Chapter Text
Sunflower Crest Rehabilitation Clinic.
The name alone felt like a punchline. Louis stared through the windshield as his mum pulled into the parking lot, tires crunching gravel like bones. The place looked soft from a distance — flower beds, trimmed hedges, beige stone washed in late-afternoon light — but behind it, barely peeking above the roofline, barbed wire curled like a warning.
A sanctuary wrapped in thorns.
He didn’t see a single sunflower. What a joke.
His mother shifted in her seat, trying to smile through the tremble of her chin. “Lou—”
He kept his gaze glued to his thighs, arms crossed so tightly across his waist they ached.
Fat, fat, fat.
The word pulsed beneath his skin like a bruise.
Jay placed a hand on his shoulder. Warm. Careful. Like he might bolt if she pressed with too much intent.
“Do you want a minute? Or should we head in? We’re already a bit late.”
Louis exhaled, sharp and hollow. Not an answer — surrender. Anger clawed at his ribs, easier to feel than fear. If he stayed angry, he didn’t have to admit the truth sitting like lead in his stomach:
Part of him wanted to disappear before they even reached the front door.
“Alright,” she whispered, voice tight. “I’ll grab your bag.”
She stepped out. The trunk shut with a gentle thud — too gentle for what it meant.
Louis opened the car door with hands that felt detached from his body. His feet hit the pavement like they belonged to someone else. The air smelled like cut grass and disinfectant, like the world hadn’t noticed he was falling apart.
The building loomed ahead, still and indifferent.
He wasn’t sure if he was walking into help…
or into the place where he’d finally break quietly enough for no one to notice.
“I’ll carry your bag in,” Jay said, trying for a steady tone. “Let’s go, sweet pea.”
Louis hated that he heard the wobble in her voice. It made something ugly twist beneath his ribs — unsure if it was guilt, or resentment, or both.
As they approached, a guard held the entrance door open, and Louis stepped inside like he was crossing a border he wasn’t allowed to return from. The lights were too bright, and the air smelled like bleach and citrus in a way that felt aggressive, not clean. The whole place felt... refrigerated, like comfort had been intentionally dialed down. Louis shoved his hands deeper into his sleeves, shoulders pulled up to his ears.
At the front desk, Jay started speaking while Louis kept his gaze low, looking through his lashes as if making eye contact with the world might hurt.
“Hi — checking in Louis Tomlinson. Dr. Gibson faxed a referral,” she stated, voice polite in the way people get when they’re afraid.
The nurse clicked through her computer, grabbed a clipboard, and slid it across the counter with practiced ease.
“Fill this out, then you can say your goodbyes. Take your time.”
Her tone was smooth and clipped — too familiar with desperate and heartbroken parents, too bored to care. Louis wasn’t even sure she’d done anything wrong, but irritation sparked instantly. Barely five minutes in and he couldn't stand it here.
Louis jumped, torn from his thoughts, when a light palm rested between his shoulder blades.
“Want me to fill it out, sweetheart?” Jay wondered, gazing down at him, hopelessly trying to meet his gaze.
Louis simply shrugged again. His head felt like it was filled with bees, buzzing and stinging with every fluorescent flicker above.
Jay let out an exasperated sigh, clicking the pen open and beginning to scribble away at the form. As she did so, Louis decided to take in his surroundings — everything too dull, too beige, too sterile. He almost wanted to laugh at the way the room seemed to mirror the inside of his heart, stripped of joy.
His eyes flickered to the right, and what they settled on caused a short gasp, one he trapped behind his throat — but it was there, nonetheless.
A boy.
He was tall — easily taller than Louis — with a lean, delicate frame that possessed none of the brittle fragility Louis carried. There was a striking softness to him, an unguarded warmth in the slope of his broad shoulders that didn't seem to belong in a place this cold.
A halo of wild, chocolate-brown curls brushed the tops of his brows, catching the harsh fluorescent glare and turning them almost gold at the temples. When he blinked, his eyes glimmered in an impossible shade of forest green, though a heavy darkness lingered just beneath the surface.
Louis' first instinct wasn’t admiration. It was the familiar kick in the teeth that came with it. The sight of him made Louis feel like he’d walked into the lobby already losing.
Of course someone like that existed.
Of course Louis had to sit near him looking like… whatever he looked like. Disgusting. Fat. Taking up too much space.
Before the thought could finish forming, he scowled and tore his gaze away. Staring too long felt dangerous — like every insecurity beneath his skin was suddenly exposed.
Somewhere beside him, his mum was asking something, voice soft and trembling, but Louis couldn't hear any of it. Not when his brain was roaring with it's own questions about the mysterious boy:
Who was he?
