my body doesn't feel like home but you did

louis hated himself for expecting harry to come back. but what was he to do? the boy came back every time in the past. he didn't want to think that this time was going to be any different.

but expecting something already meant that he'd fallen into the trap that was trust and hope, something that he'd sworn never to be tricked by again. yet, here he was, a blue tray with two mini muffins, mushy canned oranges, and the thick brown liquid in his lap, alone, wishing he wasn't. it was 8 o'clock and harry wasn't here. and he'd never been late before; always at louis' side by 7:30 right on the dot.

it shouldn't have hurt so badly when the curly-haired boy did not return with wet apologies, but it did. louis knew he fucked up, that he was finally too much for even harry to handle. it's not that he didn't see it coming—he did, it was bound to come eventually, but nothing could have prepared him for this so early on.

he couldn't even touch the muffins. they looked obnoxiously sweet, with dark blue chunks of blueberry. moist and sticky, like they would stick to the roof of his mouth. just thinking about the texture and the calories made his stomach churn.

the blue-eyed boy felt tears threatening to spill over, only for him to blink them away. he didn't have the right to cry, after he'd driven away the best thing that happened to him with his own foolishness. if only he were better at hiding how fucked up he was, how worthless he was, then maybe harry would still be here. but he couldn't do that to him; he couldn't lie to harry, who was the embodiment of everything beautiful in the world, who smelled vaguely of vanilla and old books and hand soap.

so maybe this was for the best, he thought.

harry had left his copy of the beautiful and the damned on louis' bedside table, and not having anything else to do, deciding that trying to eat would be a waste a time, he began to flip through the book. it was filled with post-it notes that had sloppy, large handwriting scrawled all over them. it was endearing, and he almost smiled, briefly forgetting that harry was to be a figment of the past, and not someone whom he should fond over.

it was one of louis' favorite books, though of course harry had not known this upon picking it to read while accompanying him in the hospital. a hopeful story with a somber ending, like how real life usually turned out to be. youth makes everything look so sparkling and rosy, only for things to slowly gray as time takes over. eventually, the only thing that would provide that rose-colored lens would be drugs and alcohol. everything that you love will inevitably leave and you will realize that dreams are destined to break. there is no real warmth in this world.

louis' skin itched to be ripped open mercilessly, desperate to feel something other than this dull ache; to punish himself for hurting harry in the process of losing himself. it was true: he ruined everything good that went his way. what was pure always became tainted.

there were still scabs lining his thighs, all the way from his lower abdomen to nearly the knees, which he picked at like a hungry animal, yearning for the spillage of blood. he didn't stop until he realized his hands were covered in a thin layer of sticky warmth, satisfied at the work he'd done. the nurses didn't notice until he grew even more frustrated, hyperventilating as a result of craving something more than just the stubs that could hardly even be called nails. a razor, a pushpin, a letter opener—anything.

they pried louis off of himself, and he tensed at their touch. it suddenly wasn't nurses grabbing him from behind, and he wasn't at the hospital—he was back in that dark room and the hands all over him were big and sweaty and ruthless and they wanted more, more, more. more than louis could ever give.

he screamed this bloodcurdling scream, the ghastly noise resonating throughout the room, beating back down at him. he didn't even recognize his own voice; it was as if someone else was screaming at him, shouting at him, begging for everything to stop.

"let… let go of me! please! i'll… i'll be good, so please, please be gentle. please."

minutes passed, the blue-eyed boy still struggling to be released, having kicked two nurses in the face. he was writhing and yelling for everyone to hear as his scratchy voice rang in the halls. they couldn't control him no matter how hard they tried—they even took their hands off of him for a few seconds, but he'd only dig his nails even further into his thighs and scratch at his throat, as if he were trying to rip out his vocal chords to stop them from sounding.

eventually, when the staff realized he wouldn't be calming down anytime soon, and that he would be expelling so much energy to the point of passing out anyway, they decided to administer a sedative as if he were some sort of rabid creature. eventually, his screams weakened and he was lulled into darkness, where he again found himself in that cold, cold room, being touched all over by cold, cold hands.

when louis came to, harry was there, right before him, and for a second he thought he was still dreaming. but when he rubbed his eyes, and the younger boy was still sat beside him with a concerned expression, he realized that this was real.

"harry? what are you doing here?" louis' words slurred together sleepily, "what time is it?"

"lou," the green-eyed boy's voice was shaking. "oh, lou. i'm sorry. i- i can leave if you want. i know i shouldn't be here again after everything, but… i can't just leave you."

