A/N:
I'm just going to start this.
❌ TRIGGER WARNING ❌
•••
It has been exactly 24 hours since the two boys have spoken. Louis knows this, because yesterday afternoon at 12:56 pm, Harry got home. And at 12:59 pm, Harry read the note. Louis knows this because he heard the box open and close, and the sound of Harry's boots as he ran to his room, and the sound of sobbing as Harry cried into his pillow. It broke every bone in Louis' body.
It was currently 12:56 pm, and they had not spoken a word to each other since the event yesterday. Harry has not left his room, and Louis knows that because he stayed up all night, waiting at his open door for some sign of Harry. Louis spent the whole night silently crying, and Harry spent the whole night wishing that Louis would come into his room. Little did he know, Louis wished the exact same thing.
Harry had not eaten any lunch, dinner, or breakfast. Louis had tried opening the door to his room, but it was locked. They had never gotten in this bad of a fight before, even over worse things than this. Louis was heartbroken. Harry, however, was broken in more ways than just his heart. Little did Louis know that his best friend was breaking himself.
•••
Harry sighed. It had been a year, a year to the day, since he had done this. A year. Could he do it? Was he strong enough to put the object down?
Harry remembered the look on Louis' face as he ran into his room after he said what he did yesterday. Why did he say that? Why was he so god damn stupid? Harry sobbed, the hot tears falling onto his day-old jeans that he had yet to take off.
Harry held the object in his hand. "Screw the year," Harry thought as he let the cold, metal blade slice across his skin, letting the red liquid drip out onto the napkin he had skillfully placed onto the carpet of his closet.
Harry almost winced at the feeling, but soon remembered how nice it felt. He made three more slices on his left arm, then four on his right one. He sighed and wiped the blade, then placed it in a spot where Louis could never find it.
Harry picked up the napkin from the ground and ripped it in half. One went on his right arm, and the other wrapped around his left. He winced at the burning pain, but knew that he had to pay for the pain he put Louis through. He can't have Louis feeling terrible when he felt nothing. He just couldn't.
The doorknob jiggled, and Harry almost had a heart attack, before remembering that he had locked it. He heard Louis press his head against the door in defeat, and then he heard small sobs. He wanted to run out there, tell Louis how sorry he was, to hug him, but he couldn't let Louis see him like this. He has been doing this since his junior year of high school, and he stopped last year. No one knows, but him. It's his dirty little secret.
Harry wants to forgive Louis. He already has, really, just not to his face. He doesn't care that Louis pushed him, and he doesn't care (as much as he did) that Louis said what he said. He cares that Louis is hurt, and he wants to hurt as well. He hurt Louis. He has to hurt himself in return.
Louis' sobs could still be heard, before he heard his little feet padding away from the door. Harry subconciously presses the napkin down harder, and yelps at his mistake. He lets out a loud sob, before laying down on the bed and
letting the darkness consume him.
•••
Louis is broken, to say the least. It had been 27 hours since they have spoken, to the minute. He just doesn't understand why Harry won't forgive him. Louis forgave Harry for what he said yesterday, he never had to in the first place. He would always forgive Harry, no matter what he did. He loved Harry. He still does.
Louis now sits on the couch, staring at the blank space ahead of him. He does nothing but sit, breathe, and try not to throw up/cry/jump off a cliff. He suddenly gets an idea, and jumps up off the couch.
"What if Harry put a note in the box?" He thinks excitedly to himself. "And that's why he's not talking to me! Yes, that's it!" Louis quite literally runs to the bet box, the blue box, their box. He excitedly opens the lid and...
Nothing. Louis drops the lid to the ground and crumbles to the floor. He starts violently sobbing, letting out heavy breaths and hiccups. He doesn't even care if Harry can hear him. He almost wants Harry to hear how hurt Louis is. He wants Harry to forgive him. He just wants Harry.
He collects himself after thirty minutes of sobbing on the floor of the lounge room. He walks up to Harry's room with all the courage he can muster. He knocks on the door three times. No answer, no surprise there. He knocks again. Louis starts getting frantic, wondering if maybe Harry is hurt.
