Again. Again. Again. 《 l.s》

♡ THIRTY - EIGHT ♡

{ 🚨!TW!🚨 Throwing up.}

"I miss someone who isn't mine to miss. I dream about someone who isn't mine to dream about. I love someone, who isn't mine to love."

- Unknown 

••••••

Songs

Dusk til dawn - ZAYN ft. Sia

To be so lonely - Harry Styles

••••••

[ Harry's POV

“I…..Loved…..Meeting…You….Harold.” She says slowly like she’s talking to a child. 

“I’m not a five year old. And my name isn’t Harold.” I snap. 

“Be nice Harry.” Louis says, not looking up from his phone. Kat smirks at me and scoots across the table. 

“If you don’t want me to talk to you like a baby stop acting like one.” She hisses in my ear. She reaches out to grab my wrist. But I pull it away before she can touch me. The bell rings and I practically sprint out of the library. I don’t push my chair in three times. Even though I know it will eat at me for the rest of the day.

Sometimes the itch and nagging in your brain is nice. It helps me distract from my life crumbling around me. And I know Kat would make fun of me if I did the compulsion.

This time Louis doesn’t call for me. Like last time I stormed out of the library. He’s too busy wrapping his arm around Kat and saying he will walk her to class to notice me. 

You're forgettable.
Insignificant.
You were a minute of his time.
She is his eternity.
 
“Be quiet.” I hiss under my breath. (Like that ever does anything to stop them). As I’m walking I get out my phone and text my mom. 

H: I feel sick, please come pick me up.

A: I’m sorry honey. Work called me in. Try and make it through the day and catch a ride with Louis. 

Yeah, Louis, that isn’t going very well at the moment. 

•••

As I walk to where Louis always parks his car I feel like my feet have bowling balls attached to them. When I see them standing there holding hands. I feel like the bowling balls turn into anchors. I mentally groan and keep my head down. 

“Can I help you?” Kat asks when I arrive at the dreaded destination. 

“Louis is my ride.” I state blankly. I don’t say another word and walk around to shotgun. There is a bunch of shit sitting in the middle seat of the van. Both of their backpacks and some random instruments. 

“Um, actually I'm sitting in shotgun.” Kat puts her hand on the door so I can’t open it. Louis is already sitting in the driver's seat and humming to himself. 

“I have to sit here.” 

“Is it another one of your spots?” She says with a mocking pout.

Yes

“No.” I lie. 

“Then I don't see a problem.” she puts her hand on her hips.

“I get sick in the very back, and you have filled up the middle with all of your crap.” 

“Aw does the baby get sick?” She says, pretending to cry with her hands. Louis leans over and rolls down the window. 

“Harry just sit in the back, I'm sure you’ll be fine just this once.” He orders, he rolls up the window before I can even say anything else. I bite my cheek to hold back tears and climb in the back. 

"Is there enough room in your car for everyone?" I ask him as we lay snuggling.

"Yeah, two people will have to sit in the back though."

"I can't sit in the back. I get really car sick."

"Ok honey, I won't ever make you ride in the back. I'll always make arrangements for you to ride up front." He says, kissing me on the head.

•••

As the ride goes on, my stomach progressively gets more and more upset. I lean back on the seat and close my eyes. I can feel something make its way up. I sit up and slowly try and swallow it back down. I don’t wanna throw up all over Louis’s car. 

On the other hand, he forced me back here. He kinda deserves it. 

We are a few minutes away from my house. And I feel really sick back here. But I don’t know if it’s because I’m sitting in the back.

Or watching Louis and Kat being all lovey-dovey in the front. 

“Bye Harry.” Louis says when he stops the car infornt of my house. But I don’t say anything because I'm running up my driveway. 

“Come on, come on, come on.” I chant, struggling with my key. Once I finally get the door open I walk through it three times, slam it, and go sprinting to the bathroom.

I barely make it, before I throw everything up into the toilet. Making me wince and grab at my stomach. I wish that Louis was here. But he's not, he said he was going to Kat's after school.

Once I'm finished I flush the toilet and wipe my face off. I lean back on the tub edge and sigh. Still gripping my stomach and letting out big painful breaths. The pain is still churning around, and so I press my face to the cold tile. 

This sequence reminds me a lot of my disorder. When you are sick, you always know that if you just throw up you will feel so much better. But sometimes you can’t, nothing comes up. So you press your face to the cold tile. Trying to find any form of relief, just for a second. But eventually, the tile gets warm from your body heat. And you have to move on to another tile square to feel the relief again. But you are so comfortable with this one you don’t wanna move. 

I know my life would be so much better if the voices went away and I got better. But they just won't. So I have to find my tile. Louis was my cold tile. He took away the pain just for a bit. But now he is too warm and I have to move on to another tile. 

But I'm too comfortable, I'm not ready  to move on. And I'm afriad there isn't another tile for me.

••••••

Yay for double updates!

Also most (if not all) the time. When there is text in this bold font. It is a flashback or something said earlier.

Love you

- T xxxx