***Many of you have probably read my author's note, and I am still taking a break. This chapter was completed prior to that note, so I am updating it now to leave with you while I take some time away. Thank you for understanding.***
Trigger Warning: This chapter deals with mentions of death and suicide. It also deals with abuse. I tried to handle these topics as delicately as possible, but please let me know if anything at all is too much.
Stay safe, loves. ❤
Chapter 27:
I finished making the tea for both of us, setting a glass down in front of Harry as I took my own into my hands. I took a sip of the warm liquid, enjoying the way it warmed my throat, and I looked over at Harry. He was staring into his cup of tea, just holding it in his hands.
"So, who's going first?" I wondered aloud.
Both topics that we were going to discuss were very heavy, and I knew that. Harry would be discussing deep and personal emotions, and I would be talking about my parents without divulging too much of my past. Of course, I would also be talking about my parents with someone who knew nothing about them for the very first time. It was my story to paint; my story to tell.
"I can."
Harry paused, taking a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath.
"You wanted to know what I was thinking about on the porch last night." I nodded along to his words. He set down his cup of tea and placed his palms down onto his knees. He looked like a small child who was hurt.
He took another deep breath, in and out, and then he opened his eyes to meet my own. He gave a small smile, but this one was almost lifeless. It was difficult to understand.
"Last night wasn't an easy one," He began, and I found that I was listening intently, moreso than I ever did about missions. "The day was good, but my... my mind caught up to me during the night. I tried to sleep, but it was no use."
"What do you mean your mind caught up to you? What kind of thoughts did you have?" I pressed, trying to understand.
He tried to smile more as he spoke, but I could tell that each word was like a fresh stab wound. "Dangerous ones," He whispered in a broken voice. "Thoughts about how... nobody would miss me if I were to disappear."
A part of me expected to hear those words, but I wasn't ready for the admission. It still shook me to the core and took me by surprise.
"Everyone in this town loves you. All they do is talk about how kind and caring you are," I justified, trying to make him see reason, but he shook his head gently.
"That's not me. I'm not kind and caring. Those are qualities. If they knew me-- the real me beneath the boy who offers help wherever I can-- what would they think? If they knew about all of my sadness, would they even bother helping or just ignore it because it didn't meet their needs?" He wondered, and I think that I knew where he was coming from.
"You feel like nobody knows you, but if you let them in, they wouldn't like what they saw?"
Harry nodded, eyes beginning to water with something close to shame. He didn't need to feel such a thing.
"Nobody wants to be around someone who's constantly depressed," He whispered in a rather hurt tone. "I thought about ending it, um... my life."
I shook my head quickly, but I didn't interrupt. I couldn't. It was something I never wanted to hear.
"It was particularly hard to ignore those thoughts last night. I wanted to. Thought that it would be the best option to end all of this pain, but I... I couldn't do it." Thick and heavy tears were streaming down his cheeks now, but Harry's voice stayed somewhat leveled. "The only way to stop myself was to get out of my house. So, I sat on the porch, and I looked at the moon. I found that, if I did end everything, I wouldn't mind such a beautiful full moon being the last thing I saw."
"But... why? Why would you want to end your life? Harry, don't you understand how much people need you?"
I found that I wasn't just trying to understand Harry anymore, but I was also trying to understand my mum; why she did it. Why did she leave me with a monster of a man? Why did she have to take her own life? Why didn't we just leave? We could have ran away. But I knew we wouldn't have gotten far. My dad would have found us. But why did she leave me? Didn't she understand that she was all I had?
"Loneliness can thrive even in the company of others," Harry said, tearful eyes glancing up at me. "Loneliness reminds me that nobody truly needs me. In fact, ending it all would probably make people's lives easier. They'd be hurt, at first, but after they heal, they wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. And then there's the ache," He said, curling in on himself again. "It's a hole in your heart that was dug out by a knife. It twists and twists and twists, wanting you to scream and beg for mercy. It digs deeper, taking away all semblances of happiness, eating away at you until you're nothing more than someone who is living only because it's what others expect of you. Because you don't entirely know how to die; nobody truly does."
I thought of my mum. I was so young back then, but I could tell that her smiles became less frequent. Her laughter didn't chime like a bell after a while. Her eyes slowly dimmed out, no light shining within her. But she was the brightest person to me.
Looking at Harry now, I saw similar feats.
"Is there ever a time when you don't feel lonely?" I wondered. Was there ever a time my mum didn't? Was there anyone who made her feel something other than that even for a second?
"I don't feel lonely when I'm with you," Harry admitted, and I felt just as breathless as I did last night.
The words would be beautiful to someone else, but they were just heavy in this moment. They weighed down on me-- all of that responsibility. It was a crushing weight on my chest, devastating.
I found that I didn't want to let Harry down.
"You-- how? Why?" I wondered, feeling awestruck by the boy in front of me.
