breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating

he remembered the first time his mother had one of those dreadful, violent fevers. it was a tuesday morning on his second to last year of high school. normally, she would have already left the house for work by the time he was awake; so when he had to grab a towel from a closet in the master bedroom, and she was still there, breathing audible from even several feet away, he felt a spectrum of emotions course through his veins in just a split second.

it started as a flicker of hope, that maybe, she had decided to take the day off, or drop some shifts to spend more time with him. that, for the first time in months, he wouldn't come home to a house that felt uninhabited for years. but when she hadn't responded to his excited rambling as he dug through the bottom of the closet, he sensed something was off. maybe she was just resting, he thought.

it came to his attention, then, his it looked like his mother looked as if she had just finished taking a shower. she was flushed a vibrant red and her hair was sticky with what he realized was sweat after the odor had made its way to his nostrils as he stepped closer.

it scared him. how heavy she was breathing, how violently she was shaking despite being completely engulfed in the covers, how unresponsive she was to his words.

"mum?" he remembered saying, louder than he had intended, so much so that the door of lottie's room flew open and she padded over.

"is everything okay?" she said, suddenly wide awake.

"mum, she's… fuck. can you get like, advil and water or something? and then go right to school. i can take care of this."

"but-"

"you know better than to skip school, lotts," he said sternly. "now go. make sure the rest of the girls get to school as well. sorry i can't take you guys, today."

lottie was back shortly with two white pills and a glass of water. she set them down before grabbing her bag. "she'll be okay, right? she always is."

"yeah. don't worry about it, love."

his mother's fever went down slightly by noon, but she was still weak and disoriented.

"fuck. what day is it?" she asked, when she fully came to.

"tuesday. but you're sick, mum. don't worry about work."

"god, i'm going to be so behind tomorrow. i need to at least-"

"there's no way you're going in tomorrow, are you crazy? you had a fever of thirty-nine degrees!"

"lou, i have to. things are starting to pick up," she said wetly. he hated seeing her like this, all feeble, with tremors still racking her entire frame.

"we'll see how you're feeling tonight," he sighed, knowing full well he could not stop his mother from doing what she wanted.

she was significantly more steady by the next day, but they hadn't figured out the cause for the fever. just a normal flu, he'd figured, heightened by exhaustion. perfectly normal for someone that worked as hard as her, he told himself.

they started to make consistent appearances, each one more ruthless than the last. every time, she'd force herself to try to go to work despite the world feeling like it was spinning far faster than she could keep up with, and the corners of louis' eyes would droop with helpless concern. he'd finally convinced her to make an appointment after two months of recurring fevers and complete instability. she heavily downplayed her symptoms while making the appointment, pushing it far later than louis would have wanted.

when the day finally came around, the doctor told her that she had been suffering from the fevers as a result of chronic myelogenous leukemia. it was aggravated into an accelerated phase from the overwork she was putting her body through. it wasn't serious, and would probably not become serious, the doctor told them. she just had to come in for targeted treatment at times, but it wasn't something that couldn't be managed.

the fevers came and went. louis had to learn how to grow used to the unstable nature of his everyday life. some days were normal—he'd go to school while his mother would go to work just as they always had. others days, though, he would wake up and still find his mother under the same beige covers that made her complexion look that even sicker in comparison. life felt like an utter coin flip.

it was eight months after the first fever that the leukemia grew more aggressive, multiplying, eating away more and more of his mother's health. she had to stay in the hospital for a couple days before she was released again.

he hadn't admitted to himself until then; how terrified he was, watching his mother waver so. the constant he had always found solace in was beginning to become the opposite. her health was the most inconsistent aspect, ironically. he'd wake up each day, wondering whether he'd be strong enough to make it through without breaking down.

dan eventually came into the picture, luckily, lightening some of louis' load in regard to taking care of his mother. it never lightened his mental burden, though. the constant worry that maybe he'd wake up one day and something awful, something irreversible, would happen. maybe she would fall into the illness' clutches in full blast, and he'd be alone once again.

her condition, luckily, stayed pretty consistent until the end of his high school years. with just a few flare-ups, less than a week in total at the hospital, he considered the stagnancy of the entire situation something close to a miracle.

the grace period was cut short mercilessly right before the end of his high school career, however. she had to begin spending long periods hospitalized, it being far too dangerous with her compromised immune system. he'd considered this time to be the worst period of his life for the longest time, with his mother's illness, and the repeated barrages of harsh words and dark hands he'd faced at school.

as time passed, though, he realized that he would come to wish that he could return to this these days.

they'd reached the hospital at ten o'clock, shortly after the girls had made breakfast. he refused, with the excuse that he'd always been unable to eat in the mornings. they believed him, of course, having shared a very limited amount of breakfasts with him in the past. he felt pricks of guilt after his words were accepted seamlessly, knowing harry would not be pleased with the fact that he hadn't even tried. but he couldn't; not on this particular morning. not when he was about to see his mother again, looking much more frailer than before.

