when my sanity becomes yours

no matter how prepared louis thought he was before arriving, it all proved useless when he heard his name called by a velvety voice with a slight russian accent. suddenly, everything went ice cold; the air about the room, the blood in his veins. if he were to run away, now would be the time, he thought. he didn't really know what to expect, head filled with nothing but scheherazade echoing in his ears and that fake-vanilla scent clouding every crumb of reason.

harry nudged him encouragingly with his knee, wordlessly telling him that it was too late, as if the boy could read his mind. they've come too far to turn back, it said. "do you want me to come with you, babe?" he whispered gently.

he gave a questioning look to the source of the female voice; a fit woman with hair so blonde it was almost white. she had an angular face, giving her a foxlike appearance. "it's totally up to you whether you want your…"

"friend," louis interjected quickly, so quickly and confidently that harry's eyebrows knitted together. "my friend."

"right. it's completely up to you, whether you want your friend to come with," she said carefully, tiptoeing around the word in question.

"um," louis frowned—if harry were to be in the room, maybe he would feel a bit calmer with the help of his familiarity with the boy, but that would also mean he would have to be held accountable for everything he said. "he can accompany me," he decided when he'd realized that an awkward amount of time had passed, praying that harry wouldn't interrupt if he had to tell a few white lies about his eating habits or question his answers on the way home. pathetic, he thought, i'll be treated like a child again.

"sounds good," the woman, dr. reid, as louis recalled, said. "follow me, boys."

he and harry nodded, walking closely behind her through the halls. it turned out that the smell was even stronger past the waiting room, sharper and more relentless. louis could tell that the younger boy was bothered by it, but worked hard to pretend to not be affected.

it was a larger complex than louis had expected—how were the other rooms filled if the main doctor was just one person? they finally reached her office, which was ironically small compared its surroundings. one would think the office of the person running the place would have considerably more space, or at least be proportionate to the size of the building.

the three of them sat down in chairs made of the same leathery plastic as those in the waiting room. the walls were filled with the most cliché quotes possible, complimented by shelves lined with pictures of children with the same platinum blond hair and square features. the smell hadn't strengthened or weakened from that of the hallway, however, much both boys' dismay. everything about to room made louis feel sick.

"so, what brings you here today?" she opened her laptop, already typing away. what even was there to record when he hadn't said anything yet? he was tired of hearing that question, anyway. the first thing that dr. demarest said to him, and now dr. reid, as well? do these people have zero creativity?

"i don't know," he spat, sounding harsher than he'd intended. "i guess people think i need to be here."

"and why do you believe that would be?"

"i was recently in the hospital for a little bit, i guess. malnourished or something like that."

"malnourishment is serious, you know." she gave harry a sharp look, sensing his inclination to explain in lieu of the more stubborn blue-eyed boy. "so those who are advising you to seek treatment are perfectly reasonable and just looking out for you."

"i guess so," he replied stiffly.

"well, first, before i can advise you, i need to grab a height and weight." she shifted her gaze to the scale and stadiometer placed strategically in the corner of the room.

"r-right." louis knew already what to expect, having weighed himself twice in the morning and once before they left the house. nevertheless, he complied. before he could step up on the scale, though, dr. reid stopped him.

"we do something called a 'blind weight' here, especially for patients like you. you're going to face away from the scale, stepping backwards onto it," she said. "just slide your heels against the scale before stepping on so you don't trip."

louis rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking. this wouldn't mean anything to him, as he was aware precisely to the third decimal where his weight was at, in kilograms and pounds and stones. newtons, too, if he were just given a pencil and paper.

he begrudgingly went through the motions as harry watched; louis noticed how the boy's eyes widened when the number processed a few seconds after he stepped on the scale. dr. reid clicked her tongue in disapproval, even more so when she went to take his height.

they sat in silence for several minutes as the russian lady entered everything into her desktop. it was old; fans whirring, spinning in a desperate attempt to cool the cpu. she typed and typed and typed, leaving louis to wonder what exactly there is to type about. it was frustrating, really. the longer he was sat in the office the more and more unnatural everything felt—air conditioning set to ungodly temperatures even as the cold end-of-october winds tapped ruthlessly on the windows, the constant humming of the pc fans, as if something was living in there and trying to escape.

