time is a gatekeeper

days came as quickly as they passed, and winter was approaching. as the weather got colder, so did louis' sense of self—he'd always thought that spring or summer was the worst for him in terms of flashbacks and general hopelessness, blooming right along with the flowers, but now he was beginning to question if whether he'd just always been in a constant state of misery.

he hated moping around and feeling bad for himself, but some days, it was just so hard to hide. harry would insist that it was okay, that he wasn't being a pain, but he knew that the younger boy, deep down, dreaded the times he would act like this. all heavy and cloudy and so difficult.

eating got a little bit easier as time went on, though—he realized how hungry he had constantly been. now that he was allowing food into his body again, it was beginning to grow accustomed to not being empty all the time. it was slowly learning to trust again, like some small, abandoned animal.

there were days he'd feel okay nurturing the animal, able to see it as a separate entity, one that had no correlation with his mind, and therefore was allowed to eat. there were days he'd imagine throwing it against the wall, over and over again to make it cry out, until it eventually fell silent and stopped breathing. there would always be this sick sense of satisfaction that accompanied his self-destruction, one that saw hurting himself as something on a to-do list that he needed to cross off.

of course, even on his good days, he still didn't deserve food, he told himself. or happiness. or harry, for that matter, who was both of those, in a sense. don't get used to this. happiness is more fleeting than time could ever imagine itself to be.

and time was terrifyingly fleeting. he liked to refer to the idea as a gatekeeper. one that locks away all good memories as something reserved only for dreams and death.

the passing months meant that christmas was rolling around the corner; a holiday which he spent his childhood trying to make each year better than the last for his sisters. his mother, of course, was always trying her best to spend as much time at home as possible, but especially with the divorce, it grew harder and harder to maintain financial stability, even with mark entering the picture—meaning louis often had to serve as the babysitter, the one to, he would daresay, "parent" the girls.

he was okay with it, of course. the smiles that would spread and stain their faces for the entire week leading up to christmas always made the preparations worth it. if all that was needed to spark joy was colorful, strung-up lights, toy trains, angel ornaments, and candy canes, then that much he could achieve. anything for lottie, fizzy, daisy, and phoebe to experience a normal childhood.

he'd also always try to do something special for his mother, who had such a busy work schedule that she hardly had any time to breathe. he loved her dearly; she was the only constant in his life, after all. things changed, time passed, people came and left, but his mother had been there with him from the very beginning. so if there was anything to be grateful for, she was it.

it would be a lie, though, if he said that her busy schedule didn't disappoint him, at times. like when something had come up right on the day of the final performance of the school play before graduation, and she wasn't anywhere to be found in the audience. he'd hoped that she had gotten lost, or was on her way, or he'd just missed her while scouring the crowd. he'd be lying, if he said that in that moment, he didn't feel completely alone.

he knew that his mother did in fact care about him, despite everything. she'd cried in his arms about how terrible of a mother she was for missing her son's final performance. he stroked her hair and told her that it was alright, that it hadn't mattered, that motherhood looks different for each and every person. which was true. she worked harder than anyone to provide for the family, to keep allow them to continue living comfortably despite the hardships that they'd been through. it meant everything to him.

even so, christmas remained a holiday that he associated with hollowness. nights he'd spend staying up to plan christmas morning, all alone in the dark, wondering if a miracle would happen and santa would come bring him gifts as well. it wasn't even tangible things he wanted—he had enough of those already. but he longed for those warm feelings that would be described so vividly in books and movies. the ones that made living and breathing seem worth it.

it was a time for families to come together, after all.

so he shouldn't have been surprised when harry received a call from his mother and sister, telling him that he had to be home for the holidays. the boy protested, worried about how everything would affect louis' progress, but it was quickly dismissed by the ocean boy himself when he'd overheard.

