Larry Stylinson Imagine

Louis’ POV

*Present time*

I‘m sitting on my bed flipping through my therapy journal. My therapist tells me it would “benefit me” to write down all that I feel and, the worst part, let her read it. How can I express myself when I have a complete stranger reading it? Lies, lies, lies, I mumble as I flip through the pages. So here I am writing my real feelings in this journal that no one will ever read. It’s been three months. Three months since I lost the love of my life. Instead of trying to focus on something else, I allow my mind to wander. The haunting thoughts flood back and I see every detail, just like it was happening right in front of me. Seeing him, lying there on the cold bathroom floor, pale and lifeless. I remember his eyes most of all; instead of being bright green and dancing with life and happiness, they were nearly gray and just… empty. Empty and full of untold secrets, like two mysterious black holes. My mind goes back further, to three days before it happened.

*3 months earlier*

“Harry! I’m home!” I shout to my roommate, Harry, as I walk in the front door. “Hey Lou!” he emerges from the kitchen. My heart skips a beat when I look at him, just like it always does. I’d had a crush on Harry for at least two years but I never told him about it because, well, I have a “girlfriend”. Anyway, that’s a different story, let me focus on Harry. He sets a plate of food on the table and brushes his curls out of his eyes. He gestures to the food on the table. “Who’s the best friend ever?” he smiled, showing off his prominent dimples. The word “friend” made me cringe; friend, that’s all I was and all I’d ever be to him. “For me?” I ask, shivers running down my spine. He nods and retreats to the kitchen, returning with a plate of his own. Seeing him this happy was so refreshing; he’d been acting really weird and depressed the past couple of weeks. So seeing that beautiful smile was like a miracle. He sat down across from me and we just discussed our day and the weather and everything petty then he set his fork down. “Hey, Lou,” he says, looking at me. “Yeah?” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long silver necklace with a cross charm on the end of it. He set it on the table and slid it over to me. I looked at it, confused; I’d seen this necklace a million times. It was his prized possession; he found it on the ground at the venue of One Direction’s first ever concert and, ever since, it’s been like a good luck charm for him. He looks at the necklace, then at me. “For you,” he says. I can’t imagine how shocked I looked in that moment. “What?! Harry, this is your favorite necklace!” I said and he just smiled. Looking back, I can see the pain in his smile, like he was fighting some kind of internal battle. “Yeah, I know. But I want you to have it.” I pick it up and run my fingers over the small cross. “How come?” he hesitates then replies, “I won’t be needing it anymore.” I look at him and he grins, making me disregard his previous statement. If only I’d known what that statement meant. He wouldn’t be needing it; how could I be so stupid? I ignored that. Maybe, if I’d paid more attention… he might still be here with me.

*1 week prior to above passage ^*

I was awakened by the sound of soft knocking on my bedroom door. My eyes slowly slid open, the clock read 3:30 am. “Come in,” I grumble. The door opens slowly and I see Harry standing in my doorway, the moonlight seeping in from the window made his features stand out; his jaw line looked like it was carved from marble and his eyes were glistening with tears. “Lou,” he says, looking at his feet; he reminded me of a little kid, guilty of stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “This is going to sound really weird but-” he took a small breath. “Um, could I sleep in here tonight?” Harry had been sad for the past few days, putting it off as being “stressed from work” or “a breakup”; if only I’d known. I didn’t question him, though, I sat up and flipped on the bedside lamp. “Yeah, mate, come on in.” Harry grins and closes the door behind him. He crawls in bed next to me and I switch off the light. I can feel Harry’s warmth radiating off of him. I wanted to scoot closer to him but, to my surprise, he beat me to it. I felt him move a bit closer, closer, to the point that our bodies were touching. He said nothing. I had my back to him and I felt him place his hand gently on my waist, pulling me just a bit closer. My heart was racing; do I say something? Do I wait for him to say something? Do I move away? No, moving away was not an option. I just lie there and enjoy his warm body next to mine. Just as I was starting to slip into sleep, I heard a small whisper come from Harry; something that sounded a lot like, “I love you.” but I guess I’ll never be sure.

