Terribly Dreary - A Louis Tomlinson One-Shot

It came as a shock to all of us really, the first time. Surely we had noticed Louis becoming a little more distant, but never would we have thought drugs were the case. So the first time he overdosed, it flipped our world upside-down. Never would we have thought our Louis, my Louis, would end up in a rehabilitation facility.

***

"Lou, baby, please take your pills." I tried handing him his methadone - the prescription he was given to ween off the heroin. But he shook his head, and buried himself further in the blankets.

I sighed and placed his medicine on the bed table; as I was turning to leave the room, I heard a whimper.

"Loubear, it's okay, I'm here. I'll help you get better." I snuggled up against my boyfriend and we drifted off to sleep together.

I was awoken some hours later by Louis convulsing. The shakes were rocking the whole bed, and we were both drenched in his sweat. He was tossing and whimpering and I realised he'd never took the methadone. I wasn't sure whether to wake him up and give it to him, or to let him detox completely.

Kissing Lou on the forehead, I grabbed the pills on my way out of the room. It was better this way.

***

It was only a couple months later that I'd noticed it. I really thought he had been getting better. But then he began to distance himself again, not coming out with us to the bar, faking sick to avoid movie night, the lads and I began to worry again.

"What do you propose we do?" Liam had asked during one of our nights without Louis.

"I suppose there's only one thing to do. I think Louis need to go to rehab."

***

The situation was such for over a year: Louis would go to the centre, detox, come back, relapse, and do it over again every few months. It was killing me to see my boyfriend like this.

"Louis?" I knocked gently on his door. When he shouted a faint "come in" from the other side, I stepped inside his room.

"Hi baby, how are you?" I asked as I approached him, slowly sitting next to him on the bed.

He looked up at me with sad eyes. I pulled him into my arms and started stroking his hair as he wept into my shirt.

"Shhh, love, it's okay. You'll be okay."

I held my baby through his tears, until he finally dozed off in my arms. During the time he slept, I looked over his body. He had gotten much smaller recently, so skinny. His cheekbones had sunken in, and his eyes had bags underneath them. He was still beautiful, though. My beautiful baby Loubear.

***

"OI! WAKE UP! WAKE UP IT'S LOUIS!" I was jolted out of my sleep by the other boys banging on my door, frantically screaming. Worried, I slipped on some trackies and went to open the door. Zayn was first to speak coherently.

"Louis - hospital - overdose - bad." That was all he could get out and all I needed to slip on my sandals, grab my keys, and haul out the door. We all piled in my car and I sped off to the hospital. On the way, the the boys explained to me that Modest! had called Liam in the middle of the night, telling him that Louis was admitted to the hospital and that it was bad.

***

It wasn't so much of a shock to all of us. The last time I got to hold my boyfriend, he was already pale and starting to get cold. Louis's eyes were shut, his body limp. There was nothing the hospital could do. My Louis was gone - taken by a terrible monster known as addiction.

It's a funny thing really, addiction. Surprisingly enough, something that could both be passed down genetically, or picked up on one's own. It distorts your way of thinking. You'll lose focus of the ones around you, ones you love, for something you feel you may need. Something you'd go crazy without. One who's addicted may never realise how much they're hurting others - and the ones that do, are the lucky ones. Louis never noticed how much he was hurting us. How much he was hurting me. But in the end, it didn't matter. Because he was six feet under, and I, Niall Horan, was left weeping on his grave.