"i'll be fine, harold. you can't just neglect your family like that. i can't believe you haven't updated them on what was going on in the first place," he said, before wishing he could swallow his words. of course harry hadn't wanted to talk about it; he was ashamed of what they had. it made sense, louis thought, he was something to be ashamed of. a dirty secret.

they decided that he would spend a few days back at doncaster with his family, while harry went to holmes chapel to see his. that's how it worked, after all, right? it's not like they had some sort of pact saying that they had to be together through everything. hell, they weren't even dating. harry was free to go wherever he liked.

it's just, as much as he loved his sisters and they loved him, his home back in doncaster didn't exactly feel like home at all. his mother was in the hospital—she had been for months, and was in and out for years before that. dan was great and all, but he was so busy in trying to care for doris and ernest, who were barely toddlers. louis never made quite the effort he should have made to bond with him, and it was already too late now, he thought. he was closer with mark since he had been more relevant throughout his growing up, but he'd always still feel so disconnected. not that it should ever pose a barrier between children and their parents, but they weren't related. louis was never able to see mark as a father figure, no matter how hard he'd tried.

harry noticed his sudden shift in mood after he brought up the fact that they'd have to go their separate ways for a little bit, and smiled encouragingly. "c'mon, sunflower. it won't be that bad. i'm forcing you to facetime me once a day. you won't be getting rid of me that easily."

"you seemed to have forgotten that i've got an android, styles," he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out, which harry thought was the cutest thing to ever exist.

"oh, shush. you know what i meant. we can use literally anything. facebook. whatsapp. instagram. you think i give a shit?"

"no, so long as you can see my pretty face," he laughed.

"you've got that right, love." harry sighed. "but seriously. you've come so far in this past month. don't let this change anything. not to mention, we'll be back by new year's. i expect an extravagant late- christmas present and new year's party."

"a party?" the ocean boy blanched, almost choking on his tea.

"i'm kidding, lou! you should have seen the look on your face!" he paused. "i just meant between the two of us, you know… to celebrate the time we've spent together? to hope for more years to come?"

"harry, i've known you for like three months and you're treating this like a one-year couple's anniversary."

"i- no, that's not what i meant, but it can be, if you really want for it to be," he wiggled his eyebrows annoyingly, which louis rolled his eyes at.

"whatever. i get it. we're back by new years?"

"better be. gemma will have driven me crazy after a week, anyway."

louis hummed. "the other way around, more like," he joked.

"oh, shush. you love me, as does everyone else."

"unfortunately," the ocean boy responded with a slight smile. the sight made harry want curl up into himself and melt out of fondness.

"so you admit it!" he said, giddily. "you just said you loved me!"

"don't get used to it, styles," louis was blushing now, adorably. he was red all the way up the tips of his ears. harry could have died happy right then and there, he thought.

"anyway," the younger boy coughed, sobering up. "promise me, lou. if something goes wrong, just call me, okay? if it's for you, i'd drop everything to pick up. everything."

"don't say that. you could be doing something important."

"nope. nothing as important as you."

"you say that now, but—"

"i don't want to hear another word from you about this. come on now, let's finish this movie and head to bed?"

"alright."

they were watching beautiful boy, a film based off a book whose namesake was the john lennon song. it was about a boy, nic sheff, suffering from a crystal meth addiction. louis had read the memoir a few years back, and hearing that it was getting a movie adaptation was great news. it certainly lived up to his expectations.

harry held his hand the entire time, rubbing soft circles into the back of it with his thumb. they were pressed up against each other on a couch sharing layers upon layers of blankets. if he closed his eyes, maybe he'd be able to photograph this moment in his brain and remember it forever. these calm nights where nothing in particular would happen, just softsoftsoft. it almost made him feel like this uphill battle was worth fighting. as long as he got these nights with harry.

it'd end as soon as harry fell asleep and louis' mind was still racing, though. that's how it always was. but it was okay. that's what he'd repeat to himself, anyway.

it's true that eating had gotten easier. he was gaining weight—he could tell, despite the fact that he no longer had access to a scale. he sometimes considered going to the gym just to weigh himself secretly without harry's scrutiny, but never got the chance. undoubtedly, though, his body was changing.

he couldn't stand the feeling of how his thighs were now so close to rubbing together. every time they would accidentally brush against each other as he walked, the compulsion to starve would grow stronger than ever. he didn't know what it was about having space between his thighs, but it'd somehow became an obsession throughout the journey. it was dumb, he knew. a dumb beauty standard set by teenage girls who idolized heavily photoshopped images of underweight models as if anyone in real life could look that way.

he knew that, so why did the idea of not adhering to such standards still make him feel so physically sick?