finally, after what felt like hours, dr. reid spoke again. "alright. i've made you a meal plan to help you gain the amount of weight you need to be healthy. i'll print it out for you along with some guidelines—it's not difficult to follow, and everything you need to know is in the packet. for example, your breakfast calls for two servings of protein, two grains, a fruit, a serving of dietary fat, and one of dairy. an example of a protein could be one egg, or an ounce of bacon or sausage. it's a very loose plan but gives you what you need to get healthy. there are also snacks involved, counted by something called 'exchanges,' which are sixty calories each. you need twelve exchanges per day, and i've split that up for you into three in the morning, four in the afternoon, and five in the evening. so in total, a day of eating for you constitutes three meals and three snacks."

louis' mouth hung open incredulously—this wasn't what he was expecting at all. just snacks alone surpassed the calorie budget he made for himself.

he suddenly regretted allowing harry to sit in the room with him, because without a doubt, the boy would enforce this meal plan as strictly as possible. more than ever, getting better did not sound as glamorous as everyone had made it out to be. it's like they were all teaming up against him, cultivating some master plan to make him fat again.

a vile plan that would be, one that would envelop him in self-hatred to the point his body would be covered with a thick layer of soft pudge, to the point where his face would hardly even be visible. they would be laughing at him in the shadows, about how stupid he had been, how foolish he was to believe that he was truly disordered. because only sick people need this kind of treatment, right? and louis was certainly not thin enough to be sick.

the remainder of the appointment consisted of dr. reid giving more careful instructions to the two boys, as louis looked straight ahead, at nothing in particular, with deadpan eyes. he imagined himself to be somewhere else, somewhere safer and warmer and more predictable. harry, however, listened intently to every word, treating the woman like she were a goddess whose wisdom was indispensable.

it was a blur, and he couldn't tell whether time went much more quickly or slowely when he dissociated. it was like sleeping and being abruptly ripped out of a dream as if it'd never happened, but also like he was sitting there, in wait, as centuries passed around him while he was paralyzed, unable to do a damn thing.

the journey home was even harder, if that was even possible. just walking to the sidewalk with the papers outlining his meal plan in hand felt like dragging his feet through sticky mud; sinking deeper with each step, earth grabbing at his ankles and begging him to become one with it—and he wished that he could. being six feet under sounded so liberating compared to the reality he found himself stuck in now. he yearned for such emancipation.

the drive home was something different. harry attempted at light conversation, completely steering away from the topic at hand, and the older boy only hummed or nodded in acknowledgement. the latter of course, the curly-haired boy couldn't see with his eyes having to be glued to the road.

it turned out that harry had been waiting to attack for when they'd returned to louis' flat, the ocean boy learned. the first thing that escaped his lips when they stepped through the door, as if it were some kind of holy release, were about snack and dinner.

"so. it's half past five. we should start thinking about having dinner and getting a snack in before then." harry said cautiously, approaching the situation like louis were some kind of dangerous, rabid animal.

"i'm- i, alright," he complied, knowing the classic i'm not hungry excuse wasn't going to slip past harry—not now. his stomach made a frightening vibration, one not completely audible to anyone but himself, taunting him. punishing him for even entertaining the idea of allowing himself food.

"three servings of grains, three of protein, a dairy, two fats, and two vegetables. that's something i could pull off," harry chuckled. "what do we think about tacos? should be able to do that quite easily. and while you're waiting, you can grab some crisps?"

"haz, i don't know about this… i can't just suddenl-"

"you have to start somewhere, boo. i know you probably weren't listening, but when you don't finish a meal or snack you have to drink a bottle of ensure."

"drink what?���

"remember that thick chocolatey stuff from the hospital? i'm just letting you know now so you don't say i didn't warn you later."

"what if i refuse to drink that shit too?"

"it's like you don't even want to get better, boo. just try. please."

"harry, i- i don't, it's not that," he wrought, "it's just hard. i don't think you get it."

"i get that, love. we have to start somewhere, though."

"al-alright."

the two of them made their way to the kitchen, harry's hand on the small of louis' back. it was bony, and the younger boy had to fight every urge to continue feeling around; as if there were more secrets hidden beneath his clothes.

he shyly poured a bowl of crisps into a bowl as harry grabbed another large handful, putting half in louis' bowl and half in his mouth. "out you go, love. you can go and watch or read something while i prep dinner. it'll be ready in a little."

"i can help, if you need. i don't want you feeling like my personal chef or anything."

"since when were you polite and hospitable? just let me do this one thing for you, loubear." he joked.

