Save Myself // Larry Stylinson

Chapter 24

Chapter 24: XXIV

Summary:

This is my favourite chapter I've written so far.

Trigger warning for facing of more sexual demons from Louis' past.
Notes:

I had some major song inspiration in this chapter.

For Harry's POV: Paper Houses, Flicker and The Tide by the lovely Nialler!

And Louis' song is just so fucking perfect- Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith (this might be the most Louis song ever)

Sidenote: this week I am turning OLD AS FUCK (don't ask me how old--it hurts me deep) (I found my first grey hair).

Weep for me and my youth.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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Louis' eyes opened slowly and he looked around the room. It was dark and the alarm clock next to Harry's bed said it was just passed two a.m. There was a brief second where Louis didn't remember what had happened. For a split second he just felt normal and warm next to Harry. The blissful ignorance didn't last long before the memories came flooding back to him. He wasn't sure what the worst part of it all was.

Was it the part where he'd let Harry give and give and he just selfishly took? Was it the part where he'd made a mess all over Harry and hadn't even had the ability to clean it up? Was it the part where, even after all the good Harry had given to him, he still couldn't feel it? He was still broken and it was still the same shame and fear that it had been with Matt. Or was it the fact that he'd broken so completely right in front of Harry, not even having the good sense to try to hold it together? Or, and he was leaning toward this, was it the fact that he'd just sat pathetically by crying like a child while Harry bathed him and tried to make him feel like a human being again?

Forget all of the dozens of other awful things he'd felt before, the shame and embarrassment he felt in himself at that moment was overwhelming. How could he ever look Harry in the eyes again? He'd fucked it all up just by giving Harry exactly what he wanted. He'd been himself, just like Harry had asked and it was awful. Surely, Harry had no idea what he'd been asking of Louis. Even Louis couldn't have predicted his reaction—his break. He hadn't felt it coming, he'd been so wrapped up in the good that, for the first time in his life, he hadn't planned for the bad.

He needed to get away before he had to face Harry. He had to get away from the pity he knew would be burning behind his green eyes. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of it, but this pity would be different. This pity would spark all kinds of spirals within Louis. This pity would serve to ignite the overwhelming embarrassment he felt in his chest.

Louis peeled back the blanket carefully, trying his best not to move too much. He didn't want to wake Harry. He didn't want to face any of it. He was wearing one of Harry's too-big tracksuits. Fuck. Harry had bathed him and dressed him and put him to bed and Louis couldn't even remember. He couldn't remember anything but the pure mortification of being curled up on the floor of the bathtub, bawling while Harry said things he hope would stop it.

Louis was too much. He was way more than Harry would have signed up for if he'd have known. Which was okay. It was all okay. He'd save Harry he heartache and obligation and he'd leave.

He'd just got his second foot on the floor while he felt blindly on the night table for his keys when he heard Harry's voice.

"Lou?" The word was thick with sleep.

Louis chose to ignore it. He didn't want to try to put words to what he was feeling. He couldn't talk to Harry. He couldn't do it.

Finally, he felt his fingers run over the keys to Marsha. Freedom. He snatched them as quickly as he could, praying that Harry wasn't really awake. Maybe it was just sleepy mumbles. Maybe Louis was in the clear. He could make it down to Marsha, maybe even all the way back to his house and then he could break again. He just had to make it out of that tiny fucking bedroom.