Archive of Our Own ^beta

Harry's heart rate quickens. His stomach feels tight and his head feels light and his breathing is shallow. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes and he gasps for breath, trying his best to slow it down but it’s just gaspgaspgasp and no air, no air in his lungs, too much heart in his chest, too much fear in his brain. His hands shake and his cheeks are wet and he is trying to get to that name in his contacts, trying to dial him, because he would help. He would make him breathe better, make his heart slow down, make his fear subside. 

“Hello?”

“Lou,” he gasps out, and suddenly he’s sobbing and he doesn’t know when it started. “Lou, I need you. Need you to come get me, I’m gonna die.”

Louis can easily remember the first time Harry called him during a panic attack. He could barely understand the words through the crying, but Harry needed him and so he left school and drove recklessly to his house. He found him in the middle of his bedroom, naked and dripping wet from the shower, wrapped in a towel. His face was red and blotchy, tears streaming and snot smearing and none of it mattered because he was on the floor, curled in a ball, shaking and he couldn’t breathe. The loud gasps mixed with the sobs are something that wake Louis up at night now, cold sweat running down his neck, and he has to remind himself that Harry’s better now.

Harry’s better until he calls Louis one day, and whispers, I think I want to die.

Harry tells him the in patient center was too scary, too much, didn’t feel right. Louis relays the information to Harry’s mother, and while Harry sleeps, head in Louis’ lap, sprawled across the couch, Louis and Anne research online what other options they had.

A day hospital, is what it’s called. Harry goes and stays all day at this small little building, with two big rooms and a few offices. In the mornings he has group, where he and other kids his age that are going through similar things sit together with one of the counselors and just talk. Harry tells Louis it’s his favorite part, knowing that there are other people just like him, that he’s not alone. That’s he’s not a freak.

Then in the afternoon he has one-on-one with a therapist, and Harry tells him sometimes he cries in there. He doesn’t cry in front of the other kids, though. Louis tells him that it’s okay to cry.

In the evenings, all the kids group up again, this time with a different counselor and all their parents and sometimes siblings. Louis’ not a sibling but he signed some paperwork and he goes every night.

After about a week of attending the day hospital, Louis notices Harry makes sure to sit by another boy, Zayn. The boy has tattoos all up and down his arms and Louis considers him to be a brooder. Louis knows the boy is bipolar, knows the colorful tattoos are there to cover up scars, and it scares him when Harry says he and Zayn are friends now.

Another few weeks go by and Louis sees a difference in Harry. He stops by his house every morning on his way to uni, eats breakfast with the boy, and goes back after his classes so he can ride with Anne to the hospital. He leaves every night at eleven, when Harry goes to bed. Ten months ago, when Harry had his first attack and suddenly was diagnosed with severe depression, Louis had to spend about an hour waking Harry up. First, he would pull the boy out of bed and walk him to the shower, where he’d start the water and sit on the sink, listening to make sure Harry wasn’t sitting down and sleeping again. Then Louis would help Harry towel off, hand him clothes to put on, and tell him to brush his teeth. They would head downstairs and Harry would sit at the kitchen table, head down and eyes closed, while Louis attempted to make breakfast. Louis would prod at Harry every chance he could, making sure he was still awake. Sometimes Harry would cry and beg to go back to sleep, and Louis would promise they would get to take a nap later. Then they would eat in silence, something they used to never do (they grew up together in sound, there was never a quiet moment before), and then go into the living room and watch television. Harry would curl into Louis, head on his chest, and sometimes cry a little, and sometimes he’d have a panic attack, and Louis would calm him down.

That was for three months. Louis dropped all his semester classes and stayed with Harry, since his mum couldn’t. He told himself that it’s what best friends are for. While Harry wasn’t well, he wouldn’t let himself think about his feelings.

After those three months, Harry was on good medication, was getting up on his own and not trying to sleep through the day. He still wasn’t himself, though, and Louis could tell it would be a long road.

In the summer, six months after his first attack, Harry really started improving. Louis didn’t take any summer courses and they spent every day going out, doing something, keeping Harry moving. The therapist promised that physical activity was something that would work better and faster and more permanently than any pill, and Louis made sure Harry got it. Finally, Harry started making jokes again. Started talking to him, and not just about how sad he was, or how numb he was. He wasn’t himself yet, but he was getting there.

When the new semester started, Louis went back to his classes, taking on a full course load to make up for all he’d missed. He texted Harry every day. Usually Harry texted back.

A month into the semester, Louis got a call during his History class and his coursework was forgotten.

I think I want to die.

“I think Zayn’s got a crush on me,” Harry shares on their way back from the hospital. It’s been almost two months since he started attending and Louis sees a little bit of light in his eyes.

Louis notices Anne’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.

“No,” she says, and it’s harsh and final. Harry’s eyes get dull again. Louis’ heart drops.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, and it’s a little bit broken. “Why did Mum say no?”

Louis wants to cry, but he can’t. Because Harry’s seen Louis and his mum cry far too much in the past year.