"you already do too much for someone like me," louis muttered under his breath, just out of earshot of the other boy.

nevertheless, he resigned himself to read. he had to dig through his old shelves for books he hadn't reread in a while, making a mental note to run to the bookstore or library at some point in the next few days. he'd settled on haruki murakami's blind willow, sleeping woman, figuring that short stories would better suit him right now. noncommittal and easy to digest.

he flipped to his favorite story, hunting knife. it doesn't really seem to have much of a point, like many of murakami's stories on the surface-level interpretation, but the way his words weaved their way around each other made something much more special, in louis' opinion. they dig deep into the most meaningless parts of life, the deepest levels of the subconscious. even without understanding it all, anyone with eyes or ears or neither would fall in love with murakami's prose.

he heard harry turn off the stove, and realized he hadn't touched his snack at all. hesitantly, in order to technically not be lying when harry asked if he'd eaten any, he brought a crisp to his lips, feeling the grease line his fingers, coating them with an oily shine. he chewed; once, twice, three times—it was only when he reached forty when he had swallowed. the originally crunchy crisp had dissolved in his mouth, becoming flavorless and soft with the consistency like that of oatmeal. food felt so foreign and cancerous in his mouth, and even worse as it travelled through throat and into his stomach. louis was so conscious of all this of just one crisp; how was he to eat a full meal without going hysterical?

harry brought the tacos out onto the dining table; three on each plate. they were soft-shelled and seemed to be filled to the brim with ground beef and cheese and fajitas—everything that he would have never allowed himself to have before.

the younger boy frowned after seeing the still-full bowl, but sighed and called louis over. "c'mon babe. let's have dinner. i'm practically starving, and i know you are too. in a much more literal sense."

so there was nothing he could do but sit down, looking incredulously at the food, all warm and vicious-smelling and screaming at him, but also it felt so much like home. this was something harry made after all, thinking about him, envisioning them enjoying the meal together, hoping that someday this would all become easier for louis.

and in truth, being so afraid of food was just so tiring. louis felt light-headed all the time. every movement took so much energy he didn't even feel like he had. and of course, resisting food was horrendous.

just because he hated himself didn't mean that he hated food. if anything, he'd loved it. ever since he was a mere child, it was something that brought comfort during most stressful of times. he would even fake sick in primary school just to get his mother to make that heavenly chicken soup.

for a second, louis decided to let go. harry was rambling about something, about food and health and how louis needed to take care of himself, but he didn't hear a single word. the tacos smelled too strong and flooded his mind with too many sensations; so much he couldn't process anything else. when he took the first bite, though, harry fell noticeably silent, as if astounded by the fact that louis was even capable of eating.

he had, of course, eaten at the hospital, but that felt so profoundly different. it was always to avoid that threat of going back to being tube-fed, or small, meaningless bites that would add up to such a negligible amount of sustenance that it wouldn't feel like a win at all. but this time, it started off with a large bite, one that filled louis' mouth and eyes with warmth.

harry was good at cooking, after all, louis thought. he hadn't believed it up until then, despite niall's excitement all those weeks ago (which felt like a lifetime ago, now). it was so good, in fact, that louis took a second, and a third, and a fourth, continuing on and on until he finished a taco and a half, momentarily forgetting about calories and weight and numbers.

harry smiled, trying to be nothing but pleased at such a progression, but couldn't help feel hot anxiety boil inside of him as he's reminded of the incident the first day at the hospital, when louis and woken up, scared down all the bland gray hospital food, and vomited it all back up all over the white sheets, staining them a brown-gray color. this time will be better, he tried to convince himself. it's different.

and it was, to an extent. louis hadn't finished his food, and a look of discomfort spread on his face like mold growing on a wall as soon as he calculated the calories he'd consumed in his head (too much), and harry could tell he was fighting the urge to run to the bathroom and force everything back out again. he took the older boy's hand, which was so sweaty and cold he almost recoiled, and smiled softly.

"you are doing amazing, boo. i'm here, okay? remember that. i'm here."

louis couldn't stop the tears; overwhelmed by everything—the twisting of his stomach as it tried to grow accustomed to food once again, the gentleness of harry's hand he didn't deserve, the food that reminded him of everything he wasn't, the ruthlessness of the air as it grabbed him by the collar and told him that he was disgusting, worthless.

they sat there for a while, wordlessly, as harry continued to work at his own food, still rubbing the ocean boy's hand as he cried, tears and snot dripping into his food, as if mocking him for his failure.

"it'll be okay," harry repeated, as if it were a mantra, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince louis. "it'll be okay."