and i thought, what a beautiful sight

four days passed, weather outside getting chillier and days getting shorter. not that it'd mattered to louis, as he spent his days inside reading, feeling like his life revolved around the meals that were distributed to him. it was much easier trying to imagine himself in the shoes of another.

every day looked fundamentally the same, except louis had finally convinced harry to go to his classes, and that he'd be fine alone. whether he liked it or not, there was no way he wouldn't be fine; nurses were watching his every move, and even if they weren't, it's not like he could just stand up and jump out the window. the glass was bulletproof and bolted shut. not to mention louis was only on the second floor.

not much progress had been made with dr. demarest. louis wasn't able to open up to harry, much less some stranger who was being paid to see him. his pale complexion and contrasting dark features didn't help the situation.

every morning, louis was woken up at seven o'clock sharp to have his vitals taken. and every morning, the nurses tutted in disappointment at his lack of weight gain. that's what he assumed it was, anyway, as they forced him to step onto the scale backwards, so he wouldn't see the luminous red number flashing, screaming at him. he wasn't able to finish his meals any easier than before, and it proved even harder when harry wasn't there. he'd come at seven thirty every morning, but had classes throughout noon and could not accompany the older boy for lunch.

he hadn't remembered food to have tasted this bland. maybe it was simply hospital food, but it all seemed to be the same sterile white as the walls, the sheets, the curtains, the tile floor. it was like he had suddenly been thrusted into a world with no color, other than harry's green eyes.

louis loved harry's eyes almost as much as harry loved his, though he didn't talk about it nearly as much. or at all, really. he felt bad for not appreciating the younger boy more, but thanking him or telling him that he loved him meant that he would be accepting harry's kindness. which meant that he would be allowing himself into a pitfall of trust and warm feelings and gentleness. a pitfall that he knew would someday end, and he'd land face first on the cold hard ground, bones shattering at contact, and stuck all over again.

he'd try to tell himself that it was okay, that harry was not like jean (pronounced john, but spelled pretentiously, an attribute that louis used to love, but now left a bad taste in his mouth), and that it was okay to allow himself just this. but he'd just be immediately plunged into a world of memories that he thought he'd forgotten and decide that no sort of comfort would ever be worth the potential pain.

not to mention, he wasn't worth it.

he'd said this before, but harry was everything he was not. all smiles, kindness, sunrises, and pretty valleys. he was scarily intelligent and had this way with words that made louis gravitate to him as if he were the moon and harry the earth. the very idea of someone like that being wasted on someone like himself made him feel so sickeningly selfish.

on day five, louis was brutally reminded that his time at the hospital was limited—for every day that passed after a week, being at the hospital would become more and more expensive. for now, his parents were paying for everything, but he couldn't ask so much of them. his mother was also sick, and dan could only do so much.

it's not that he didn't want to go home—it was quite the opposite. he just didn't want to have to make a decision on what would happen after. harry wanted him to continue with more specialized treatment, but he obviously had his thoughts on that. it was too much.

when he, harry, and the doctor were discussing this, it was clear that the younger boy hadn't wanted to push him too far, but there were certainly strong implications shining like neon signs.

"louis, of course, you can stay here for as long as you need, but now that you are, for the most part, medically stable, aside from the fact that there is still some weight to gain before reaching the borderline, it's important that we think about the next step," dr. matthers said, on a saturday afternoon, six days having passed after he first arrived. "it's highly recommended, at your level of severity with your eating disorder, that you do residential care. there are many facilities around here with high success rates. you'd be in good hands."

harry squeezed his hand. "what do you think, baby?"

"no. i think that's a bit too much. i'm fine with where i'm at, and i don't want to have to put a stop to my life for so long."

"i understand that," the doctor sighed, running her fingers through her dark, curly hair, "but it's important to get the care you need so that you don't get a repeat of what happened last week. however, if you're really adamant on not doing residential," she paused, hoping for a response, but when she didn't get one, she continued. "there are three other choices, ones that we even offer here, in this facility. you could do a partial hospitalization program, which is going to get treatment for eight hours a day, spending two meals and two snacks there, leaving a meal and a snack at home. they offer different sorts of therapy with php, but obviously it's not as intensive as a residential center could give you. another option is intensive outpatient, which you go in for six hours, three times a week, have two snacks and a meal. it's easier for students like you to take part in, but also not as high level of care as you likely require. lastly, there is just outpatient, where you come in for therapy one or two times a week, or however many you need, for hour-long sessions. i wouldn't recommend this for you at all, however. maybe at a later stage in recovery, but certainly not right now."

harry felt the ocean boy harden, palms a bit sweatier than before. "i really don't think anything like that would help me. it's something i can figure out on my own," he finally squeaked, "i'm over eighteen, so you can't force me, right?"

"no," mr. matthers pursed her lips. "no, we can't. but if we have any reason to believe that you are a danger to yourself, then we have to keep you here."

"i just don't think that talking to some shrink is going to help me. if i wanted to, i would have this all figured out already. but i don't want to, so i don't. you guys don't understand. i'm in complete control over my own actions."

"this is a conversation that you ought to have with dr. demarest," she said firmly, "because you may be under that impression, but eating disorders, unfortunately, are not that simple."

"when exactly am i free to go home?"

"well, we technically cannot keep you here after a certain period of time. as soon as you hit the minimum weight, which, mind you, is still underweight, then you are free to be discharged. normally, though, eating disorder patients will move to a different level of care instead of going cold turkey right back to normal."

