All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

4

Early morning whimpers and quiet sobs filtering from under the crack of the bathroom door always connote something that makes Louis' lungs soften and his skin wear thin. The thing is, Harry always tries to act like he has it all together, but the walls that crumble around him is all the proof Louis needs to know that the secret he is trying to bury is there, and it is always haunting him. The hurt being carried is bigger than the both of them, and Louis is just trying to calculate the distance from Harry to betterment and then back to himself, but the answer is always coming out in a perpetual string of, "no, no, no's!" and "please don't! I’m sorry!!" and the answer never changes.

Louis wakes up to hear a broken sob. He sits up like a habit under his fingernails, pushing the duvet away with a quiet yawn as he stands up. There is a lump in his throat as he pads down the short hallway and into the kitchen. It is routine, they know, because there is a raw place on Louis’ skin where he rubs nervously every single time this happens.

He grabs a glass from the cabinet, hands fumbling to find the exact one, before he opens the refrigerator and grabs the jar of strawberry milk. There is only a bit left and he takes note to buy some more on his way to class in the morning.

He knocks on the bathroom door lightly, it’s cracked open, and he can hear the soft hum of Harry's crying stop almost immediately.

“Harry? I'm coming in, okay?”

When Louis pushes the door open carefully, he sees Harry sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his sweats and a thin t-shirt. His cheeks are flushed and eyes puffy with tear stains. He looks awful, like the life has been drained from his body and the only thing left is the fingerprints that don't belong there.

Louis kneels down in front of him, pushing between Harry's knees so he is right up close and can whisper to his boy. “Hey, love.”

Harry tries to smile, but it splashes across his face in the blend of purples and blues. Every time Louis sees Harry like this he swears he sees all the bruises too. The bumps and scratches, all the spots in his flesh, like his insides are turning to his outsides.

He hands Harry the glass of strawberry milk, wiping over the boys tear-stained cheeks, just barely brushing over them because he is so afraid that Harry can still feel every hit.

(What strikes Louis the hardest is that he doesn't know everything. Harry is hiding a life from him and it’s crushing the both of them.)

Louis sighs, swallowing the ocean that is crashing in his throat and threatening to pour out, and he pulls his hand away. Harry tentatively sips on his strawberry milk, more tears slipping from his eyes until he flutters them close, trapping them inside. He pulls the glass away from his lips, licking over them before handing Louis the cup who is quick to take it from him, setting it on the counter before returning his attention to his beautiful boy.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, his voice cracking in the way Louis’ heart is.

“You have no reason to be,” Louis whispers to him, brushing his tangled curls back behind his ear, “absolutely no reason,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across Harry's cheek, “want a bath now, darling?”

Harry looks down, a single tear rolling down his neck and into the dip of his collarbone. They've been through this. “Please,” he whispers.

Louis nods, biting at his lip and standing up. “Alright then baby, c’mon.”

Harry holds up his arms lazily, letting Louis peel the shirt from his skin. Louis carefully pulls it from his head, being careful with his baby, he always is. He starts the water, pouring in Harry’s favourite bubble bath soap that turns the water pink. He gets out a flannel to set to the side, twisting his neck to see Harry standing naked and looking so helpless. “Alright, get in,” he says softly, turning the water down so the tub won't get too full, but it will always be nice and warm.