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“Just don’t tell your mother, all right, Lou.”
Lou. Like that was supposed to ingratiate him to his stepfather. Like anything would, at this point. Not when he was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair his stepfather’s office possessed, crutches leaning to one side and leg splayed out in front of him.
Because his stepfather had called him to the office, of all inconvenient places, to have a come-to-Jesus chat at the arse-crack of dawn. Eight in the morning, honestly.
“Don’t tell her which part, exactly,” Louis spat, brow raised. He was unsure his mother noticed his daily goings-on as it was, and far be it from him to go out of his way to tell her anything. Particularly anything unflattering about himself.
“That you tried to kill yourself.” He leaned back in his stiff-backed leather office chair, which emitted an awkward creaking sound into the quiet room.
“Of course I didn’t try to kill myself.”
“The mangled wreckage of my car would argue otherwise.”
Louis snorted. “People get into car accidents all the time. The world’s full of people fucking up their windscreens and undercarriages and bumpers.”
“You tried to kill yourself, Lou. You just said it.” His serious gaze bored into Louis’ face.
“No, what I said was that I’d probably taken too many of my antianxiety meds on accident and they fucked up my reaction time.”
“From where I’m standing it sounds like you overdosed only to wreck your car to make sure you got the job done.”
He took a breath. “I swear to god I didn’t attempt to kill myself.”
“And did you do anything to prevent it?”
Louis stayed silent.
“Right. Well, I’ve already sought referrals for a psychologist. We’re not telling her that either.” His stepfather shuffled some papers atop his desk, looking shifty. “You may not like me, kid, but you’re not dying on my watch.”
Louis rolled his eyes. “How thoughtful you are to take an interest.”
“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?” He set his jaw rigidly.
“Since when do you know what I always do? You don’t know me at all.”
“No? I suppose not. All I really know is you probably should have been spanked a couple times as a child. Then maybe you’d not be so quick to talk back.”
“A spanking would have required you to be there. Or to care,” Louis added as an afterthought.
“I—I tried. I did try. It’s a shame you need to fault me for that.”
“And you’re already turning this back around on me. Classic. Are we done here?”
His stepfather stood, holding out a business card. “Your first appointment’s in forty-five minutes. Paul’s already been instructed to drive you there and nowhere else.”
“Instructed?”
“Ordered on pain of death.”
Louis sighed, plucking the business card from his stepfather’s hand before angling his body onto his good foot, shoving his crutches under his arms.
***
“Are you really just going to sit here and watch me?”
“What would you prefer I do?” Dr. Carmichael asked him. The pair had been sitting in near-total silence for fifteen minutes after she had asked an innocent So, what brings you in today? This of course had given Louis time to peruse her appearance and judge her fully.
She appeared in her mid-thirties, with close-cropped red hair. He supposed she was pretty, or at least pretty enough, and her clothes were reasonably in-fashion. The wall behind her contained one framed diploma and two nature photographs. She seemed like a consummate professional.
And Louis refused to engage.
“I dunno. Dismiss me or something?”
“You’re paid up for the full session. If that means sitting in silence for thirty-five more minutes, I don’t mind. I’ve had worse.”
Louis squinted at her. “Are you allowed to tell me about them?”
“No,” she said slowly. “And I will afford you the same level of confidentiality, as I mentioned before. Why?” She folded her hands over a small notebook in her lap.
“I prefer storytime to the silent game. That’s all.”
“Well, if that’s the case, feel free to talk.”
“Is that how you trick people into spilling awful secrets?”
In lieu of responding, Dr. Carmichael raised a brow.
“Fine. I have no idea what my stepfather told you that got you to see me, but I didn’t try to commit suicide and I’ve never tried to hurt myself or whatever.”
“Never?”
“Just the car accident, which wasn’t on purpose. Like I said.” He gestured to his injured foot.
“Substance use?”
Louis blinked.
“Promiscuous activities? Getting into altercations with others? Isolative behavior? Disordered eating?” She gave him a wan smile. “Hurt can come in a lot of forms, given what we’re working with.”
“What are we working with?”
“Resistance. Denial. That sort of thing.”
Louis narrowed his eyes. “I thought you weren’t supposed to jump into that sort of thing right away.”
“Methods vary.”
“I’m gay.”
“Right,” she nodded, writing something down in her tiny tiny notebook. “And is that a problem for you? Is it causing difficulties? Do your parents know?”
“Not a problem. They know as much as they need to know. No details, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“They don’t really interact with me enough to care what I get up to in that regard. Plus it’s kind of in vogue now, innit, being an ally to us friends of Dorothy?”