"what time is it?"

"it's around two in the afternoon. i didn't come this morning because i had an awful hangover. woke up a bit late, and had class right after. i'm sorry, i-"

"it's fine, harry. you don't have to apologize." louis mumbled weakly, the resolve that he thought he had beginning to crumble. you shouldn't be allowing this. you need to leave, to run the opposite way, to drive harry out before harry could leave on his own accord. but somehow, he was back where he had started, and he hated himself for it. "i… i'm the one who should be sorry."

"why?"

"because… i'm me. and you're you. and you are too good for me. i… i know i haven't told you much but i can't, i… it's too shameful to say, you'd hate me, and… it's just disgusting. i'm disgusting."

"whatever happened to you might have been disgusting, but you are not disgusting, lou. it's disgusting that there are people that would hurt you like that, but none of it is your fault."

"you don't know that, harry; you don't know who i am, you don't know just how contaminated i am, so please… just leave me now. stop wasting your time."

"aren't you tired of having this conversation? because i am. i- i don't know what i have to do or say to convince you that i'm not going anywhere. it feels like i've tried everything i can. the rest is up to you, lou."

they fell silent, only sound in the room was some other patient's distant sobs, reminiscent of louis' this morning.

"i'm sorry." the older boy said tearfully, "i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

"for?" harry whispered, closing his arms around louis' frail body. "what are you sorry for, sunflower?"

"not being able to trust you yet."

"take your time. i'll be here in the meantime."

the ocean boy smiled softly, a smile that harry thought could bring world peace if broadcasted to everyone. he was grateful that he had it all for himself. "you said you were hungover?"

"yeah, uh," harry coughed, "had some vodka. was pretty upset last night."

"i'm-"

"don't apologize. it's not your fault. i was the one that instigated the fight anyway."

louis hummed, closing his eyes. harry's hands were warm despite the cold breeze outside, which told louis that he'd been here for a while during the time he was asleep. "thanks, curly."

"for?"

"staying."

"you don't have to thank me for choosing to be around the person i love."

"you don't get it, harry. you give me so much, and i can't give you anything back. you're going to realize this eventually and grow tired of having to take care of me."

"you're strong, lou. maybe you're having a tough time right now, but what you said back then was essentially right. you don't need me. but people shouldn't need each other, no? they should help each other. enhance each other. to become the best that they can be." harry said, stroking the smaller boy's hair. it was no longer soft or feathery or any of that—being in the hospital meant minimal washing of hair, especially when louis wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom without the supervision of nurses. he hated it; he hated being treated like a child.

"i'm sorry for always making you reassure me like this."

"you're not making me do anything. i swear, if you apologize one more time i'm going to make you regret it," harry laughed, only half joking.

"and how exactly would you make me do that, styles?" louis giggled. harry was glad that he was finally getting his usual energy back, but all his words still seemed to be heavy and sad.

"can i kiss you?"

"excuse me?" louis raised his eyebrows incredulously, "did i hear you right?"

"oh, my bad for not being gracious enough with my proposition. may i kiss you, monsieur louis?"

the ocean boy narrowed his eyes at harry before rolling them exasperatedly. "whatever. do what you want."

"what? you're actually letting me? are you sure?"

"weren't you the one that asked? what are you so surprised for?"

"i- i guess i just didn't expect you to say yes."

"well, are you going to leave me hanging until i change my mind?"

harry's lips immediately collided with the ocean boy's, and he'd tasted exactly like louis expected him to. like coffee drenched in sugar and milk to the point where it could hardly be called coffee, like fresh outside air that he hadn't breathed since that last day at the park. it was a long kiss; he closed his eyes and imagined them to be somewhere else—somewhere not in the hospital, somewhere where their problems didn't exist and it was just the two of them. somewhere he was happy and his past was nonexistent and everything was so much easier.

he almost didn't want to open his eyes when it was over. because when he did, just as he had expected, there was this longing that wasn't there before. a longing for someplace better than here.

"that… that was nice," harry breathed, unable to keep a smile from spreading all throughout his face, revealing those dimples that louis loved so much.

"yeah. it was." he hadn't kissed anyone in years. even in those dark rooms from his childhood and adolescence, they had never kissed him. it was always fast, painful, and passionless. so this moment had felt like a dream.

"are you lost?"

"a little. but that's okay, i guess. or maybe it's not, for now, but it might become okay."

"it will be."