Inked Skin

Torn

                        "Harry?"

                        Silence.

                        "Harry?"

                        Silence.

                        "Haz?"

                        Silence once again. Standing outside of the bathroom door, Louis rapped gently against the wood, careful not to startle Harry on the opposite side in case of whatever he was trying to do.

                        Louis gulped at the thought, and a large lump formed tightly in his throat. His nerves toyed against his state of making sure decisions, as if they were playing hopscotch, jumping back and forth between choices of what to do.

                        "Harry what are you doing in there?" Louis managed to ask without a stutter somehow. It was a wonder to him, and all he got in reply was once against absolute silence.  

                        It was as if Harry wasn't behind the door, and Louis was trying to capture the attention of a lifeless object. Just a few hours ago, Louis watched Harry go into there with a certain expression upon his face that would be unreadable to most people. Louis knew exactly what is was though with the pouted lips, redden eyes on the verge of tears along with his body language shouting out his want to be in solitude, but the action of yanking down his sleeves past his wrist is what really signaled in Louis's brain 'He's done it again.'

                        "Please Haz, I just want to talk to you. With you. Just open the door. Please?"

                        A single soft sniffle interrupted the lack of noise coming from the bathroom, ruling out that Louis was talking to no one, but more arose.

                        Harry doesn't want to talk.

                        Harry knows he's done something wrong.

                        He feels so guilty.

                        "Fine then." Louis mumbled, but loud enough to hear through a layer of splinters. Louis stomped his feet, creating the effect of walking away in an attempt to get the locked door to fly open. A faint sound of a metal object clattering to the floor rang out, and before he knew it, the door knob rattled and creaked opened, revealing a broken Harry.

                        He didn't even look surprised or fooled as if he was looking for an excuse to show himself to Louis, who wasn't surprised either.

                        Louis was right.

                        He had done it once again.

                        Harry bothered not to even hide them at all with his sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Louis could clearly see them up and down his forearms, freshly displayed against his black and blue older ones.

                        "'m sorry." Harry croaked, staring right into Louis's ocean of tears.

                        Louis froze, the surprise reaction finally catching up to him.

                        "You're joking, right? You didn't just say that you were sorry, right?" Louis sharply asked, and this time Harry froze, but with fear. Louis cracked an evil smile, one of those only appropriate when someone couldn't believe what just happen.

                        "I can't believe you." Louis growled, storming off into their bedroom. Harry dashed after him, searching for answers to his question he was barely able to ask.

                        "Lou? What did I do wrong?" Harry asked, but then corrected because he knew the answer to that one, "I- I mean, what did I say wrong? W-what... what's wrong with what I said?"

                        "You said you're sorry!" Louis shouted, slipping on a pair of his dark blue TOMS, "You said you're sorry, and that means I'm supposed to forgive you. How am I supposed to forgive you when I don't even know what the hell is wrong with you in the first place?"

                        "Louis, I'll tell-"

                        "Just stop, Harry. I'm tired of trying to pry it out of you."

                        "Lou, just listen-"

                        "Do you know how hard it is for me to help you if you don't even say a goddamn word anymore?" Louis said to Harry, throwing a messenger bag onto top of the bed and starting shoving random articles of clothes into it.

                        "Lou?" Harry numbly spoke, his voice getting softer by each syllable, "Lou, are you leaving?"

                        "Just stop, Harry. Stop talking, I mean it." Louis replied, searching for his keys among the mess on top of the drawer. "I'm tired of this, Harry. I'm done." Louis headed off to the front door, and Harry raced after him.

                        "Lou, Lou please don't leave I'll-" but the rest of his sentence had gotten cut off by a slam of the door echoing in his ears.

 "I'll tell you."  Harry said, but it wasn't heard to anyone. Harry knew Louis was well on his way down the stairs of their flat, scurrying down them in such a hurry, leaving Harry in a state worse than he was when he entered the bathroom hours before.

He couldn't believe what had just happened in barely 5 minutes. At one minute, he was trying to finally explain it all. At the next, he saw his only hope of going back to normal walk right out of everything with the two simple words 'I'm done.'

He knew it was his entire fault.

With tears streaming down his face, Harry trudged over to the room where the argument had started, lightning up the scene with a flip of a light switch. Harry picked of the scissors that had fallen to the floor earlier and brought them up so they were eye level. He saw his own blood stained across its sparkling metal surface, causing him to cringe.

"I was going to tell you." he whispered to himself, desperately wishing Louis would have known. Harry took the scissors that were made to snip delicate strings of thread and put them to use that he thought was better, tears filled with meaning of regret dripping down his face the entire time.