Chapter Text
Louis thought his eyes had closed for the final time. His recollection of his last conscious moments were vague and blurry, yet he recalled himself filling up the bath.
And the line of painkillers on the window sill.
The next thing he was aware of was a tortured scream, then all turned dark. He was so afraid of the welcoming darkness, it seemed too comforting. He resisted it as best he could, but he felt it pressing down upon him like a ton weight.
Seconds, or minutes, or days, or years later, Louis couldn’t tell, the pressure on him began to ease. The cessation of the drowsiness and the blurriness of his thoughts made the true magnitude of what he tried to do hit him.
As his senses became more acute, and recovered from the drugs, he felt a soft bed underneath him, and the gentle, rhythmic beeping of a cardiac monitor. A gentle female voice sounded near his right ear.
“He should be showing signs of coming around soon. We pumped his stomach in time, we got most of the Paracetamol out of his system.”
As he became more and more aware of his thoughts, he came to the conclusion he was in a hospital and his ‘attempt’ had been unsuccessful. He couldn’t even think about would have happened if he had succeeded. He still so vividly recalled that towering wall of darkness that threatened to engulf him.
A quiet sobbing became quite apparent to Louis’ right, yet he did not have the strength to open his eyes yet. It sounded like his mother. Over all, the thing he could not cope with was seeing his own mother cry.
“Doctor!” His mother shouted, “He’s crying!”
Two pairs of footsteps approached the right side of Louis’ bed. A soft hand wiped moisture off the right side of his face.
”Hmm…” The female doctor mused, “He must be able to hear us-” She wasn’t able to complete her sentence. Louis felt a body clutch itself to his own.
“Oh baby, baby, baby. My little Lou I nearly lost you.” His mother sobbed into his chest, “I love you so much, please, just open your eyes and come back to me.” She begged.
Louis’ face contorted slightly, this was emotional torture for him. When he had attempted to kill himself he never truly thought out the consequences for his actions, he only attempted to escape the emotional hell he was experiencing everyday.
’Mum.’ He thought, feeling the weight of the painkillers lift off him almost all at once. He tried with all his might to open his eyes, but only made them flutter.
“My baby Lou, come on honey.” His mother begged. Within the next few moments one of Louis’ eyes opened. Pale blue stared into pale blue. His lips moved but his mother silenced him,
“Hush Boo you need to rest.”
Now Louis could see again, he looked at the mess his mother had become. Her hair was wild, and her eyes were wild and puffy. His lips trembled.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, in a cracked, raspy voice.
His mother just looked at him, expressionless.
*
Three weeks later
*
“Come in Louis.” The therapist commanded. Louis sighed and left his mother and trudged into the therapist’s study. He gesticulated for Louis to take a seat, while taking a seat himself beside the fire.
Louis nodded and slipped into a hard, wooden chair, furthest from the therapist. The therapist noted this and folded his arms. Examining the slight, quiet male in front of him, whom appeared, on the outside, although quiet, fine. Yet he sensed something was at unrest within Louis’ mind. He sat silently observing the roaring fire with cobalt-blue eyes. He curved in on himself, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist whilst he watched the flames lick around the logs.
“How do you feel?” The therapist questioned, raising his eyes from his notepad. Louis felt his gaze and shriveled under his intense gaze. He just nodded, unsure of what else to say.
The therapist shook his head before continuing with his diagnosis.
“Have you had any recurring thoughts of suicide?” He asked, to which Louis quickly shook his head. His therapist let out a gasp of frustration abruptly, then realised how improper that was.
“Forgive me, that was most unprofessional.” Louis nodded, he spoke quietly for the first time.
“It’s fine.” He made brief eye contact, and a flicker of a smile which he attempted to fabricate brushed across his features.
“Well Louis, although you seem… on the mend, as it were, I still find that you’ve become more withdrawn. This is a very prominent symptom for depression. However I’m not one of those counselors who label everything as depression immediately.”
Louis’ jaw fell open, ‘D-d-depression.’ He thought, barely able to formulate the thought. The very concept petrified him. Although it made sense to him.