Why was he here?
How did someone look like that and still end up at Sunflower Crest?
Why couldn’t Louis have been built like that instead of this collection of sharp angles and bad habits?
Louis prayed he wouldn't have to see him again. He already depises being here and if he's forced to be around this walking epitome of perfection on top of it all, he didn't stand a chance.
A quiet sniffle cut through the noise in his head. Louis blinked, slowly returning to reality and shifted towards his mum. His heart cracked instantly. Her body was lightly shaking with the attempt to stay strong for her baby boy, to not cry — eyes glassy, throat working around the emotion she clearly didn’t want him to see.
The guilt hit first, heavy and immediate. Then the anger followed — sharp, defensive, curling in his gut. She didn’t understand. He was trying. Trying to be good, obedient, in control. Trying not to need help. Trying not to be the reason she cried in hospital lobbies.
He wasn’t sick. Except, anyone looking closely would see it that way.
Louis' hoodie hung off him like it belonged to someone much larger, despite it being a size small. His wrists looked thin enough to snap if someone grabbed too hard. His skin stretched too tight against bones that jutted in places they shouldn’t. His eyes had that constant, haunted ache — like sleep was something that happened to other people, just never Louis. The dark circles and deep hollows beneath the blue made that apparent.
He crossed his arms tighter over his chest and stared at the tile, suddenly very aware of how breakable he must look. Especially with the boy across the room who was probably revolted by his mere presence. God, Louis wanted to flee so badly. He nearly considered it too, stealing one quick look towards the exit. But the two guards perched on either side of it quickly dissolved that plan.
“Oh, darling,” Jay whispered, cupping his face the way she used to when he scraped his knees at five. Her thumb brushed his cheek as Louis turned toward her, their eyes finally meeting. “I finished the papers. I have to go now.”
Louis nodded meekly, jaw locked tight. If he spoke too soon, the words would shake, and he's not entirely sure what would come tumbling out. Silence was safer for now.
So Louis did the only thing he could muster, throwing his arms around his mothers waist, holding on just long enough to feel her exhale into his hair. It was so warm and comforting it caused tears to spring to Louis' own eyes, ones he blinked away without a second thought. Louis didn'y cry, no. Especially not in front of her. He knows she needs him strong, and even though every bit of him was crumbling inside, he would never let her see it.
"I'll call every Saturday to check up on you, alright? I promise." Jay whispered against Louis' temple. He could feel the way her mouth quivered around the words and that hurt more than the hunger pang in his stomach.
He didn’t reply, throat constricted tight. Instead, he unravelled his arms from her. The motion was slow and careful, like peeling off a bandage.
As he was doing so, a male nurse approached, clipboard tucked to his chest, a silent signal that they were out of time. Jay pressed one last kiss to Louis’ forehead, whispered another tender "I love you", then stood and headed for the door. Louis knew she would look back, knew she wanted him to do the same. But Louis couldn't bear it, keeping his eyes trained downward.
Looking meant breaking.
His feet shuffled against the tile as he followed the nurse, though he did allow his gaze to shift up, just once. The chair that the curly haired boy had sat in earlier was thankfully empty now.
Louis' stomach growled loudly as he was led to a small intake station, the muscles there tightening like a plea. Louis barely noticed anymore, not after years of dealing with the noise and sensation.
As his vitals were taken, his nose burned. The room smelled like latex and recycled air.
Height.
Blood pressure.
Oxygen levels.
Cold fingers pressing to his wrist, scribbles on a chart.
The whole ordeal made him almost feel... naked. Something twinged at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it away quick. Later.
“Step on the scale. Face me.”
Louis snapped from his throught and froze, eyes growing wide as he stared back at the male nurse.
“Why can’t I see?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but the crack in his voice betrayed him. “It’s my weight, after all.”
The nurse placed two hands on Louis' shoulders and helped him onto the scale, gently turning him away from the number as Louis attempted to peek behind him.
“Not allowed,” he stated, matter-of-fact but not unkind. “Policy.”
Heat crawled up Louis’ neck. Humiliation, sharp and instant. Like they didn’t trust him even with numbers that belonged to his own body.
Tears lingered behind his eyes, hands clenched into fists at his hips as he stood there, listening to the scale beep behind him. His entire body shook, and for a moment he thought he might pass out as the room began to twist around him.
The nurse must have noticed, or maybe he was just going through the same mundane motions he did with every patient as he held one hand out, and steadied Louis with the other arm wrapped around his shoulders to help him off the scale.
“Have a seat. Doctor will see you shortly.”
Louis sank into the plastic chair instantly, leaning down and dropping his face into his palms.
They don’t trust me with a number.
How bad is it?
How far have I slipped?
