to be what one seems

they arrived at the party at seven p.m., and louis couldn't help but feel so out of place. he worried at first that he'd be underdressed in just dark jeans and a soft gray sweater, but getting there, he realized that what he was wearing should be the least of his concerns. the place was swarming with people, and the floor was slick with a thick layer of sticky sweat. the bottoms of his shoes would squeak if he didn't pick them up all the way as he walked.

as soon as he got there, he couldn't shake the suffocating air that attacked him from all angles. everything smelled of drunkenness and disorient and libido. there were people pressed against each other in the corner, men with their shirts off, women wearing low-cut bodycon dresses grinding on them. it was dizzying.

"haz! lou!" a voice said, scaring louis, who had cricked his neck after turning quickly to see that it was just niall. "it's nice to see you guys here! i was worried about you, harry. you haven't been to a party in forever!"

"you know i don't like these things, ni," harry shook his head, but chuckled nonetheless. "just not my scene, y'know?"

"bullshit. everyone loves having you around, especially the ladies." it was clear that the irish boy was hammered, with how his words slurred together into a single gooey thread of hot wax.

"i don't know like, anyone. just you and li, for the most part." the younger boy said.

"c'mon. ed's here. taylor. kendall. liam even brought his girl, maya."

"alright, alright. i'll probably stay with lou for the most part, though."

louis tried to blink away some of the purple light (which came from an unknown source), but it had followed him even past his eyelids, as if staining his entire being. "it's- it's fine, hazza. just go and have fun, okay? you haven't seen liam in a while, make sure to catch up with him."

"i knooow," he drawled. "you can meet him too. i want you to meet all my friends."

louis blushed, momentarily forgetting about the overwhelming surroundings.

after niall peeled himself back to the dancefloor to devour the face of some girl in a black leather skirt and fishnets, the two of them retreated to a corner with a couple of drinks, chatting. louis had gotten his usual vodka soda while harry made himself an extravagant margarita.

the ocean boy recoiled when he felt a large palm with the diameter of what had to be at least the size of a basketball cup his ass. he couldn't see who it was, as they were gone before he could even turn around. not to mention, it was so crowded he wouldn't be able to pick the person out even if they hadn't scrammed after a single squeeze. harry hadn't noticed, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and palms begin to sweat.

it was okay, he told himself. this was a good chance to get over everything, to get used to being touched again. not that he had any control over it. not that he ever had control over it.

he didn't want harry to sense his discomfort. he knew that if the curly-haired boy had even the slightest suspicion that something was wrong, he would whisk both of them back to louis' flat with no hesitation. he didn't want to ruin their nights just because of some trivial touch or two.

"i'm going to the bathroom, need to take a wee," he tried to say as casually as possible.

"want me to come with you?"

"no, love. i'll be quick. go off and talk to some of your friends, okay?" before harry could argue, he scurried off, finally allowing his hands to shake and breath to waver. it's okay. this was okay, he thought. it'll be okay.

the bathroom was absolutely rancid. it smelled of drunken vomit along with the same b.o. that had apparently clung to every surface in the house. he wondered why people would even agree to hosting these parties, if it left their houses so ruined and chaotic.

he tried to calm his breathing, splashing cold water on his face. this all reminded him of the night that he'd met harry. except, even the bar had been emptier and less choking. his entire bodyweight was held up by the porcelain while time was passing faster than he could keep up with. recently, just one or two shots would be enough to get him drunk, despite the weight he'd gained. he had to get back to harry before he grew suspicious. although, louis thought, he might be doing him a favor by not returning to his side; he could tell that the boy would pay more attention to louis than anything else if he were there, after all.

louis was still shaking. at this point, he knew he was taking far too long, so he grit his teeth, forced a pained grin in the mirror, and wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans. come on, you can do this. do this for harry.

he returned to the living room, which was where most people were congregated, but harry was not at the place that they'd separated. maybe, he hoped, the boy was whisked away by niall and would come back to find him shortly.

minutes passed, and two turned into ten which turned into twenty, of just standing there awkwardly on his phone, holding a half-drank cocktail as far away from him as possible, like he was absorbing the calories just by being near it, that someone with dilated pupils had handed him before they wobbled into the restroom.

he resolved to look for harry, beginning to feel unfitting and fidgety alone in the corner. there was nothing left to pretend to look busy doing on his phone, and at this point he was just staring at the time, which had blinked blindingly, judgmentally, back at him. he resolved not to text harry in fear of interrupting something, but it'd felt so tempting among everything.