No answer. Louis pounds on the door, jiggling the handle and screaming "Harry!" as he does so. There is still no answer. Louis is a downright mess. He bangs on the door, kicking it and screaming for Harry to open it. Louis is now crying again, praying that Harry is okay. Louis falls to the ground, whispering a weak "Harry," before passing out.
•••
Harry heard. He heard it all. Well, not all of it. He was woken up by the frantic pounding, and he wanted to answer it more than anything. But he looked at his bloody wrists, and knew that it would only make things ten times worse if Louis found out. So he kept quiet.
It was three hours later, and Harry was sitting in the exact same spot as he was before. He didn't know what to do. He was starving, he was dirty, and he was in pain. Both physically, and mentally. He sighed and stood up, taking the napkins off to look at his wounds. They had stopped bleeding, so Harry discarded the napkins under a pile of candy wrappers from when Louis and Harry had a movie night.
He put on a long-sleeved sweater, and changed into a pair of joggers. He put his hair up in a bun, and braced himself. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to have it stop a few feet out. He looked down and his mouth dropped. Laying there, in a pool of tears, was Louis. His Louis.
Harry dropped to his knees to look at Louis. He was breathing, but his breaths were slow and short. Harry picked Louis up, bridal style, and carried him to the couch. Harry sat down and laid Louis across his lap, his head on his thighs. He pet Louis' hair and kissed his head for twenty minutes before Louis' eyes fluttered open.
Harry gasped and carefully brought Louis' head to the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boys' back and hugged him for a few minutes. This needed to be done for the both of them.
Louis pulled back and repositioned himself so that he was sitting on Harry's lap with his legs crossed around his back. He cupped Harry's now wet-with-tears face.
"Harry, I-" Louis started.
"Stop," Harry said, taking Louis' hands and intertwining them with his own, placing them on Louis' lap.
"Louis, I am so, so sorry. I should have forgiven you yesterday, I'm not even mad. Sure, you said some hurtful things, but you were mad and/or drunk. Sure, you pushed me, but, Louis, you apologized. You're sorry. And you mean it, and I know that. I can feel that. But I am sorry. I'm sorry for saying that yesterday, I'm sorry for not opening the door today when you were obviously worried out of your mind for me, I'm sorry for not accepting your apology sooner, and I'm sorry for leaving you like this for a day. 'M just so sorry, Lou," Harry said, letting a couple tears fall down his cheeks.
"Haz..." Louis started. "It's okay. I'm sorry for everything I said to you. I was so worried... this morning, when you weren't opening your door. I thought you'd passed out or died or... I don't even know. I was so worried. And I heard you crying yesterday, all day yesterday. I waited outside my room all night last night in case you walked out. I was waiting for you, Haz. I just wanted to beg for your forgiveness. I've missed you, Har. I've missed my best friend," Louis said, now crying himself.
"And you passed out worrying about me," Harry sadly chuckled.
"Yeah well, you tend to have that affect on people," Louis smiled, for the first time in 30 hours.
Louis lifted their hands up, and rubbed circles around Harry's hand with his thumb. Before Harry could react, Louis started rubbing his thumb closer and closer to his wrist, before running over the newest cut. Harry yelped and drew his arm back in an instant, and Louis looked at him wide-eyed. Louis didn't register what had just happened.
"Harry... is that..." Louis said.
Harry was at a loss for words. He just looked at Louis with scared eyes and a dropped jaw. Louis grabbed Harry's upper arm, and, against Harry's wriggles of protest, put his arm out straight. He gently pushed Harry's sleeve up, not very easily, due to Harry's attempt at escape. He held Harry's arm out straighter, and pushed his sleeve up all the way. He gasped at what he saw.
Louis looked at Harry with frantic eyes, then looked back down at Harry's arm. He grabbed Harry's other arm, this time without protest, and pulled his sleeve up. He saw the total of eight cuts that lined the younger boys' arms, obviously fresh. Louis looked at Harry, tears welling in his eyes. He jumped off of Harry and ran. Ran straight into the bathroom.
He shut the door as quickly as he could, locking it, then leaning over the toilet and letting the sight of Harry's pain escape his mouth and flow into the toilet. He gasped and heaved, arching his back and spilling his contents into the previously-white bowl. He heard Harry's frantic knocking at the door, and the little sniffles that came with his teary eyes.
