A condition brought them together, but it's far from what you'd expect.
Harry Styles is a simple, seventeen year-old student - a boy exploring his sexuality with different partners, but who never knew what to be in love is.
Louis Tomlinson is a weal...
Thank you so so so so much for 100K reads! That's insane. Even when I put the story on hold for a while, you still supported me and waited for my next chapter. Your dedication is everything a writer could want.
I love you guys so much.
Hope you can forgive me for these chapters aha.
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Song: Angel By The Wings - Sia
I'm free-falling into an abyss. And I don't know where or when I will stop. It's pitch black around me, beneath me, above me. Like a black hole. I'm frightened in a way I never expected to be in my life.
I see myself in an alley, crouched down against the brick wall as rain pours all over me. But I'm not in my body. It's as if I'm dead. Am I dead?
He opens his eyes. He knows he's not dreaming. Still he hopes - prays - he is.
The curtains cover the window of his room, but he can tell it's dark outside. He had lost such complete track of time that he didn't have a clue if it was night or dawn.
When he reaches out for his phone, he feels he's wearing the same dirty clothes. Even them seemed to have gathered Jonathan's smell. It was all over his body; he was all over his body. It didn't belong to him. Who gave him the right?
His last tear runs unevenly down his cheek as he recalls what happened for the hundredth time. He was as empty as a well in a sunny Summer day. Dry until the last drop. There was so much anger and regret filling him instead. He screams in silence, as hard as his aching head allowed him. Still it relieved no pain.
What do you do when the person you love and trust the most, is the one you can't confide in? He wonders. In that gloomy, hostile night, he's sure he won't make it out alive to see another day. A brighter day, carried by hope and faith. Right now, he had none of those.
In his mind flickers the face of the only person capable of bringing those feelings to him: Louis.
He fishes his phone from underneath his damp pillow. His fingers can't barely move, nearly frozen from the cold. It's 11:50 P.M.
How did time fly so fast?
There's four messages from Louis on his locked screen and a dozen missed calls. He struggles to open them.
