Insanity

Prologue

Hey you, thank you for checking my story out. It's a story losely based on 'Misery' by Stephen King. I have never read that book, I only know the story line and I really loved it so decided to write a Larry version of it. It will be very different since I have never read it. I do not own the storyline ofcourse, I only changed it a bit. This is the first time I wrote a fanfiction, so I dont know if its gonna be good but please leave your comment. I'd love to know if you think I should continue and if you think its absolutely awful, please tell me because I'd love to get your opinion as long as you say it respectfully. Dont read it if you're homophobic, I dont get why you're here in the first place but ok. It will not include lots of smut or be very fluffy so if you're not into that don't read it. Sorry if I made any grammar mistakes or typo's, I've read it a lot of times to avoid that but it can be that I made a few.  If you like it please vote, it would mean a lot and I hope you like the proloque x

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Louis woke up with the worst headache ever, he felt like he was hitten on the head for over 50 times, how the hell did that happen? It couldn't be a hangover. Everybody who knew Louis Tomlinson personally, or from his books, knew he wasn't a drinker. he didnt need alcohol to be happy, atleast that was what he told people. Nobody knew, he was addicted once. That small fact would ruin his reputation as a writer. Louis Tomlinson was a very succesfull writer, even though he wouldn't want admit it, his books were worldwide so famous that he couldnt walk in the park or people wanted an autograph. He was absolutely famous for writing about psychology, mostly about how other people think. Many people wrote about that subject but for some reason his books were very popular. He wrote in a totally different way than most of the writers and that made him unique. Louis was like the only person who completely hated his books, he just didn't liked it which was probably weird since writing was his favorite hobby. He loved it and spent almost every hour to it, you could even find Louis writing books at 5 am in the morning without having sleep, it wasn't really healthy but Louis couldn't give less fucks. Even though he loved it, he still decided to stop writing. He didn't felt good about his books, he felt like he was creating shit. Maybe he was a little hard on himself but Louis decided to stop writing books and was going to announce it in a interview in less than a month. He already told it in an interview, but they were going to broadcast it in a month so he would have enough time to publish his new book, which would come out in a week. Nobody knew he would stop writing, he didn't even told his friends or family to avoid annoying questions. Maybe because he still had no idea what to do with his life now. 

When Louis opened his eyes, he suddenly realized he wasnt in his own bed, there was a pillow under his head and he was laying on a cement ground. He tried to get up, but suddenly his leg hurted as hell as he tried to move it and he cursed. Where the fuck was he? Somehow he managed to turn  90 degrees so he laid on his back staring at the ceiling and glared around the dark room. It smelled like catpiss and mothballs, disgusting. He saw absolutely nothing, how did this happened? How did he got here? He tried to remember something but he couldn't. The last thing he knew was that he had a signing were he had to go to. Did he ever arrived to it? Louis couldnt remember a thing. 

He turned his head fast, which caused a light sting through his head when he heard a noise. The noise seem to come closer. It seemed like someone walked off a stairs, which probably meant he was in someone's basement. A small door opened and he saw someone standing there, a tall figure who had a flashlight in his hands. The person shrieked and dropped the flashlight on the ground, another sting. 'You already woke up I'm so sorry i was trying to get you a pillow for your leg before you woke up.'a low, but nice voice nervously said. 'Yes uhm hi i'm Louis Tomlinson. Who are you? And do you know how I got here?'he asked politely. Was that the owner of the basement? What happened in the last 24 hours? 

'I brought you here Louis.'he said and Louis felt that he put a pillow under his probably broken leg. This was absolutely unacceptable, what the fuck?! Was this person crazy? Louis moved his hand fast and grapped the flashlight shining it in his eyes. His blue eyes glared over the person. Just a normal guy. Well normal, he was really beautiful for his age and had a friendly face. His green eyes stared shockely at Louis and he turned it away from his face shining to his leg to see what was wrong with that. Just like he expected, it was broken. Wait what? His leg was broken and bonded in a triangular bandage. Did he do that? 'How do you mean you took me to this place? Who the fuck do you think you are? Can you please tell me what happened.'Louis asked and the guy with the brown curls slowly walked away from him. 

'I'm your biggest fan, Louis.'