"so you're saying, if i gain a certain amount of weight, i can just leave, and everything will be back to normal?"

"well, yes. but it's not recommended. if you lose all that weight again and don't change your habits, you could be put in a much more life-threatening situation due to your already compromised health."

"right. well, is there anything else you needed?" louis pressed, anxious for her to leave now that he'd gotten his answer.

"i just need to measure the diameter of your upper arm real quick. it'll tell me how much progress we've made in the past week."

she had the louis slip off the right side of his gown, exposing his bare arm, wrapping the measuring tape around it while frowning. cold air bit at his uncovered skin, and harry shuddered at the sight of the boy's protruding ribs, peeking under the gown.

when she had left, he slipped back under his sheets with harry watching him accusingly. "i know what you're thinking, lou. but i'm not letting that happen. you're just going to try to get out of here and then lose all that weight again."

"no, i never said i was going to lose weight again. i'm going to be more careful this time around, h. i don't want to end up back here again."

"that's… that's not the point, lou!" harry strained, raising his voice, "are you really going to be happy with yourself?"

"what's the point, then? to be happy? you don't know me, harry. you don't understand that no matter what happens, no matter how much i try, i will never, ever be happy. i don't care about what you preach about how everyone deserves happiness, because while that may be true for everyone else, i'm already beyond that. don't try to talk to me like you know what's best for me, because you don't." louis said, yelling back. the nurses standing in the halls were beginning to become concerned for them, speaking to each other in hushed whispers, wondering if they should intervene.

"louis, i just want to help get you through this."

"please, just stop. there are things you don't know, that if you did, you wouldn't even try. it's impossible."

"then tell me," harry said, trying to calm himself down, which proved to be useless. "tell me what it is that you've been alluding to all this time without actually going into any detail."

"fucking stop, harry. i can't do this right now, and i refuse to argue with you. i just want you to keep in mind that it's more complicated than you think."

"what's wrong with you, then?" harry spat, and oh, please stop, this is the boy you love so much and you're going to scare him and ruin everything, but he kept going. "you never tell me anything and you're sat here in a hospital bed expecting me to know exactly what to do. why can't you see that you're sick, louis? you. are. sick. tell me, right here and now, what is it keeping you from being happy?" he'd never felt this anger before, coursing through his veins, all hot and relentless, burning everything in its path. but right now, he was shouting at the ocean boy, who was beginning to cower beneath the white sheets.

"leave," louis finally breathed, hands shaking but resolve hardened, "just go, harry. just leave me the fuck alone and don't come back. if you're so fucking quick to give up then maybe i should, too."

harry's eyes widened, "lou- lou, no, i- i never said that. i didn't mean it that way. i'm sorry. pl-please. i'm with you. i'll be with you to the end, you just have to let me."

before he could protest any more, the nurses allowed themselves in louis' room. "sir, i'm afraid you have to leave, or we're going to call security. we can't have you distressing our patients like this," one of them looked at him sympathetically, lowering her voice. "i understand. come back when you've calmed down. these kinds of fights aren't uncommon between mental health patients and their loved ones."

so the green-eyed boy could do nothing but leave. why did it always turn out like this? why was he always so foolish when it came to louis? he headed back to not his apartment, but louis', and curled himself up in the sheets that still smelled of the ocean boy, despite him not having been there for a week. the scent was comforting, almost acting as a sedative, taking away all the bad that had happened that day and putting harry to sleep.

in his dreams, he imagined everything horrifying that could have happened to louis, whatever it was that could have made louis the mess he was now. he woke up several times, unsure if it was all real or not, only to find himself twisted between the boy's sheets, calming down and drifting back off to sleep, only to be met with the same atrocities of the night.

he woke up again at eleven p.m., having slept six hours and unable to fall back asleep. ever since this had all happened, harry's sleep has been spasmodic, spending all his waking hours worrying about louis, exhausted by the time the tide calmed. he realized that he left the beautiful and the damned at the hospital, and louis had a limited selection of books at his apartment, so all he could do was stand at the balcony to smoke and think. it wasn't the same as the balcony at his place; overlooking a busy highway still bustling with life even with midnight right around the corner.

he was lost, really. he wasn't even sure if louis would ever trust him again, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. no more screaming matches, he told himself, especially not at the hospital. he was supposed to be patient and kind and understanding, but somehow that always flew out the window whenever louis started speaking bad about himself. it was just so excruciatingly painful to listen to the person he loved talk as if he were nothing, when it harry's eyes, he was everything.

he found leftover vodka at louis' place, at the bottom of a cupboard that louis didn't know harry knew existed, full of razors and alcohol and syringes and bandages. the sight made harry imagine the bad nights, before they came into each other's lives, where louis would spend hours trying to numb himself, only to be met with cruel realities and cold darkness.

the vodka burned on the way down, and he wasn't sure how old it was, but if there were a physical way to describe love, harry decided that this was it. burning his throat, his eyes, blurring dreams and reality so that the line was no longer distinguishable—as if there were no line in the first place. is this what it felt like to hate yourself? is this, on top of bleeding and being high, how louis escaped his pain?

because it didn't feel like an escape at all. rather, before passing back out after making his way to the sofa, harry just felt the memories rush back at him at a lightning speed. it was all too ugly and all too dizzying to even articulate, so the green-eyed boy decided that this is what it felt like to be truly alone.