Together (Larry Stylinson) ✅

Unbearable

Louis POV

I don't remember much about what happened after Harry dropped me off that day to go to England. I remember feeling so tired and hungry and emotional that I could hardly focus. I don't how I made it through security without tripping and falling over my oversized bags — the bags I used to carry for Harry because he was too weak to do it himself. It used to be easy back then, now I was straining myself to push them only a few feet.

Once I got to the waiting area, I decided to get something to eat. It was going to be a long flight and I was never one for plane food, even when I wasn't sick. I browsed the kiosks of restaurants and cafes, looking for something that wouldn't make my stomach turn. In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about Harry, about how i wouldn't see him again for three months— probably more as three months was the minimum. They could hold you longer if you didn't regain the weight fully. But I tried to push that to the back of my mind, as picking a restaurant was stressful enough.

I remember walking in circles trying to find something, anything that I didn't consider super unhealthy. I began to feel anxious as I watched people eating donuts and pastries and egg and cheese sandwiches in the food court. How could they possibly eat so unhealthily— and not even bat an eye?

Eventually, I decided on a yogurt cup with fruit and a coffee with milk. I wasn't thrilled about it, but they were the only options that didn't have my skin crawling. I got on line, struggling with my bags all the way, and placed my order and paid. Then, I returned back to my seat with the food, looking around guiltily and hoping no one would see me eat. I felt so embarrassed... did I really need the food?

Sitting down, I opened the lid to the yogurt and scooped out a spoonful with my plastic spoon. As soon as I brought it to my lips, I immediately spit it out. It was sickenly sweet — probably loaded with fat and sugar. Cringing, I tried to scoop some fruit from the bottom, only to realize it was covered in some sort of syrup, and without thinking I hopped up and tossed the entire yogurt cup away in the trash.

I felt my face grow hot and my eyes began to tear as the reality of the situation dawned on me. I couldn't even have a simple breakfast without having a near panic attack. My heart was racing and I was sweating, and at this point all I wanted was to get on the plane and take my sleeping pill and wake up somewhere else — anywhere but here.

Or, if I was being honest, I wanted Harry. To tell me it was going to be okay. To help me pick out some sort of food I would be able to eat. To eat with me. To comfort me. To love me.

But I knew harry wasn't the solution. I knew that I needed to begin recovering on my own, to learn the skills I needed to be independent again. To stop relying on Harry for everything. I guess it was selfish, or maybe it was because I was so in love with him, but I just wished that Harry could come with me to England. Even for a just a few days, to see me off and visit me in the hospital a few times. But I knew that was impossible, and I shouldn't wish things like that.

I needed to be on my own.

Sighing, I brought the coffee to my lips, my heart rate slowing as I realized it had very little milk in it — hence very little calories. That wasn't a good thing, that was a disordered thing. But at least I wasn't panicking anymore, at least I was calm. As I sipped on the coffee, I went to grab a book from my backpack. And that's when I noticed Harry had packed a bunch of little healthy snacks in my carry on, like granola bars and fruit. Safe foods.

This is why I fucking loved him.

I grabbed a granola bar from the bag and began munching, reading my book and allowing my jumbled thoughts to unjumble for a little while, letting go and getting lost in the plot...

"Heathrow, Gate 32."

I nearly jumped when I heard them call my flight a little while later. I stood up, grabbed my bags and began to speed walk towards my gate, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in my joints as I did so.

As I waited on line, feeling exhausted and in pain from only five minutes of walking, I made a vow to myself:

When I return back here, I will be healthier, stronger. And I will never be this sick again.

A/N: sorry I haven't been writing authors notes but this chapter really hits home— the part about Louis panicking over food in the food court is something that happens to me often, and I usually end up throwing things out. It's so upsetting because it makes you feel like a failure, like you can't even eat a simple food item. The mental torture is unbearable.  Let's hope and pray that little Lou starts to feel better once he goes to England