Louis doesn’t even bother trying to keep himself quiet. It feels good to gag and sputter and cough as the vomit splashes into the toilet. It gives a sound to what he’s feeling. The burn that he

Chapter Twelve:

Louis doesn’t even bother trying to keep himself quiet. It feels good to gag and sputter and cough as the vomit splashes into the toilet. It gives a sound to what he’s feeling. The burn that he feels in his throat is much more rewarding than screaming would be. It feels good not to be contained. Not to be vomiting out of necessity. He’s vomiting because it hurts, it burns his throat and it makes his stomach writhe and he needs that pain right now.

He rests his forehead on his arm where it’s wrapped around the toilet bowl and lets himself breathe for a moment. He’s trembling, partially from being naked on the cold floor and partially because his body is protesting. His eyes are damp and he’s not even sure if it’s from throwing up or because he’s crying. Somewhere between the sixth and eighth time he shoved his fingers down his throat the gags began to be broken up by sobs. Louis hasn’t cried while he’s puked in a long time.

Usually it’s all clinical. Get the food out before it digests and without the boys noticing what you’re doing. Now he’s in no rush and his stomach was almost empty before he began. Right now he just wants to hurt. He reaches his slobbery fingers back into his mouth and strokes, gagging around his fingers as his stomach contracts in an attempt to expel its contents. There is nothing left though; no matter how hard he tries he just keeps dry heaving because he’s empty. That just won’t do.

Louis spits in the toilet and hauls himself to his feet on shaky legs. He drags himself to the sink and leans his full weight on it as he turns on the tap and fills his cup. Six times he fills it with water and chugs it, six times is enough to make him feel like he is going to burst. It isn’t even about Harry anymore. This is about him and how disgusting he is and how wrong he is and how fucked up he is and he just wants to tear himself apart.

This time when he kneels back down and draws up the contents of his stomach he’s rewarded with the rush of the water and the stomach acid. It burns as it pours out of his mouth, it burns so good. Louis isn’t sure when he starts sobbing but by the time even the water is gone his shoulders are shaking with the sobs racking his body. He doesn’t bother trying to stifle himself, it’s been far too long since he’s just let himself feel. Since he’s let all the shit he’s pent up inside of him out.

He always has to stay composed, he has to try and act okay, for Liam and Zayn. He pukes quickly and quietly because he doesn’t want them to find out and stop him. Why would he want them to stop him when he feels like his throat is ripping apart and it feels so good. His voice is cracking and breaking as he cries, one fist clenched and digging into his stomach, the other arm clinging to the toilet bowl. He sounds and looks disgusting but he doesn’t even care because he looks disgusting at the best of times and it just feels so good to hurt.

He shoves his fingers down his throat again, more roughly that he usually does, trying desperately to get something more out of himself. His stomach clenches and his throat rises and he gags, but there is nothing. He doesn’t stop though. He gags himself over and over, dry heaving between choked sobs. He heaves until blood starts coming, mixed in with his saliva, and even then he keeps going. His nails scrabble at the back of his throat, trying desperately to get rid of that itch. That itch to empty himself, that itch to hurt himself, that itch to remind himself just how little he is worth.

He goes until every breath he takes feels like it’s tearing him to shreds as the air grates on his inflamed throat. He goes until his stomach is spasming, too weak to even properly clench anymore. He goes until he’s seeing stars behind his eyes and his grip starts slipping on the edge of the toilet. When he inhales his breath rattles and then he’s coughing, coughing so hard he can’t even breathe. He lets himself fall back from the toilet onto the cold tile, his back up against the wall and the toilet paper holder digging into his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother testing his voice, he knows it’s gone. He’s glad it’s gone, he’s glad his throat is on fire, he’s glad his body feels as bad as his mind does.

He manages to get himself into the shower but he just sits on the floor of it as the water pours down on his head. When he coughs into his hand there is blood. More blood than he’s seen in a while. He finds himself holding out his palm, mesmerized by the way the shower water slowly dilutes the red against his skin until it’s all washed down the drain. When he’s close to passing out in the shower he forces himself to shut off the tap and wrap a towel around himself. He gathers his clothes and straightens the bathmat on the floor before making his way to his bedroom, leaning against the wall for support.

