One Direction: A Love Story

"Now what?" ~ Louis Tomlinson

Louis.

We all believed Zayn, I mean... it was hard not to. He made his point believable, but it was like he didn't like our chances much. I don't think anybody liked our chances, it was a dog-eat-dog world, and right now, we were mice.

 * * *

"Louis, come look!" Harry called from the lounge room. I stood in the kitchen, setting up our lunch. I was laying the ingredients for tacos out on the table; shells, soft shells, mince, lettuce, sour cream, tomato, cheese and the taco sauce stuff. It was all laid out perfectly. Walking into the lounge room, I glanced at the TV out of habit, and froze when I saw Zayn and Nialler on it.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed. I looked to Harry for an explanation, but he just shrugged. I sat down next to him, eyes glued to the TV.

"Just in, two young men have been hit by a bus. Eye witnesses at the scene claim to have seen them holding hands, look at each other, then walk right in front of the oncoming bus. The condition of the pair is not confirmed at this time. Everybody on the bus is safe, the driver is in shock and multiple passengers have suffered discomfort." She went on to talk about some other thing upcoming, but worry was evident on her face, and Harry flicked the TV off. Racing out to the car, only just having time to grab keys and my phone, I slammed the door, letting the car roar to life. I couldn’t appreciate its sound, only its performance, as we turned up to where there were hundreds of people crowded around something and a nearby bus, not in its lane.

I ran over, leaving Harry to deal with the car. I pushed through everyone, not caring who I was pushing. I had to see them, had to see they were alive. Harry caught up to me pretty quick and pushed in front of me, making an easier pathway for me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd as tears flowed down my face. We got to the centre of it all to find everyone crowding around a middle aged man leaning over an unconscious girl. I grabbed his shoulder, and he spun around ready for a fight.

“What do you want kid?” He asked me. Kid? I was his age! What a twat.

“Those two guys that have been hit, where are they?” Harry queried, always in control.

“Not a clue, heard they were dead. Did you check the hospital yet?” I shook my head.

“No, we came straight here.” He nodded his head toward the hospital, which was about 20km away, and I let another heap of tears out, and then I heard a siren. I snapped my head toward it, before pushing through the crowd again and racing to the car, once again hearing my engine purr, and hearing Harry’s door shut. I glanced over to check it was him not some random that climbed in my car, and when I saw Harry sitting there, I hit the accelerator and sped off to the hospital.

My phone ringing, I didn’t bother to answer it, but Harry did.

“Liam! Did you see the news??” He basically shouted into the phone. I heard a muffled short answer.

“Zayn and Niall were hit by a bus! We’re on our way to the hospital to see if they’re alive. People are- no, they can’t - people are saying that they were holding hands and just walked… uhm, just walked in front of the bus!” He rolled easily. I turned a corner sharply and he dropped my phone.

“Fuck! Sorry Lou.”

Arriving at the hospital, I let Harry get out of the car before I locked it and bolted inside. Before I could even open my mouth, Harry spoke up, asking if Zayn and Niall were there.

“Harry! I can speak you know! You’ve done nothing but interrupt me and speak over me all day!” I shot at him. Harry completely ignored me, so I shut my mouth and scowled, deciding to ignore him for the rest of the week.

“I’m sorry, they aren’t here. I heard they were killed. I’m sorry for your loss.” I reached over the counter and grabbed the receptionist by his button-up shirt.

“Where did you hear they were killed? Who told you that?!” I asked him in a steady voice that wanted to shake and quiver.

“Louis! What are you doing???” Harry bellowed loudly. I came to my senses and let go of the guy.

“I’m sorry. I… I’m worried. Not in my right mind. I’m sorry.” The guy at the counter just looked wide-eyed and terrified. I ran out, once again starting the car up and driving away, leaving Harry there… 20km at least from home, with no way of getting home. He didn’t even have his phone; we’d rushed out the door just grabbing my phone.

I heard a faint yelling but I ignored it, speeding off, taking the exit to the highway and letting loose.

Finally cooling off an hour later, I drove back to the hospital where Harry was nowhere in sight. I called his phone and to my surprise, he answered.

“Harry! Where are you? I’m so sorry!!!”

‘I’m at home. I walked.’ His response came before he hung up on me. I furrowed my eyebrow and drove off, headed for home.

Finally arriving home, I walked in the door to find Harry sitting on the lounge looking at a blank TV screen.

“Harry…?” He didn’t answer, and boy he looked pissed off. “I’m sorry. I was annoyed, and I’m worried. I’m so sorry Harry.” I looked down at the floor, feeling ashamed and disappointed in myself.

“I don’t want to hear it Louis. Just drive me over to my old place. I want some space. And I need to find out what happened to Zayn and Niall. They aren’t dead, I know they aren’t.” I nodded.

“Where do we start looking?” I asked him, and he got up and grabbed a packed bag.

“I start looking on the streets, after you take me to my place to drop my bags off.” I felt my jaw drop. That wasn’t what I’d expected at all.

“Are you… saying we’re over?” I stuttered, disbelieving. Harry hesitated before shaking his head slowly.

“No, I’m not. I just need some space, and some time to think.” He saw my fallen face and walked closer to me and pulled me into a brief, awkward hug.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, don’t leave, Harry, please,” Tears formed and dribbled down my cheek. He shook his head, mumbling, “Sorry, I have to.” This just made me cry more.

***

After I dropped Harry off to his old place, I drove home, a total wreck. I stepped into the kitchen and tripped over my own feet, face planting on the tiles. I cried out in pain, which was useless, nobody was here to help me.  With that thought in my head, I stood up, holding my face, and stood at the counter. I caught sight of something I’d prepared earlier; Harry’s tacos. I cried harder as I made my way to the bathroom, running a hot bath. I got in it, still fully clothed, and pulled the razor out of my sink drawer.

I cut deep against my forearm, letting the blood stain the water, wincing with every movement the sharp edge made against my skin. Hearing a knock at the door, I jumped, but didn’t move. If I ignored it they’d go away. That was how I saw it anyway… until I heard the door open and close. Didn’t I lock it? Did they break in? Did they pick the lock? Who was it? All these questions ran through my head as I thought quick and got up, undressing, but winding my wet shirt around my arm to cover the wound. I put a towel around me, and took the ‘bandage’ off my arm and dabbed it with paper towel to try to make it less noticeable. I locked my bathroom door, sitting quietly until I heard a voice. Harry’s voice.

“Louis, I’m sorry. I overreacted. Let me in,” He said, knocking on the bathroom door that I’d locked.

“No, go away.” My voice cracked though, and that’s how he knew something was definitely wrong. He kicked the door in, and I winced at the loud crack it made.

“HARRY!” I screamed, but my voice cracked again. I sat on the floor and hugged my knees. He gasped and hurried to me, cuddling me in his arms. Picking me up bridal style, I felt faint, and everything went black.

“Louis!” I heard distantly, and then I heard nothing.