Fading

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Are you okay?" Harry asks softly, as they stand between Liam's car, and his truck.

"Yeah," Louis says quietly, "see you tonight?"

"Lou, tell me what's going on? I can tell you're off. I should skip the study group..."

"No," Louis shakes his head, "I'm fine, I'll see you later."

Harry frowns, and his thumb comes up to brush softly at Louis' cheekbone, "you've been quiet all day..."

"Harry," he sighs, "m'just tired. I'm going to go home, and have a nap. I'll see you tonight."

"Okay," Harry replies, clearly reluctant, "I love you."

Louis accepts the soft kiss that Harry gives him, and then pulls gently out of his arms. He gets into the back seat of Liam's car without looking back. Liam and Zayn wave to Harry from the front seats. Harry watches, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, as Liam pulls out of the parking stall. Louis closes his eyes, and rests his cheek against the window, as Liam gets onto the road.

"What's wrong?" Zayn asks, turning around in his seat to look at Louis.

"Tired," Louis says, not opening his eyes.

The rest of the ride is silent. Louis doesn't say anything as they make their way up to the flat. He goes straight to his room, and shuts the door, before laying down on his bed. It's been another week of eating, and Harry has slowly been increasing his calorie intake. Louis has figured out that Harry only asks if he purged after fourth period, because it's the class right after lunch. Louis hasn't even tried to sneak off, because for all he knows Harry could have the boys taking turns checking he's still in class that period, or he could be checking up on Louis through Hannah.

Louis has learned though, that Harry never asks after first period, so he never has to lie. Harry assumes since they take a long shower after breakfast, and spend the morning before class together, that Louis won't purge; so he never asks. If Louis goes to the bathroom during first period, he can get at least half of his breakfast out, and then he isn't as full when Harry makes him eat again at lunch.

If Louis goes to the bathroom during fifth period instead, he can get half his lunch out before he has to eat more at dinner. His digestion is so slow that most of the food is still in his stomach an hour later. It's better than when he was just completely full all the time, but it still isn't enough. He and Harry only have a fifth period class every second day, and even then only half comes out. He's started gaining weight, he can feel it. He was just completely bloated at first, but now the food is distributing across his body, and filling him out.

He feels guilty for still purging, but he just can't not. He can't handle being stuffed full all the time. He needs the burn in his throat, the contraction of his stomach. He's nervous for the weekend though, because he won't be able to sneak off. If Harry were to randomly ask if Louis has purged, since that time with the spaghetti, he tells himself he wouldn't lie, he couldn't lie to Harry again; but Harry doesn't ask, so Louis doesn't tell. He feels like shit for breaking Harry's trust, but he feels like shit twenty-four hours a day so it isn't much change. Louis isn't a good person.

Louis is almost just waiting for the day Harry finds out, and loses it on him. Louis knows he'll get so mad that he'll leave. Maybe it will be a relief, because then he won't be dragging Harry down anymore. Maybe everyone will just let him go. No matter how good he does, he's never going to deserve having the three of them in his life. He might as well give them a reason to hate him, so they'll stop feeling obligated to help him. Then they can be free of him.

Louis pushes himself up off the bed, and goes into his closet. He strips down slowly, throwing his clothes from the day into the hamper. He steps in front of the mirror, holding his breath. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, because he's cried in front of this mirror too many times this week, and he isn't going to let himself cry today. He sucks in his stomach, but it makes no difference. The swell of it protrudes out obscenely, rounding out to join with his flabby hips. The spaces between his ribs are full of flesh, his thighs are thick and gelatinous, his face is so round, and swollen. His nails dig into the fat of his belly, but he barely feels it. He just wants to rip it off. Rip all the fat off, strip by strip. He wants to see his bones.