Harry smiled, this one shy, but it actually met his eyes. Just barely. "You see me. You don't just see what everyone else sees. You know about my, um, depression, but you haven't treated me any differently because of it. You haven't pretended like I'm this broken thing; a butterfly with clipped wings. You see through things, like the abuse and my clinginess." He took a pause, looking down at his hands. "You... you told me that I was worth it... even with knowing all of that."
It was silent between us. I didn't know what to say at all. I didn't know how to respond. It was like all of Harry's hopes settled on me, so I had to be extra careful not to shatter all of his resolve. I had to take care to keep balanced for him.
"If you ever feel that way again," I started, mentally cursing myself for what I was about to say, but I couldn't stop myself from saying it. He needed this, and I needed to stop my past from repeating itself. "You can come to me."
Harry's eyes were a bit wider as he looked over at me. There were the diamonds shimmering in his eyes once more, and I reached a hand out to wipe them away before they could spill, hearing Harry gasp slightly.
"If you ever need to escape your mind, just knock on my door. Any time. Day or night," I said, not thinking anything through. "We can talk or just sit around in silence. Whatever you need in those moments."
Harry smiled once more, this one meeting his eyes fully. It wasn't exactly joy shining within him, but it was something that he could hold onto.
"Thank you, Louis," He responded as he leaned closer to me, kissing my cheek again. I found that I was a bit disappointed at the position of the kiss, but that was a train of thought that I wasn't very fond of chasing. "You don't have to tell me about your parents. Not if it's too difficult for you."
He was giving me an out, but I wouldn't take it. If there was one thing that I could say about myself with pride, it's that I kept my word. If I told him that we would discuss it, then I wasn't going to backtrack on that now. No matter how difficult it would be, I would open up to him just as he did for me. I just had to tread lightly and leave out a few key details.
"My parents were... they fought, like all couples do," I began, trying to decide how I wanted to tell Harry this. How did I want to reveal this? How could I without telling the full story and involving the gang?
"Were they unhappy?" Harry asked in a low whisper, trying to speak comfortingly.
"Not necessarily," I said with a shake of my head. "But I liked to believe that my dad married my mum while my mum just did what she had to do for her family's sake."
I could tell that Harry was curious about my wording, but he didn't pry. Instead, he settled for placing one of his hands over my own. It was a warmth that I was a stranger to. Tenderness didn't come with my lifestyle.
"They married young, I do know that. Everyone always said that my mum was such a beautiful woman, and I still remember how striking she actually was. My favorite thing about her was her smile. It was such a lovely smile, and it could calm the harshest of seas or silence a war."
Harry's eyes softened as I spoke of my mum, and I found that I didn't hate the fact that I was sharing her with him.
"I think that's where you got your smile from," Harry divulged, making our eyes meet once more. "Even if your smile is sometimes fleeting and hard to ignite."
I raised an eyebrow at him, watching his cheeks flush, but then he was silent. I continued on.
"My mum was a wonderful woman and the most gentle soul. My father was someone who was a leader," I said, for lack of a better word. "People would follow his every word. He was a strong man who put business before everything. But I believe that he did love my mother... once upon a time, anyway."
It wasn't a fairytale. None of this was. It was all just trying to find the bit of light at the end of a tunnel; anything to keep you going.
"My mum had me when she was quite young, and everyone always told me that she loved me more than anything. They said that I made her marriage worth it," I grew angry at the fact that my eyes stung, tears wanting to spill over my cheeks. I didn't want to be so vulnerable, but Harry seemed to not mind one bit as he squeezed my hand in his.
"My dad... he used to hit on my mum," I confessed. It happened mostly in private and nobody within his gang would dare say a word if they happened to see a bruise by her eye or a hand print on her arm. They were all fucking cowards. "I saw it happen quite a few times. I can still hear her cries of pain."
I didn't know that tears had already sprung free until I felt Harry's hand wiping at my cheeks and leaving with moisture on his fingertips.
"Then, when I was about four, maybe five, my dad turned his fists toward me."
I didn't really mean to say it, but the words were already out. Harry's eyes filled with sorrow, but it wasn't pity.
"Louis, you don't have to-" He tried, but I couldn't stop myself for some reason. The words came leaking out with little to no filter. Harry's hands were comfort, and his presence felt like a safe place.
"He wanted to teach me to be a good leader. That's what he said anyway," I scoffed out. My father tried to train me. At such a young age, he would push me to fight back and 'act like a man,' whatever the fuck that meant. He was training me. Every day it was the same thing.
Wake up, take his abuse, go through his 'trainings' and drills, become slowly like him. But my mother was always there. She was always trying to fight him for me, telling him that I was just a child, that I wasn't like my father, that I wasn't the leader of a gang like he was.
"He would hit me, and he would yell at me to stand up and take it; to hit him back. And my mum would run in front of me, taking the hits for me, pleading with my father to leave me alone. I was completely powerless as he hurt her because my small hits were nothing to him. He would bruise her and then he would turn back to me, as if nothing had happened, and continue his merciless lesson."
Harry seemed just as shocked as I was when he was telling me his story. The only difference is, I don't think he expected this much to come out of me.
