jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.

harry couldn't stand being in the same room as the boy after what he'd heard. it was selfish, he knew, but the anger (he couldn't find a better word to place these emotions that were boiling over) had just overcome him and all he knew was that he had to get out. leaving louis alone was an awful idea, but harry was more afraid of what he'd say if he hadn't at least taken time to think and breathe.

it wasn't the fact that louis was being all cagey again that had set him off. rather, it was the mere image that he had truly believed that he deserved all that pain. he knew that the boy didn't care about himself; or at least he thought he knew. hearing it in person was a whole different story, though.

louis didn't have to say anything for the implications to hang brightly in the air.

"and you do?"

harry could practically hear louis' thoughts. the ocean boy didn't have to give an answer for them both to connect the dots. even so, he still awaited a "no." or at least an uncomfortable laugh. or an unnatural change of subject.

ergo, when it didn't come all harry could do was run.

he'd been running all his life, anyway. what was the harm in giving himself some time now? he ran from consequences, from bullies, from emotions, from anxiousness, from his asthma. of course, until he couldn't. and when he couldn't, his body would force him to keel over and convulse for air. it was as if he were being punished for being such a coward by receiving a taste of his own medicine. oxygen would be the one to run from him, instead, and it was much faster than he would ever be.

it came to harry's attention after close to a half hour of sprinting away from louis' apartment complex that he had nowhere to go. he didn't bring his wallet, his keys, his phone, or anything. he made sure to prepare so meticulously to stay the night at louis' so that the older didn't have any loopholes to find an excuse for him to leave. his plan was so flawless that even he, himself, could not get around it. just as the man he was from a few hours ago had wanted it.

the world was spinning too quickly. harry thought that he could feel each and every revolution of the earth, making him too dizzy to be able to comprehend anything. so all he could really do was turn around and head back. back to louis. it was steadily getting darker and darker, anyway. another sobering reality of late-autumn. what many call "depression season" is always preceded by dark gray heaviness in the sky. harry hated it.

back at home, however, louis hadn't moved from the spot he was left since harry had departed thirty minutes ago. but this time, it wasn't fear that consumed him. it was hope.

in a fucked up way, the ocean boy had hoped that harry would never come back. he knew that if he truly cared about him, if he really wanted nothing more than the boy's happiness, then he would cut himself off from the curly-headed one straight away. without doubt, it would hurt him for a while, but harry could get anyone he wants. surely, there would be someone he was willing to settle down with.

of course, it pained him so much it was almost insufferable to the point of taking it all back and begging for forgiveness again. but he'd already resolved himself to go for what would be the best in the long run for harry. not for himself, certainly, because what did he matter?

for harry. if being with louis meant harry's potential would be wasted, it would be terribly selfish of him to cling on for any longer. and the longer he would cling the more difficult it would be to let go. so right now was the time.

being released was beautiful—so much more so than louis thought. this was a decision he'd been thinking about making since the very beginning. because he knew it would be far to selfish to keep someone so great all to himself. he couldn't make anyone happy. he didn't deserve harry; he never did, he never will.

so for the first time in a half hour, he got up. as if in a trance, feeling more light than he'd ever felt, louis made his way to the bathroom. where things were made only to break down. romantic, really. the bathroom was the place where he could cover his eyes and cover his ears and pretend everything was okay. the place where the smell of rubbing alcohol wasn't suffocating.

he couldn't even cry. he knew that he should be, and he wish that he were, but it simply wouldn't come out. the emotions inside of him were dulled before they could properly be expressed. and he hated that. so he did what he knew best.

he loved watching the red ooze out of him as if they were his emotions—it was much easier that way, as he didn't have to articulate into words or tears to release what he felt. he hated himself for it, though. his thighs were more scar tissue than unscathed skin. it looked as if he'd been dipped in candle wax and it was dripping off of him as it was drying; sticky, hot, and disfigured. fitting for himself, louis thought.

so when harry returned, standing before him in the act, he hated himself all over again. it was a repeat of just less than twenty-four hours ago. but this time, he wasn't covered by a towel, and harry could see him for the monster he was.

louis no longer cared, though. the more disgusted harry is by him, the easier leaving will be. the easier it'll be on harry. "lou… what the fuck?"

the blue-eyed boy's lip was trembling, but he didn't know why. this wasn't supposed to be so hard. "just leave me be, harry. i don't want to be involved with you anymore. give me my keys back, delete my number, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened."