a person slammed into him—a tall, pale man who had to be in his mid or late twenties. nothing to worry about, louis worked to convince himself, nothing will happen.

up close, he noticed that the man's features looked eerily similar to jean's snakelike ones; narrow eyes, thin lips, beady eyes. but there was no birthmark on the back of his neck, as far as he could tell. he let out a relieved breath.

it had undone all of the calming he'd tried to do though, mind now being attacked by memories of jean's hot breath against his ear, the belt against his back, the way his tongue swiped across his lips. you will never find anyone kind enough to bear your burden like i do. there was no scent associated with these memories, though he was unsure whether that was a good or bad thing, as jean never smelled of anything. he was always odorless, despite the soy conditioner he always used in his hair. it was as if he was so otherworldly, not even scents could cling onto him. as if he were a mere figment of louis' imagination.

the man looked at him, disgusted. like he was an offensive object that ought to remove himself. "watch where you're going," he barked, but luckily walked away without much trouble. louis shivered, trying to strip his mind of the past once again, but everything had become discombobulated again—for a second, he forgot where he was, and the room had morphed into the colorless new york penthouse he thought he'd erased.

harry. he needed harry. before his mind passed the threshold of this diminished reality, he needed to tell harry that he had to leave. that he was fine, but this was too much. pathetic, he shouted at himself internally. so utterly pathetic. couldn't even go to any social events without breaking the fuck down. panicking over the smallest things.

he wandered around for what felt like hours, but realistically was probably only a few minutes, until he spotted a curly head that had to belong to harry. there was no one else in this world with such messy, chocolatey brown curls. with that one strand that lilted upwards like a happy nursery song.

"harry?" he rasped, inaudible in the midst of the party, practically having to scrape his feet off the floor. maybe it was because of how sticky it was, or maybe it was because of how exhausted he was. how deeply imbedded the trauma was within him. "harry!"

the boy was laughing, pupils far more dilated than they were when louis had left. he had women hanging off of both of his arms, and no matter what louis did, he felt like he couldn't get across to him. there was too much space, literally and figuratively, between them. what made him even begin to think that any part of him was worthy of harry? that he had even a toe in harry's world?

he felt a hand on his shoulder, sending shudders down his back all the way to the tips of his toes.

"hey," the voice said, much softer, much more alluring than he'd prepared himself to hear. still, he could smell the alcohol on his breath and just that made him stiffen. "you look like a lost puppy. want to come to the bathroom to calm down with me?"

it was a face he didn't recognize; another man, this time olive-skinned, with long, shoulder-length hair. he had a bit of stubble on his chin and kind-looking eyes. louis allowed himself to be dragged by the man, not that he would possess the strength to be able to fight it even if he were fully conscious of what was going on.

now, he was back in the same disgusting bathroom with the same sour stench and same ugly painting hung on the wall, except this time he wasn't alone. there was a body pressing him against the sink that he was clutching not even an hour ago, the sink that had held his weight when he felt like he was keeling had now become the thing he was being pinned down against.

everything was redredred now, dark, black spots obstructing his vision. "wh- what are you doing?"

"i'm going to calm you down." the voice was still soft, but cold. dripping with lust, which louis imagined to be as dark and black as oil, slick and spreading everywhere.

"let go. i'll scream. let me go. please. stop." he threatened, knowing full well that his voice was far too hoarse to carry past the door, past the chaos that ensued on the other side.

"c'mon. be a good boy for me. i'll show you a good time."

"l- let go. just- just let me get more comfortable, i don't care. i'll do what you want me to," he choked, trying to push down the fear that rose and rose and rose. just take it. it'll end quicker.

"well, aren't you quite the princess?" the man loosened his grip on him, which louis was grateful for. he shifted over so that he was against the wall rather than the sink, so that the marble corner wasn't digging into his back and hip. while the pain was grounding, he knew that what he had to prepare himself for would be far more painful, and he wanted to avoid passing out the best he could.

hands went to his zipper. handshandshands. he tried to pry them away, but to no avail. despite the gentleness of the man's voice, his arms were big and firm. he could probably snap louis' spine in half if he really tried. he was shaking so hard—or maybe it was the room, the world, that was shaking. it hadn't mattered, he just wanted it all to stop.

he felt himself harden as the man touch him, and god, he was so disgusting, such a whore. was he actually secretly, deep down, enjoying this? he'd told the man to stop, but now he was hard? the thought made his head spin and his eyes screw shut. it's okay. it was okay. he was used to this.