He pressed his nails into the skin by his hairline until it ached, grounding him for a brief second.
Just as the world around him was beginning to still, a different nurse appeared. She had black hair, thrown up into a claw clip. Her eyes were a bright amber, and to Louis' surprise there seemed to be a genuine kindness behind them — not the usual fake, practiced kind every other member of staff here seemed to hold.
“Louis? Dr. Bennett is ready for you.”
He got up from the chair, knees knocking, shaking already from the exertion of merely standing. He hoped the nurse wouldn't notice. As he followed her out of the room, he couldn't help but advert his eyes to the scale one last time, nearly whimpering at the fact that the number of his weight had already blanked out.
Louis' didn't bother taking in his surroundings as he trailed behind the nurse — Maria, he had read on her name tag earlier. He didn't care to get too familiarized with this place just yet. He was going to be trapped here God knows how long anyway, no reason to rush it.
All he knew was it seemed like every pair of eyes that shared the same hallway as him bore into every inch of him. He couldn't stop thinking about the scale — is that why they were staring? Had he gained that much weight? The idea of it caused a shiver to crack down his spine.
Louis was so wrapped up in his own mental spiral he hadn't even noticed they reached his therapists office, until Maria opened the door in front of him and stepped inside, holding it open with a bright smile as Louis tentatively entered behind her.
Dr. Bennett looked up from the chart in his hands when Louis entered, glasses pushed halfway up the bridge of his nose. His beard was patchy, salt-and-pepper, and his grin was a performance Louis despised already.
“Louis,” he greeted, voice rough with use. He extended his palm, motioning to a padded seat across from his desk. “Please, come sit.”
Louis complied with hesitance, dropping into the seat with a barely there thud, tapping his foot against the linoleum. His mouth felt dry no matter how many times he swallowed.
“How are you settling in so far?” Bennett asked lightly.
Louis lifted his shoulders the tiniest amount, staring at the way his own hands trembled where they rested on his knees. His lips pursed, a silent reply. Maybe if he didn't say anything the doctor would dismiss him and he could finally be alone.
“It can be overwhelming at first,” Bennett continued, tone level. “But we have a great staff here, and I'm sure you'll find your peers to be kind as well. You're taking the first step today Louis, and as hard as that may be, don't dismiss the weight of what that means for your future."
Weight. The word bounced around Louis' skull, as he gave another weak shrug.
Bennett waited a beat — long enough to see if Louis might actually speak — before folding his hands on the desk with the smallest sigh. “Tell me how you’re feeling about being here.” He pressed, a twinge of hope in his voice.
Louis stiffened, pulse spiking. There was so, so much he could say about being here. Angry, betrayed, heartbroken, embarrassed. Eager to just know how much he fucking weighs. Instead, he tightened his throat around the confessions, giving yet another shrug instead.
Bennett nodded slow, like he’d expected that. “Alright. I’ll go over a few basics. Maria will give you your full orientation when she shows you to your room.”
He flipped to another page on the clipboard, brows furrowed.
“The most important part right now is meals,” he began. “You’ll have three a day and you’re required to finish everything that’s served.”
Louis’ head snapped up at that, meeting Bennett's eyes for the first time since arriving in the room. The words spilled out before he could swallow them back. “All of it?”
“Yes.” The doctor's answer was curt. Not sharp, simply matter of fact. No room for argument.
It landed like a blow. Louis gripped the armrests, nails digging into the fabric. He sat completely straight now, spine stiff, eyes narrowed at the man in front of him.
“No,” he choked out. “That’s not— I’m not doing that.”
“Louis,” Bennett replied, voice as gentle as it was firm. It made Louis extremely uneasy. “Your body is in a dangerous state. You’re not eating enough to survive long-term. This isn’t about forcing you. It’s about stabilizing you so you can actually think clearly again.”
Louis’ jaw clenched, hard. Hard enough to make himself flinch. “You don’t know anything about me.” He hissed out.
“I know you passed out twice this month,” Bennett answered softly. “And that your blood pressure is currently low enough we need to monitor you. I know you’re exhausted. And I know you deserve help.”
Louis scoffed at the word deserve. He doesn't deserve help, because he doesn't need help. He hated that everyone here thought he was sick when all he's trying to do is better himself. It made him sick. Or maybe that was just hunger again.
“Bullshit,” he spat without thinking, standing so fast the chair scraped sharply across the floor. Heat shot through his chest. “You just want to make me gain weight so you can check boxes and say I’m ‘better.’”
He swayed where he stood, briefly, but he planted his feet into the floor below him hard enough to steady himself. He didn't need Bennett to think he was weak — the sooner he proved that, the sooner he could get out of here.
