TW self harm + suicide, not suitable for under 12-13
dm me if you need, i've been through depression, self harm, an eating disorder, attempted SA, queer trauma, and i've attempted suicide, so i am always here to listen. nobody deserves to suffer.
hope you 'enjoy' but this is one sad-ass fic.
fyi there is coarse language and potentially will be sexual mentions, but no full on smut
remember to pay close attention to the dates! they do matter!
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTION, LOOSELY BASED ON THE PUBLIC PERSONA AND NAMES OF HARRY STYLES, LOUIS TOMLINSON, AND THEIR FAMILY AND FRIENDS. I MEAN NO HARM TO THEM NOR THE OTHER CHARACTERS FEATURED IN THIS STORY.
love ya
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October 17, 2014
Princess Park
Apartment of Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles
"Fuck you, Louis! Honestly, go spend the rest of your life with that slut if that's what you want!" I scream, my throat aching from all the yelling, my head pounding from the noise.
"Harry, how many times do I have to say it? We're just friends! Eleanor means nothing to me, not in that sense! I love you, and only you!" He shoots back frustratedly.
"Then stop spending time with her! If you really love me, you won't see her outside of stunts! She's trying to take you from me! She told Liam so herself."
"Bullshit, Haz, she's my friend. She wouldn't do that. I'm sleeping on the couch, night."
He turns on his heels and storms out, the softest blanket in hand, nose high. I want to go out and make up with him, but I like to think I have more dignity than that.
After what feels like centuries, but was probably about two hours, of tossing and turning, I swallow my pride and crawl out of bed. Walking down the long hall, I pause to look at a framed picture.
Louis, on the first day I met him, at the Script concert. Stan was in the picture, but I cut him out.
"Lou?" I call in a hushed tone, as I enter the living room. The stench of cigarettes fills the room, making me cough. A half-empty bottle of vodka is resting on the coffee table, the cap lying next to it, the ashtray full of used-up ciggies.
Louis' curled on the couch, blanket clutched in his fist, eyes wide and staring at me. The television is playing a rerun of that god-awful American sitcom, F.R.I.E.N.D.S
"Lou, I-"
"I'm sorry, Harry."
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December 17, 2017
Doncaster Royal Infirmary
"I'm sorry, Harry."
I gaze up at the irishman, his wavy brown hair flopping across his forehead and furrowed brow, the concern apparent on his stubbly face.
"Thanks." I say in a monotone voice, having heard those words at least thirty times today. I appreciate his sympathy, I really do, but I'm sick of hearing those words over and over and over again.
Everyone's sorry, but nobody cared enough to stop him.
I tighten my grip on Louis' hand as the crisp white sheets lay tight across his body. A burly man in a pastel blue button-up and navy trousers stands in the corner, the letters DRISW embroidered in navy on his breast pocket.
DRISW
Doncaster Royal Infirmary Security and Watch
Louis' pale face is unmoving, and it feels so unnatural to not see the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, having just cracked a joke, or his brow furrowed as he signs another contract, or his lips breaking into a smirk as he cusses at Liam or Ollie.
The loud, consistent beeping of the machines was annoying at first, but now is almost comforting. With every beep, I know Louis has survived another heartbeat, another second. And maybe he'll be just fine.
But what if he's not?
"Niall, how've you been?" I ask under the implication of politeness, but really I'm trying to distract myself from Louis lying, seemingly lifeless beside me.
"Ehm.. I've been better, to be honest. Missed you."
"Yeah, it's good to see you. Strange, not to be working together."
It really is strange. When you spend every minute of the day with the same four guys for four years, then just three, then just one.... it really does feel strange. I've missed Niall too, but I was so busy with the album, and then promo, then tour.
I postponed the last part of the for at least until february, but it's not public knowledge that Louis was hospitalised, so I ended up with a lot of pissed-off "fans", and a handful of understanding fans. I had already gone on my christmas break, so no immediate concerts were impacted, but still...
"Ermh... Look, Harry, Zayn's in the lobby. He wants to see Louis, and you."
"He what?" I bark in a gravelly tone.
The nerve he has, showing up now.
"Should I... tell him to...."
"Tell him-"
"You should really give him another chance." Niall rushes nervously, obviously scared to see my reaction.
"Another chance? Another fucking chance? He fucked everything up for Louis for months after what happened with Jay! He has some fucking nerve showing up now, here, when I don't even know if Louis is going to be okay!" I rant, only calming down when I see the look on Niall's face.
He's scared.
Sure, we've been apart for a while, but I can still read him better than anyone, I can tell how he's feeling from one glance, he's an open book to me.
And, not for the first time, Niall's scared of me.
I always hated this feeling, but it's been almost two years since I last felt it.
"Ni, I-" I start.
"I think Lottie wanted to come in, I'll go check."
"Niall, I'm-" I begin again.
"Don't, Harry." He says sharply as he exits, not meeting my gaze.
"Fuck." I say aloud, looking back at Louis.
How could I have not noticed? He's lost so much weight that his skin is clinging to his body, and the smallest hospital gown for adults is baggy on him. His cheeks are sunk in, bags under his eyes heavy, his arms wrapped heavily in white gauze. The white sheet is tucked tight around him, his upper body slightly propped up onto the hospital-issue pillows.
A light knock at the door announces the entry of Lottie, who joins me at his bedside. I tear my gaze away from him to look at her, and she stares back at me. She appears to be in almost as bad a state as her brother, looking as though she hasn't slept in weeks, her tear-stained cheeks red, her hair matted and knotty. Mascara is smeared under her eyes and her lipstick is smudged at the corner of her lips. Far different from the insta-model Charlotte Tomlinson that the fans think they know.
"Harry, you need to go home, get some rest."
"I could say the same to you."
She chuckles grimly, turning her attention to Louis. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the only thing breaking it being the light beeping of the monitors.
"Why did he do it, Harry?" she asks hoarsely.
"I wish I knew." I respond, choking down the lump in my throat.
"Zayn really wants-"
"I don't care what Zayn wants. He lost the right to see Louis when he was a no-show at the X-Factor." I respond, my tone harsh, but I don't care.
Lottie sighs. We rest in that silence once more, before she stands and walks across to the door.
"Y'know, Harry.. Mum always wanted the two of them to reconcile. Maybe they should, before... before it's, y'know. Too late?"
She exits before I can respond, her words consuming my mind.
It's what Jay wanted.
But Jay's not here anymore.
"Why is it so hard, Lou?" I gasp out, the tears now rushing down my face.
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that's first chapter :)
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Hold On (l.s.)
FanfictionHarry Styles finds his fiance, Louis Tomlinson, near to death on a bathroom floor. Cause: Attempted suicide. When Louis is hospitalized, it's all Harry can do to hold himself together, even as his life falls apart around him. Zayn turns up, with ens...
