Summary: Harry struggles to feel love, but that doesn't stop Louis from trying.
It's here! Enjoy! ❤️
-
"Did you know that electroconvulsive therapy is used for some mood disorders if medication doesn't work?" Harry speaks in the dead silence of his bedroom.
"Really? Isn't that considered unethical?" Louis' voice comes out of the laptop speakers, sounding less warm over FaceTime than in person. Harry, who is laying on his stomach and lackadaisically wiggling his feet in the air, nods before he realizes his head is out of frame.
"I think it's only little shocks," Harry hums.
"Oh." Harry's laptop quietly whirs next to him, washing his mind in white noise until Louis speaks. "Can you look at me real quick?" Louis watches Harry's room get jostled around as Harry readjusts himself on his bed. When the camera stills, he sees his boyfriend's hair, secured in a small claw clip at the top of his head, and the shirt he was wearing when they hung out three days ago. "There's my boy," Louis fondly smiles. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," Harry instinctually replies.
"Are you adjusting to your new meds okay?" After a string of particularly low depressive episodes during the school year, Harry decided to stop taking his medication. After speaking with his psychiatrist, he was prescribed a new medication, which he has been adjusting to for the past week.
He was warned of the side effects, which he has experienced many of, much to his displeasure.
"Yeah," Harry plainly nods. "I finally stopped getting headaches. I'm still not sleeping that great, which gives me ample time to feel shitty at night." Nighttime has always been difficult for Harry when he feels low. He often finds himself laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling on his phone or writing poetry about how bad he feels. That is usually followed by a terrible feeling in his stomach, like he is plummeting down the sharp descent of a roller coaster; sobbing follows soon after.
"What do you do if you can't sleep?" Louis asks, trying to sound more like a concerned boyfriend and less like a therapist, which he sometimes fails at.
"Usually watch YouTube. I'll write if I'm depressed or wank if I'm fine." He gives a small smirk at the end, and Louis bites his lip and smiles.
"Yeah? I'm sure your brain loves those happy chemicals."
"My dick loves it, too. I think it's getting tired, though. I'm glad my meds don't mess with any of that."
"I bet," Louis chuckles at his boyfriend and his dirty mind, shaking his head in astonishment. "Well you seem to be having some better days, bub. My lunch break is almost over, but I'll come by tomorrow, yeah? You know why?"
"Six months." A soft smile livens Harry's face and brightens his usually dim eyes.
"That's right!" Louis suddenly looks up, and Harry hears a short conversation between his boyfriend and someone else. "That was my uncle, he said someone just came in who's celebrating their birthday. Who chooses to celebrate their birthday at a golf club?" He teases.
"The most boring person ever," Harry says.
"Exactly. Thank you. Alright, I've gotta go now. It's not easy being the hottest and most successful employee this club has ever seen, but someone's gotta do it." He throws away his empty lunch bag as the symphony of Harry laughing makes his heart flutter.
"I'm sure it's difficult," he giggles. "Bye Lou."
"Bye Hazza. I'll text you when I'm on my way to yours tomorrow. Maybe around 11?"
"Okay." Harry brings his bottom lip between his teeth and his sock clad feet fidget on his bed. He and Louis keep talking for another few minutes after saying goodbye, before officially hanging up. When Harry shuts his laptop, he catches himself smiling and blushing and feeling slightly hot, even though his air conditioning is saving him from the mid-June heat; he cannot wait for tomorrow.
-
Louis leaves his house at 10:35, giving him a few minutes to spare to make it to Harry's house; the last thing he wants is his boyfriend waiting on him.
He puts on a pair of khaki shorts, a navy t-shirt with thin, white, horizontal stripes, and white Converse shoes. He isn't sure what they will end up doing today, so he tries his best to look presentable while still being comfortable.
Before leaving the house, he grabs Harry's gift bag, which contains a small box of assorted chocolates and a vanilla scented candle.
Nine months ago when Louis first met Harry, he never would have guessed that the reserved, soft-spoken, new student would quickly become his best friend and his lover. Louis has loved learning the complex ways of Harry. There is so much about the thoughtful boy to appreciate and admire, which is why Louis excitedly pushes the speed limit and arrives at Harry's house four minutes earlier than normal.
He rings the doorbell, the silver gift bag hanging from his slightly trembling hand.
"Hi Louis," Gemma's friendly smile greets him at the door.
"Hi," Louis smiles, then steps inside the house that is beginning to feel like a second home to him. "Is Harry here?" He wonders. Gemma's content smile starts to fade, and she glances at the stairs.