"turn around for me, baby." the pet name made him flinch. how had it seemed so cruel rolling off of this man's lips but so loving when it came from harry?

nevertheless, he obliged. the man's breath beat hard into his ear, and his member slid in. louis screwed his eyes shut, trying to keep his tears from streaming down mercilessly. it was just like then; except this time it wasn't dark and the lights were blindingly bright. but it'd felt the same. as he felt the man slithering in and out of him, his blood ran colder and colder. he couldn't even make any noise. the world was fuzzy around him.

his boxers slid further down as the man readied his fingers to reach into louis, revealing an array of old and new scar tissue. "god, you're really fucked up, aren't you? shame, because the rest of you is so pretty. i'll just try not to pay too much attention to it."

he knew he was disgusting, but it was different hearing it from someone else again. it had been so long since he'd heard a voice that was not his own shame him for being everything that he was; tainted, corrupt, fucked up, disgusting. the cruel words were so familiar they almost felt like closure. closure that confirmed his own perceptions of himself.

his phone, he'd realized, which was thrown aside after his pants had slid off, was now vibrating, with harry's contact name flashing mockingly on the screen. he wanted to bend over to pick it up, to answer, to beg so selfishly for help, but the man was so fastened inside of him, so violently, so deeply, he felt warmth dripping down his leg. and he wondered if it was blood from the man's penetration or blood from the man's hands rubbing against his half-healed wounds.

he shut his brain off from everything, trying to direct his thoughts to anywhere else; anywhere that wasn't this bathroom where a random man was shoving himself into him, anywhere that wasn't the new york penthouse he'd shared with jean, anywhere that wasn't that goddamned dark closet he was always thrown in, anywhere that noxious words didn't drift chokingly down up his nose and down his throat. anywhere that the gods would allow him to simply rest, away from the nights that scared him so much, away from the mornings he'd have to wake up and have the memories from the night before crush him like an avalanche.

so he closed his eyes, and even tried to enjoy it. the man was huge, so much that he thought he was splitting open as he was pressed further and further against the wall. the less he struggled, he thought, the quicker he'd be able to see harry.

i am that i am. i am that i am. i am not what i am. i am not what i am. is he, he wondered, the person he was destined to be? the person that he's always been? has he, from the moment he was born, fated to be so defiled, so obscene? is that why these things happened to him? is this all that he was, and would ever be, good for? he laughed bitterly, although it was too weak to even be called a laugh. of course he'd be thinking about shakespeare right now. of course he'd be thinking about the bible. of course, he would, as he was getting his guts rearranged painfully by some stranger whose face he couldn't even remember. god, it was almost purgative.

it was so easy, really, to dissociate from everything happening around him, he realized, that he'd completely lost consciousness. he didn't even notice when his world slipped into one of white nothingness.

he came to with his head against the cold tile floor, briefly forgetting about what had happened before he passed out. it was a blissful ignorance, he remembered; a state which he wished he could remain in forever.

the lights were, yet again, blinding white. so much so that he'd thought he was in this whole new, undiscovered state of consciousness; one where he was treading back and forth between the blurred line of reality. his jeans were still around his knees, scars now reopened and slick with sticky blood. he was alone now, thankfully. his phone was a few feet beside him, and it'd almost felt like too much effort to grab.

he debated simply remaining in the restroom to rot, which the man had taken the courtesy to lock behind him so that no one would walk in on louis. it was now close to midnight, which he'd remembered was new year's. ironic, he thought. new year, new him.

maybe he shouldn't call harry. it wasn't important, and who knew how intoxicated harry was now, if he was already tipsy and slightly high a few hours ago. who knew, where he was, and if he cared, if he hadn't bothered to look for louis after he just had his brains fucked out of him in a shit stain of a bathroom. what did it matter?

he'd called anyway. he couldn't move, his legs were too soft beneath him. he was somehow hungry, ravenous even, like he'd never been before. it didn't matter what it was, how many calories—he just needed to eat something. maybe he should just have harry rape him before every meal. he couldn't care less, at this point.

the curly-haired boy picked up after only two rings. "hello?" harry sounded worried, with so much nervous energy louis wondered how he could even muster. though, he guessed, the boy hadn't had to endure what he did.

"h-hi." his voice wouldn't come out. it'd refused, wholly inaudible, worrying harry even more.