“Are you always this disparaging of yourself?”
“Disparaging, that? I’m honestly just getting started.”
“But you reported that you didn’t try to kill yourself?”
“I didn’t try so much as sort of let it happen.”
“Right. Well, you were referred here straight from hospital and I’ve received a copy of your records. They indicate you were on an intense cocktail of medications, most of which weren’t prescribed to you.” She flicked her eyes downward to a file that sat in her lap. “The only reason they didn’t turf you straight to their psych unit is because you have no history of similar behavior and the police were convinced it actually was an accident.”
“It was.”
“For our purposes, it might not matter if t was an accident or not.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all. We’re here to address a myriad of things, not just your behavior but also your thoughts and compulsions and desires.”
“Such as.”
“What’s with all the pills? What function do they serve?”
Louis shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Why do they have to serve a function? Can’t they just be a break from monotony? An exciting addition to the day?”
“You were mixing uppers and downers, plus I’ll assume you drink as well.”
He arched a brow. “Why, because I’m rich and a liar?”
“Because you’re a teenager with means and access, really.”
“I don’t drink and drive. Or drink at school.”
She nodded, making a note. “What else don’t you do?”
“I think I—I don’t think I know how to be normal. Like.” He sought for words, pausing. “Like most people seem to have at least some things figured out. Not like their whole lives or anything, but they know what they like and don’t like, they sometimes know what they want to do. Like do.”
“And you don’t?”
“I don’t like anything. I don’t know how to do anything besides lure unsuspecting, poor closet cases into bed with me. No,” he amended, “they’re not always closeted. Sometimes they’re just as self-hating as I am, and sometimes their dads hit them for being fags. I make great decisions, let me tell you.”
“It sounds like the people you spend time with don’t have everything figured out, either.”
He waved one hand in the air distractedly. “Not their sex lives, maybe, but they know what they want to do, even if they need to get out of their parents’ house before they do it. They know what they like to do.”
“And you…don’t?”
“I said that already.”
“You don’t like anything?” She stilled, pen poised above the paper in her lap.
“I like sex, obviously, because I’m a red-blooded teenage male. And I like it when people think I can’t win them over because I always know I can. And the pills, as you’ve already pointed out, are a perk. But nothing feels particularly challenging or engaging. Or interesting. Or anything. Ever.” He scrubbed one hand over his face, pinking his skin. “And it's always like this. Spending money that's not mine on shit I don't need and telling myself it's enough, that I'll feel something someday if I just accumulate enough crap. That eventually I'll feel sated. But it's not working, nothing bloody works. So I drink to pass the time and I drink to get to sleep and I take pills to make the day look shiny. Because I don't see any other option. How does nobody understand that?”
“Have you told that to anyone? The way you feel?”
“I don’t feel, that’s the point. And nobody really listens, not that I care, but it just doesn’t make sense.”
“Which part?”
“That no one feels this way but me! Am I just that fucking special that I get to be more miserable than everyone else for no good reason? Was I gifted with scads of money by some benevolent god only to have everything else got to shit?” Louis huffed, shifting in his seat. “I literally know someone whose father beat him so badly he had to be hospitalized and I’m somehow more miserable than him. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“You think there’s something objectively wrong with you?”
“I just said that!”
“You did. I’m checking in to make sure I’m on the same page as you,” she replied gently.
Louis huffed. “Well have a look inside my head, doc, do whatever kind of magic it is you do, because I honestly don’t think you could make me worse.”
“Worse?”
“I’m a horrible, spoiled little cunt who frankly takes up too many of the world’s resources and can’t be arsed to give anything back. Except for the time I drove my sister to get an abortion. And I bought clothes for a poor kid a couple times.”
“You bought clothes…for a poor kid?” she asked with an air that suggested she was simply interested in keeping the conversation going.
“Only cuz he was hot and it kinda seemed like something a good person would do? I think. I haven’t really been schooled in being a good person.”
“You sound a bit concerned about that, that you’ve never been schooled in being a good person.”
“No, I just mean—he’d just gotten out of the A&E and he looked like. What did he look like. He looked like the world was close to ruining him. And that’s kind of, that’s—not on, is it, like the world ruins enough people? Doesn’t it?”
“That’s a very humane thing to say.”
“Is it? Okay. I’m not actively evil or anything. I guess. Just apathetic about absolutely everything.”
“Just like you’re not actively suicidal?”
“Yeah. Did a lot of damage to a rich man’s car though. And a guardrail.”