"He's upstairs," she mournfully says. "He's having a little bit of a rough day." Louis frowns at this, and his stomach unfathomably turns. "He might appreciate the company, though," she adds.
"It's just hard to see him like that," Louis quietly admits. "I wish I could help him, but it's hard to know what's helpful." Louis regards Gemma as the expert on Harry. Other than his therapist, she is the only person who Harry shares the great depths of his feelings with. Louis has been slowly learning how to sit with Harry in the trenches, but his lack of response often makes Louis feel like he is doing something wrong.
"I usually just let him do whatever feels right to him, while also gently encouraging him to take care of himself. Does that make sense?" She speaks in the same low tone, not wanting Harry to overhear.
"Yeah," Louis nods, "thank you." With that, Louis takes his shoes off and starts for Harry's room. He stealthily opens the door and shuts it behind him, sealing him in Harry's dark and lonely cave; he can just barely make out Harry's curls among the large navy comforter. "Are you awake?" Louis quietly asks.
"Mhm," Harry eventually answers. Louis almost misses Harry's response, what with the hum of the small fan gently blowing cool air onto the bed. He sets the gift bag on the floor, then slips into bed next to his solemn boyfriend.
"What's up?" Louis softly asks. He props his head up with one arm while his other hand begins to brush through Harry's damp, freshly washed curls.
"'m sad," Harry says, his voice slightly muffled. Louis can tell, and Harry can feel, that "sad" is a grave understatement. Louis thinks back to just yesterday, when he and Harry were on FaceTime and his boy was smiling and laughing. Now, he is the complete opposite.
"Did you have breakfast?" Louis wonders.
"Cereal."
"How bad is it up here, scale of one to ten?" Louis gently scratches Harry's scalp. Harry slowly turns to lay on his back while he thinks, allowing Louis to see his face. He looks forlorn, and his dim eyes remain half shut as his hand rests on his forehead.
Months ago, on Louis' quest to understand Harry better, he created a scale for Harry to rate his feelings. "One" is his typical temperament, where he is okay except for the small overcast sky in the back of his mind. "Ten" is the one that scares Louis, because when Harry says he feels a ten, he cries so hard and says things so terrible that it makes Louis want to cry with him. That only happened when Harry was off his medication, though. When Harry is on medication, the worst he feels is a reported seven; Louis can usually handle a seven.
"Three, maybe three and a half," Harry replies. "I was starting to feel it last night, and it got worse in the middle of the night when I couldn't fall back asleep," he slowly says. Louis leans forward to kiss his boyfriend, then lays next to him and holds him by the waist. "I'm sorry," he eventually says.
"For what?" Louis wonders.
"For being like this on our anniversary," he meekly explains. Louis hugs him tighter when he sees his lower lip tremble. It breaks Louis' heart to think that Harry feels the need to apologize because of his disorder. Harry turns his head into Louis' chest and exhales a shaky breath.
"Oh, please," Louis adamantly says. "You didn't choose to be low today, it just happened. Just gotta ride it out until the new meds kick in."
"I guess so," Harry sighs. The boys sit in perfect silence, being calmed by the constant sound of the fan. Louis keeps his arm around Harry, and Harry lays close to Louis with his eyes shut. They eventually kiss, maybe because Harry is just trying to feel something, but Louis doesn't mind. "Can you make it better?" Harry whispers against Louis' lips.
Louis can't help but smirk. He knows exactly what Harry means, because this isn't the first time Harry has asked for a distraction from his teetering sadness.
"Yeah, okay," Louis huskily answers, already breathless. "What do you want?"
"Anything. Just make me feel good."
"Are you clean?" Louis asks as he thinks of what Harry seems to love the most in bed.
"Yeah. Fingered myself in the shower this morning. They don't call it high functioning depression for nothing." His tone is dull but his words are satirical, letting Louis know that his sunshine is still here, just a little hidden.
"That's right," Louis chuckles. He looks to the door before getting up and locking it, then hovers on top of Harry. He kisses from Harry's lips down to where his shirt ends at his hips, then he lifts the T-shirt up past the boy's belly button. "Can I take your shorts off?"
"Mhm," Harry nods, biting his lip. He lifts his hips to help Louis pull his shorts down, then turns on his stomach when Louis gently motions for him to do so.
