you are the force that crushes my chest

calling the whole situation mortifying would be an understatement.

while it was true that harry's seen him at his worst even before this instance, it wasn't something he could imagine himself ever getting used to allowing the boy to witness.

vomit wasn't foreign to louis; there were more nights than he could count that he spent bent over into his cold, unforgiving toilet at home, in attempt to pry out the remainder of whatever lied inside of him. he wished that he could reach his entire fist down his throat and claw out his organs one by one, until he was reduced to nothing.

it was what had caused the seizure in the first place, the doctors told him. some sort of electrolyte imbalance, mixed badly with fatigue and malnutrition. but he hadn't binged and purged frequently enough for it to be diagnosed as bulimia, so he was just an anorexic that was a little more dysfunctional than others. he hated that. the diagnosis itself was beautiful, though; the name of the illness slipping off the tongue so easily. a trophy for his accomplishments.

the nurses dressed him again after they'd disinfected the room and changed the sheets. it was a wonder, he thought, how unbothered they looked while doing so, accustomed to dealing with all kinds of bodily fluid. some time had passed between when harry had left and he was guided back into bed; by the time everything had settled down, another tray was brought into his room with a clear bag of crackers. incredible, how often normal people actually ate. he'd forgotten how abnormal his diet had been compared to what was recommended, because it was all he knew.

louis played with the plastic bag, deep in thought. what if harry had been so revolted by him that he's not planning on coming back? what if they'd decided that he was hopeless? or even worse, what if they found out he was faking it all, and had nothing wrong with him in the first place?

there were days louis would wonder what exactly it was that stopped him from eating. he'd wanted to, so badly—his body was screaming for food, but he could never pull it off. he thought that, if gods really did exist, they were telling him that this is what he deserved. which he knew, it just hurt coming from someone else.

the door slid open once again, and for a second louis was scared that the nurse had returned to bring him yet more food, despite the fact that he hadn't touched the crackers. they were animal crackers, shaped vaguely like blobs with what were supposed to be legs, made for children. and it really did make louis feel like a child.

but harry was here again, and he didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. disappointed that he would have to continue feigning energy, despite having none, disappointed that harry had stayed even though he didn't deserve it, disappointed that he would have to face this beautiful boy again despite being such a vile creature.

"lou…" harry breathed, stepping closer, reaching his hand out to stroke louis' hair, "how are you feeling?"

"just dandy, thanks for asking," louis attempted to sound brusque, but instead could not fight this soft smile on his face that made harry want to crush him in an embrace.

"yeah? i brought you some things," the green-eyed boy said, holding up a bulging duffel bag. "i brought you some books i thought you'd like, a notebook and pens, some blankets, headphones, and uh… i- sorry if this is jumping the gun, but uh, i, i brought my pillow for you. figured it might help you sleep better? i don't know. i wish we could cuddle like we always did but the bed's so crowded, and i want to stay every night with you so it's like, you know, normal, and i know nights are tough, but like, we don't know how long this is going to stay the status quo, but you mean everything to me, i would give up anything for y-"

"christ, harry. calm down," louis laughed fondly at the boy's long, hardly coherent string of words. "thank you for bringing these things for me. your scent does help me sleep," he paused. "i'm honestly surprised you came back here after what'd happened. thought that when you left, it would be the last i'd see of you."

"when i- lou, i didn't leave because i wanted to, love. i'm not sure if you're talking about the throwing up part or the crying part or whatever, but i wouldn't leave you for anything so minor. it's like you've forgotten how many times i've already seen you like that."

louis winced at this statement—if he had the choice, harry wouldn't see any of it, after all.

as if he could read the ocean boy's mind, harry continued. "i know what you're going to say. 'you shouldn't have to, i'm disgusting,' or whatever untrue bull that you keep trying to convince me of. i don't care. i'll always come back for you."

louis rolled his eyes. that was what he was thinking, but he'd first die than to admit that. "oh, shut up, styles. i wasn't going to say that. what books did you bring? shit, did you bring my uni stuff?"

"you should take a break from that. focus on recovery, lou."

"if i have nothing to do all day, i'll go crazy. be a darling and get my coursework next time, okay? i know you still have my keys. it's on a desk to the left of where you enter the apartment."

"whatever. i'll speak with your doctor about it. if she clears it, then i'll bring it. if not, then you'll just have to figure something out."

coincidentally, there came a knock at the door followed by a tall, thin man in a lab coat whom louis thought resembled a rabbit. "hello," he said, voice all nasally yet deep, "nice to meet you, louis. i'm dr. demarest and i'd just like to speak with you about a few things. you can continue your snack," he gestured at the tray, "but i'll just be asking some simple questions."

"should i stay?" harry asked tactfully.

dr. demarest glanced at louis—who immediately tensed—before smiling feelingly back up at harry. the exchanged look was only for a split second, and had harry been a less observant person, he wouldn't have caught it. "sorry, you can wait outside of the room. there are just certain topics i'd like to speak with louis privately about."

harry nodded, stepping out. he was slightly disappointed that the older boy had not trusted him enough to be able to talk freely about his problems in front of harry, but if it meant that he would be honest with professionals that were trying to help him, there was nothing more important. anything for louis to recover quickly and painlessly. though he knew there was no such thing.

louis still hadn't touched his crackers, but dr. demarest hadn't said anything about it. "so, louis. tell me about yourself. why do you think you're here today?"

"erm, i- because… because i passed out on the floor, and harry and zayn found me?" louis swallowed nervously, trying to rid his throat of the lump that seemed to be choking him again, but it wouldn't budge.

