Maybe I Even Love You - Larry Stylingson

Chapter 20 - Flashback

Uhhh.... i never expected this but 1k reads? thanks! i just thought i'd post a shit story and get like 5 reads but oh well. thanks! :)

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TW // SUICIDE , SELF HARM

*Louis' POV*

I hear Zayn and Liam trying to talk to Niall, and Harry pathetically attempting to gain my attention, but i don't hear them. I have no idea what they're actually saying. All I know is that they're all very confused, and are probably asking what the hell happened when that door was still on its hinges.

I come a little closer to reality when Harry gently cups my cheek and runs his thumb under my eye, probably wiping away some of the tears that I didn't want to escape.

I look over at him, and see the horrible expression on his face, one of utter confusion and sadness, but he still manages to make my breath hitch for a second. He's so beautiful.

Seeing his sadness just makes me want to burst out into tears again, but I manage to hold most of it in. Some escapes as a small tear, despite my best efforts.

"Lou..." Harry starts, "Lou, I... what happened? What did you and Niall talk about?"

I just stare at him, not really wanting to say anything. I don't want to answer that. I think I need a moment to myself...

"C-can I have a moment to myself?" I ask wearily, now noticing how hoarse my voice is. I hate it.

Harry nods his head, "Of course, Lou. That's no problem. Do you want to be alone-alone or just alone?"

"Alone-alone."

Harry just gives me a quick nod before signalling for the other guys to follow him, and they leave the room.

I sigh and put my head in my hands. They were never meant to find out about this. It would've been so much better if they didn't. I know attempting suicide is a pretty drastic thing, and that I've lied to them too many times, but I just wouldn't be able to deal with them knowing, and worrying about me. And now they will.

All of the memories of that lucky day flood back into my head, washing away all of my rational thoughts, replacing them with horrible ones.

Friday 28th, 3:27am

I had woken up in the middle of the night to a text. It had made a noise loud enough to wake me up so it must either be one of the boys or Simon.

It's Simon.

Why? Why can't he stop? This is getting to a point where I can barely handle it any more. After every single goddamn show he'll text me about one thing or another i did wrong. This time, I walked 'Too gay-ly'. What the FUCK does that even mean?

He makes me so angry I just want to throw my phone right out of the window. So that's exactly what I do. After smashing it into oblivion, of course, I don't want any chance of it working and someone finding it.

I sit back down on my bed and put my head in my hands, sobbing. My usual routine after getting a text from Simon. I continue that routine as I head to my bathroom and take my razor blade from its prize place hidden in the bottom of my travel toiletries bag. I slip my watch off my wrist and reveal the healing wounds.

One. Gay.

Two. Ugly.

Three. Irrelevant.

Four. Piece of shit.

I run my hand under the cold water of the tap and rinse off the blade, putting it back into my bag. I dry it off with the towel and cringe slightly at the pain. I deserve it, though.

You know what, I'm just a wimp for doing this. I can do better. You know what, I will do better.

I turn around and head back into the bedroom, finding my phone and sending a quick message to the 1D group chat.

"I'm going to be gone for a few days. I'll be back, don't worry."

Sent.

I go back into the bathroom and grab the blade again. My head is filled with thoughts of what I'm doing and why I deserve it.

You're a freak.

You're ugly.

You can't sing.

You're fat.

The crinkles by your eyes are ugly.

Your smile is ugly.

You're dumb.

You can't do simple maths.

You're gay.

I change my mind, and start searching through my bag for something else, and once i find them, I empty them all out onto the counter.

1, 2, 3, 4... I can't be bothered to waste my last minutes counting goddamn pills. There's a lot, that's all I know. I fill a glass with water and swallow all the pills, then put the glass back down, and swap it for the razor.

I bring the blade back to my bleeding wrist and pause for a minute, savouring the feeling of life, and regret the decision not to say goodbye when a warm hand grabs my wrist. I stay staring at my wrist and their hand.

Zayn.

"Don't." Is all he says.

Slowly, I start to cry. My eyes pool with tears which eventually overflow onto my cheeks, cascading down to drip onto the floor.

I guess I didn't lock my door.

I stay still, shocked by everything that's just happened.

I stay staring at the ground as Zayn plucks the sharp razor from my fingertips, and throws it in the bin.

He comes from behind me and wraps his arms around me, burying his head in my shoulder.

"Never." He whispers. "Never ever. Promise?"

I try to speak, but my voice doesn't want to come out. Eventually, I manage to muster, "Promise."

"Did you take anything?"

I nod my head carefully and shamefully.

"Let's get you to the hospital, then."

He picks me up bridal style and carries me out to a car. It can't be his, we're not home, we're on tour. Oh well. I black out somewhere on the journey to the hospital.

I get up from crying with my head in the pillow and make my way to the bathroom. I said 'Promise' to Zayn, but that was only about suicide, right? So this won't count?

I make sure the door is locked this time, and fish my trusty razor from the bottom of my toiletries bag.

~

I- i'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say.

At least you got two updates close together. Usually I'm shit at that.

I'm gonna start dating all of my chapters now. And also, I'm British, so it goes day, month, year. No, there's not 17 months in a year.

17/11/2020

-Dan