Louis stopped, closed the toilet seat, and flushed it. He started crying, harder than he had in a long time. He couldn't believe it. How long had Harry been doing that? Was Louis the reason he did it? Louis was heartbroken.
Harry's rapid knocking on the door didn't exactly help the situation, because Louis knew that just a little bit further up that hand were slices of pain. Louis choked on his tears, hiccuping and sniffling and completely falling apart. After ten minutes, he finally opened the door to see a broken Harry.
He stood on his tippy-toes and attacked Harry in a hug. That's the only way to describe it, really. Louis threw his arms around Harry and pulled him down in a way that can only be described as painful. He brought Harry's head to his chest, standing as tall as he could, as a way of saying that he was going to protect Harry. And Harry understood that.
Louis sobbed into Harry's neck, and Harry silently cried onto Louis' shirt. They both needed a moment like this.
Louis pulled back first. He cupped Harry's cheeks and looked into his bright green, bloodshot eyes. Blue and green mixed perfectly together, in a blend of tears, anger, and pain.
"Harry," Louis whispered. "I'm so sorry. I made you do this. I made you hurt like this. God, I hate myself. Look at what I do to you! I'm not good for you. All I do is hurt you. Please Harry, never do this again. I'm begging you. Please," Louis whimpered.
"You didn't do this to me. I've... I've been doing this for a while now. I think we should talk, Lou," Harry said.
"Yeah. Yeah," Louis agreed.
•••
After getting themselves settled onto the couch in the lounge room, Harry began. But not before shutting the blinds, turning out the lounge room light, and leaving nothing on but the light of the kitchen. They were able to make out each others' faces, but not much else. It was almost completely dark. They sat face-to-face, sitting criss cross on the couch.
"Grade Eleven. That's when it started. I remember feeling like I was useless on this Earth, feeling like I didn't even exist. I think I needed to feel the pain and see the blood to remind myself that I was an actual human. That I existed. I quit last year, when we became dorm-mates. It was amazing. You helped me to stop, Lou. You didn't even realize it, that's the best part. You didn't even realize that you saved my life every single day, just by smiling or cracking a joke. You kept me alive, Louis. You still do. And then today... I saw how much I hurt you. I heard you crying, I heard you pacing in your room. I heard it all. And while I was hurting, too, I knew that the pain you caused me was not nearly as great as the pain I caused you. The only pain I was feeling was the pain of knowing that I hurt you. So, I thought I needed to even it out. Make me hurt as much as you were. So, I relapsed. You're the only one who knows my secret. And guess what, Lou? Today was my one-year anniversary of not relapsing. I cut myself on my one-year anniversary of not cutting myself. Isn't that just fucking mad, Lou? I'm mad. I'm not healthy for you. 'M not even healthy for myself," Both Harry and Louis were full-on sobbing now, Harry a bit more contained.
Louis took a deep breath before starting his share. He hesitantly pulled up both of the sleeves of his sweatshirt, first right, then left. He outstretched both of his arms to Harry, wrists turned up. In the faint light the kitchen was providing, Harry could just make out the scars on his arms. Harry was awed. There had to be at least twenty more scars, half of them not even being lines. Words like "fag", "ugly", "fat", and even the sentence "is this good enough?" were written in scars across both of his arms. Harry's jaw dropped. He ran his thumb across the words, tracing some of them with his pointer finger. He looked at Louis, as if waiting for him to speak.
"Grade Ten. You guys didn't know it, but these guys would always drag me to the back of the school and spit on me and beat me up. They called me ugly, and fat, and fag, and so many other things. Remember how I would always disapear after school randomly? They would take me and beat me up. I'd hide the marks with my sisters' makeup, but the words stuck. Eventually, I started believing what they said. It ended when they left for Uni the next year, but the pain never left. So during the time they were beating me up, I started cutting. Every single one of the words they called me went on my wrists. And... um..." Louis stood up from the couch and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down just enough for Harry to see dozens of more scars, dozens of more words. Harry looked up at Louis who was staring at Harry, wondering how he was going to react. Harry lifted up his finger, as if to ask Louis a question, and Louis nodded.