"Can I go down on you?" Louis asks. He has only rimmed Harry a handful of times, the first being in his bedroom when Louis' parents were out of town. In true teenager fashion, he snuck his boyfriend over after they left, and Louis licked and fingered and kissed so much of Harry that the boy was downright screaming by the end of it.
"Yeah," Harry whimpers. He feels butterflies in his stomach, finally the good kind, when Louis lightly rubs his hips, then kneads his bum and spreads his cheeks apart before letting them go. He can't help but feel a little self conscious when Louis' face is close to such an intimate part of himself. He always feels nervous about being clean for Louis when they choose to do this, and whether or not Louis actually likes doing it. However, all of his doubt and discomfort flies out of his mind when he feels that first lick.
It sort of tickles, and it is wet and warm and kind of gross but also so, so good. Louis slowly repeats his first lick before exploring more. He holds Harry's soft hips as he pleasures his beautiful boyfriend, his stomach aching with passionate hunger as Harry slowly escapes from the dark chains keeping him in the storm.
"Oh, Lou," Harry whines. It takes everything in him not to be loud, because it feels just as good as that first magical time. Louis grips Harry's cheeks and occasionally runs his hands along his boyfriend's trembling thighs as he continues to deliver waves of pleasure.
"You close?" Louis pulls away for the first time to ask.
"Yeah," Harry breathes. Louis slows down a bit after that, wanting to draw Harry's orgasm out as much as he can, making sure to give him enough so the younger boy can pull himself into a state of mind where he feels okay, and possibly a little happy. He keeps licking along Harry's perineum and hole, circling his rim and just barely entering him. Harry reaches for the tissue box on his nightstand and stuffs a small wad of tissues underneath him. Louis holds Harry's hips still as the boy reaches his orgasm, holding his breath at first before letting out a string of heavy exhales and voiceless whimpers.
"So beautiful...my boy," Louis stays by Harry's bum, gently licking as they ride through Harry's orgasm in full. When Harry stops twitching and thrusting his hips into the mattress, Louis carefully pulls his underwear and shorts up and pulls his shirt all the way back down. Harry throws the tissue away with half shut eyes before cuddling as close to Louis as he can.
"That was nice," he hums. Louis feels a small, blissful smile against his chest as he forces his own erection down. That smile means the world to Louis, and he is glad that it is back.
-
There's a different air to Harry when he is feeling sad versus when he is feeling happy. When he is sad, he has little energy, he rarely kisses Louis first, and he seems to be void of liveliness. When Louis hugs Harry when he feels depressed, it's almost as if there is nothing to him but skin and bones; it's like his soul is gone. But when he feels happy, he acts like the lovely 17 year old he is. He makes jokes, has the energy to leave the house for things other than responsibilities, and is affectionate with Louis. When Louis hugs him, Harry feels elated and filled with sunshine.
"Can we get this one?" Harry points to a coloring book about sea animals, and Louis smiles.
"Yeah," he fondly says. Harry grabs the book off the shelf and puts it in their shopping cart, on top of the cookies, biscuits, and chips. "Get colored pencils, too," Louis reminds him.
Instead of going on a proper date for their anniversary, Louis and Harry have decided to stay in. After their romantic session of making Harry feel good and filling his brain with endorphins and oxytocin so his depression stops infiltrating him, the boys decided to get snacks and things to color with at Tesco. It was Harry's idea, and he seemed so happy about it that Louis immediately obliged.
They carry their bags to the car and drive with the windows down. Louis reaches his hand over the middle console to hold Harry's hand as they drive in the beautiful weather.
Once everything is situated on the front porch--bowls of snacks, a blanket to sit on, and a coloring book next to an array of colored pencils--Louis can see just how happy Harry is. Seeing him this morning compared to now is like night and day. He can't help but sit close to his boy as they lean against the house and flip through the coloring book.
"What do you think, Lou?" Harry asks, resting his head on the older boy's shoulder. Louis' stomach fills with fluttering butterflies, and he softly chuckles. "What?" Harry says, almost sounding self-conscious.
"Nothing, H," Louis smiles. "What about the octopus one?"
"No, tell me." Harry picks his head up and looks at Louis curiously. He doesn't know if talking about Harry's disorder will upset him or trigger him, so he treads lightly.
"I just like seeing you like this. You're like a different person when you're...sad versus happy. I just like seeing you happy is all," he carefully explains.
"I like being happy," Harry says, offering a small smile. He returns his head to Louis' shoulder, and they continue to flip through the coloring book. Louis makes Harry crack up at how weird and misshapen the fish look, and he makes him laugh even more when he gives the jellyfish he is coloring a harrowing backstory with mob connections.
