World Tour
Ouch
***Harry Styles***
Monday, August 13th, 2012 – North London, England
I woke up from my nap feeling slightly better, and I went down to the kitchen to get a snack. I sat at the bar with my laptop and decided to check my Twitter for the first time in awhile. I immediately regretted it.
There were so many hate tweets sent to me I lost count. A lot of them were just general comments about people not liking me or my voice, but the ones that caught my eye were about me and Louis. Most of them referenced how he didn’t love me, he was clearly with Abby, and I was an idiot for thinking he ever could love the likes of me. There were a bunch like that – all with the same message: Louis doesn’t love you. I actually fell off the bar stool and landed on my knees, holding my stomach, wanting to throw up, wanting to die. Die. I pulled myself up and somehow managed to find my way to the knife drawer through a mess of tears and sobs. I pulled out the biggest blade I could find and slid it down my wrist first to make sure it was sharp enough. It was, but my hand was shaking, and I knew I needed to calm down if I wanted to succeed. I got a bottle of rum from the cabinet to help calm my nerves and give me some liquid courage. I took a few sips, knowing that wouldn’t get me drunk but it would at least make me think I was, and then I slid the knife across my wrist once more, making an “L” in blood. I stared at that letter for a minute – “L”. Louis. Lonely. Love. But Louis didn’t love me. How could I not have seen that before? Of course he would want Abby – she was pretty and always gave him her full attention. Why didn’t I do that for him? Because I’m not good enough, that’s why. I would never be good enough for him, or for anyone else, so why bother putting myself through the constant rejection? All of my calming thoughts about the future that I’d had since the day before disappeared, and I no longer even wanted a future.
I took a few deep breaths to relax. I needed my hand to be steady, and I needed the tears to stop so I could clearly see where the knife was pointing. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to punish myself for being me, and for hurting Louis, and for – for living. I aimed the knife at my stomach and was about to pierce it through when the front door opened and Louis walked in the kitchen. His face fell and he gasped when he saw me as he wasted no time running towards me.
“Harry, no!” he yelled, jumping on top of me and tackling me to the ground. I fell backwards, and the knife slid across the floor. I looked at Louis, who was still on top of me, and then I pulled my face to my hands, sobbing. “Harry,” he gasped. He stood up and lifted me to my feet, and I fell against his arms. I could feel him crying as well, but I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. What had just happened? “Harry,” Louis kept saying, and I just kept crying uncontrollably.
Finally, Louis pulled me over to the table and sat me down in a kitchen chair. “Deep breaths,” he coaxed, his eyes red. I did as he said. “Harry, what was that about?” he asked me, fear on his face and sadness in his voice. I still couldn’t talk, though, so I just pointed at the computer screen that was still open to my Twitter page. Louis walked over and looked at it, scrolling through some of the comments. “Oh, man,” he sighed, then he smoothed his hands over his face as he walked back over to me. He took a hand towel and wrapped it around my still bleeding wrist, and I was glad the blood was so messy it covered the fact that my wrist had an “L” carved into it. “Come on,” he took my hand and pulled me to my feet, then led me up to his room.
We laid down on Louis’s bed and he held me so tightly, like he was afraid if he let go I would disappear. But I didn’t mind – I needed to be held onto right then, and I needed to hold him back, which I did. We didn’t speak for awhile, just laying in our own sobs and tears. Finally, Louis sniffled and took a deep breath.
“You know what one of my favorite things about you is?” he asked, his voice full of pain and sadness. I shook my head. “You always put everyone before you,” he told me. I knew where he was going with that – a lecture on how I don’t take care of myself. He was right, but I didn’t deserve to take care of myself. I let out a sob.
“You’re one to talk,” I managed to say.
“I’m not the one who had a knife to my gut a few minutes ago.”
“God, Louis, I don’t know what happened,” I explained. “It was like I was a completely different person. I wasn’t myself.”
“Harry, what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten home when I did?” Louis asked, terrified.
“I don’t know,” I shook my head and buried my face in his chest, clutching onto the back of his shirt.
“Harry,” he sighed. “Babe. Talk to me, please.”
“You saw the tweets,” I choked out. Louis pulled his head back and took my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him as my tears spilled onto his fingers.
“You know those aren’t true,” he stated, firmly. “Harry, you have to know that. You know I love you. You, not Abby, not anyone else. Tell me you know that.” He was speaking so intensely there was no way I could argue even if I’d wanted to – which I didn’t.
“I know,” I sniffled and closed my eyes. “I just – I felt so alone. I couldn’t call any of the guys, and you were with Abby, and it – it hurts, Lou, it hurts so bad.”
“You can always call me,” he began stroking my hair. “I don’t care who I’m with, what time it is, or how significant the thing you’re calling about is. Curly, you can call me at two in the morning just to tell me you found a five dollar bill in your pocket, I don’t care. I love hearing from you. But you have to call me when you’re upset, there’s no reason not to. Damn it, Harry, you have to think about me before you do something like that. What would I do without you?” He started to cry again, and I hugged him. He was right – the only thing worse than Louis crying was me not being there to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry, Lou,” I whispered.
“Harry, you know the guys would’ve been here if you called, even if they’re mad at us right now. They love you, so much, and so do I. What was going through your head?” Louis’s voice was desperate.
“I just – I couldn’t think straight,” I said. “It all just came crashing down at once, and those words, those tweets, were right in front of me and they seemed so real, and – and then I just didn’t want to be here anymore.”
“Do you still feel that way?” Louis asked. I sighed.
“I don’t know,” I replied, honestly.
“Harry,” was all he said.
Monday, August 13th, 2012 – North London, England
I woke up from my nap feeling slightly better, and I went down to the kitchen to get a snack. I sat at the bar with my laptop and decided to check my Twitter for the first time in awhile. I immediately regretted it.
