FINGERTIPS ║ Larry Stylinson

26 ║ Tell Me Your Secrets

September 4th

When Louis came home, it was around 1pm. He wasn't sure about whether or not he wanted to come home but he had promised to his mother he would. She had to leave for the hospital around 1:30 and he had to look after the twins. He liked it. When he was with them, it was full of innocence and kindness. They were filling his heart with warm laughters and they would heal his pain a bit, unconsciously. When he was with them, there were nothing else than them, their happiness and the sweet smiles plastered on their faces. And it was a great feeling. When Louis entered the house, it was pretty silent, Ernest and Doris was sitting on the couch in the living room, quiet and focused on the television. He walked up to them, silently, on his tip toes, his bag hanging on his shoulder. They both had their thumb in their mouth when Louis stopped behind the sofa. He leant forward and placed his face between theirs, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

"Hello babies!" he said as he kissed their chubby cheeks.

They yelled into his ears loudly when they turned around to hug him back, but he didn't mind. It was the yelling of innocence and happiness. Compared to the constant yelling of his own voice trying to destroy him slowly. He smiled when they pressed their lips against his cheeks. He felt good, not to have to care about anything. To be with people who wouldn't ask you how you are, with people who didn't care if you cried or was different because they were simply too young to understand what it implied. And if felt nice, not having to care about being someone else all the time, just to be accepted.

"I'm going to see mummy, I'll be back!" he said as he kissed their forehead.

Louis climbed the stairs slowly. Every step seemed harder. His body was aching silently, waiting for Louis to feed it and take care of it. But he silenced its pleading whispers. He ignored it. He ignored the pain stabbing his knees, the heavy weight trapping his thigh muscles. It almost felt like he had just ran fifteen miles although he had done nothing else but sleep into strong reassuring arms. He wondered if he would ever be able to live without Harry. If he could ever go through life without his warm comforting embrace, holding him tight under the covers. If he could ever breathe without his hot lips pecking all over his face when they were hidden in a dark room, alone without anyone watching them. If he could ever just keep on going, keep on trying to live without knowing he was able to sleep next to Harry, looking at him fall asleep, observe him waking up. Harry was his strength. He hated how cheesy it sounded and how dependant he suddenly felt.
He opened his own room's door, he needed to leave his bag before saying hi to Johannah. Not that there were anything he needed to hide in the bag, it was simply useless to keep it. But when he pushed the door opened, Johannah was here already. She was sitting on the bed, her face hidden into her hands. He frowned and walked closer. Did something happen? He hadn't seen any of the girls, did something happen to the girls while he was gone? He could never forgive himself if anything happened to his family while he was away.

"Mum?" he said in a concerned whisper.

Johannah looked up suddenly. She was not crying, but an odd expression was deforming her beautiful face. He couldn't say what it was though. He couldn't put a word to it and it worried him. He walked closer again, a large frown crossing his face. Suddenly she stood up and stepped aside, showing the bed with her hand. His eyes fell down onto the dark blue bedspread. He froze. No. It couldn't happen. Not now. Not here. Never, nowhere. He stepped backward, almost like he thought she would ever slap him. But in reality, he just felt dizzy. Weak. His legs were barely holding him and he was struggling to breathe properly.

"What is this, Louis?"

The young boy didn't look at her. His ocean blue eyes were locked on the bunch of beer cans, whisky and vodka bottles and cheap alcohol cans scattered on the covers. He couldn't move. His body wasn't responding. His ears couldn't catch any sound apart from the loud buzzing of the pain that was about to crash onto his heart. His mouth and throat were dried and he couldn't have talked even if he tried. Everything stopped. He could see the walls fall apart around him, like trapped in a post-apocalyptic parallel world. It was dark, cold, colourless and there was no oxygen.