i fell in love in 1914 ~ l.s

🔫 25 🔫

(A/n: I'm bad at writing angst, bare with me)

~Louis~

I run into the building only to see an empty kitchen table. Then I feel someone pull on my wrist. I look at my right and I see Thomas desperately pulling. But it's too late. Soldiers are pulling him back. I can't do anything, they'd kill the both of us. The look in his eyes is killing me. I hope he realises I didn't betray him. Not that it matters, he'll probably be dead in a few hours.

I care. Of course I do. Thomas has been really nice and welcoming. But Harry. Harry. Harry. My Harry.

I nod a goodbye, trying to not feel guilty. I run upstairs directly to our room. The second floor is crowded with soldiers. Maids get dragged roughly by their dresses and there's no way they haven't checked our room yet. But I'm naive and hopeful so I run into the room.

Nothing.

His pillow is stuffed in my hoodie. My hoodie serving as a pillowcase. I can only imagine him laying with his face pressed against my hoodie, inhaling my scent.

But he isn't on the bed. The room is empty.

My notebook isn't on the nightstand. The Peter and Wendy book is still there, luckily. He's probably somewhere taken away from me right now and I don't want to lose him AND my Peter Pan. That's mean. But true.

I speedy speedy zoom zoom downstairs (a/n: blame DallasLarry28 , she influences my vocabulary). How do I know where to find him? I run between all the people but I can't seem to find him.

I run around the building when I hear a gunshot. And another one. Three shots. Very close. I can't seem to see where it's from so I run back around the building again.

"You fucking shot someone from our side you fucking idiot!" I hear Müller yell (in german). I definitely did not miss Müller.

"He was a traitor!" The German soldier (that apparently shot someone) yells back.

I walk up to them until I see him. Paul. Laying on the ground. Bleeding.

I run towards him, ignoring Müller and everyone else. "Paul! Are you okay?" Stupid question. I search for where he's bleeding. His stomach is bleeding. I think his lungs are damaged too. That's bad. Like, really really bad.

Getting shot within the abdomen is really one amongst the most painful things someone can experience. He'll be able to survive like 20 minutes maybe. If he gets serious help he might survive, but his organs are definitely not doing okay right now. Paul doesn't cry, not really. His face is scrunched in pain.

He tries to tell me something but only some cracking sounds escape from his mouth. "It's okay, it's okay." I try to calm him down when he seems to panic. "You'll be fine. It'll be fine." I say. He shakes his head, slowly, but clearly. I try to stay calm.

I try to not make this about me, but I always do. I can't helpt but feel that I'm losing everything.

"Don't." I say. "Don't leave me." I'm blaming him, that's bad. I'm bad. Paul just looks really hurt. Really really hurt. I've never seen anyone looking like this. He's pale, but his eyes are bloodshot. He starts coughing the most painful sounding cough and blood escapes his mouth. The blood is probably coming from his damaged lungs.

His shaking hand reaches to his gun, and shoves it towards my knees. I look at it confused. I look back up at him and we make eye contact. When I see the pain I understand. He wants me to make the pain go away.

I vaguely recognise myself in him. I've been suicidal. It's different though. He's in so much physical pain and he knows it won't end. I either end it know or he'll have to endure it 15 minutes. It be cruel for me to let him be in this much pain. But I can't kill him, he's like a supportive dad I've never had.

I shake my head while tears stream down my face. This can't be happening. Why is this happening? He looks at me pleading. Wanting me to end his hurting. I take the gun in my shaking hand and I hold it next to his face. "Are you sure?" I ask while crying very loudly. He nods slightly and his eyes show me that he really wants me to do it, as fast as possible.

I can't let him go. I've always been bad at letting things go. I care to much about things, people, I'm going to lose. I'm too passionate to let go of things. (credits: beachwoodcafe28, who knew Allison was so poetic).

Maybe I can see this a something good. Symbolic. Killing the side of me that's suicidal. Killing my fears. Killing my scars. Killing My traumas. Killing my depression. Killing the monster my dad created. But how does one kill a monster without becoming one?

I pull the trigger.

I can't look at him. But I can't look away either. I should've said goodbye. Well, it's too late for that now. I seem to be incapable of doing anything right.

Harry's gone. Paul's gone. My family is far away from here, in a different country. No one cared that Paul is dead. War continues. Life continues. Except for Paul's.

And now I'm alone.

So so alone. Lonely. I'm sad, but not really. I feel more empty. Like something- someone, is missing. Two people are missing.

I'm numb. If I pretend like it doesn't matter, maybe it won't. The other soldiers seem to do that. Paul faded away and no one cared.

It hurts, but it's okay, I'm used to it.

My sceptical Harry had told me that you can't trust anyone to stay. I thought he'd be the exception. I guess I was wrong.

I don't want to die, I want to live another life. With my mom and my sisters, Paul as my dad and my Harry. My beautiful Harry. Taken away from me once again. Eaten by the greedy war. War never gives, it only takes. It takes lives. Not my life, but lives of everyone I care about.

I wish it was my life, but staying behind hurts the most and I'll endure that pain. Besides, living when you want to die is the bravest thing you can do.

(A/n: Louis never got to buy the condoms and lube 😔

tap the ⭐at the bottom pls, I cant believe I have to remind you lazy people.)