hospitals were essentially the same everywhere. different location, different staff, but nevertheless, they all had the same sterile white walls, antiseptic staining the air, nurses with this distinct weariness about them that stemmed from working sixteen hour shifts and dealing with the most stubborn of patients. he hated the stuffiness of it all, the fact that no matter how much time he spent at hospitals, he knew he'd never get used to them.

when they reached her room, he almost wanted to turn tail and run as fast as he could from this place. what if, behind this door, his mother would be thin and gray-skinned and dazed? what if the woman before him was a woman he didn't recognize?

he felt dan give him a reassuring nudge in the small of his back, and finally plucked up the courage to open the door. he stiffened at the sudden touch, but was grateful that he got the push he needed.

"mum," he breathed. she was looking much healthier when he last saw her, and he blinked a few times out of disbelief, to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him yet again.

"oh, darling," her voice was the same syrupy, songlike timbre that remained so familiar to him, even after they'd grown apart throughout the years. in that moment, he thought he would melt right into the floor, becoming a puddle of stinging emotion from the profundity of everything before him.

before he even knew what was going on, he felt himself swallowed by her arms, which felt much stronger than they looked. she was much thinner than before, but somehow her hold had remained firm. "mum," he whispered, "i'm sorry."

"what for?"

"not coming to see you more."

"you're going through a lot. i should be the one who's sorry. i couldn't help you while you were suffering, either."

"you're sick, mum."

"as are you."

"not really, no," they pulled apart, slowly and with difficulty, like there was some kind of sticky taffy that bound them during their embrace. "i've been doing okay."

"you're not trying to do everything alone, are you? i know you always have."

"i- no. there's someone that, someone that's kind of been helping me through everything."

"oh? someone special?" she gave him a knowing look, one that he understood all too well.

he rolled his eyes. "no. i mean, i don't know. maybe i'm a piece of shit for allowing him to take care of me when i know he wants something more from me—something i can't provide—but really, i don't think i could ever see myself with anyone. not ever."

"you're the only person trying to prevent yourself from happiness, lou. everyone else is cheering you on."

"i know, it's just- i don't know."

"so? what's this special person's name?"

"harry," he said, unable to fend off the inevitable blush creeping up into his ears.

"what's he like?"

"he's…" louis' mind conjured up images of the green-eyed boy's dimples, his smiles, his quiet, concerned eyebrows. "he's lovely. he's got this long-ish curly hair, he's tall, he treats me so well. even when i don't deserve it."

he could tell that his mother wanted to comment on the last part, but ended up deciding against it. "that sounds wonderful, lou. i'd like to meet him someday."

"we'll see if he's still around when that someday comes."

she smiled sadly at her son. where had she gone wrong as a parent, to call for the strong self-loathing that had manifested itself in her child? what could she have done to avoid all of this? "well, i'll be here no matter what. just please, lou. don't run away from happiness. i'm not telling you to start settling down already. just that you deserve a sense of security."

"thanks, mum."

he spent the rest of the morning—which had leaked into the afternoon—catching up with her, dan sitting beside the two, adding a few comments here or there. he'd offered to give them some privacy, but louis insisted that it was okay, not wanting to drive him out. there wasn't anything private that he planned to talk about, anyway.

when they returned back home, he felt the lifting of a chest-crushing burden. although he hated to admit it, he would always imagine his mother shunning him upon seeing his face, angry and betrayed at the length of his absence throughout the years. or maybe she'd finally realized the truth of how repulsive he really was.

that's part of why his visits were few and far between—though he did feel guilty about not contributing enough to the people who had been so kind to accept him and even share blood with him, he worried even more about being exposed as the disgrace he is. he worried that they would see him for his true nature; fucked up in every regard, selfish, and deformed.

the remainder of his time in doncaster looked about the same. he'd awaken, skip breakfast, pick at his lunch and dinner, harry would call him and they would speak, and he'd try to go to sleep, sometimes interrupted by memories he'd thought he locked away already. when this happened, he'd roll out of bed and do the only thing he knew how to do.

louis had his own way of shutting himself away in this huge vault, one that he imagined to have a door so heavy and impenetrable that it could be used as a bomb shelter. somehow, though, certain memories would manage to slip by. like they were so wispy and thin that they could squeeze between the individual atoms of the chamber he'd store his experiences.

the only way, he learned, to cope, was to replay them all over and over in his mind until they lost their meaning. it'd end up feeling like he was watching the same movie thousands of times; profound and animalistic for the first few showings, but like everything in this world did, it would get old.

it didn't work in his dreams, though. they just felt so much more real, serving as a reminder that those things had actually happened to him, and not some character he'd written. he could chain it down during his waking hours, but sleep allowed the mind to do as it pleased. and everything would grow much more malignant.

and here, there was no harry to wake up beside. he would momentarily forget where he was, surrounded by unfamiliar blankets and unfamiliar walls, being attacked by unfamiliar smells. it would take several minutes to remember that he was back at doncaster, in his family home where he would never feel like he truly belonged.

he was convinced, at times, that he did not belong in this world at all.

when he and harry reunited, a week and a day after they had left, he could have sworn there were magnets inside harry's lips and inside his own cheeks.

