(18+)
"I want to bend you over the table, tie your hands, and fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk the next day"
"Jesus, do you have childhood trauma?"
This chapter includes past suicide attempts and discussion of suicide.
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Louis thought he had nothing else to lose as he stood up doing ceremony and clapped.
The only thing that mattered was who he loved and who he wasn't supposed to love.
He wanted to believe they weren't in love-that Harry was pretending. He shouldn't feel this way, guilty and so unbearable jealous. The type what makes your skin crawl of your body because you can't see what's so oblivious obvious in front of a man's eyes. There had always been a jealous kind inside his once pure heart. He envied one who could be happy for the sake of another.
The man he loves lifts the veil off the brides face and reveals her undeniable beauty. A pure glimpse of sadness flashes in front of her eyes as Harry's hands softly stroke her cheek. The priest begins to speak, Louis drowns his third drink.
How can it be? How can he pretend to love her and make it look so real-with all his heart and love. A deceived facade of a man who's used to hiding, too pure to shield his duscomfort.
As they start talking Louis starts to feel sick. And as it goes on, the confessions and the whispers around the happy family-he starts to lose his hope. He wouldn't have believed something as funny as being loved.
It's a myth. You're not loved, you're deceived, manipulated into the idea of being safe and secure. It doesn't matter how much time's flew by, it'll eventually end before it started. Love is evanscent, Louis craved it all his life and not once he saw the promise hold.
He can't bear hearing another word of ugly truth. He can't recognize who is standing there so proudly holding a woman's hand. Their lips touch and the cheering starts.
Louis locks eyes with a man across the meadow where all their chairs are placed on. Something tells him he should run. Sonething doesn't feel right, the man whispers sonething to the other one beside him, then he leaves.
It's a trap. He's trapped.
He scans his sorroundings, the sunshine hides the endless view from his dull eyes. His eyes focus on a black police car, he sits down. His heart rate increases.
Louis wants to die. Then it all happens like he's known it all too well.
"Dad I've hurt myself." He's standing at the entrance of his parents shared bedroom. His dad puts his newspaper down and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Elizabeth, call 911." He had said before Louis passed out on the threshold.
The bells are drowning his vision. Music is playing loudly through speakers- the beer lid slashes the skin on his knuckles. He looks down and all too soon there's blood stain on his jeans. His fingers are pounding and his heart starts racing. Blood drips down to the floor.