Harry traced his pointer finger around all of the words on his lower thigh, slowly making his way up until he reached the highest one, sticking out on its own. This one stood on top of the others, sitting only an inch below his groin, but over to the side of his leg, right where his thumb touches when his arms are down.
This one was a different scar. This one made Harry start crying even harder. This one was the newest. This one said "haz".
Harry looked up at Louis. He lifted his finger once more, and Louis nodded. Harry traced the "haz" slower than he had all the others. He took his time, feeling every bump and dip that Louis' skin had. With a shaky breath, Harry said, "L-Lou..."
"... Five months ago. You hadn't talked to me in four weeks. It was summer break and we were planning on going on that vacation, to the states. But I drank myself silly and didn't wake up when you told me we had to go. Nor did I wake up when you shook me, or called the ambulance, or held my hand in the ER. Twelve hours later and boom, alcohol poisining. Once you knew I was okay, you left, and you had every right to. I apologized over and over again, and after a month of running away from me and ignoring me, you forgave me. But not before I put this onto my skin. And believe it or not, I planned on putting many, many, more. I thought I had lost you, for good. I needed some way to have you, some way to keep you with me. So I wrote your name on the paper that is my skin. I planned on writing one 'haz' for every month you didn't talk to me. Little did you know, the second I was about to add a second one, even though it wasn't two months, you rang the doorbell, ready to accept my apology. So, Haz, you saved my life, as well. And the best part about it was, you didn't even realize you did it. You didn't even realize that you saved my life, by just walking up to my mothers' doorstep," Louis finished, repeating the words that Harry had just said to him.
Harry stood up, and grabbed both of Louis' upper arms, while Louis did the same to Harry's arms. "I guess we both saved each other then, without realizing it," Harry said, smiling sadly.
"I guess so," Louis replied.
"You should have told us about those guys. I get why you didn't, I really do. I just wish you did, I could have stopped them, none of this would have happened- you wouldn't have over fifty awful words written on your arms and thighs. You wouldn't have all that pain in your chest. We would have protected you, Lou. I would have. I still will, to this day. You just have to tell me whenever something is happening, okay?" Harry said, looking Louis straight in the eye.
"Okay," Louis sighed. "And Haz, you are a person. You exist. You don't need blood and pain to know that. Because Harry Edward Styles, if you didn't exist, then I can damn well promise you that I wouldn't, either. You exist to save other people, to save yourself, to save me. You exist so that other people see your dimple smile and decide not to kill themself, not that night. People look at your giggly personality and they think, 'Hm, maybe I should be more like this kid.' and they go to therapy to get better. I look at you every single god damn day and think to myself, 'No. I'm not going to kill myself. I'm not going to cut. I need him. He needs me. We need each other. That wouldn't work if I were gone, would that, Louis?'. You exist on this Earth for a reason, and nothing would be the same if you left. I can guarantee that," Louis said, silently crying once more.
Harry took a minute before responding. "Louis, I exist for you. That is my main reason."
Louis smiled softly. "You too, Haz. I am alive because of you. My pain is almost non-existant because of you. You're my main reason. You."
Harry pulled Louis into a hug, Louis' nose buried into the crook of Harry's neck. They stayed like that for a long time.
"Haz?" Louis whispered before pulling away to look at him.
"Yes, my one soul reason?" Harry responded, making Louis' heart flutter, something he's never felt before.
"No more secrets. Promise?"
Harry linked their pinkies together. "Promise."
And if they spent the rest of the night and into the morning on the couch, drinking tea and rubbing each others' scars with their thumbs and pointer fingers, and just talking about everything, that could be their little secret.
•••
And when Louis found the note inside Harry's pocket when he was asleep that read, "Harry bets Louis that Louis won't love him again", and Louis stuffed it in his pocket, that could be
his little secret. For now.
•••
A/N:
I'm sorry.
I cried while writing this.
Also, I'd just like to say that while writing this, Once in a Lifetime, Strong, Spaces, Stockholm Syndrome, Where do Broken Hearts Go, Fool's Gold, and Love You Goodbye all played.
Also, this picture goes well with the theme of the chapter, doesn't it?
Also, I'm sorry.
Zoe xx
INSTAGRAM: hoeforlarries/larryforthenight