*Present time*

I set my pen down and wipe tears from my cheeks. I think about how Harry never spoke of that night. After we woke up the next morning, he acted like nothing had happened and it killed me to know that I’ll never know what he said that night. I wanted to stop writing but part of me says keep going so I continue to the day that I found him…

*3 months earlier*

I walked into our flat from a tough day at the studio. It was time for “individual recording”, some scheme that management had come up with to lessen the distractions of all of us recording together. Harry hadn’t been to the studio in days but I didn’t bother to ask him about it. “Harry, I’m home!” I shout happily, expecting a cheery answer from him, but I hear nothing. I don’t think much of it though. I trot up the stairs and enter my bedroom. Something wasn’t right. Don’t ask me how I knew but something just felt off-balance. I walk across the room, slowly, and see that my bathroom door is closed. Weird. I always leave it open when I leave. And why would Harry use my bathroom when he has one of his own just down the hall? A wave of fear rushes over me as I slowly push open the bathroom door. Then, I see him. He’s lying on the floor, a piece of paper pinned to his shirt, next to an empty glass bottle. Instinctively, my eyes dart to the bottle, the words “DANGER: TOXIC” are printed in bold lettering. I think, in that moment, I stopped breathing. It hit me. This was him, the love of my life, lying on the floor, most likely dead. I had the overwhelming urge to vomit but I held back as I fell to my knees and felt his wrist for a pulse; nothing. Hot tears fall from my eyes and my heart seems to stop. I wanted to close my eyes and wake up from this nightmare but I couldn’t; this was real life and this was happening. I shakily take the paper off his shirt and unfold it. Harry’s handwriting. This is a suicide note. I read it slowly and carefully:

Louis William Tomlinson, 

You don’t know how to feel about this, do you? Neither do I. Louis, I’m so sorry I had to leave you like this. Life for me has just been too stressful lately. I’ve been planning this for weeks so don’t blame yourself for any of this, okay? Listen Lou, you were my only relief, I want you to know that. When I came home from a hard day of getting paparazzi screaming profanities at me and from receiving copious amounts of virtual hate, seeing you there, smiling at me… Louis, you were the one who kept me alive for this long. I bet you never knew I felt this way about you. Remember that night when I came and slept with you? That was magical for me. Just being able to hold you in my arms, to know that you’ll be there in the morning… Louis, I can’t say it enough, you saved me. I just couldn’t be saved anymore. Like I said, don’t blame yourself alright? This is all on me. I know it’s a stupid, selfish thing to do but, Louis, I have to. I’m sorry. Oh, and Louis, I told you this on that night but I don’t think you heard me… I love you. Don’t forget that, okay? Even if you don’t feel the same, I just need you to know how I feel before I go. I’ll be seeing you one day. 

Eternal love, 

Harry Edward Styles

P.S. Take care of my necklace, okay?

The note was jumbled and it jumped from incomplete thought to another incomplete thought. So many unfinished thoughts, things Harry would never be able to clarify. He was my clarity and now, without him, all was unclear. I felt so much. Confusion, anger, sadness; sadness most of all. He did tell me he loved me and… I never got a chance to tell him. The necklace, now it makes some amount of sense. He wanted me to have it because he knew what he was going to do and he knew I’d take care of it for him. “I won’t be needing it anymore” the words echoed in my mind. Suddenly, I noticed a scribble in the right corner of the paper. It was a time. “3:52” was written in his shaky handwriting. I looked at my watch; 4:16. My heart sank into my stomach. It had been twenty two minutes. If I hadn’t stopped for that stupid train and just went the other way home- I… I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve saved him. “You saved me” I read the sentence over and over. I looked up to the sky, wailing like a child, “Harry,” I sob. “Oh, Harry, I love you. I love you so much. I wish you knew-” I choked on my sobs. “I wish I could’ve told you. Harry, oh, my sweet, beautiful Harry…” I was so lost for words so I simply whispered, “Sing with the angels.”