The taunts.
The insults.
The isolation.
He thought he’d got it all under control, when obviously he hadn’t. He shivered involuntarily before sinking further into his seat, further from the psychologist before him.
“I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Louis.” He stated, matter-of-factly. Louis let his eyes drop to the floor as he felt the male’s intense scrutiny scan him for any information evident from his body language.
Although there was something the matter, Louis couldn’t say. He could never say again. He’d tried that already and look where that had gotten him.
He just shook his head, and the therapist mirrored his action with a sigh.
“Louis, I’m going to prescribe you for a two month course of lithium carbonate. It’s a mood stabiliser. It’ll remove any chances of you having severe dips in mood. Although it will prevent any ‘highs’ either. But it’ll only be on a temporary basis. I am nearly positive, with continued psychoanalysis we’ll sort out whatever problem is plaguing you, then you’ll be fast on the road to recovery. I suggest you start keeping a diary of some description so you can document how you feel day to day.”
Louis bit his lip to prevent himself from showing any emotion, particularly the distress which was ravaging him at that moment.
‘You won’t have trouble with emotions for very long.’ A sadistic little voice in his head offered. He shook it off quickly, before standing up.
“Thank you doctor.” Louis concluded, taking the prescription that the doctor procured from inside his tweed jacket. ‘He had no intention of not prescribing me the medication.’ Louis thought. ‘That’s nice.’
The therapist nodded to him and then stood up himself and walked behind Louis to the door, ushering him out with a gentle pat on the pack.
“Sarah O’Meera? Next please.” The therapist shouted, before closing his door. Louis made his way over to his mother and she got up, pulling her car keys from her coat pocket.
“How did that go chicken?” She asked warily. Louis sighed and handed her the slightly crumpled piece of paper. Louis noticed her eyes widen when she saw, ‘Diagnosis - Clinical Depression’, but her only words were to turn and hug Louis.
“We’re going to get through this chicken, trust me please.” Louis nodded into her shoulder, silently sighing.
“I love you, you know?” His mother said quickly, “Never forget that.”
A lone tear squeezed it’s way out of Louis’ eye.
*
The next couple of days were difficult to bear. Louis had been absent from his school for almost a full month. There was massive speculations and rumours were spreading about him like wildfire. He knew this would be the case, and he completely dreaded returning. His mother had insisted upon keeping him from school for a few more days, simply to make sure he was okay and fit enough to return.
Little did his mother know, she was sending him back to the hell that had caused him to attempt to end his own life.
The night before he was due to return to school, he tried on his school uniform quickly. He pulled his shirt on over his skinny torso, finding the sleeves falling to just below his elbow, concealing any give-away scars.
After slipping off his uniform and laying it over the radiator, Louis looked in the mirror, clad only in his boxers, something he’d tried to refrain from doing over the past few months.
‘Shit.’ He thought, his eyes fixed particularly on the amount of weight he’d lost recently. He was never beefy or overweight, but he could now easily count each rib. He also noted his normally tanned complexion had reduced itself to a shadow of what it used to be. He touched his stomach and pinched at himself in disgust, then shook his head, letting his eyes fall from the mirror. He quickly turned off the light and slipped under his bed covers.
Sighing at how cold and alone he felt in his small bed, he rolled over in the blankets, forming a cocoon, then letting his head fall to the side, closing his eyes.
08.00AM
He had awoken almost as if a normal day was dawning. Then Louis recalled all the shit that was weighing him down nowadays. He dreaded school so much it was now becoming a piercing pain to even think about how he’d be perched on top of an uncomfortable chair, surrounded by people who had nothing but disdain for him.
He picked up his new notebook off the kitchen table, deciding to act upon the doctor’s advice and make a diary of sorts. He got a lengthy lecture from his mother about how this was a new beginning for him, and not to worry. He nodded through it, and took the two lithium tablets his mother gave him and put them in his mouth, but rolled them under his tongue. With that he gave her a tired smile, then picked his car keys off of the table and left.