“And to yourself.” She gestured to his leg with a flick of her pen.
“I mean, yeah.”
“You sound rather blasé about it. Your records indicate the injury was fairly extensive.”
“I was in a coma for two hours. Although my sister claims it can’t considered a coma if it’s only for two hours.”
“Your sister?”
“She also claims she didn’t weep at my bedside. She’s a known liar.”
“How hard are you trying right now? To be amusing. It seems exhausting.”
“Everything’s exhausting.”
“Might be the endless stream of Valium you have coursing through your system,” she added with a quirked brow.
“I’ve only had Valium once. Wasn’t worth the hassle.”
“Not the point I was making, but all right. I think our first goal should be weaning you off the unprescribed medications so you don’t pass out and break your other leg.”
“It’s my ankle. And I hydroplaned, I didn’t pass out,” Louis snapped.
“Hm. Did you notice how the veneer dropped when you got angry at me?”
“M’not angry.” Louis crossed his arms before realizing he looked like he was sulking.
“Okay.”
“I’m just. I’m just spoiled and bratty and alone.” Louis snuffled. “I’m kind of surprised no one’s stabbed me yet.”
“I see.” She pointed to the clock and pursed her lips. “We’re nearly through with our session, Louis. But I feel like we’ve made a good deal of progress for our first session.”
Louis nodded, swallowing thickly.
“And as I said before, I will keep all our sessions confidential unless I have reason to believe you’re an imminent danger to yourself or someone else.”
He shrugged. “No one’s gonna check in, like. They don’t care.”
***
“Christ, Lottie, are you wearing shoe polish on your eyes?” Louis asked as he sat down in front of the television.
“Fuck you. I have a hard time taking criticism from you given that you look like a homeless chav.” She flicked his cheek with a finger. “You can afford real Burberry and trackie bottoms that aren’t riddled with holes.”
“This is real Burberry.” He ran his hand along the collar of his loose-fitting shirt, then sniffed it for good measure. “Not sure it’s clean though.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Finally have a reason to be late to classes, though.”
“Do you make Liam carry your books?” She grabbed the telly remote and turned the channel to a romantic comedy that Louis would never admit he had seen. He had a certain amount of pride.
“His arm’s still sore. I usually make Zayn do it. He’s not injured.”
“He also hates your fucking guts.”
“I think he’s trying to work his way back into my pants.”
Lottie snorted. “Right, cuz that’s so fucking hard.”
“It can be!”
“You’re not stubborn about sex, just about everything else.” She tucked her legs up beneath herself, cuddling into the sofa cushions.
“I can keep my legs closed, thank you very, very much.”
“No, you can’t. The walls in this house aren’t thin and I can still hear you all the time. I bought noise-cancelling headphones. I’ve honestly considered pouring bleach into my ear canals.”
“Shit. Sorry, Lots.” Louis grimaced.
“Whatever. It’s all going in my memoir. I’m not changing your name, either.” She turned up the volume on the television and they sat in silence for a long while.
“You really think I’m that easy?”
“I literally think it’s the only arena of your life in which you’re not a stubborn twat.”
“Hey!”
“How many bits of unnecessary clothing have you bought Liam to date?”
“Not the point.”
“You once got escorted out of a shopping center for pushing a door labeled pull. For twenty minutes.”
“That was because I was high.” He rolled his eyes, resenting his tiny sister for being young, ridiculous, and eminently stupid.
“Whatever.”
“What’s with the getup?” He flared his nostrils at her denim skirt, oversized tank, and cropped bandeau.
“I’m having people over.”
“Lots of people? Like a party? Oh my god you’re going to get pregnant again. You are. Oh shit, Lottie, we can’t go through that again.”
“Nah, I think I’m gonna take a page out of your book and try girls for awhile.”
Louis choked on air. “Oh my god.”
“Mum and Dad are seeing a show and staying at the Milestone overnight. Daisy and Pheebs are at the nanny’s and Fizzy’s up to who knows what with some of her mates. So I’m having people over.” Lottie pulled the elastic band out of her mussed ponytail and rearranged her hair carefully. Then she flicked Louis’ cheek for a second time.
“You’re not having an orgy. Not under my roof.”
She shrugged. “Invite Liam and Zayn. Watch them make out.”
“Fuck,” Louis replied, scrunching his nose. “You’re more of a deranged freak than I am.”
“How’s therapy, big bro?”
“Choice. I get to talk about how much of a drugged-up, hurtful, dry-souled little prick I am. Every week.”
