Red thread of love

Rock bottom

Harry was crying, his hands were shaking uncontrollably, he felt every intake of air he took scratched and burned his insides, his throat felt tight and swollen, he could feel his heartbeat resonating on his temples. Everything hurt, a stabbing pain from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. It was simply too much and the small pain his nails brought in his skin wasn't helping anmore. It was evident the world was going to be better without him, if he died at least he would stop hurting people in his life, her words wouldn't stop running through his head over and over again. He needed this unbearable pain to stop for good. He looked at the bottle of sleeping pills he had illegally bought on the nightstand and thought that it probably would be a painless death. He stood up and walked closer to what would make him free once and for all. Just as he was about to take the bottle, his phone that was next to it started to vibrate, indicating there was an incoming call. With a shaky breath he took the phone and saw who was calling.

"Haz?" His raspy worried voice filled Harry's ears.

"Lou," Harry whispered. "I can't, Lou. It's too much, and I just can't bear it anymore," he mumbled nonsensically.

"You're scaring me, darling. Where are you? Is there someone else with you?" Louis asked, alarmed.

"For what it's worth, I really loved you. I don't think I would ever have stopped loving you. I hope one day you get to be happy," Harry's words were barely understandable with his hiccuping and ragged breath.

"Hazza, what are you talking about?" Louis' voice seemed frantic.

Harry hung up the call and took the bottle, opening the lid spilling about ten or more pills on his hand, he took a glass of water and chugged it all at once. He took a deep breath, turned on the record player with his favourite disc from Fleetwood Mac playing at a low volume. He was still crying heavily but decided to lay down in bed and just wait for it to end. He slowly started to fall asleep and all went dark.

<< Flashback two weeks before >>

Harry and Luke were officially over. Two weeks after Luke's leaving Harry was surprised to find him sitting in the living room when he arrived back home from a shift at the pub he used to sing in.

"Luke, I didn't know you were coming back. I would've left work earlier if I knew," Harry said with a rushed voice. He knew Luke had been staying in London because two days after the 'fight' (if you could even call it that) a chunk of Luke's clothes were gone. But the rest of his things still remained in place. And the fact that he hadn't received a call from his mother or Luke's mom for that matter was hint enough that he hadn't made a decision yet.

Luke stood up until they were both in the middle of the room facing each other. "I have only one question, Harry," Luke calmly said, ignoring Harry's greeting. "And you better be honest, I deserve that much," he said pointing at him with an accusatory finger.

This had felt heavy on his chest, he knew this was a make it or break it deal. Harry took a deep breath and with a nod of his head looking Luke in the eyes he gestured him to go on.

"Do you still love him?" Luke asked, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence despite his strong efforts of remaining stoic.

Shit. Harry scrunched his eyes tightly and felt his lips wobbling. He knew what was coming.

A loud noise made him flinch and open his eyes. Luke had kicked the wood table that was in front of the couch hard enough to make it fly to the opposite side of the room, picture frames shattering on the floor.

"Have the balls to look me in the eyes when you say it," Luke seethed.

"I do," Harry whispered, tears running down his cheeks. "But Luke, I swear, I love you too," he tried to take a step forward to reach him.