his eating had gotten better, even though he was still (unsuccessfully) trying to come to terms with the weight he'd gained. the cutting, hadn't, though. each ounce he imagined himself to put on like pairs upon pairs socks, he would punish himself more and more. he'd limited it to nighttime only, however. that would at least safeguard so that harry would never find out, and he wouldn't completely destroy himself. if he didn't put limits on it like he did, he feared that it would engulf him in a high tide. self-care, in its loosest sense, to put it optimistically.

a couple days passed, leaving louis and the curly-headed boy to part ways. harry stole a kiss from him before running off to his car and waving goodbye. it'd felt hot, as if the kiss had ignited some sort of electricity in his veins. when harry was gone, the heat grew much more potent.

the drive between london and doncaster was around three and a half hours; almost four with traffic. he spent that time feeling the harry-shaped void sitting in the passenger seat, realizing that he'd become unacquainted with silence as result of meeting the younger boy and living with him. he was always obnoxiously loud with constant blabbering about mundane things: how his day had been, how school was going, the book he was reading. anything.

at first, it was uncomfortable. now, though, louis couldn't quite feel at home without it. as much as he hated to admit it, he missed harry. slowly, he was starting to resent himself less for feeling that way. which was alright, he figured.

he reached his hometown at around seven in the evening. greeted by lottie, whom he was much happier to see than he'd thought, they exchanged a hug.

"how are things going, lou? you look good! so much healthier."

healthy. healthy. healthyhealthyhealthyhealthy. it's a good thing, he told himself. people are supposed to look healthy. swallow the urges and move on. "thanks," he smiled, tight-lipped and strained. "thanks darling. i'm doing proper alright. you?"

"we've missed you," she said, burying her face in her brother's chest. sour guilt shot through him.

"i've missed you guys, too. i'm sorry for not being around more often."

"it's alright. we know things have been busy for you with school, and everything."

"but, still. especially since mum is sick. i need to be more here for you guys."

"thanks for caring, lou." she breathed, voice not quite reaching her lips. "it's true that things have been hard. i'm trying to support everyone the best i can, too."

"call me if you need anything. ever. i'll speed all the way here; fuck the cops."

"don't say that. but i appreciate it," she took a deep breath, brightening her tone. "well, you got here at the perfect time. dinner's ready, so c'mon, stop dilly-dallying."

"you're starting to sound like mum," louis laughed, making a mental note to see her as soon as possible come morning. he missed her. "getting old, huh?"

"oh, shut up. if i'm old, you're ancient."

"that i am." he smiled. the tension was floating away just like a balloon that had been let go by its owner. rising and rising until it shrunk; nowhere to be found.

"louis!" a deep voice boomed through the living room. "it's great to see you. i also just got off work, so give me a second." it was dan, with two small children hanging off of him, warm smile and everything. he'd worked to mend the bond between himself and his step-son throughout the years, but to no avail. despite that, he never stopped trying.

dinner was tilapia, breaded and fried by daisy and phoebe, supervised by fizzy. he imagined the pot of oil they had to have used to create the golden-brown shine of the fish. it made him shudder.

nevertheless, he ate. and the girls seemed to be pleased, as usual. "i'm glad that you're enjoying it," fizzy chimed, "you seem to be getting thin recently, anyway."

he laughed stiffly, wincing as he put another large bite in his mouth. "just your imagination, fizz."

"no, really. are you taking care of yourself? i heard you were in the hospital for a while?"

���yeah," he said carefully, exchanging looks with dan, who had heard some of the story from his mother. "minor, though. people were making a big deal over nothing."

"we're always here for you, lou. like you have been for us."

"i- i haven't been, though. not as much as i should be."

"you always blame yourself," lottie added gently, "but we're proper grown up now. you're allowed to rely on us more. you always took everything on like you had to do it alone."

he didn't know why tears suddenly sprang out of nowhere, presence irritating and unwanted, but they had. "thanks, lotts. thanks, fizz." he said, trying to steady his voice as much as possible. he couldn't cry, not here. not like this. "means a lot to me."

"i'm just telling you things as they are."

the remainder of their meal was spent eating silently, aside from the occasional inside joke between phoebe and daisy that no one else understood. short-lived jealousy would attack as he looked away���he wondered what it was like, being able to have that sort of relationship with someone. growing up with someone.

he thought about rushing to the bathroom right as he was met by the emptiness of the plate in front of him. he hadn't realized how good phoebe and daisy were at cooking. it tasted like exactly how his mother would cook things back when she had more time, before she fell ill. after the first bite, he'd just kept going, forgetting about all other inhibitions.

harry wasn't there. he could do it if he really wanted to. he should, since he hadn't in so long. just because he'd been eating more hadn't meant that food felt natural in his stomach.

