Survive [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter 100.

Louis:

December 3rd. (Throwback)

The fact that I'm lucky enough to be blessed with this sort of rare beauty every day astounds me. His beauty is one of a kind. It's not the type you learn to appreciate with time, no, It's the obvious kind that you see once and immediately takes your breath away. The kind that you get when you see a random stranger in the bus that you just can't take your eyes off of. The kind that makes you fall in love instantly. Within a second you're drawn in with no turning back. Let him smile for you once and it's too late. You're already consumed in his radiating beauty. I out of all people would know, I mean, that's how it was for me.

When I first saw him out on that rooftop I was convinced that it was just another hopeless soul. But as soon as I looked into his green eyes, right in that moment, I knew. Just like that. It just took one simple look and I knew. I knew right away that I was hooked and utterly, hopelessly lost in those eyes. But I just wouldn't admit it to anyone. Especially not myself. I went on day after day pretending and forcing myself to always look the other way. I was so naive. Naive enough to fall in love and convince myself otherwise. Naive enough to have the most amazing human being right in front of my eyes and underestimate him. Telling myself that we were not meant to be. How could I even try to lie to myself like that? I kept convincing myself that it was all just some silly dream. I didn't dare to believe that he was destined for me and that we were meant to end up together. I just wouldn't admit it.

Yet here I am. In bed right next to him with our legs tousled up together and his bare warm body pressed against mine. I gently run my fingers through his dark brown locks as his head peacefully rests on my chest. The sheets are rumpled up under our bodies, causing every inch of his bare torso to be exposed to the morning light shining through the curtains. This leaves me looking at the scars and bruises all over his skin. Shit. How am I ever going to get used to this sight? It's mad to think that anyone would ever hurt him. So the fact that he would dare to hurt himself like this... It just makes me so sad to think that he would ever want to ruin his beautiful body. Just the thought of him feeling so alone that he actually puts a blade on his skin and cuts it open... God. It fucks me up. He's destroying himself, both mentally and physically.

He keeps telling me that I should stop smoking cause 'it's killing me', but what about his bad habits then? He's killing himself too. Just in a less obvious way. He barely eats just cause he's afraid to gain weight. I've seen the way he stands on the scales letting the numbers define him. He stands in front of the mirror pinching his skin, pulling at fat that's not even there to begin with. He sucks his tummy in until you see his rib cage, staring at himself until he looses his breath. He doesn't understand that the human body is not supposed to look like that. It's supposed to be healthy. The weight doesn't matter as long as you feel energized and healthy, but he doesn't understand that. He just stands in front of that fucking mirror day and night obsessing over every inch of his body that has a bit of extra meat on it. I've seen this. I've witnessed all of this with my own eyes. He starves himself as well. He always sits and plays with his food instead of actually eating it. His mouth can be watering and stomach calling out for food, yet he doesn't eat. His body actually begging him for a hint of nutrition to help him function, but he refuses to let himself gain weight. All of this torture... Yet I'm the one killing myself?

He cuts himself and cries himself to sleep. He actually cuts his skin open to see blood dripping down his flesh. He actually wants to hurt himself, but why? WHY? Does it in some fucked up sort of way actually numb the pain? Maybe the physical pain on the outside somehow drowns out the pain he has on the inside? I have no idea. Or what if it is his way of punishing himself? I don't know, either way I don't understand it. I want to though, I want to somehow get a glimpse of what the hell is going on in his mind. He tortures himself in vincible matters. Blood has dried up all over his wrists, and the rest of his body is covered in faded scars and bruises caused by himself. Yet I'm the one killing myself?