There were so many hate tweets sent to me I lost count. A lot of them were just general comments about people not liking me or my voice, but the ones that caught my eye were about me and Louis. Most of them referenced how he didn’t love me, he was clearly with Abby, and I was an idiot for thinking he ever could love the likes of me. There were a bunch like that – all with the same message: Louis doesn’t love you. I actually fell off the bar stool and landed on my knees, holding my stomach, wanting to throw up, wanting to die. Die. I pulled myself up and somehow managed to find my way to the knife drawer through a mess of tears and sobs. I pulled out the biggest blade I could find and slid it down my wrist first to make sure it was sharp enough. It was, but my hand was shaking, and I knew I needed to calm down if I wanted to succeed. I got a bottle of rum from the cabinet to help calm my nerves and give me some liquid courage. I took a few sips, knowing that wouldn’t get me drunk but it would at least make me think I was, and then I slid the knife across my wrist once more, making an “L” in blood. I stared at that letter for a minute – “L”. Louis. Lonely. Love. But Louis didn’t love me. How could I not have seen that before? Of course he would want Abby – she was pretty and always gave him her full attention. Why didn’t I do that for him? Because I’m not good enough, that’s why. I would never be good enough for him, or for anyone else, so why bother putting myself through the constant rejection? All of my calming thoughts about the future that I’d had since the day before disappeared, and I no longer even wanted a future.
I took a few deep breaths to relax. I needed my hand to be steady, and I needed the tears to stop so I could clearly see where the knife was pointing. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to punish myself for being me, and for hurting Louis, and for – for living. I aimed the knife at my stomach and was about to pierce it through when the front door opened and Louis walked in the kitchen. His face fell and he gasped when he saw me as he wasted no time running towards me.
“Harry, no!” he yelled, jumping on top of me and tackling me to the ground. I fell backwards, and the knife slid across the floor. I looked at Louis, who was still on top of me, and then I pulled my face to my hands, sobbing. “Harry,” he gasped. He stood up and lifted me to my feet, and I fell against his arms. I could feel him crying as well, but I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. What had just happened? “Harry,” Louis kept saying, and I just kept crying uncontrollably.
Finally, Louis pulled me over to the table and sat me down in a kitchen chair. “Deep breaths,” he coaxed, his eyes red. I did as he said. “Harry, what was that about?” he asked me, fear on his face and sadness in his voice. I still couldn’t talk, though, so I just pointed at the computer screen that was still open to my Twitter page. Louis walked over and looked at it, scrolling through some of the comments. “Oh, man,” he sighed, then he smoothed his hands over his face as he walked back over to me. He took a hand towel and wrapped it around my still bleeding wrist, and I was glad the blood was so messy it covered the fact that my wrist had an “L” carved into it. “Come on,” he took my hand and pulled me to my feet, then led me up to his room.
We laid down on Louis’s bed and he held me so tightly, like he was afraid if he let go I would disappear. But I didn’t mind – I needed to be held onto right then, and I needed to hold him back, which I did. We didn’t speak for awhile, just laying in our own sobs and tears. Finally, Louis sniffled and took a deep breath.
“You know what one of my favorite things about you is?” he asked, his voice full of pain and sadness. I shook my head. “You always put everyone before you,” he told me. I knew where he was going with that – a lecture on how I don’t take care of myself. He was right, but I didn’t deserve to take care of myself. I let out a sob.
“You’re one to talk,” I managed to say.
“I’m not the one who had a knife to my gut a few minutes ago.”
“God, Louis, I don’t know what happened,” I explained. “It was like I was a completely different person. I wasn’t myself.”
“Harry, what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten home when I did?” Louis asked, terrified.
“I don’t know,” I shook my head and buried my face in his chest, clutching onto the back of his shirt.
“Harry,” he sighed. “Babe. Talk to me, please.”
“You saw the tweets,” I choked out. Louis pulled his head back and took my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him as my tears spilled onto his fingers.
“You know those aren’t true,” he stated, firmly. “Harry, you have to know that. You know I love you. You, not Abby, not anyone else. Tell me you know that.” He was speaking so intensely there was no way I could argue even if I’d wanted to – which I didn’t.
“I know,” I sniffled and closed my eyes. “I just – I felt so alone. I couldn’t call any of the guys, and you were with Abby, and it – it hurts, Lou, it hurts so bad.”
“You can always call me,” he began stroking my hair. “I don’t care who I’m with, what time it is, or how significant the thing you’re calling about is. Curly, you can call me at two in the morning just to tell me you found a five dollar bill in your pocket, I don’t care. I love hearing from you. But you have to call me when you’re upset, there’s no reason not to. Damn it, Harry, you have to think about me before you do something like that. What would I do without you?” He started to cry again, and I hugged him. He was right – the only thing worse than Louis crying was me not being there to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry, Lou,” I whispered.
“Harry, you know the guys would’ve been here if you called, even if they’re mad at us right now. They love you, so much, and so do I. What was going through your head?” Louis’s voice was desperate.
“I just – I couldn’t think straight,” I said. “It all just came crashing down at once, and those words, those tweets, were right in front of me and they seemed so real, and – and then I just didn’t want to be here anymore.”
“Do you still feel that way?” Louis asked. I sighed.
“I don’t know,” I replied, honestly.
“Harry,” was all he said.
Notes
SUPER heavy chapter guys. Brace yourselves. Hard to write. Sorry.No sweet Harry!! It's gonna be okay love!! So glad Louis got there when he did!!
@Sinthiaa
No, it's not hers, it's mine, and I can't get in touch with her or the site admins to get it taken down, grrr haha. Thank you for saying something though :-) *MUAH*
5/6/14