"i'm- i'm going to take a shower real quick, and be right out"

"ernest and doris need to get put to bed. maybe you could just go directly after washing up to rest up in your room until tomorrow? and then we can go see your mother?" dan said.

"yeah, agreed," he mumbled, making a beeline for the restroom. being there, feeling the cold tile beneath him, it had just felt so wrong. harry wasn't there like he always was, holding his hand, keeping his fingers from sliding into his throat. harry wasn't there to tell him that it was okay, that it was okay to have eaten, to have nourished himself without apologizing to whatever gods were out there.

he bent over the toilet, ready to do what he was no long accustomed to, when his phone rang. he'd forgotten to leave it in his room, which, of course, was never his room, but a guest room. their family moved out of the house he grew up in long ago, erasing his childhood completely. not that he'd cared. he didn't want to remember all that, anyway. but it still, selfishly, bothered him that there were no remnants of him in this house, like he didn't exist to his own family anymore.

"hello?" the younger boy's voice resounded in his head, making him suddenly aware of the high-pitched ringing that had stuck since he'd woken up that morning.

"h-hi," he said, trying to sound as stable as possible. so as not to disappoint harry with his gloom. "what's up?"

"lou…" harry's voice was cautious, as if he were approaching a wild animal that could attack at any moment. "are you okay?"

"y-yeah." fuck, louis thought. why did his voice have to shake now of all times? "i'm okay. just finished eating." don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry.

"oh, lou. oh, babe. please. we've come so far. i won't be mad at you, but it's one step at a time and getting out of that goddamned bathroom would be a step forward."

"harry, please, i-"

"louis."

"alright."

he returned to the room that still was not his, would never feel like his; and fell face first onto the bed. "i'm proud of you, loubear," harry whispered.

"don't be. there's nothing to be proud of."

"you are everything to be proud of."

"sorry." he whispered, collapsing in on himself.

"for?"

"being."

"never."

"you're busy, aren't you? shouldn't you be returning to family, haz?"

"they are willing to wait for me. i told them about you," harry said, softly.

"why?"

"because you're important. i wouldn't be where i am right not if it were not for you."

"yeah, you'd probably be better off. i think everyone that knows me would be better off, had i not come into their lives." he felt shame bubbling in his stomach and rising past his throat, making it difficult to speak. as if it were the food he failed to throw up just minutes ago. this wasn't supposed to happen. he wasn't supposed to be telling harry about these feelings. all that would happen as a result would be his patronization. "before you can say anything, i don't want to hear it. we both know the truth. i've brought nothing but misfortune and unneeded worry to your life." stop. you're making him pity you.

"it's not unneeded worry. you are not the harbinger of misfortune, lou. you're everything good that's happened to me recently. don't you see that i like being around you? i don't know what i have to do to convince you of that. but i'll keep saying it."

"sorry," he laughed bitterly. "i just don't see it."

"maybe someday?"

"'someday' is so vague. too many implications." he sighed. "whatever. how are you, harry?"

"i'm alright. happy to see gemma and mum again. even though gemma is an absolute menace."

"i'd love to meet them sometime." the words slipped out before he gave it thought. "sorry. i didn't mean-"

"they'd love to meet you too, lou. i'll bring you to holmes chapel sometime. it's a pretty little town. there are so many places i want to take you. show you parts of me, you know?"

he allowed himself to slip out a smile. "maybe. maybe 'someday.'"

louis felt his eyes flutter shut, and he couldn't open them back up again. it had just struck him how tired he was, how emotionally exhausting this entire day had been. harry realized the boy had fallen asleep after minutes of silence and soft, barely audible exhales. it was still only ten o'clock, but he understood how exhausted the ocean boy must've been.

he didn't even realize how widely he was smiling, just thinking about the smaller boy and his soft hair asleep still with his phone in hand. "you look like an absolute buffoon." gemma teased, smacking the back of his head. "you're absolutely whipped, aren't you?"

"oh, shut up," he blushed, "but yeah. yeah, i guess so."