"lou! i've missed you so much. how have you been?"

"we've been talking every day, what are you talking about?" he had laughed, but he, in fact, knew exactly what harry was feeling.

"i know, but it's not the same," harry whined, "i haven't been able to hold you like this."

"yeah," he sighed, taking in the taller boy's scent. they were still stood awkwardly outside louis' apartment, not even bothering to enter before smuggling each other with affection. "we should go inside, people are going to see us."

"don't care. wanna show them that you're mine."

"i'm not, though."

"fine. wanna show them that i'm yours."

"you're also not mine," he said, and if harry didn't know better, he would have thought that the ocean boy said those words with the slightest edge of pain. of longing.

"you have no choice. i'm wearing your boxers because i accidentally packed a pair of yours last week, and it was the last clean one i had. but they're yours and i'm wearing them so i must be yours, too."

"nice logic, styles. and that's gross. probably too big on you, huh?"

"oh, shut up. i'm the one doing your laundry. it was bound to happen at some point."

"i can do my own laundry, thanks." he stuck his bottom lip out. he'd missed harry much more than he realized.

"fine. let's go inside. be ready for cuddles, after i call niall real quick, though."

"oh, what are you summoning little irish boy for?" he questioned, as he slid his keys into the door handle. it was old, so he had to wiggle them around a bit before the lock finally budged.

harry made a show of sighing dramatically. "he's been trying to snag me for this new year's party. i keep telling him i already have plans, but he's not having it. if i don't tell him off, he's literally going to show up at my apartment. i could just let him, since i'm not even there, but i've got a bit of mercy so i thought i should at least warn him before he freezes while waiting for me to open the door."

"as if he'd just stand there forever if you didn't answer within five minutes."

"you'd be surprised. i enamor everyone i'm around, after all," harry chuckled.

"you really do," louis said, only half-joking. "but you should still go to that new year's party. you haven't been able to see your friends as often recently."

"we already made plans, though," harry frowned.

"yeah, but we spend every day together. you deserve a break from me."

"i already had to spend a week away from you, and it was awful. besides, you're not something i need 'breaks' from. you're not work, lou."

"whatever. i'm just saying, don't hold yourself back for my sake."

"what if you came with me?" the younger boy said quickly and loudly, as if it were some genius theorem he'd just come up with.

"excuse me?"

"i said," he cleared his throat. "what if you came with me?"

"no," he said, face twisting into one of confusion and discomfort. "no way."

"c'mon. i knew you were going to say no, but i wanted to try. it's okay if you're not comfortable with it. but i'll stay by your side the entire time. keep you safe, you know."

"that defeats the entire purpose of you going. you wouldn't be able to actually enjoy yourself with me there."

"who says that?"

"you. me. anyone with a brain, styles."

"whoa, speak for yourself. i would love having you there. i'd enjoy myself more if you were."

"i'm just not much of a party person."

"alright," harry says, trying not to sound disappointed. he didn't want to guilt the ocean boy into going somewhere he wasn't comfortable, but he'd still hoped to do different things with him, make different memories.

"you should still go, though. if you won't go unless i go, then i��ll drag myself there. you need some fun."

harry felt like the idea of going had been tainted, now; becoming something like an obligation. louis had turned it into a favor for him rather than a chance to have fun. "you don't have to do that, babe. seriously. i'm good with just spending a night in with you. you know that."

"let's go. call niall and tell him we're in. as long as i'm welcome, that is."

"of course you are!" he pulled the boy into another tight hug, this time rougher than before, startling louis. the two had collided a bit harder than expected, and he'd hoped that harry didn't sense him wince after brushing against his hips. the curly-haired boy didn't say anything, so he figured that he didn't notice. "you are always welcome."

"no, i mean to the rest of the people there. i don't want to like, make things awkward with my presence."

"you won't. it's going to be pretty hectic, anyway. it's at this nick dude's house. there's gonna be a bunch of beer. and molly. people are going to be too drunk out of their minds to pay attention to anyone else. that's how it usually goes, anyway."

"okay. you can call niall and tell him that we'll be there."

harry smiled, and the warmth washed over the ocean boy, plucking away all the impurities, the uncertainties. it made his words seem so much more credible, more hopeful. as if things were really going to be okay. "we'll have fun. i promise."

"i'll try," the ocean boy whispered, dread passing through him as if it'd just hit him that he was actually going to a party. "i'll try."

"i'll keep you safe. there will be nothing to worry about."