As he got into his shitty, messy car, he spat the lithium tablets out of his mouth and threw them out the window.
‘Emotions would be nice.’ He thought sardonically. As he started his car, the engine stuttered a few times, but then emanated a quiet purr, indicating the engine had ignited.
He wrapped both his hands around the steering wheel and sighed, feeling he was driving himself to his own doom. Tightening one hand over the steering wheel, he leafed about the compartments in the car. Everywhere where there was room, CD’s were stuffed. He eventually found something he wanted, The Sensual World by Kate Bush.
‘How fucking apt.’ He thought, sliding the CD into the compartment, then quickly pulling out of the driveway.
The drive through the bustling Manchester city was the best part of the journey, yet he longed for countryside, and mountains. He was unsure why. The hustle and bustle depressed him slightly, it reminded him of morbid things like how the world moves on no matter what.
One of his all-time favourite songs, The Fog, came on while he came to a set of traffic lights. It reached his favourite lyrics and he experienced an involuntary shiver down his spine. Before he knew what he was doing, he was singing along with Kate.
“Just put your feet down child,
The water is only waist-high.
I’ll let go of you gently,
Then you can swim to me.”
He relished his exquisitely odd music taste for a moment, then realised he was at the gates of his school. Greater Manchester Grammar. He could feel it glaring at him.
“Fuck sake. ” He muttered quietly, but sighed, resigned, as he pulled into the school.
He got out of his car and locked it, slinging his shitty backpack over his shoulder, carting his notebook in his left hand, whilst the right steadied his bag. He felt eyes were completely focused on him. People weren’t even bothering to avert their eyes, or lower their voices. What did it matter if the little emo kid heard you talking about him?
“Heard he tried to kill himself.”
“Did you hear? Louis Tomlinson tried to top himself.”
“What a selfish dick.”
“Not surprised the fag did to be honest.”
’You knew this was coming, just deal with it Lou.’ He told himself, pushing open the door to the canteen, where he normally waited for the beginning of first class.
Louis has wrestled with his sexuality in secret for six years. He had an epiphany the year previous to all this business, and then had a big secret on his consciousness.
He had spent that entire year concealing his true identity, he figured that if he came out as gay, he would lose his group of friends, which he existed on the fringes of anyway, but that was besides the point.
It all went downhill when he had told his ‘friend’, feeling that if he didn’t, he was going to explode. His ‘friend’, Laura, seemed trustworthy, in a moment of madness for Louis, he broke down and told her absolutely everything, then realised what an idiotic mistake he had just made. However said, “Don’t worry Lou.” and assured her confidence. However long that lasted.
He recalled the first day the abuse started.
Zayn Malik, the toughest, sportiest, most popular guy in the entire school started the ball rolling. Louis was sitting by his locker reading a book with both his headphones in. Louis raised his eyes for a moment and saw him with the rest of his posse He quickly looked down at his book again, using his mantra, ‘keep your head down’.
Before he could possibly react, Zayn shoved Louis against his locker. Louis dropped his book, and smashed his head against the blue metal. He swayed, clutching his head, before pulling one headphone out of his ear.
“What is your problem?” Louis asked, as aggressively as his quiet demeanor allowed him. Before he replied, Louis looked around at Zayn’s group, they were all a metre or so away. They were all laughing bar a curly haired one, but Louis imagined he could see traces of a smirk on his face.
“My problem? You’re the one with the fucking problem, fag.”
Louis blinked, before completely shutting down. Looking down and wrapping his arms around his waist. Zayn turned to his friends and laughed,
“Yeah that’s what I thought faggot. This isn’t the end of our little friendship bud’.” Zayn promised, throwing him a smile which Louis missed, as he was looking at his own shoes. He also missed the look of pity the curly haired friend of Zayn had shot him.
Things were pretty much the same from then on. He became completely isolated from his group of friends. He found a table by himself which he frequented from then on. He continually told himself he would be okay, that if he just survived two more years of this sixth form / hell.
