One Direction Preferences

AU: He's Your Brother, and While He's Away on Tour, You Commit Suicide(His POV)

AU: He's Your Brother, and While He's Away on Tour, You Commit Suicide(His POV)(Trigger Warning!!)

Harry:
I was in France when I got the call. I was only a channel away-the fucking English Channel away-and a part of me blamed the distance. A part of me blamed the bloody tour and bastards that made up management. A part of me blamed my egotistical self.
If I had been there to comfort you. If I had been there to tell you how beautiful you were, both inside and out, maybe it wouldn't have happened. If I had been there to take you in my arms and tell you that the words those arseholes had uttered were just a reflection of how they felt about themselves. If I had been there, you would still be alive right now.
But I wasn't there, and you were dead, found with a gun and bullet in your head.
Where did you even get a gun?
I snickered, looking up at the ceiling of my hotel room as if you were here.
Why'd you do it?
Didn't you know that I loved you? To the moon and back and beyond?
Their words shouldn't have gotten to you. Mine should have outshone theirs. My words of encouragement, love, and truth should have been at the forefront of your mind, fighting off their hate.
I let out a sarcastic laugh while the tears streamed down my cheeks.
I'm being selfish again, but I can't help it.
They say people are selfish towards the ones they love, and God, I loved you, Y/N. You were the best sister a bloke could have. You still are.
Don't tell Gemma that.
I know she misses you, too. She loved you, but not nearly as much as I did and still do.
She was always jealous of us. We were two peas in a pod, inseparable.
You had your whole life ahead of you, and even with my new life, did you honestly think I would leave yours?
Y/N. Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you dump your problems on me over the phone? Why didn't you cry and make me feel bad for not being there? Because now I feel worse...so much worse.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Harry?"
I wiped my tears and sniffled, "Yeah?"
"Do you want to be left alone...?" came Louis' voice again. "Or do you want some company."
Don't be offended, Y/N. They don't get that you're here with me, always were and always will be.
Liam:
So this is it.
I can't believe this is it, Y/N.
I knew that you would be in a coffin one day, Y/N, cold and pale, but I expected to be looking down on you in a different way. I was supposed to be gone first, Y/N. I was supposed to be the one to die first and watch over you.
Why?
Why did you let their hurtful words kill you? What happened to "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me?"
I understand that each word was like a knife in your side, but you didn't have to bring one to your wrist. Why harm yourself? Why, damn it?
I let out a sob, getting down on my knees before the black and gold coffin.
Why didn't you come to me?
All you had to do was call. I would've paid for the next ticket to Australia. God knows I can afford it. You didn't have to pick up at that knife.
I could've flown you out to me.
We could've had so much fun. You could've come with me to all the shows and fool around with the boys and I backstage. We could've stayed up late every night, watching our favorite childhood movies on the tour bus or in the hotel room. We could've met some fans, taken some pictures.
Believe it or not, Y/N, a lot of fans loved you.
I can't even count the number of tweets your twitter account got when the news got out. You got more tweets than I did! They all miss you, Y/N, but no one misses you as much as your big brother does.
You and I weren't always close. I remember hating all the attention Mum and Dad gave you. I was pretty harsh towards you when we were younger, but I always loved you. Through all the mean words and teasing, I adored you. I'm sorry I couldn't admit it until I was more mature, but I tried to make up for those first ten years of your existence.
We still had a year to go before I made it up completely.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not now.
You had your whole life ahead of you, and I was supposed to watch you grow.
"Liam?"
I looked up from the ground, removing my forehead from my folded hands.
I love you, Y/N. Goodbye.
Louis:
"And I'll be gone, gone tonight. The ground beneath my feet is burning bright. The way that I've been holdin' on so tight with nothing in between..."
I had just finished my solo when the security guard ran out on stage to pull me aside.
I made faces at the fans as I shuffled backstage with him.
My happy mood disappeared, though, when I saw the grim atmosphere I had entered. Everyone was looking at me, but no one was smiling.
"What's going on?" I asked, breathless from the sheer energy out there.
No one answered; they just handed me a phone.
"Hello?"
"Louis?" our mum was on the line, and she sounded as if she were in tears. "It's Y/N."
And that's when I learned about it. The text messages from the girls at your school. The name calling and bullying you had been subjected to. The fake friends that only wanted to meet One Direction.
And then I learned about where they had found you, cold and gone in the middle of the road.