He puts on a jumper underneath one of Liam’s big warm hoodies, and slips into Zayn’s thickest pair of sweatpants before he climbs under his covers and buries his head. He falls asleep thinking of green eyes and a beautiful voice and kind words mixed in with the list of things he hates about himself, the parts of him he wishes he could just drag up from his stomach and expel.

He wakes up to two bodies beside him, two sets of hands stroking and holding him. He blinks blearily up at Liam and Zayn, and he is met with two sets of worried eyes and furrowed brows. Liam has his hand on Louis’ forehead, Louis’ hand is held in between Zayn’s, his lips touching the knuckles softly. The room is dark except for the bedside light, which they must have turned on.

"Baby what’s wrong?" Liam asks, his voice a panicked whisper, "you haven’t answered either of our texts or calls all day and-"

"All the lights were off when we got home and you look so sick love," Zayn says, voice mirroring Liam’s hushed tone, "have you been crying?"

Louis opens his mouth to tell them he’s okay, just feeling a little poorly. Except all that comes out is a pitiful rasp that sounds as bad as it feels and he winces a little at the burn. The sharp intake of breath catches on his raw throat and he coughs, but all that comes out is a dry hacking wheeze. Zayn’s eyes bulge, Liam’s eyebrows almost touch his hairline and they both gasp.

"Shit, Lou your throat, are you okay? Can you breathe properly?" Zayn asks and Louis nods.

"Did you come home early from school sick?" Liam asks, stroking Louis’ hair as he nods his head again.

"Why didn’t you text us, we would have come home!" Zayn exclaims.

Louis looks sheepish as Liam frowns at Zayn, “s’okay babe, we’re here now we’re going to take care of you.”

"Do you want some cough medicine, some soup?" Zayn asks, ghosting his thumb across Louis’ cheek.

Louis shakes his head and tries to say water, “water?” Liam asks and Louis nods, “okay Lou, Zayn will stay in here while I go get you some water and put on some comfy clothes and then Zayn will go get some comfy clothes too and we’ll crawl into bed with you, okay?”

Louis nods and Liam nods, bending down to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead. Zayn scoops Louis up so that Louis’ head rests on his shoulder and cards his hand through his fringe. Louis slots his fingers in with Zayn’s and tries not to cry. Not because he is in pain and not because he just lost Harry as a friend, but because he doesn’t deserve Zayn or Liam. He’s so fucked up and so pathetic yet here they are, always trying to hold him together. He kind of wishes they had disowned him too. It would have been better for both of them, he’s nothing but a burden.

He hates himself for it but he burrows into Zayn’s neck and tries to swallow past the jagged edges in his throat. Zayn whispers soothing things against Louis’ hair and holds him close until Liam returns. Louis drinks the entire glass of water and then Liam switches out positions with Zayn. Louis wants to say he’s sorry for not making dinner but Liam tells him not to try talking. Zayn comes back and tucks himself in on the other side of Louis. He’s cocooned back against Liam’s chest with Zayn’s arms around him and the guilt tugs at his gut. They shouldn’t be shut in his room with him like this.

He opens his mouth to talk but he is quickly shushed by both of them, he’s handed a phone though. Zayn’s opened his iPhone to the notepad. Louis blushes a little, because he feels weird typing out what he wants to say, but someones lips press to his hair and fingertips brush softly against his neck and he begins to type.

'You guys need to eat dinner, I'm really okay I've just lost my voice, I'm not dying. I'll be fine in here,' he types.

"Louis we’re not leaving you in here by yourself. We’ll have a bit of a cuddle then I’ll go make dinner and we’ll eat in bed," Liam says.

"We just got home, we haven’t seen you all day and you’re sick, we want to be in here with you," Zayn adds.

Louis begins to type again and they read over his shoulder, ‘I can come out to the living roo-‘

"No we want to keep you cozy, stop worrying love. Now when did you start feeling sick?" Liam asks softly.

'Just this morning, my throat was hurting all day so I came home and then I just woke up with no voice,' Louis lies.

"We’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow. I have a test I can’t miss first thing in the morning but I’ll come home straight after that," Zayn tells him.

"I’ll stay home in the morning and then I just have to go back for last period," Liam adds.

'No, you guys aren't missing school for me. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow I'll just let my voice rest,' Louis taps quickly onto the notepad.

"We’ll see tomorrow, stop worrying. Are you sure we can’t get you something, you must be hungry. I’ll run to the store and get some medicine and some soup or something," Zayn says.