"My mother always tried her best to be there for me, to protect me, but it was wearing her down. I saw it. I saw her smile less, and I saw how tired she was. She needed sleeping pills to help her sleep at night." I gripped onto Harry's hand this time, needing something to help me along.
He didn't complain. In fact, he squeezed my hand just as tight.
"One day, my dad was out," I spit out bitterly. The missions were always more important than my mum to him. "My mum took a whole bottle of pills, and I was the one who found her. She was passed out on the restroom floor, lifeless, but still so lovely."
"Oh, Louis," Harry whispered, arms wrapping around me as I slowly broke down in his arms, my face against his shoulder as I sobbed heavily, the grief in my heart being reopened.
"I stayed by her side, watching over her body and crying until my father came home." Two days. He was gone for two days, and I starved and mourned within that time. "He took one look at my mum on the ground, and then he looked away. He turned to me and told me that I had training to do."
Tears of fury escaped my eyes. I hated the man I called a father. I hated everything about him. I resented him and gave away his position. I didn't want to be the gang leader if it meant following in my father's footsteps. I gave it to Zayn, much to my father's displeasure. He had no say in it, though.
He couldn't hurt me on his death bed.
"My father was ruthless. He was an emotionless man. He wanted me to be like him, and I... I guess I am," I realized.
I spent years being cold and emotionless, detaching myself from others and pushing people away. I didn't take feelings into account. I spent so long resenting my father and his position that I guess I forgot everything my mother taught me. Not to close myself off or forget that kindness can go a long way.
It wasn't until Harry that I actually began to act like a human again. I was actually allowing emotions in whenever I felt bad for hurting him or felt breathless at his beauty. He had the same kind soul at my mother, and he was just as troubled. I didn't want to fail again.
"I still remember the last thing my mum told me... before she took her own life." It was after we had both been beaten down by my father-- me through training and her through protecting me.
My chest felt heavier than ever before. I was trying to breathe, but it was difficult through my tears and sobs. Harry's arms around me were the only thing keeping me together at this point.
"You don't have to say anything, Louis. I don't have to know," Harry offered. It was a chance to keep a piece of my mum to myself. Still, I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out.
"She told me that my father had to leave for an important m-- assignment," I caught myself, "and she said that he would be back soon," My words slowly started to run together as I thought of how my mum's eyes looked in that moment. They were dull and void of any emotion. I didn't understand it at the mere age of five years old, but I wish that I could have seen it then. I wish that I could have done something to stop her back them. "She told me never to lose touch with my emotions and with my gentleness that she had fostered within me. She told me that she was so proud of me and that she loved me."
Now, I gripped onto Harry as I wailed out, "If she loved me, then why did she leave me with that monster?"
Harry hugged me back just as tight, never once letting go as I completely crumbled down.
"I don't know, Louis. I don't know, but she must've felt just as I did last night. Hopeless and helpless. The darkness in a person's mind can be so draining," He said, but I shook my head as I stood up from the sofa and punched the wall beside me-- it was the same hand that Harry stitched up before. I could feel the sting from the shock ride all the way up my arm.
"She didn't even stop to think about me! I needed her, Harry!" I sobbed out, face hot and head spinning in my agony. I have never been allowed to unleash it. I lived my life in a numbing state ever since my mother's passing. "I was five years old, and I needed my mum. I was lost without her, hurt without her, but she left me with my father. She didn't protect me like she said she would! What did I do wrong?"
Harry's face fell at my words, standing up as well, but I turned away from him and covered my face with my hands.
I was spiraling. I was losing control of myself. I was taught to never let it happen-- to not even feel anything other than rage and superiority, but right now I was feeling such a heavy ache of sorrow within my chest. It was suffocating the small organ inside that could barely be called a heart.
I gripped at my chest, wanting the pain to end. I didn't understand it, and that terrified me.
"Why wasn't I enough to make her stay?" I whispered out through a sobbing breath.
I felt Harry's hand on my shoulder before he walked around me to stand in front. His eyes were kind and trusting. His hands felt strong, and it was a wonder that they could be so gentle with flowers.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Louis. You were probably her only reason to stay. But sometimes... staying for others isn't enough. Especially not when you feel you have nothing left to give, no part of you that's even alive anymore," Harry explained, and I looked into his eyes, seeing the same dull look that I had seen in my mum's so many years before. Harry, however, still had life behind his eyes. It was just slowly being drained away.
Suddenly, I understood. Looking into Harry's eyes, remembering the tear that raced down his cheek last night like a plead for mercy, I understood it all.
My mother didn't leave because of me; she left because she couldn't continue to survive for me. It was killing her not to truly live.
The truth was worse than any torture method that could be used against me. It was internal, and that was something that stitches nor a simple bandage could fix. I knew that, and it was a terrible realization.
"It's okay, Louis. It's okay. Just let it out," Harry encouraged, holding me once again, and it was like nothing I had ever felt before.
So, I broke down in his arms, just hoping that he would keep me afloat above the waves that were threatening to take me captive in their unforgiving current.
And Harry held me through it into the late hours of the night, reminding me that it was okay to just... feel.