"hello? lou? you there? it's almost midnight. i've been looking for you all night," and god, he almost sounded annoyed, irritated with him, for being absent. louis wished that the world would open a gaping hole for him to fall into, to allow him to pummel into the center until his body burned into nothingness, with no trace of his disappearance. it would be easy, now that he thought about it. he was alone, after all.

he still couldn't speak, as if it were not just his bottom half paralyzed, but his entire body. he knew harry would grow impatient, especially his drunken self that had lacked any remote fragment of inhibition, and leave. harry would leave, he was sure of it. and maybe it would be for the better.

"lou, please. you're worrying me. did you go home or something? why didn't you tell me if you were? did you take the car?"

of course he hadn't, he thought. he didn't even have the keys. he wanted to scream. he screamed and screamed and screamed, mouth ajar, but his vocal chords, once again, failed him. maybe his asshole wasn't the only thing that had been penetrated without his permission. great.

staggered breathing was picked up by the mic, however, and now that harry had stepped outside, he could hear the sounds of shouting voices in the background of the other line. so louis was still at the party, after all. "lou. where are you?" he raised his voice, panic beginning to crawl its way into his system. "the bathroom? fuck, did you never come back from the bathroom that first time?"

harry hadn't even tried to look for him, he realized. the first logical choice to check would be the bathroom. but he hadn't. somehow, this very idea made his chest burn with loneliness—something he thought he'd grown accustomed to, but was still so unbearably painful. "yeah," he finally croaked, voice clearing before fogging up again with wet tears. "bathroom."

"shit, lou. shit, shit, shit. i'm- i- fuck. i'm sorry. stay on the line with me. please. i'm coming."

he heard footsteps from harry's line, so loud and unsteady, they'd reminded him of his own erratic heartbeats. eventually, they synced with the ones outside his door, which harry had begun slamming his fists against, sending the ocean boy back into a memory; one where a man had bashed his ruthless hands into the back of a closet door.

he gathered himself, despite everything, and twisted the lock ever-so-slightly, just enough for it to click, before falling right down again. he realized that he'd forgotten to fix his pants before allowing harry in, leaving his angry red scars out on display.

"oh, fuck, lou. what the fuck did you do? why here?"

he began sobbing, choking on his own tears as harry shut the door behind him. he couldn't breathe, not with the bathroom feeling so crowded, not with another man in there with him; a man who could hurt him again. he just wanted it all to stop. selfishly, he begged the world to stop spinning for his sake, for everything to be put on hold just so he could rest.

he felt arms close around his hips again, and he panicked, because not again, oh, fuck, not again, but they'd only dabbed at his wounds, stinging them with cold water which had dripped down his legs. the pain was relaxing, grounding—so much so that his breathing had calmed, and he was finally able to focus his sight on the boy before him: green eyes, soft features, curly hair. everything that comfort was, all embodied in a single person and wrapped to perfection.

harry gasped when he finally caught sight of the thick, white, now dried substance that was smeared against his behind, smell so foul that it couldn't even be covered by the other stenches in the room.

"fuck, lou. oh, fuck. i fucked up. i'm so fucking- i'm fucking sorry. i'm- fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck. we need, we need a rape kit. i need to get niall. we need to get you out of here. hospital. right. fuck. loubear. please hang in there. just. i'll get you cleaned up. or maybe i shouldn't. fuck. rape kit. right. okay. i'm going to go-"

"no. it's fine. don't leave."

"lou," harry's voice was shaking, unsteady and threatening to spill over with tears. "you need to tell someone. this is all so fucked up. i should've been with you. i should have looked for you earlier. my dumb ass got drawn in by other people and i'd tried to convince myself you would be okay and- fuck, i'm sorry. i need to stop making excuses. right. fuck, okay. i'm going to be right b-"

"stop." the walls were closing in on him now, steady and impending. "just, just stay. i'll pick myself up, and we can go home. i don't need to go to a fucking hospital. it's okay. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for ruining your night. i'm sorry for calling you and bothering you with this when you were enjoying yourself," he heaved, enlisting everything he had to force out a pained smile. "it's okay, alright? i'm fine. i can deal with this on my own. please"

harry was speechless at this. how could louis, such a beautiful boy, be apologizing for inconveniencing him after having just been so violently violated? just how little did his own life matter to him? "no. no, no, no, no. none of this is your fault. stop apologizing. i'm- yeah. let's go home. come here," he bent down to pick up the boy after pulling up his pants, who was surely lighter, smaller, than he'd been the last time they'd done anything like this.

"alright. let's go home, yeah?" harry said, holding his ocean boy tightly in his arms. "let's go home."