"you can't do this to me, louis william tomlinson," harry snarled, "you can't fucking do this to yourself."

"i can, and you're watching me. for both your sake and mine, just leave. leave and never come back, or i will. i would have, already, but this is my apartment."

"why the fuck are you pushing me out again? who do you think you are?" harry wasn't angry anymore, he never was, but it was just so much easier to think about it that way, to imagine that louis was hurting him, instead of coming to terms with the fact that louis was hurting himself.

"i am no bird, no net ensnares me; i am a free human being, with an independent will; which i now exert to leave you."

"jane eyre? you think you can fix everything and made me understand by quoting a book? is this your fucked up definition of beautiful? of having the last word?"

louis swallowed. he didn't think this would be so hard, considering his feelings—or, more accurately, lack thereof—before harry had arrived. he imagined a clean cut, a perfectly executed separation that would allow him to return to his sense of normalcy before he'd stumbled upon the hurricane that embodied itself in a curly-headed lad. "i don't need you, harry." he said carefully, as steadily as he could before he felt the tears welling up in his chest. "i don't need you."

at this point, harry was crying, as well. but the anger was gone and replaced by pure exhaustion, an exhaustion that wouldn't disappear even if he were to sleep for days. "i know you don't, louis. but i want to be here for you, anyway."

"i don't want you here."

"i don't care what you say you want. we both know that this isn't the ending that you truly want."

harry could see the ocean boy's resolve shatter right behind his eyes. the eyes that had somehow turned a leaden grey had flashed with color once again, albeit for just a second. it had disappeared right after, though, which made harry wonder whether he'd imagined it. "i'm doing this for you, harry. this isn't want you want. i'm… i'm used. i'm damaged goods. so please, just run and don't look back. you're worth more than this. i promise, i won't hold any resentment if you were to just turn around and leave without a word right in this moment."

the anger that the younger boy thought was long gone made a sudden reappearance, and before he knew it, he was yelling. "stop fucking telling me what to do like you know me! you're always the one telling me to stop assuming things about you, but now you're the one doing it to me. what the fuck do you know, louis? why do you think you can tell me what's good for me and what's not good for me? why the fuck do you think i've stayed all this time? i don't have to know the whole story to know that you're fucked in the head—i'm not stupid, i know that much. but i've stayed anyway! so who are you to put words in my mouth?" harry was breathing hard at this point, a mixture of having said everything in one breath, and his anxiety finally catching up to him.

before louis could respond, the larger boy fell to his knees and started gasping for air. louis tried to get up, red still dripping down his thighs, but he didn't have the energy and only managed to make the room spin again.

so they just stayed there, two boys who couldn't help each other, trying to regain a real sense of the world and where they are. for all they knew, the universe could be caving in on itself outside, but it didn't matter. right now, it was just the two of them.

"i'm… i'm sorry." louis said, defeated, although he wasn't sure if harry had heard him; as he was still trying to catch his breath. "breathe with me, harry. you got this. it's hard, i know, but you have to breathe, okay?" he wishes he could hold the boy to calm him down like harry had done for him in the bathroom of the bar the first time they'd met, but there was no power in his legs. so all he could do was hold his hand.

after a few minutes, harry had calmed down, still not able to feel his face or hands, entire body shaking with what felt like tv static, but he'd regained his breath and his train of thought. "lou… please just let me try."

it hurt him. he knew that this was wrong and that he should be running as far as possible from harry to protect him. his panic was his fault, after all. but he couldn't bring himself to. "okay…" he breathed, "but if you ever feel the need to pull away, i understand. just remember that, okay? i just want what's best for you."

"and yourself?"

"what?"

"do you want what's best for yourself?"

"that's less important."

"why?"

"because like i said, i'm already damaged goods. it's not going to do me any good if i try to protect myself further."