'No, I had a big lunch before I started feeling really sick and I don't need any medicine, but thanks,' Louis types, 'I'm just tired…'

"Okay babe, c’mere, just close your eyes," Liam says gently, holding him a little closer.

Zayn’s arms tighten, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well Lou,” he says so softly.

Louis buries back into Zayn’s neck, twines his fingers with Liam’s and tries to focus on their hands stroking and soothing and comforting. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve them. He feels a lump of emotion pressing against the raw edges of his throat and he begs his body not to betray him, not to let the tears out. Louis and his body haven’t been on good terms with each other for a long time though, and before he knows it he can feel the tears, hot and wet behind his eyelids. He presses his eyes shut tighter but Zayn must feel the wetness on his neck because he pulls back.

"Lou-" he says, catching sight of Louis with his eyes rammed shut and tears still escaping, "oh no Louis, why are you crying?"

"Louis please don’t cry," Liam pleads.

Louis lets out something between a whimper and a wheeze and then the dam is broken and he’s full out sobbing. He sounds like a dying animal because his throat is incapable of the correct noises as he tries to drag air into his lungs. The tears are coming too fast and too thick and they stream down his face and drip off his chin, wetting the collar of his shirt as he shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes. He folds forward, drawing his legs up to his chin and hiding his face against them. It’s too much; he hates himself so much that it’s exhausting. He feels like a rope being drawn so tight that little threads of him are snapping apart one by one.

In an instant he is completely enveloped by the both of them and their voices alternate between begging to know what is wrong and telling him it’s going to be okay. It isn’t even about Harry. Harry is just another thing on the list of things Louis has ruined by being himself. Just another thing he’s ruined by being gay, and fat, and gay. Just another person he’s lost because his brain is wired wrong and he’s disgusting. Here he is sobbing like the pitiful creature that he is and he hates himself for it, but that just makes him cry harder. Every breath feels like he’s trying to swallow sandpaper or nails or something and the pain doesn’t feel good anymore.

Less air starts reaching his lungs with each breath he takes between each jagged sob. His throat is so swollen and inflamed and he feels like he can’t breathe, but the tears won’t stop. The more desperately he tries to pull air in the less seems to come and that just scares him more. Soon he can’t even sob he’s just clinging, trying desperately to hold himself together and drag air into his lungs.

Louis is dragged back by his shoulders, out of the little ball he’s formed himself into, and laid back against the pillows. Liam and Zayn work like a team without having to exchange a word. They each grab one of Louis’ wrists and cross his hands across his chest. Louis’ hands fist in the material of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. They drag the covers up to Louis chin and then wordlessly they begin tucking the blankets in. They tuck him in under the shoulders and then tuck him in all down his body until he is completely cocooned in the duvet. Silently they take their respective positions. Liam lays himself on top of Louis, wrapping his leg and his arm across him, and allows his entire weight to rest on Louis’ body. Zayn grabs a million tissues and begins catching Louis tears as they fall, his upper body curled around Louis head on the pillow.

If anyone were to come in they would think the three of them were completely insane. Liam attempting to squish Louis, Louis sobbing like a strangled cat, and Zayn near tears himself, hunched over Louis. Normal people need space to breathe when they’re crying, normal people don’t want to feel trapped when they’re upset. Louis is not normal. When Louis is upset, when he’s hyperventilating like this, he feels like a bomb on the verge of blowing up. He feels like he’s seconds away from exploding apart, sending shrapnel in every direction, destructing into a million little pieces. He can’t let that happen though, he can’t let himself break apart because he knows damn well that he’ll never be able to put himself back together. He’ll never be able to find all the pieces, he’ll never be able to reassemble himself.

He needs to keep himself together, he needs to keep himself from exploding. It’s why he wraps an arm around himself when he’s sad or lost or hurting, it’s why his first instinct is to curl into a ball. Its why Liam is laying on top of Louis now, trying to make himself cover as much of Louis as he can, to make himself as heavy as he possibly can. Liam knows that when it all gets too much and Louis feels like he can’t hold himself together he needs Liam to help him. It’s been that way since they were kids and Zayn learned quickly, finding his place by Louis head to help Louis feel even more encompassed.

