So Much (for) Us

GBF

Louis

The fuck was that. The FUCK was that?!

Louis slams the door to his room and locks it quickly as if he was being pursued-wiping his contaminated hand on a nearby jacket. Nausea begins building in his body until he has to fling himself into the attached bathroom and empty his stomach into the toilet.

He will tell you this, if having broken ribs is painful- vomiting with broken ribs goes to another extreme. He presses his forehead on the seat, mouth hanging open, spit dribbling down into the regurgitated black coffee. He thanks the Gods above that he has something in his stomach. That is a rare thing now-a-days.

Not intentionally.

If there is anything Louis is sure of is that he is fit, he doesn't feel the need to starve. However, eating, drinking, moving, everything just fucking hurts.

Not to mention the ipecac that fuck face Brendon forces down his throat on a weekly basis is causing his stomach to not like having much in it.

Louis never feels like the methods he is receiving in "Therapy" are actually doing their job. Maybe it numbs the edges of his attraction to men. Maybe.

But as the weeks have gone on and Louis was becoming more and more and more beat down, he questioned his choice to do this at all. He is terrified his fractured wrist is going to prevent him playing guitar. He is terrified the constant acid burning his throat is going to ruin his voice. He is terrified something will leak between the hospital and the other boys (who he DOES NOT FUCKING TRUST).

If being gay MIGHT ruin his career (or his life), the public finding out he's in conversion therapy definitely would.

He's always been distrusting, especially of Simon, so he is not quite sure why he thought Simon would do this fucking right. He spits into the toilet. Coffee and stomach acid has such a weirdly calming smell. Would be a sick band name though. Acid Coffee.

He is not supposed to want to kiss Harry. He is not supposed to like kissing Harry. That is the whole bloody point of this whole thing. He expected to be absolutely repulsed by the man. He thought he was going to pass the test.

BUT

He answered the door practically bloody naked.

He answered the door looking so bloody soft.

He answered the bloody door with those stupid fucking lips.

He answered the door with that rasp in the voice when he gets tired.

He answered the door with those fucking green fucking eyes.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

AND THEN, Louis kissed him. He waited for the repulsion. He waited to feel nothing.

But NOOooOOooOOOoOOOO, of course that's not what happened.

Louis felt the same fucking sparks he felt the first time he kissed Harry, and the last time. The last time still sits heavy in his stomach and his body thanks him for the memory by dry heaving several times. He is sure he is going to break another rib.

His body, his heart, his fucking soul are screaming at him to go back to Harry's room.

To let himself be wrapped in that stupid fucking man's arms.

He removes himself from the toilet and lays his body down on the dark brown hardwood and his head on the purple shag rug. His wrist is screaming, his ribs are screaming, the bruises on his hip are screaming. Louis wants to fucking scream. He wants to cry. He won't. He bloody won't (he might).