As he entered the canteen, he took to ignoring several pairs of eyes who seemed to be glued in his direction. ‘Isn’t it considered rude to stare anymore..’ Louis thought pathetically. He sat down at his table and pulled out his Ipod and notebook, quickly setting it on to shuffle, and cranking up the volume full blast, he settled down to Paramore with a relieved sigh.
He was more himself when he had his music completely engulfing him. It put a stopper on him, preventing those awful, black thoughts that spewed from his head at random moments.
He pulled a pen from his pocket and started to write on the first pages, in block caps;
MEMOIRS OF A DEPRESSIVE FUCKUP
He smirked slightly, but sighed at the reality of the statement. He turned to the subsequent page and began to write, in his scrawly handwriting.
today has started awful. i swear to god about thirty people are looking me right now and if i could blush i would, my skin’s too pale but. i sorta wish i had taken the tablets now, at least i wouldn’t have worried about what everyone was saying, then again i’d be an emotionless shell. fucking hell it wouldn’t be so bad if i had some friends or something to talk to. i swear i can feel Laura’s eyes burning a hole in my neck.
Louis jumped at the sound of the morning bell, indicating the first lesson was starting in five minutes, much to some peoples’ amusement. He pulled his headphones from his ears, and securely put his notebook into his bag, so no one would see.
He quickly stood up and hastened out the door before the main throng of people got up. He recalled his timetable, double English Literature, then Chemistry. That was fine by him, he wouldn’t have to say anything to anybody, unless, God forbid, the teacher asked him a question.
He was early for his class, but his teacher was in the classroom. She invited him in for a minute before the class started, giving her a slight smile, but internally cursing his earliness.
“How are you Louis?” She asked, concern flooding her eyes.
“I’m alright..” His voice trailed off, when he didn’t know what to say. Of course he wasn’t alright. Was he ever alright. She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.
“You’ll be okay Louis. If you ever need a chat I’m here.”
He genuinely smiled, touched.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
*
He had actually enjoyed English. No one had asked him anything, everyone only gave him cautious glances out of the corner of their eyes. As he approached the chemistry lab, he sighed, before peeling the door open.
His chemistry teacher gave him a quick smile and gestured to the other twenty pupils lined up against the back of the class.
“Line up with your peers Louis, we’re allocating new seats.” He said with such genuine enthusiasm that Louis wondered for a moment what was so great about this prospective, new seating arrangement.
His old seat was perfect, he was right at the front and he sat alone. No interaction or insults could be have been aimed towards him.
As his name was nearly last in the alphabet,he was one of the last to be seated. He just waited, resigned, for his name to be called.
Just before his name was called, Dr. Mulhern called another name.
“Styles.” He gestured to an empty two seater desk at the back of the class. Lifting his eyes from his feet momentarily he noticed that the curly haired male who was friends with Zayn get up from his perch on the back bench, and take a seat at the very back.
‘Christ.’ He thought, panicked at the prospect of being seated beside an accomplice to Zayn.
‘Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.’ He thought over and over. He saw the curly haired guy give him a quick appraisal, then turn away.
”Tomlinson.” He said, gesturing to the seat beside Zayn’s friend. ‘FOR FUCK’S SAKE’ he screamed internally. He came up to the table and Harry looked at him for another moment emotionlessly, then pulled his chemistry book out.
Louis slid onto his stool and pulled his own chemistry book out of his bag, and opened the very front page, cursing internally once more when he had missed a full month of notes and he’d most likely have to ask someone to give him theirs to catch up, so began to doodle dead trees onto the page.
About halfway through the chemistry class, the teacher’s phone rang, and he stepped outside the class to take his call. Louis saw from the corner of his eye that Zayn’s friend was staring straight at him.
He turned to look at him, expecting him to look away, but he didn’t. In the second or so Louis examined him, he realised how breathtakingly beautiful he was. He unconsciously turned his attention to his lips. Zayn’s friend’s mouth twisted, one side of his face curling upwards in the most god-like smile Louis had witnessed. His lips opened.
“I’m Harry.”