The World Is Beautiful, Louis Tomlinson. [OneShot]

The World is Beautiful, Louis Tomlinson - 

A one shot. x 

-So I live in Canada and the scenery and places are all based off of the destinations set close to Calgary that I find impossibly beautiful and magnificent. I have no idea what London has when it comes to Natural beauty so please don't think these places exist over there. Thank you! 

Louis was depressed. 

He spent his days moping, forcing himself out of bed every morning, dragging his feet to interviews and faking smiles. The dark bags underneath his eyes were getting more prominent and evident by the day. His usual shining brown hair was dull in color, much like those bright blue eyes that everyone had learned to fall in love with, the small, yet so impossibly large oceans of depth and secrets. The blue pools that saw the world as the most disgusting place ever, those eyes that saw the world as cruel and horrible. He had lost weight too- the appetite just was not there anymore. Whenever a plate of food would be placed before him, he would simply stare at the lump of nutrients, forcing a few spoonfuls then pushing the delicate china back. He was skinnier now, had lost the muscles that had formed from all the soccer that he played. He had stopped playing soccer a long time ago, the dedication from before was not present when Liam or Zayn would eagerly pass the ball to him. 

Though Louis had tried to be furtive, it was impossible to keep secrets from the lads. They had caught on to Louis' change in behaviour like a snap and demanded to know what was going on. How was Louis supposed to tell them that he lost the happiness of life a long time ago? How was he supposed to tell them- sitting on a worn down leather sofa with four pairs of eyes staring at him intensely- that he had been scarring the skin on his thighs? Letting the blood pour down them and drip to the white tiles, tinting them like stars in the night sky? 

How? 

So, he had looked away and swallowed thickly. "Nothing," he had replied, forcing a grin onto his face. "Nothing at all." Louis held his breath as the faces before them had started to slowly transition into smiles and short, satisfied nods. 

"Good," they had replied, everyone giving Louis a hug. 

Everyone, that is, except one, staring at him with a blank and suspicious look. 

Everyone except Harry. 

Oh, Harry. Harry Edward Styles. The boy Louis had learned to fall in love with. The beautiful, gorgeous boy with perfect lips and hair crafted like a statue by the finest artist in the world. He was beauty- head to toe, fit to be a Gucci model and along with the heavenly looks was his caring and adorable personality. Louis loved him, and he loved Louis too. They used to have late night conversations about the smallest things in the world. Like, which shampoo is better, who in the band goes on Twitter the most (to which Harry had jokenly replied Zayn, making them both end up on top of each other gasping for breath,) what it would feel like to skydive- they were silly, but they were deep. And Louis adored them. They also used to have late night walks when no paparazzi would be around, just the two of them walking in the streets with their arms swinging to some random melody Harry would be humming and ending up making out for half their walk, coming back half an hour later than planned.

He was a down-right angel. And he was his angel.

At least, Louis thinks so. 

Along with his depression also came the anti-social part of him and you may be thinking 'Louis?? Anti-social?? Pfftttt.' But, the silence had gotten to the point where he never came out of his room unless If he was forced to. Never talked to new people and instead got into the car early, waiting for the boys to arrive while he taps away on his phone. Barely texting or calling his mother or sisters and he MISSED THEM DEARLY, but the thought of talking to them after ages made him want to throw up his livers. He talked to the boys a bit, when they were around him and laughing, Louis would laugh too. But, if they asked him a question directly, he would reply in either a word or two sentences maximum. Never going over his limit. Though the limits were different for Harry, but it was only a bit. Its not that Louis had it planned out that he would talk these many sentences, it happened naturally. The talking came to a minimum without him realizing it.