Because The Only Time You See Me Is When I'm Blinded By Your Light

One-shot Larry Stylinson. Harry cuts because the man he loves can never love him back. Louis dates Eleanor because he knows that Harry could never feel the same way.

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2. The Breaking Point

 

Harry’s become dependent on his blade to function during the day.  Everything he sees reminds him that he’s not with Louis and Eleanor is.  He’s skilled and deft with the blade now, swiping and sliding covertly throughout the day.  No one notices, no one catches him anymore.  He’s too good for that, too needy to handle being caught.  He’s so caught up in his own world, that he doesn’t notice the reason of his pain breaking and falling away in front of his face.  

 

It’s only when Louis comes home one night, frail and looking so young, that Harry wonders what he’s missed while he’s been keeping himself together.  It’s only when Louis climbs into his bed and begins to cry, sobbing out that he and Eleanor have broken up, that Harry wonders how things have gotten so bad.  It’s only when Harry looks down at Louis, curled into him and clutching his hands that Harry remembers why.  He can never have Louis, and being there for Louis through his loves has slowly broken Harry, and all Harry can feel any more is pain.  It’s that reason why Harry works Louis’ hands out from his and slips into the bathroom to tear through his skin that Harry begins to feel again.  And Harry doesn’t like it.  Doesn’t like feeling such a desire to be with the boy he loves, doesn’t like feeling so weak and helpless and unwanted that no one can stand to be with him romantically.  Doesn’t like remembering how quickly Liam and Zayn shrugged off his cutting.  So Harry does what he knows best.  He cuts.

 

Louis wakes as coldness caresses his body.  He sits upright, eyes dry and sore from the amount of crying he’s done.  Crying because Eleanor said she couldn’t handle being his rebound from the boy he knows will never be his.  Crying because he knows he’ll have to go to Harry for comfort, which hurts more.  He hears a hiss of breath coming from the bathroom, and wonders what Harry did to get hurt in a bathroom of all places.  It’s only when Louis pushes open the door that he realizes why Harry’s been so distant lately.

 

He watches silently as Harry destroys his legs, too focused on harming himself to notice Louis leaning against the door frame.  Louis doesn’t speak or move until he hears Harry whisper out a ragged “Louis” before tearing a jagged line from his hip to his knee.  It tears Louis’ heart out, hearing the boy he loves harming himself because of him.  

 

Louis doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at Harry destroy his beautiful ivory skin, doesn’t know that Harry isn’t cutting because he hates Louis, Harry cuts because he loves Louis.  Louis tries his damndest to not make any sound or motion, but his overwhelming realization that Harry is just as fucked up as he is has him striding forward, gently prying the blade from Harry’s fingers.

 

Humming softly as he holds the broken beautiful boy in his arms, Louis thinks that maybe Harry loves him too. But he can’t afford to think such thoughts, because they only lead to earth-shattering pain.  Instead, he simply holds the sobbing boy tight against his chest until the gasping breaths

 

 

 

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Louis watches Harry like a hawk, never letting the boy out of his sights.  Harry grows irritated of this quickly, hating that he can no longer use his release, and he’s been itching to cut for weeks.  It’s driving him crazy, and he can’t find any way to get over his need to do something.

 

Louis wakes up a half hour before Harry every morning, memorizing his beautiful face before clearing away the beautiful tufts of hair that have been falling out of Harry’s beautiful curls.  Is it because of me? is one of the most common thoughts that plague Louis during the days. He then kisses each of Harry’s scars, his beautiful imperfections, whispering quiet I love you’s into the cold, still air before retreating into the bathroom to cry as he showers.

 

Liam thinks things are finally getting better for Harry.  He and Louis are together more, and Harry hasn’t come to him.  Hoping that Harry would tell him if he was ready to self-harm again, Liam allowed himself to relax.  He spent more time with Zayn, Niall, and Danielle and allowed what he hoped was the mending of Larry Stylinson to heal Harry’s heart.

 

 

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Zayn was still wary about Harry’s cutting, knowing that people don’t just jump right out of something so serious, which is why he was still staying home with the young boy whenever the rest of the band wanted to go out.  He knew by the irritated glint in Harry’s eyes that leaving him alone wasn’t smart, and so he wouldn’t, not yet.

 

Harry just wanted the blade.

 

 

 

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It was three weeks later that Zayn finally relented, believing in the lack of need in Harry’s eyes that he was finally better, and that Harry would come to him if he needed anything.  He was so sure of it that he finally let the boy spend the night at the hotel while he and the rest of the lads went out for a quick drink.

 

Niall was happy to go out and get smashed, considering everyone seemed to be treading carefully, walking on eggshells, and the tension between all the band was getting to his normally chipper attitude.  They all just needed to speak their minds and get their problems out in the open so everything could finally be resolved.  

 

Liam was ready for a drink.  Two kidneys and a Harry that seemed as though he was back to pre-cutting self and Liam was in the mood to celebrate.  He was dressed up quite nicely and had even managed to persuade Louis into coming with.  All in all, he was feeling wonderful.

 

Louis felt terrible.  The aching in his heart stronger than it had ever been, trying to keep him with the boy he loved.  But if he were to ever get over Harry, he needed to do it.  That’s why the last night he had brought a woman back with him, getting as into the sex as he could, and inviting her out with them again tonight.  What he didn’t realize was that when he was fucking her and thought Harry was out with Niall for the night, Harry was standing in the doorway, words of I’m in love with you dying on his lips as tears streamed down his face.

 

 

 

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Harry cracked his fingers, relishing in the soft popping noise they made as he released the pressure built up from writing so much.  He was hopelessly relieved that the boys had gone out.  After folding, sealing, and laying down the final letter onto the pristine bed, Harry rummaged around in his bag.

 

Pulling out his sharpest, freshest blade, Harry stepped into the bathroom.  Taking a look at himself in the mirror, Harry smiled.  He looked nice: his curls were smooth and full, his eyes didn’t have those dark bruises under them, and Louis’ dark blue shirt fit snugly over his abdomen.  Stepping into the tub, Harry took off his jeans, folding them and placing them on top of the closed toilet lid.

 

After turning on some soft music, Harry went to work.

 

 

 

 

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Louis stumbled into the hotel room, more drunk than he had been in quite some time.  He had attempted to drown his misery in drink and women, but he felt so sick at himself that he returned to the hotel alone and ready to just cuddle up with Harry.  Hearing the soft sound of music, Louis smiled.  It had been so long since Harry had been happy enough to play music out loud, and Louis had missed it.  Maybe that meant that he could finally tell Harry? 

 

As he entered the bedroom, Louis couldn’t help but feel like something was terribly, horrible, awfully wrong. Looking at the five stark white envelopes sitting on the bed sent Louis sprinting into the bathroom where he proceeded to stop dead and puke into the sink.  He barely had any notion of what his limbs were doing as he curled into the beautiful angel he loved, dead in the bathtub, wearing his shirt and a content smile on his face, tears still glistening in his eyelashes and on his pale face.

 

 

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