling me in rehab and checking with my sisters and telling me he adored me. And I knew he broke my trust and left Me in the past, but his apology was genuine— his confessions were pure. I believed that he missed me, that he never stopped loving me. I don't think I stopped loving him either.

Given all of this, it made no sense as to why I would break down when Harry actually came to see me. I should have been happy — ecstatic even. And I was. I truly was. At first, at least

But the minute he walked through that door frame and we came face to face, the voice in my head told me I was too fat and gross now. That I was unlovable. That I shouldn't touch him. Shouldn't kiss him. Shouldn't even go near him.

So I kept my distance, giving nothing more than a weak hug, and leading him inside and nausea washed over me like a wave. I tried to make small talk, hoping the voice would dull down and go away eventually. Hoping that maybe logic would step in and take care of things. But it never did, and as he spoke, my heart began to race and my vision began to blur and I panicked.

I panicked and cried and sobbed and told him to leave. And When he reached out his arms to hold me, I didn't even let him comfort me.

Later. After he left, I felt so fucking selfish. I wish i had just pushed past my thoughts and told him how I really felt. How I had wanted him to come all along. How I loved him, so fucking much. But my mind was swirling and the disordered thoughts were suffocating me. I could hardly string the words together, and he left without hearing the truth

Fizzy came inside a little while after he went home. She had seen Harry in the hallway and by the looks of her face, she seemed to be disappointed in me too.

"Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow, Lou. He's still in London for a few days. I can drive you to the café to meet him if you want," She said with a forced smile as she put away the groceries. Salad, eggs, cereal. Tons of boost and ensure. That was for me of course. Those delectable weight gain Nutrition drinks. I felt sick just thinking about them.

"Yeah," I muttered to her, pulling on another sweatshirt to hide my body. I didn't want anyone to see me now. It was as if I were just coming out of my shell, but the moment harry came, I reverted back in.

I guess in retrospect, the reason I freaked out so hard at his surprise is that I just wanted everything to be perfect for him. In my head, The plan was to gain some
Muscle definition in the coming weeks when I finally got cleared for exercise. For whatever reason, I was starting to become okay with the numbers on the scale, but it was my body composition that was driving me crazy. Muscle was acceptable, but flab wasn't. I just wanted to look perfect for harry. The way I used to when I was healthy and muscular and worked out. I didn't want him to see me like... this.

It was an irrational thought, of course. Driven by anorexia and body dysmorphia. Just a few months prior, I was having sex with Harry at my lowest, when I was so bony and frail and unattractive that harry sometimes closed his eyes to avoid seeing my emaciated state. But according to Ana, my current body was worse. More vile. And as much as I wanted to reject that, it felt so real that I couldn't.

As Fizzy unpacked the groceries, I sat in silence on the couch, wrapping myself in a blanket and allowing the tears to flow. She didn't question it or try to comfort me. This is just how things were now. I was constantly getting emotional, and sometimes it was better to just let me ride it out than to intervene and upset me further.

Eventually, I fell asleep, nodding off from the sleepiness the crying had brought me.

I woke up to the sound of plates clattering on the counter. It was Fizzy serving dinner, which was, by the looks and smell of it, curry. My favorite before I was sick, one of my biggest challenges now.

As I looked at the food, hefty portions of chicken tiki marsala, My stomach lurched and for the first time in a while I thought of starving. Or purging. Or both. I needed something, anything, to get this guilt out of my system. I needed a release.

But Fizzy could see the look in my eye. It wasn't hard to spot when you knew the signs. When you knew your brother was prone to puking his guts out when he felt stressed. Or Skipping endless meals when he didn't feel good enough.

Fizzy walked over, her dainty legs swaying beneath her dress, and wrapped an arm around me.

"It'll be okay, Lou. Try again tomorrow with him. Please don't restrict or get ill tonight. I'll stay with you okay?" She said quietly. It was something I could tell she was uncomfortable with, but was pushing through to help me. My beautiful baby sister, taking care of me, when it should be the other way around.

Looking into her blue eyes, I nodded, sniffling a little. She was right. It wasn't worth throwing away my recovery all because of one mistake. I had to keep pushing, keep going. Even if it was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Okay, Fiz," I said quietly. "Lets go eat."