As Long As My Heart Beats

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Playlist

L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N. - Noah and the Whale

Breakeven - The Script

I stand on the edge of Chesterfield Bridge, my toes hanging slightly over, the wind clawing at my hair, my numb fingers wrapped around the cool metal of one of the support cables. As the cold freezes my brain, I think of all I know.

My name is Louis William Tomlinson.

I am 22 years old.

I am gay.

I am hated by everyone, maybe because I'm gay, maybe not.

I have no reason to live.

In 30 seconds, I will be dead.

In 30 seconds, I will be happy.

I close my eyes against the biting sea wind, my skin peppered with spray from the dancing waves below me. My feet, encased in red Toms, slide further foraward. The cuts on my arms and wrists sting from the salt in the air but I ignore the pain. I'm good at that.

I say goodbye to my sisters one last time in my head, apologise to my mum. It's six in the morning: they won't find my note for another hour, won't find my body until later. I don't want my family to have to deal with this, but fuck knows I'm more use dead than alive.

One of my hands uncurls stiffly from the cable, my entire body weight now supported by one hand. My heart is in my throat, my pulse racing, my hands shaking, and I am more scared than I have ever been before. If - when - I let go, I will swing in the air like a puppet with it's strings cut, and fly down towards the churning, tumbling ocean below, fingers of ice dragging me down, down, down to my death.

The fingers of my left hand slide slowly off the bar, one by one. I suck in a shaky breath, and let go, but I don't fall. I am held tight, a pair of strong hands wrapped around my forearm, dragging me back.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" I hiss, wrenching my arm out of the stranger's grasp. He is tall and strong, with masses of curly, hazelnut hair tumbling over apple green eyes and a sharp jawline. He is undoubtably handsome, but I don't really care about that at the moment.

He holds his hands up, as if to pacify me, but moves so he is between me and the bridge. "You were about to fall."

"Yeah, well that is kind of the fucking point..." I avoid his penetrating stare.

"Do you mean... You were about to...?" He hesitates, chewing his lip.

I ignore him, furiously scuffing my shoes against the pavement. "Maybe," I eventually scowl, once I realise that he isn't going anywhere soon. Who the hell does he think he is?! He might think he was saving me, but now I'm just going to have to build up the courage to try and jump again.

He sticks out a large, tanned hand, but puts it in his pocket when he realises I'm not going to shake it. "Right. Well. I'm Harry."

I don't give a shit what your name is! I want to scream. I put up the hood of my jumper and try to push past him, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere," His eyes are full of worry, of real, genuine concern. "Look, come for a cup of coffee with me. Just until you feel alright again."

I will NEVER feel alright again. A cup of coffee is going to solve nothing. But I can see this guy, Harry, isn't going to give up until he decides that I'm not going to try and top myself again.

I shrug. "Fine. Whatever." I grit my teeth, Harry's hand pressing down onto my shoulder. "Now will you please let go of my fucking shoulder?"