“Invite Liam over.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, devil child.”
“Whatever. Don’t come into my room at any point tonight, especially if Lexi shows up.”
“You must be joking.”
“Invite Liam.”
“I hate you.”
***
“Thank god,” Louis muttered, pulling the front door open to let Liam into the foyer. “Please distract me from these ridiculous fuckwits. There is no one over the age of sixteen in there and everyone has terrible hair.”
“So dramatic.” Liam rolled his eyes and shuffled forward, looking as bruised as Louis felt. His lip was healing but had a small scab on it, and his eye still had a half-moon bruise underneath it. He favored his good shoulder and he never seemed able to take a deep breath. The stitches along his hairline stood in sharp relief against his skin.
“Fuck, we both look so decrepit.”
“Well we’ve recently almost died. The both of us.”
“Right.” Louis adjusted the crutches beneath his armpits. “Do you want a drink? I’ve been drinking for like an hour.”
“Aren’t you on pain medication? Shit, how fucked is your liver right now?”
“I gave the pills to Lottie’s new girlfriend. By the way, I’m going to need you to help me burn the image of my little sister tongue-kissing her dapper-dressed female classmate. Like now.”
“With what, exactly? My range of motion is really limited right now, you know.”
“I know that. But your face is presumably still functional. And I told Lottie under pain of death that she and her weird friends can’t use the study. So. We’re camping out in there.”
Louis led him to the study, which was the most private room on the ground floor of the house. His stepfather had filled it with leather-bound books he had no time to read, dark plush furniture, and decanters of liquor. All things considered, Louis thought the room could be a lot worse.
“How’s the crutch treating you?”
“It’s still a bitch.” He set them down and fell gracelessly onto the sofa. “How’s the lung?”
“I don’t know. Fine, from what they tell me. Chest hurts but that’s supposed to go away soon.” Liam walked to the side table to pour a glass of whisky then gingerly sat down next to Louis.
“Still no complications from the surgery though.” Louis tucked himself sideways, curling into Liam’s side.
“No. Just achey.” Liam set his hand atop Louis’ head and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Oh. It’s, um, good that you’re okay. Like.”
Liam rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. “Thanks.”
“Oh shut up, I’m emotionally constipated and clinically depressed.”
Liam considered this. “That actually explains a lot.”
“I’m allowed to be relieved you’re not dead, you moron.” Louis’ shoulders tensed palpably, but he tried to play it off by repositioning his casted leg on the sofa.
“You just want me for my body.” Liam continued running his fingers through Louis’ hair.
He snorted. “Your body’s broken.”
“It won’t be forever. Plus I’m good eye candy. I’ve been reliably informed.”
“True. Also I think I was the one who informed you of that.” He gently pinched Liam’s wrist.
“Reliable. Like I said.” He rubbed his thumb along Louis’ jaw, running along the stubble there.
“I have absolutely never been called reliable in my whole entire life.” Louis shivered slightly at the contact.
“Not even about sex? I find that hard to believe.”
“Reliable, really? That’s the least sexy thing to be called,” he responded with a small smirk.
“What about, you reliably have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen?”
“That’s—that’s all right I suppose.” He burrowed in closer, tentative around Liam’s broken rib.
“What are you wearing, by the way?”
“I am allowed to wear trackies. I have a broken lower half. Trackies are loose-fitting. They look fantastic on my arse. Shut up.” Louis pulled himself out of Liam’s grasp slightly but fell back into him when Liam refused to let go of his face.
“I have literally never seen you look so much like a slob.”
“Your insults are not remotely arousing.”
“Yes they are.” Liam tugged at Louis’ hair with renewed interest.
“Fuck off.”
“You know we’re not having sex tonight.”
“I took that off the table a while ago, to be honest.” Louis shrugged awkwardly, leaning sideways into Liam’s touch. “I will not be responsible for breaking such a specimen.”
“Specimen? Really? Like in a petri dish?”
Louis hooked one arm up behind Liam’s neck and pulled him forward carefully. “No.” He pressed their lips together, warm and consistent. He sighed and opened his lips, darting his tongue forward to lick against Liam’s lips. Liam opened his mouth and leaned forward into the kiss, hissing outward as their tongues met.
They shuffled around one another awkwardly, attempting to be both gentle and harsh all at once. Louis pulled away. “This is a weird angle. You want on top? Or bottom. Whatever.”
“Under you.”
They switched positions so that Liam lay beneath Louis’ torso, their legs locked together. “Okay?”
“Fine,” Liam breathed, surging upwards in a slow arch to bite Louis’ lips with his own.
