Sometimes, it's just not worth it.

Part Two

I don’t eat very often. When Louis is out with Eleanor -which is most of the time- or he has started at work early, I usually just skip breakfast. I might have an apple for lunch but that’s mainly it for food during the day. But when Louis comes home alone, which is very rarely, and attempts to cook us dinner, I eat it with a forced smile and then, when he’s in the living room watching a football game and too busy yelling at the TV for them to ‘Pass the bloody ball!’ I sneak upstairs and make myself throw up. I couldn’t say what made me start to do this to myself, it used to be just depression and cutting. But seeing Louis walk around the flat shirtless; which I was not going to complain about because he had the body of a God, it made me hate myself even more. My skin was pale and his was tan, I was scrawny and he had a defined six-pack and big biceps. And above all that, he could walk around without a shirt and not have to worry about people seeing self-inflicted wounds. I wasn’t jealous of him, envied him.

It was about the middle of April, a couple of months after my 19th, when Louis confronted me about my weight. Apparently I’d been losing too much weight the past weeks and Louis was suddenly concerned.

“It’s just not normal for a guy your age to have your body mass.” Louis ran his hands over his face as he paced in the living room. I was sat on the couch, staring at the blank television. “Your clothes are practically swimming on you and…. When’s the last time you weighed yourself?” I looked up at him, meting his hard stare.

“I don’t have to answer that. It’s my body and you have no bloody right to tell me what I have to do.” I got up and went to walk up the stairs. My foot was on the second step when I felt Louis’ hard grip on my wrist. I turned to see his expression softened and his eyes had genuine worry in them.

“I’m just worried about you Harry. You never come out anymore, you’re always in your room and the last woman I saw you with was your mother when she came to visit.”

“I’m fine Louis. I just like my personal space.” Louis didn’t look impressed at my reasoning but let my wrist go nonetheless. It wasn’t until I got upstairs that my emotions got the best of me; I slid down the bathroom vanity crying silently.