Larry one-shots

Fishing

Tw// mentions of; self harm, physical and verbal abuse.

Finding reasons to stay is like fishing. You're constantly trying to get them, usually you're just waiting for them. Sometimes you have one for a bit but eventually it escapes.

You may have many and yet it isn't enough to keep you going. You want bigger and better but all you can manage is small ones. Eventually you may finally have enough but then the bucket gets kicked over and most fish fall back into the sea.

Maybe your foot slips or is just stuck in the bucket, but it drags you in with it. It pulls you under the water and you remember you can't swim. There are no reasons in sight and the water blinds you. Giving up seems like the best option.

Maybe you're one of the lucky ones. A boat nearby spots you in the water, helps put you back on your feet. You start to fill up the bucket again and all seems to be going well.

Until another boat crashes into you, bringing you down. Maybe it was an abusive asshole who told you they loved you. Maybe it was a horrible parent who made it clear they didn't want you. Maybe just a comment about you a passerby made to their friend.

It doesn't matter what, it shatters everything you've built up. The boat is destroyed entirely. You need a new one, but that requires getting to the surface of the water and calling for help. Easier said than done. Calling for help doesn't always work anyway. It can make it worse depending on the situation.

Maybe the noise attracts sharks, sharks that are hell-bent on keeping you in the water, or taking away something to make life harder to live. Let's say that the latter doesn't happen, I don't want to even begin to write that.

Someone hears your cries for help. You get back on your boat and think to yourself, "damn. I really hate fishing." That being said, you decide it's high time to get back to land. It takes awhile because of how far out your boat is and because of the large amount of rocks sticking up on the way.

You're almost there. After all this time you're almost back on dry ground. Before you make it there, however. A large wave crashes over the boat, causing your boat to flip and you to go back under the water. If only you could swim, the beach is in your sights.

You give up. What else is there to do? Fishing is hard, drowning is easy. The water envelopes you, you don't even fight back. Unfortunately for you, or fortunately if you wish, a lifeguard spotted you and came to help. The lifeguard takes you to shore. Suddenly it all seems just a tad bit brighter.

All is well until a family member or 'friend' forces you to go fishing again because "it's supposedly fun and it gives you a good feed after." Now you wish you'd've started taking swimming lessons.

In conclusion: finding reasons is like fishing. If fishing was 10× harder, you sucked at fishing and the sea absolutely hated you. I think that makes it a little bit unrealistic but maybe that's because it's 3am and I thought of this while I was trying to sleep. I wish I could actually sleep.

Anyways that's all for my free writing Miss Campbell. Sorry I went over the word limit, it's 3am and I got into the writing zone. Don't take this seriously, I'm fine and I know about this stuff because of books I've read and stories i've heard.

-H

"Harry I have some concerns about this paper." The teacher informed him. "Why? Is it because it's too long? I can shorten it if you need me too Miss." He rushed out, which was unusual for him.

Miss Campbell gave him a concerned look, then saying; "it's not that at all, Harry. You know it isn't." He pursed his lips, nodding gently. "Is everything okay with you? Do you need me to call someone?" Harry shook his head quickly, refusing to make eye-contact.

"I'm fine," he cursed himself in his mind when his voice cracked. He was beginning to show his true emotions and he needed to get out of this classroom, ASAP! His teacher looks up at him, doubt clear on her face. Sympathy laced in with it. Harry hated that look, the look of "That sucks, wish I could help". They could help, but he doesn't want them to, he doesn't want their useless pity either.

Its the look his sister gives him when she sees his arms and thighs. The look he receives when their Mother gets mad and yells at him for the smallest of things. The look when their Father gets too drunk and takes his frustrations out on Harry with his fists.

It causes Harry to be tipped over the edge. He runs out of the room, tears streaming down his face. He doesn't notice his best friend at the door, leaning against the wall with his ear to the window.

As soon as Harry had left the room, Louis' head had whipped around to see him running. He heard Harry's writing, now he understood why he always wore long-sleeve shirts or sweaters and pants that came down to at least his calves.

The bruises may have started at 7, hidden by never-removed shirts. The cuts may have started when they were 13 and Harry bought a sweater seemingly randomly and almost never took it off. When he did there was always a long-sleeve shirt underneath.

He feels stupid. His best friend was hurting. How didn't he notice sooner? How did he not realise that Harry's smile might not always be genuine? His world seemed to seem a little more dull at his next thought.

How did he not realise the boy he loves is fishing for reasons?

A/N

I wrote this ages ago 😃
Why'd I think this was good, lmao? Sorry about this, I actually did write it at 3am like, several months ago. Sometime last year I think.

So... sorry about that.

-Still me, sadly.

P.S. Stream 'Still' by Niall Horan