Breaking Free ~ Larry Stylinson *ON HIATUS*

Prologue

Hi guise! How are you all? Good? Cool.

So, here's my first story! Hope you all enjoy it!

QUICK WARNING~ my friend read this and she cried. So.. have a tissue handy?

Don't be afraid to comment and tell me what you think!

So, anways, enjoy!

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PROLOGUE

The apartment was eerily quiet. Not a whisper was heard from any room. Not a swish of feet against soft carpet. Not a flap of silky curtains as wind from a window behind it floats in. No sound. The unusual quiet of the apartment continued on throughout the day, no one noticed though. Which, again, was odd; the apartment was normally filled with five loud boys, yelling and shrieking at one another in a playful manner. The strange peacefulness that filled the apartment, ended abruptly as the front door opened, slamming shut. The loud bang echoed throughout the once quiet apartment. The boy who entered stood still for a moment as the echo slowly faded out. He stood for a few more seconds, green eyes glassy with unshed tears, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor; his sobs breaking the second silence.

For minutes he did not move.  The boy with the wild curls lay on the floor, sobs racking his body. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes lifeless and red. Without a single moment of hesitation, the boy got up and ran out of the hallway, not even bothering to kick off his white shoes. Footsteps slamming into the floor, he comes upon a door with an ‘H’ on the front. He pushes the door open, not bothering to check if the wall has been damaged by the strong force of his push, and stumbles in. He grabs a backpack, and pulls open a drawer of a wooden dresser, shoving clothes into it. He doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to wipe the new tears still escaping from his puffy eyes. The backpack, which is now full with clothing, is flung onto his back as he races out of the room again. He comes into another room, almost colliding into the island of the large kitchen, and grabs a thick piece of leather. He opens it, revealing its contents of numerous crisp notes, stopping once more to count how much. With an almost unnoticeable nod of his head, he pushes the notes back into the wallet.

The apartment, silent other than the curly haired lads staggered breaths, is interrupted once more; this time, with a hard rock melody booming from his pocket. He pulls out a slick, black phone from his pocket, glances at it and pauses, eyes gliding across the screen. Panic soon fills his features as he darts towards a cabinet, pulling out an already prepared satchel and throws it over his head. The rough, brown fabric flap is pulled open, revealing packets of food and several bottles of water, and a hand reaches in pulling out a piece of crumpled paper. The boy walks to the refrigerator, and, with trembling hands, places the paper on its smooth, silver surface. The boys eyes, scan over the paper quickly, before he turns and flies towards the door he had entered the apartment through.

Placing his pale, shaking hand on the handle, he turns and looks at the apartment. With a final sigh and an unwanted, lonely tear that streaks down his face, he opens the door and leaves the place.

***

Silence fills the apartment again; hardly any traces of the curly haired boy being here were left. Only the messy state of the room behind the ‘H’ door, and the paper left on the fridge.

The door is flung open again, revealing not the boy, but four other lads. They all stumble in, one telling the rest to look around for a boy named ‘Harry’. They all nod and start to frantically search. A boy with puppy dog eyes walks into the lounge area, gazing around and walking behind the couch, looking for any signs of the missing boy. Another, with fluffy blonde hair, makes his way towards the bedrooms, eyes growing wide when he sees the unusually messy room behind the ‘H’ door. A third with tanned skin and a dark quiff walks silently towards the bathrooms, investigated the clean area. And the last, a boy with wide, worried eyes and light feathery hair rushes into the kitchen; his eyes scanning every inch of the room until they come across the paper on the fridge. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he makes his way over to it and plucks it off of the door. As he reads the paper his eyes start to water, the colour drains from his face. Blinking repetitively, he continues to read. By the time his eyes have absorbed the last of the letter, the tears are flowing uncontrollably down his face, his hands shaking violently.

The boy with the puppy dog eyes walks in, and upon seeing the feathery haired boy's state, rushes over and places an arm around his shoulder. He asks the boy what happened, his words filled with concern and worry for the weeping lad, and as a response, he simply shoves the paper into his hands. The concerned boy quickly reads the note, eyes widening in shock, before calling the others. They rush in quickly, immediately asking what happened. The puppy dog eyed boy clears his throat, and begins to read:

“To Louis, Niall, Liam and Zayn,

By the time you read this I won’t be here. I will probably have caught a train to some unknown place, or gone to the airport and bought the first ticket out of London – one of the two. The point is I’ve gone. I can’t take it anymore! Being constantly followed, mobbed whenever I go for a walk, having questions thrown in my face all the time. All the pressure put on me, all the stress from management and you guys. I just can’t do it anymore – the band, I mean.

Don’t bother trying to find me, I don’t want to come back, and I’m not. Even if you do find me, don’t try to persuade me to come back. I’m leaving, changing my name, moving to some foreign country and trying to start a new life. And, don’t pretend you’ll miss me. ‘Cause I know you won’t.

With all due respect, Harry.”