“I don’t belong here...” he muttered, voice cracking in spite of how hard he fought to level it.
Louis swiftly spun on his heel, making haste for the door. Bennett's reply fell on deaf ears — the ringing in them was too loud anyway, for Louis to hear anything else.
He swung the door open, chest loosening just a tad now that he was out of the suffocating office. Maria was waiting in the hallway — all dark red lipstick and soft eyes, clipboard tucked to her chest. She seemed to startle for a moment at Louis' intensity as he exited, yet mentioned nothing of it. “Hello again, sweetheart, let's get you settled into your room."
Louis shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and tried not to notice how his own footsteps echoed as if he was the only person alive here.
After what felt like hours and too many endless, dim hallways, they finally paused in front of an open door. Inside there were two small beds against each side of the wall, covered with navy colored blankets that looked too thin and entirely too scratchy, even from the doorway. Behind each bed stood a dresser, a plain, muted brown color with five drawers each. A window perched between the dressers, though any view outside was obstructed by a cage that surrounded the glass panel. Lastly, one table behind the bed on the left, a small wooden chair placed next to it.
Louis' suitcase was already placed on that left bed, waiting for him.
“You don’t have a roommate yet, but that could change.” Maria hummed. “You also missed dinner, but you can ask the nurses’ station if you need something.”
Louis huffed under his breath, holding back an eye roll with it. As if he’d ever ask for food.
She handed him a folded pamphlet and tapped the cover with her index finger. “Your schedule: individual therapy Tuesdays at eleven. Group Monday, Wednesday, Friday at three. Meals at eight, noon, and six. Lights out at ten.”
Louis blinked down at the pamphlet, exhaling hard through his nose, despising the idea of his life suddenly being so regimented. He already missed playing with his sisters, and sitting on the back porch with his mum.
Maria gentled her voice, swiping a hand across his back. “Try to give yourself a chance here, okay?”
“Yeah,” Louis muttered darkly. “Sure.”
She gave his shoulder a final squeeze, reminded him where the nearest nurses station was, and disappeared down the hall.
The very second Maria was out of sight, Louis made a beeline for the bathroom. Immediately, he searched for a scale, internally laughing at himself as he did so. Obviously they wouldn't leave a scale in here, he felt like an absolute idiot for even letting the thought cross his mind — like he had momentarily forgotten where he was. He turned toward the mirror hesitantly, biting back a frown as he took in his own warped appearance. The hollows under his cheeks, the way his collarbones jutted out like handles.
Beautiful, he told himself.
Disgusting, something colder whispered back.
Something vile twisted in his gut, but Louis made quick work of shutting the light off and padding out of the bathroom before he could dwell on it.
Back by the bed, he unzipped his suitcase, folding shirts with mechanical precision simply to feel like he was doing something right. The room felt too big, like all the space around him was waiting to swallow him.
Then, out of nowhere, a shadow flickered in his periphery.
Despite his better judgement, Louis allowed his eyes to shift up and... oh.
The boy from the lobby stood in the doorway — hands coiled into his sleeves, curls falling forward over eyes that were soft and cautious. He tipped his head slightly when their gazes met, and his breath seemed to catch in his chest. One large hand lifted into the air, giving the smallest and most innocent wave Louis has ever seen in his life. It was almost hopeful.
Louis didn't have time or energy for hope, though.
“What’re you staring at?” he snapped without thinking, voice sharper than he meant, sharp enough to cut.
The boy flinched as if he’d actually been struck. The tiny, fragile blossom of a smile on his pink lips vanished in an instant. He ducked his head, murmuring a quiet apology to the floorboards before vanishing back into the shadows of the hallway.
Louis stood frozen, hands shaking around the sweater in them, jaw working. Guilt hit him so hard he had to quickly sink onto the edge of the mattress. Why did he do that? Why did he pick the meanest sentence first? Why did he always chase people off with bitterness before even giving them a chance?
His gut knew why, better than his head. But Louis rarely listened. Tonight was no different.
He gave up on unpacking for the evening, spent. He tossed the rest of his belongings to the floor, a task for tomorrow. Instead, he curled himself under the blankets, which were just as itchy as he expected. Or maybe that was still the guilt, and pure disgust with himself, sitting under his nerves.
For the first time all day, Louis gave into the tears that had been sitting behind his throat. The came out hot and frantic, soaking the fabric of the pillow beneath his cheek. The mattress springs creaked with every jerk of his body as he sobbed, pulling his legs tighter and tigher into himself in a desperate attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible.
His stomach growled again, louder this time. So loud it nearly drowned out the sound of his own despair — almost.
And as the darkness surrounded him, Louis prayed it would swallow him whole.