Harry colors a lovely family of seahorses while Louis finishes coloring his jellyfish, and the boys munch on snacks while they compliment each other's artwork.
"Speaking of talented artists," Louis cheekily begins, slightly changing the course of the conversation, "did you write today?" Harry pouts his lips and shrugs, looking back down at his coloring page.
"Nothing good. Just me being angsty and overdramatic." The way Harry's depressed mindset orders words is nothing short of art. To Louis, when Harry allows him to read the poetry he writes, he feels more connected to the boy. The intimacy of Harry sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings with Louis is such a brave act, and Louis is always moved by what Harry writes.
"Even if it is a little dramatic, what art isn't?" Louis reasons. "Can I have a peek? You don't have to show me if you don't want to." Harry thinks for a moment while he eats the last bite of his cookie, then unlocks his phone.
"I suppose..." He sighs. When he gives his phone to Louis, his notes app is pulled up, and a few separate poems are highlighted:
If my mind is lying to me
But so is my body
How can I tell what is real?
--
There has to be more
More than hoping for something more
More than living between the downs
--
What if this is it?
What if this is all there is?
I'm searching for the purpose and value in everything
Because maybe I'm missing something everyone else sees
Everyone else seems to be fine
I'm sure I look the part
Louis frowns upon reading the three latest entries to Harry's poetry note. While he has written beautifully, Louis cannot fathom how his boyfriend could write such things--how Harry's brain could play suck evil tricks on him that make him seem like his life is in a skewed, much darker light.
"They're kinda cringey," Harry says amongst Louis' silence, then reaches for his phone.
"No," Louis softly reassures him, moving to sit next to him on the blanket. They lean against the house and look out into the yard so they don't have to have a deep conversation eye-to-eye, which Harry prefers. "It's beautiful. It's heartbreaking and raw, but it's poetic. It's how you feel." He doesn't add anything after that, and instead lets Harry sit with the compliment; whether he believes it or not is out of Louis' control.
It's a perfect day to sit underneath the shade of the porch, being cooled by the gentle breeze and enveloped in the sun's sparkling light that swirls in the wind. Harry rests his head on Louis' shoulder with a calm sigh.
"Thank you for today," Harry says after minutes of birds chirping and the occasional car humming through the neighborhood.
"It's my pleasure, bub. Love spending time with you." Louis kisses Harry's head, making the younger boy blush a little.
"No, really. I'm sure I would have just felt worse and laid in bed all day if you didn't come. I know I'm not the easiest to love sometimes, and you know I don't even understand love very well, so...basically, thank you for giving me a chance," Harry earnestly says, cracking his knuckles to self soothe.
Louis almost doesn't know how to respond in a meaningful way. He wants to just sigh and feel bad that Harry feels like he isn't easy to love, because he is one of the loveliest people Louis has ever had the pleasure of knowing. He also knows how Harry's mind can play tricks on him, and he feels compelled to validate the love they share.
"Believe it or not, I think you are easy to love. You're complex, and it's exciting getting to know every side of you," Louis begins. "I guess you're stuck with me," he chuckles, and Harry smiles with him.
"Exciting, or exhausting?" Harry questions, sounding timid with a front of playfulness.
"Exciting," Louis reassures him. "No one's making me be with you, I choose you every day. Of course the £10 I get from Gemma doesn't hurt, but..."
"Shut up," Harry giggles, lightly slapping Louis' leg. His hand rests on top of Louis' forearm, and he loosely laces their fingers together. It is quiet once again, and Louis smiles to himself at the beautiful stillness of the moment, until Harry lifts his head. "I love you," he softly says, but Louis hears the words as a scream. Before he can process what Harry said, Harry guides Louis' head to face him, then places a chaste kiss to his lips before returning his head to his shoulder.
"I love you so much," Louis says, with equal softness. He inexplicably feels his eyes sting with tears, so he quickly blinks them away before Harry notices. He is so proud of Harry, not only for the growth he has seen from him since they first met in the hallway at Chapman School for Boys, but how he has had the strength to fight for his happiness and survive every day even if he loses the fight.
While it has taken time getting to know Harry's ways and Louis still doesn't know him completely just yet, he isn't discouraged. He knows Harry has unique ways of doing things. He has unique ways of showing love, because Louis knows it can sometimes be difficult for him. But especially on days like today, he knows Harry feels love for him; it's just in his own unique way, and Louis finds that beautiful.
-