“Babe,” he starts, and he grabs Harry’s hand. Harry’s bigger than him, but he’s curled in on himself and seems so small. “It’s like. Neither of you are in a good place right now, you know? He’s hurting and you’re hurting and you’re both trying to heal. Imagine if. If you’re both doing so well and then one of you falls again, it’s going to bring the other one down too, yeah? You can’t, there’s. There’s rules against that kind of thing, against dating within your group. You’re there to help each other heal, that’s it. It’s okay to be friends but you can’t. You can’t expect anything else because he’s just as broken as you are right now.”

Harry has tears in his eyes.

“But he likes me, Lou,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. Louis just tightens his grip on Harry’s hand.

Louis is confused, three days later, when he’s asked to stay in the waiting room for a special meeting. He’s less confused when he sees the meeting is between Harry, Anne, Zayn, and Mrs. Malik.

Anne is furious, ranting from the driver’s seat about how detrimental this could be to Harry’s health, to his treatment. She’s saying all the things Louis explained to Harry before, in a much harsher way. Harry is in the backseat with Louis, crying into his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you went and held that boy’s hand when I specifically told you no,” she says, breathing hard. “And I can’t believe that fucking counselor didn’t stop you!”

“I told you, Mum, he held my hand. That other boy didn’t know what he was talking about,” Harry argues, and Anne just glares into the backseat.

“Do you at least understand now why this is a bad thing?”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, I think everyone explained it well enough. I’m still mad that no one trusts me. He’s the first boy to like me in my entire life, and I can’t even do anything about it.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut.

“Harry, you don’t actually like him,” Anne says, her voice calming down. “You only think you do because he likes you.”

“Okay,” Harry says finally, and the car is silent. Louis wipes away Harry’s tears and wonders what to do.

Zayn graduates from the day hospital the next week. No one talks about it.

Harry graduates on a Tuesday night. Louis sits next to him, with Anne on his other side, and the rest of the group and their parents across the room. Harry has to say a good thing about everyone in the room, thanking them or congratulating them or wishing them good luck, and then everyone in the room has to say something back to Harry.

Harry’s hands are shaking when he goes to speak. He starts with his mum, thanking her for the support and love she’s given him. He goes on throughout the room and finally gets to Louis.

His voice is quieter when he speaks to Louis, and he says, “Lou, you’ve been my best friend my whole life and you’re the only friend I have that didn’t turn on me when I left school ‘cause of all this. You’ve helped me through more panic attacks than I can count and you’ve come to group every single night. Even when I wasn’t broken, you made me better. You’re like, my favorite person in the world and please don’t ever leave me.”

Harry’s got tears in his eyes but he blinks them back.

“Louis,” the counselor says, “would you like to say something back?”

Louis nods and clears his throat. “You’re my favorite person too, and I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wish I could make it better all the time, and I’m never going to leave you, okay? I swear. I’m always going to be there for you. I just want you to be happy. And it’s hard and it’s taking a long time, I know that, but we’re going to get through it together. I love you, okay? I love you so much and you’re going to be happy again, I swear.”

Harry gets an equivalency degree so he doesn’t have to go back to college. It’s been a year since he’s attended school and his hands shake as he rides with Louis to his first day of uni.

“You’re going to be so good, babe,” Louis tells him, reaching over the center console and grabbing his hand. He glances over and catches sight of a dimple.

Harry is, in fact, so good. He makes it through the semester and comes out on the other side with two new friends and good grades. And, he’s happy.

Louis always gets a little nervous when he sees Harry’s name flash on his phone with a call. They usually text, and most of his memories where Harry calls him involve panic attacks.

“Hello?”

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve been really stupid,” he says.

“Why do you say that, babe?” Louis asks, his heart starting to beat fast.

“You call me babe, Lou,” is all he says. Louis frowns. “Can you come over?”

Harry is outside before Louis has the car in park. He’s barely on his feet when Harry is barreling into him, and then there are soft lips on his and it’s sweet. He takes a moment to gather his bearings and then he grabs onto Harry’s hips, kissing back.

“Hi,” Harry says, eyes bright and dimples out in full force.

“Um,” Louis responds. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Harry bites his lip. “You were kinda there that whole time, weren’t you? Like, when I was so bad, and my mood was low and I hated myself so much. You liked me when I didn’t even like me.”

Louis just nods, cheeks reddening.

“I thought Zayn was the first boy that ever liked me but I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

Louis breathes out. “Yeah, you were.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” He asks, and Louis has to lean in and kiss him again, just once.

“You didn’t like yourself, Harry. You can’t love somebody else if you don’t love yourself. The only reason you thought you liked Zayn was because he liked you and you liked the attention when you thought you weren’t worth it. I didn’t want it to be like that for us. If we’re in this I want it to be real.”

Harry breathes out, and Louis breathes in.

“It’s real,” Harry grins, “and I love you.”

“And you love you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, and I love me, too.”