Louis can hardly breathe under the weight of Liam and the wall that Zayn’s body forms, but he doesn’t feel claustrophobic, he feels safe and protected and compressed. He can’t stop crying but he stops sounding like he’s being choked by the tears. As he feels the weight of Liam with each breath, he finds that each breath comes easier. He’s not going to break into shards, he’s not going to explode and float away into the air like ash. When he’s finally breathing his ears pick up their voices whispering soothing things, and he knows they’ve been doing it the whole time, even if he couldn’t hear it.

He knows they need to know what’s going on. He may not tell them about his diet and he may do his best to act like he’s okay, but he’s never not told Liam why he was upset. Liam knows everything that has ever hurt Louis. He just doesn’t know that Louis still holds all those things inside of him, like kerosene keeping the fire of self loathing in his gut blazing. He can’t tell them right now though, and they understand that because when he shuts his eyes and takes a long, shaky breath they just tell him they love him. He’s empty and exhausted and he falls asleep thinking about horrible words, that start with the letters F and Q, being thrown at him while he’s told exactly how much of an abomination he is.

When he wakes again the weight of Liam is gone from his chest but there is a hand stroking his hair and a warm body on either side of him. He looks over to see Zayn sitting up with a textbook in his lap, his hand moving absentmindedly across Louis’ fringe while he reads. There are dirty plates on the bedside table meaning they ate dinner in here with him even if he was sleeping. Louis turns his head and sees Liam on his other side typing on his laptop, pressed as close along Louis’ side as he can get.

"Hey babe," he says gently, when their eyes meet.

"How are you feeling?" Zayn asks.

Louis nods and swallows thickly. Instantly Liam is holding a glass of water near his chin and Louis raises his head to drink through the straw that Liam has provided. He lets the room temperature water slide down his throat and it’s some relief from the incessant burning. He lets his head flop back on the pillow when he’s done and Zayn’s hand goes back to his hair. He’s still swaddled in the blankets and he has to free an arm to rub at his eyes.

"M’sorry," Louis manages to croak, though it’s barely audible and sounds as painful as it feels.

"You have nothing to say sorry for," Zayn says instantly.

"Nothing," Liam confirms, "and keep resting your voice," he adds, handing Louis his phone, open to the notepad.

Louis lets out a huff but shuts his mouth and types instead, ‘I’m sorry that you two are always stuck holding me together.’

Liam slams his laptop shut and puts it on the floor, turning to look down at Louis, “we are not stuck, we are here because we want to be here and we always will,” he says so sincerely and so earnestly.

"Louis we love you, you’re our best friend," Zayn adds gently, fingers still moving in Louis hair.

'I like Harry,' he types and seeing it written out feels like a swift kick to the gut, 'and he's straight and I can't be friends with him anymore now.'

Zayn and Liam read what he’s typed and they exchange one of their silent looks over Louis head. They know what this means. They know why Louis can’t be his friend anymore. They know that Louis isn’t strong enough to like someone who could never like him back. They don’t know exactly how fragile he is, but they know he definitely isn’t strong enough for that. They also know that Louis’ breakdown wasn’t about Harry, it was about the list. They have Louis’ list memorized too. They know every single thing he’s lost, because they’re the ones who stuck by him through every loss. They know Louis has just added Harry to the list and they know that the list tears Louis apart. Louis knows they want to be able to tell him not to be upset, that maybe it doesn’t have to be like that, but they know it does. They know it’s better to have Harry on the list now, rather than later when he takes a piece of Louis with him.

"Oh Lou," Liam hums, sinking down to scoop Louis up.

Louis just nods as they both press in closer, “It’ll be okay,” Zayn adds softly.

Louis nods again. He can’t even think about it right now. They spend the night in Louis’ bed and after Zayn and Liam are done their homework they turn on Louis’ TV and snuggle up under the covers. Liam and Zayn stay pressed close to his sides all night and eventually Louis dozes off with his legs tangled up with Zayn’s and his face buried in the crook of Liam’s neck, two sets of arms wrapped around him.

When Louis wakes up Zayn is gone to his morning class but Liam’s fingertips are drawing nonsensical patterns on his back. Louis’ voice is back but he sounds like an eighty year old smoker and his throat still burns with every word. He argues with Liam that he shouldn’t be missing school but it’s in vain because Liam just tells him he’s not going anywhere and drags him out to the living room. He tries to get Louis to eat some oatmeal but Louis says it hurts too much to swallow and Liam brings him tea instead. Louis knows he won’t be able to get away with not eating for long, but the thought of purging with his throat so raw is not appealing.

