It doesn't start here.
You'd think it would: two terrified boys in the middle of no where, cowering together, eyes staring at the gun in his hand.
But it doesn't start here.
It starts the first time I almost died.
The first time, I'm fourteen and Gem's driving us home. Harry has the windows rolled down, his hands dancing to the music, rings glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. We speed past barbed wire fences and scabby ranches, the mountains stretching out behind them. We sing along the the music in the back seat, Gem laughs at our off-key voices.
It happens fast: the loud screech of metal on metal, glass everywhere. I'm not wearing my seat belt and a fly forwards as Harry's scream drowns out the music. Then everything's black.
The second time, I'm seventeen and annoyed with Harry. We're already late, and now he's turning off the highway onto an old dirt road.
"Just one little detour. It'll be quick, I promise."
"Fine," I say, giving in easy, like always. This is a mistake.
The first time I wake up in a hospital room, hooked to an IV and beeping machines. There are tubes everywhere. I claw at the one down my throat, panic rising inside me. Someone grabs my hand away. It takes a second to realise it's Harry beside me, to meet his green eyes and focus enough to let his words sink in.
"You're going to be fine," he promises.
I stop fighting and trust him.
It's only later I learn he's lying.
The second time, I remember everything. The beam of the car's bright lights. The shooter's eyes shinning at us through his mask. How steady his finger is on the trigger frightens me. Harry's hand clutching mine, our nails digging into each others flesh.
After, I'll trace my fingers over those bloody half-moon marks and realise they're all I have left of him.
The first I spend weeks in the hospital. The doctors put me back together piece by piece. Surgical scars wrap their way up my legs, around my knee, down my chest. Harry calls them battle scars. "They're fierce." His hands shake when he helps me do up my sweater.
The second time, there is no hospital. There is no scars. There is only blood. It's everywhere. I press hard against Harry's chest, but my hoodies already soaked through.
"It's okay," I keep saying. Over and over. He stares up at me with shocked, wet eyes and takes gulping breaths. His body shivers beneath my hands.
"Louis..." My name wheezes out of him. He lifts his hang, drags it towards mine. "Lou-"
It's the last thing he ever says.
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Addicted To You .L.S.
FanfictionAfter forced into rehab, Louis returns home to a chilly new reality. Harry's sister won't speak to him, his parents fear he'll relapse, old friends have become enemies, and Louis has to learn to live without his other half. To make matters worse, no...
