Larry Stylinson One Shots

Hidden

"I can't do this anymore." I whispered to the empty bathroom. 

The tears began to stream down my face before I had chance to stop them. 

I hated hiding. I hated that I couldn't be free. I hated not being myself.

It wasn't fair. I'd had every right of my life stripped away from me.

Shaking fingers trembled across my reflection in the mirror. Stray hairs laid strewn across my forehead and dark rings enclosed my eyes.

I looked awful.

Sleep had been had to come by and I just didn't have the appetite to eat.

It was taking it's toll.

Slumping down against the sink, I rested my head in my hands.

I was living out a lie.

Beside me lay a spare container of pills and a bottle of alcohol. The two were a deadly mix, if I could pull them off.

I clasped the bottle of alcohol, opening the lid and taking a swig. The bottle trembled with my unsteady hands and directing it to my lips proved harder than I thought.

When all that was left was an empty bottle, I lay it down where it had previously been. My focus turned to the pills. 

"Lou, I'm home." A voice called from somewhere in the apartment.

The mass of curls that I was so familiar with appeared in the doorway. A sigh escaped from his lips and he knealt down before me.

"What are you doing?" His eyes were filled with hurt, and he himself looked on the verge of tears.

"I couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't do it." He took my stiff body into his hands, and ensured that my gaze was set on him.

"Lou, you're mine and I'm yours. That's all we need." 

"If only it was that simple." I slurred, leaning my head back against the ceramic counter.

"It is that simple. It always will be." He reassured me. "Just promise me to not try anything like this again. Promise me."

"I promise."