Liam doesn’t talk about Harry and Louis is thankful. Louis found his phone in his jacket pocket and there were five texts from Harry, the first two just making small talk, the third saying goodnight even though Louis had never replied, one asking where he is because its second period and Louis isn’t in the studio, and the last one sounding very worried. Louis doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even let himself think about it.

He’s dozing on the couch when Zayn gets home, in that place between sleeping and alertness, and he listens to the sounds of Zayn coming in. He hears Liam say a quiet hello and ask how school was, Zayn says it was fine as they move into the kitchen and Louis can’t hear them anymore. His eyes are closed and he’s turned facing the backrest of the couch as Zayn and Liam sit on the other sofa, their voices whispers now.

"How is he doing? Zayn asks softly.

"He can talk a little but it sounds like it hurts so much," Liam says sadly.

"Has he said anything?"

"No, nothing. I can’t stand seeing that look in his eyes again, he was doing so well," Liam sighs.

"Harry tracked me down to ask about him, looked worried out of his mind. It sucks because he’s such a good kid, and I can tell he really cares about Lou," Zayn’s voice is sad and low and Louis feels his heart sink.

"I haven’t seen Lou look genuinely happy like that in so long," Louis can hear the frown in Liam’s voice, "now he’s going to start beating himself up all over again."

"Its okay Li, we’ll get him through it," Zayn says and Louis can hear him shifting closer to Liam.

"I know, I just like- he’s the best person I’ve ever- he just- he shouldn’t be hating himself for something he cant change."

"I know," Zayn breathes, "I know."

Louis can feel the tears prickling behind his eyes but he works to keep his breathing steady. Louis sometimes thinks he wouldn’t really believe how much Zayn and Liam love him if it wasn’t for the conversations they have when they think he isn’t listening. He’d never be able to comprehend two people caring about him so much, he’d never be able to accept their love, because it’s his natural instinct to doubt that love is real in any shape or form. Except they have these conversations when they think he’s not listening and the things they say, they help him believe that they really do love him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, he knows he’s a burden to them, but he genuinely doesn’t know what he would do without them.

Eventually he hears Liam leave for his last class and he pretends to wake up when the door closes. Zayn presses close to him on the couch and he doesn’t mention Harry either, until Louis’ phone buzzes three times on the coffee table, half an hour between each message. Louis sighs and finally checks the texts and lets Zayn read over his shoulder.

'Ran into Zayn he told me you're poorly, I've been worried about you, hope you're okay.'

'I missed you today, it's weird not talking to you.'

'Sorry I know I'm being annoying, I'll leave you alone, call me if you need anything.'

Zayn hums softly, a sad sound, as Louis tosses the phone back on the coffee table. He wraps his arms around Louis from behind and pulls him back against his chest. He nuzzles into Louis’ hair a bit and Louis laces their fingers together. Zayn doesn’t ask and Louis doesn’t tell, he hasn’t quite figured out what he’s going to do yet. The worst part is that he knows how lonely Harry is. He remembers Harry quietly admitting once that he had regretted moving to London before Louis spoke to him, because he only had Niall and Niall is great but he had been lonely. Louis had told him that it was better to be lonely because you don’t know anyone, than to be lonely because people leave. Harry had looked at him kind of sadly for a moment and Louis had quickly changed the subject, but he doesn’t want to leave Harry lonely again. All the more reason to hate himself, he thinks.

He and Zayn watch crap TV until Liam gets home with take away. He’s brought chicken noodle soup for Louis and Louis actually allows himself to drink some of the broth because he felt like he was going to pass out on the way from the living room to the kitchen. Liam and Zayn are just glad he ate something. By bedtime Louis voice is raspy but stronger than before, and his throat doesn’t hurt as much. Harry texts him before bed again, wishing him sweet dreams and telling Louis he hopes he feels better. Louis ignores it, but it makes his raw throat itch a bit. Liam and Zayn sleep with him again, he tells them they don’t have to but they just shush him and follow him to bed.

In the dark and in the quiet Louis practically whispers that he’s going to try and be okay with Harry until after the fashion show and then he’ll have to take a step back. Liam and Zayn seem to think it’s the best idea but they still press closer and their hands move to comfort him. Louis falls asleep thinking about plush red lips, long slender fingers and alabaster skin, mixed in with four little girls crying when he wasn’t even allowed to say goodbye.

Дата добавления: 2015-08-28