It was shocking, and I had to wonder if this was all a dream.
As Mum explained, I found myself staggering over to the sofa, trying to hold on.
She was telling me I would never see my baby sister laugh or smile again, and I just couldn't believe it. You were always so happy, Y/N. When did it go downhill? Why didn't you tell us?
Why didn't you tell me?
We used to share everything. You knew when I was pulling a prank, and you also knew my deepest darkest secrets. I knew things you only wrote in your diary, and I knew how you were feeling with just one look.
Then why couldn't I see this?
"I'll come home, Mum. I'll get the next flight out of here."
I had to see you one last time. I had to kiss your cheek and hold your hand one last time. I had to smile at you and tell you how beautiful you are one last time. But this wouldn't be the last "I love you."
"What's going on?"
It was Zayn.
I waved at him from my spot, not realizing that the tears I had shed had given me away.
Words were exchanged, and he left.
On stage, they explained my absence.
Soon the whole world would know that my little sister, my lovely Y/N, was gone.
Niall:
We were in Barcelona when I got the news. I was just about to go on stage when the phone call came, saying that you were in the hospital in critical condition.
I wasn't given any details. I wasn't told that you had put yourself in this condition, purposely taking too many sleeping pills. I wouldn't learn it was suicide until I arrived at the hospital, hours later, and by the time I had landed, you were gone.
I remember running into your room at the hospital, unable to believe the words everyone had told me.
You weren't dead. It was impossible.
But you were.
Your face was light, lacking the usual rose on your cheeks. Your eyes were closed, and your hand was freezing.
I sat there, trying to give you some of my warmth, holding your hand into the early hours of the morning.
Our mum told me that you had been having a hard time at school, being bullied. Apparently they said rude things about me, too, and it was hard on you.
That was no excuse, though, Y/N.
There was so much you still had to do. So many things I had to see you experience.
You were supposed to live on and graduate from high school and university. I was supposed to congratulate you on your first job. You were supposed to meet your prince charming and fall in love. I was supposed to be there when you married him. He was supposed to take over my job protecting you, but obviously, I had been unfit for that position.
Why, Y/N?
Why didn't you come to me?
I'm your big brother. I'm the one that's supposed to be looking out for you, but how would I know if you didn't make it known?
This wasn't the plan. You weren't supposed to die.
"Niall?"
Mum tried to get me away from you the next morning. The hospital had to move you, now that you were pronounced dead, but I couldn't bring myself to leave you.
"Niall. We have to go."
And that time, I listened, knowing I had things to do, things to take care of.
I owed an explanation to my fans, as well as an apology for leaving the tour. I'm sure there would be questions and rumors floating about that I had to clear up.
But then I would mourn for the beautiful sister I had lost.
Zayn:
I would never forget the last time I saw you before the incident.
You were the definition of bliss, smiling and laughing as we drove to the airport. I was going away on tour for the next few months, and although I knew you were upset to see me go, we joked around. It was our way of forgetting.
You were with me until the security line. You had insisted on seeing me off, despite the trouble it was to park, but who was I to deny you?
We said our goodbyes, squeezing each other tight, and if I'd known I would be at your funeral a month later, I would've held you a little longer. Hell, I wouldn't have gotten on that damn plane if I had known.
If I had known about those tweets from those haters and how much pain they were stirring inside of you, things would be a lot different now.
For starters, you wouldn't be six feet underground.
It was Dad that had called me that fateful day.
I was laying poolside at one of the hotels we were staying at in California when I learned they had found you hanging from the ceiling of your pastel pink bedroom.
I should've known it was coming. I should've gone home when Mum called me earlier that week, saying you had seemed off.
But I told her you were fine like the fool I was.
I sat there on the lounge chair for several minutes, letting Dad's words sink in.
You had tied a rope around your neck.
You had pulled the chair away.
I could picture it in my head as if I was there when you did it.
Those images would haunt me for weeks, and even now, I'll wake up some nights after seeing them.
I had failed as a brother, and I had paid the ultimate price.
Losing a sister is like losing a part of you. You're tied by blood, connected by the same parents. We grew up together, in the same house, happy and naive as can be.
If only I had known. I would've stopped you.
"Zayn?"
I looked up, making out Niall's face in the sun.
"Are you alright?"
"No."
"Care to talk about it?"
And the words just spilled out. I told our life stories. I told him about the hate. I told him about the suicide.
And, finally, I cried.