"what made you pass out, as you put it; while others would say that you had a seizure?"

"shouldn't you know these things, like from my records or something?" he said through clenched teeth, uncomfortable with how bluntly it had been stated.

"of course. but it's all from an outsiders' perspective. i'd like to come to understand how you see things. now, tell me again. why do you think you're here?" the doctor said, calmly, despite the weight of his words.

"i guess people think i don't eat enough."

"do you think you eat enough?"

"i might have taken it too far that one day, but it's not usually a problem."

dr. demarest blinked, typing notes on his laptop. "if it had you seizing on the floor, then the problem has been going on for quite the substantial period of time, no?"

"it was the first time that it'd happened," louis mumbled vaguely.

"do you not think you have a problem?"

"it's not something that's too much to deal with myself."

"are you having issues with finishing your snack?" he said pointedly, nodding at the crackers still untouched on a blue tray laying on louis' lap.

"i'm still nauseous after this morning."

"what would a normal day of eating look like to you, before you came here?"

the blue-eyed boy pursed his lips and exhaled a tired breath. "i'd eat breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, like most would," he said.

"what would these meals consist of?"

"normal things, you know."

"no, louis. i don't know—normal is different for everyone."

"i'm tired. can we speak another time? i literally just vomited everywhere and i think i just need sleep. and harry. i don't want to keep him waiting for too long."

the doctor sighed, adding more notes before closing his laptop. "i understand. but i will be back, maybe this afternoon, to try again. treatment only works if you're compliant, mr. tomlinson."

that's nice and all, but there's nothing i need to be treated for, he thought. "i get that. i'm just too exhausted to have this conversation right now."

dr. demarest stood, sliding the door open with his laptop in hand, exchanging another glance with harry, who'd given him a questioning look, only to be returned with a blank stare. after he was gone, the younger boy plopped down in a seat beside louis. "so, how's it going? were you able to talk to him at all?"

louis' eyes flitted away, and with just that harry could tell that it had not gone ideally. "i was just tired. i didn't have much to say. he was asking me things like why i thought i was here and stuff."

harry hummed, running his fingers through the other boy's hair as he leaned in. "yeah? and what did you say?"

louis giggled at the touch, closing his eyes as harry's fingers found their way to his cheeks and nose. "i don't think you're supposed to ask that kind of thing, haz."

"oh. sorry if i overstepped some bounds. i was just curious. you don't have to tell me anything."

"i was teasing. i said it was being i'd passed out that day."

"is that all?"

"that's how he responded too. you guys are too concerned about me. i think i'm fine." louis said, gingerly.

"lou, you-"

"what books did you bring for me, hazza?" he interrupted, not wanting to continue with the conversation. "things have been getting quite slow around here."

harry wanted to press on, but he didn't. it was jarring, to say the least, that the ocean boy was so firmly under the impression that there was nothing wrong with him. "i, um, i brought a few. kazuo ishiguro's pale view of hills. i got it from the library because i thought you would like it, so i read it, and decided to buy my own copy. and a few others from my apartment… salinger's nine stories, upton sinclair's the jungle, and well, i know you like shakespeare, but other than the tempest, i wasn't sure what else you liked or what you have and haven't read, but i brought othello. i mean, i assumed that you read most of shakespeare's stuff."

"thank you, haz. i've read othello, but it's always worth a reread. and i'm excited to read that ishiguro book, because you said it reminded you of me. curious as to what that looks like. " the boys smiled warmly at each other, silent for a few seconds. "i hope it's not some twisted, sadistic story."

"nah, the content isn't really what made me think of you. i just read the premise and thought, 'hm, this is something lou would like.' you're into books with pretty words that bring you somewhere beautiful, even if it's sad."

"you know me, harold," louis chuckled. "that's why we read, after all."

"i don't read to escape from reality. i read to see reality from a different light."

"does seeing it from a different light change the fact that it's so ugly?"

"it's not ugly, lou, not all of it, at least. everything has its good and bad things. you just haven't seen the good."

"what's there to see?" he responded sadly. "and if there really was good, why's it so dead-set on running so far away from me?"

"lou, nothing is running from you. not when you're so beautiful. you're the one running. sure, there are things that were just unlucky, but you always allow one bad experience to define your entire being."

"d.h. lawrence once wrote-"

"babe, i'm being serious."

"i am too." the ocean boy sighed. "luck is vulgar. who wants what luck would bring? i don't."

"there are beautiful things in this world, you know."

"then there must be a reason why i haven't been shown that."

"god is cruel."

"no. i meant it's- actually, nevermind. thank you, for bringing me the books, that is."

"what were you going to say?"

"nothing."

harry closed his eyes again, trying to imagine himself somewhere else—anywhere—but here. somewhere warm and green and soft, with louis by his side. it was hard to breathe, especially since the nurses had disinfected the room after louis vomited. his lungs were itching and he really just wanted out. "'t's not your fault, love. i know that's what you were going to say. whatever it is that's happened to you wasn't your fault."

"what would you know?"

"i don't want to argue with you again. lou, i'm not stupid. i can't help but assume things about you, especially when you refuse to tell me anything. and i'm saying this now: whatever happened to you was not your fault."

they were both so, so tired. it was like something had suddenly come over them, a comforting darkness. "thanks." he said, holding harry's pillow that he'd brought to his chest before burying his face in the scent.

and they allowed the silence to join them, as if it were an old friend who'd been lost about at sea, simply basking in what had been and what was to be.