“Still fine?”
“Shut up. Yes.”
“The ribs?”
“Still fine.” Liam clasped Louis’ lips inside his own, sucking down hard.
“And we can’t fuck?”
“Are you kidding,” Liam began, breathing raggedly and arching into the sofa. “No.”
“I was joking. And I’m gonna blow you.” Louis gripped Liam’s cock through his jeans, bearing down. “Unless it’s too much.”
“Give—give it a try,” Liam answered, moving up into Louis’ grip. He pressed his palm deeper against Louis’ scalp, running his fingers distractedly.
“Wait, still a weird angle. Hold up.” Louis moved away from Liam, who whined quietly. Louis spread Liam’s legs and angled them upward, positioning his feet flat on the sofa. Then Louis deposited himself between Liam’s spread legs and leaned forward. He made quick work on the button of Liam’s jeans, moving the waistband of his pants down just enough to gain access to his semi-erect dick. “This is going to be kind of awkward.”
“Don’t—ngnh, don’t care,” Liam keened, throwing a hand behind himself to grip the arm of the sofa.
“Don’t arch up much, yeah?” Louis requested, taking Liam’s cock in one hand. “Let’s not make this any more awkward,” he added as he pumped his fist up and down quickly.
“Stop talking, for Christ’s sake,” Liam breathed, closing his eyes. “Z-Zayn’s right, you do talk too much.”
“You really want to talk about Zayn right now?” Louis asked as he bit down on a smile. He removed his hand from Liam and licked his palm, settling it back around the base of Liam’s dick. He pumped up and down languidly.
“You’re—fuck, you’re the one who slept with him,” Liam said, fisting a hand into Louis’ hair.
“Yeah, because he’s hot.”
“Shut up.”
“And I get what I want.”
“Seriously shut up.”
“Except, well, he’s in love with you,” Louis added, bending down to take Liam in his mouth.
Liam hissed, grasping tighter on Louis’ hair. “I swear to god, this is the best use of your—your mouth. Talk less. Suck more.”
Louis removed his mouth with a suction-induced pop. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He pressed forward again, taking Liam deep enough to gag, deep enough to feel it in the back of his throat. He simultaneously worked his hand up and down against the base of Liam’s cock, gratified to hear moans.
He worked his tongue along the underside, spit increasing the slickness and the slide. He gathered more of the length into his gaping mouth, wincing slightly at the stretch in his lips and the burn in his throat.
“Fuck,” Liam spluttered, fingers gripping tighter still to Louis’ hair. He was careful to keep his back pressed mostly to the sofa, not arching up into Louis’ touch. For this Louis rewarded him by pressing in just a bit deeper, working Liam’s erection past his gag reflex and down his throat. He held tight with his throat, bobbing slightly as his eyes watered.
“God—oh god, fuck. I’m already fucking close, Lou, Christ. Your mouth.”
Louis bore down harder and then retreated slightly, gasping around Liam’s dick as he pulled back. He worked his hand and tongue at the same time, setting a furious pace that had Liam rutting against the fabric and against Louis’ lips, moaning shamelessly.
All Louis had to do was dip in and take Liam’s cock into his throat once more before he swore loudly and came hard. Louis rode him through it with a calm hand around the base of his length and another on his hip, lips stilling. He pulled off only when he heard Liam’s ragged breathing sound almost like sobs.
“You all right?”
“Y-yeah, course. I’m fine.” Liam ran his fingers through Louis’ hair, yanking distractedly. His chest heaved.
“Did I make you see the face of god?” Louis asked with a wide grin.
“Shut up.”
“No, but. How’s the ribs, babe,” Louis asked, leaning downward onto Liam’s lap and planting a kiss on his hip.
“Fine. Really.” Liam released his grip on Louis’ hair.
“Good. Wasn’t that awkward. That was actually pretty hot.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, “yeah, you are. Fuck. Damn.”
“I am?” Louis asked, preening dramatically under the praise. He sat up and adjusted his clothing as Liam did the same.
“Yes, you’re hot,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, fuck, you know you’re hot.”
“Never hurts to pay someone a compliment, you arse.”
“Stop calling me names. I’m wounded.”
“I just sucked you off, I can call you whatever I want.” He flopped back against the sofa cushion, putting on a satisfied smile.
“Yeah. You did.” Liam stretched with a wince. “Shit. I’m exhausted.”
“Oh. Okay. I can drive you back—”
“Can—actually, can I stay the night?”
“Yeah. Yes. Course.”
Liam smiled.