Along Came Louis

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Harry Styles.

Does the name ring a bell? A sixteen year-old baker, auditioning for the X Factor. He is in the bathroom doing... well whatever you do in a bathroom. He doesn't know whether he is a good singer. His mum says that he is, but mums always praise their children.

Lost in his thoughts, he turns around to find a boy standing there. He's splashed some pee on the boy, so he quickly says, "Oops!"

"Hi," the boy replies. He is a bit shorter than Harry, but looks older than him. Eighteen, maybe? But, that isn't what Harry notices first. His ocean-blue eyes threaten to drown Harry in them forever. How can he be so gorgeous? Harry must look like an idiot to him...

"Ahem," the boy clears his throat, forcing Harry to snap back into reality, and exit the bathroom, very awkwardly.

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The results are to be announced today. Only one contestant will make it through. Harry knew that it is extremely unlikely for that contestant to be him, but hopes desperately anyway.

"The final contestant," Simon Cowell begins, "is Tom Richards. That's it, guys."

Harry's whole world falls apart.

The final contestant...

is Tom Richards.

That's it, guys.

The words echo through his mind over and over again, as a reminder of Harry's failure. All his life, he'd worked so hard to reach here, and now... All it took for his hopes and dreams to be crushed was nine words.

Nine bitter words that reflect the truth - Harry is worthless.

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"I'm fine," Harry lies to the camera and quickly rushes to the bathroom.

Soon as he enters, his stomach lurches. He feels sick, like he might collapse any moment. He quickly finds a wall to lean against just in case he does collapse. Tears stream down his face, and he doesn't try to stop them. The pain is unbearable - both external and internal. Everything hurts.

What will his mum say? The thought of her being disappointed in him makes him wince. This is too much for little Harry to take.

He never would have predicted drawing anyone's blood, let alone his own, a day ago, yet here he is, about to do the same. It will hurt a bit, but it'll be worth it. It will set him free.

He pulls his right hand to his left wrist, and pushes his nail into a spot just where an artery might be. He watches as blood trickles along his forearm down to his elbow. It is unsettling but strangely soothing at the same time. He pushes his nail in again, deeper this time, as more blood rushes out his body and onto the bathroom floor.

Harry's vision blurs.

Goodbye, world.

Right then, a figure enters the bathroom and rushes towards Harry. His ocean-blue eyes are the last thing Harry sees before slipping into darkness.

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Harry opens his eyes.

The light pierces them, sharp as needles. His head starts to throb. A few painful moments later, his eyes adjust to the brightness, and he sees a person sitting next to him. A boy. The boy.

"Hello!" the boy chirps brightly.

"Am I alive?" Harry asks, his voice barely a whisper. The simple act of talking kills him.

"I don't know," the boy replies. "What does it mean truly to be alive?" His tone is grim, but a second later Harry realizes that he was mocking. He chuckles, but immediately regrets it as his whole body burns. Worry and concern spread across the boy's face as he notices Harry grimace.

Before the boy can say or do anything Harry seizes his hand and asks, "Why did you save me?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment before he answers, "Well, I saw you in the bathroom, bleeding to death, and the hero inside me awoke!"

"Who are you?" Harry questions.

"Who am I?" the boy repeats. "The answer might shock you... I'm... I'M SUPPERMAN."

Harry bursts into laughter, and surprisingly, doesn't fall into a pit of burning hell and endless pain. For the first time since the final contestant was announced, Harry felt alive. Truly alive.

The boy smiles softly and says, "The name's Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson.'

"Harry Styles."

Louis smiles again, and Harry feels his cheeks turn red. He doesn't want to die anymore. He has a reason to live: Louis, even if he doesn't like him back.

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