Chapter 35: Spiraling Into Darkness
Louis took a deep, shuddering breath as the door clicked shut behind Harry and Oli. The sound seemed to echo in the silence of the room, amplifying the hollow ache in his chest. He realized he had sent Harry away too—and now, he was completely have I done? What is wrong with me? I don't want to be stared at the far wall, his mind a tangle of thoughts that refused to settle. He felt empty, gutted, like a shell of himself. None of this made couldn't be true. It just couldn't.
Oli. His best friend, the person who had stood by him the longest. The one who had carried him through his darkest moments when nobody else could. How could he have done this? Louis's mind replayed Oli's broken confession, the tears streaming down his face, the desperation in his voice. It didn't add up. He had always trusted Oli completely, had thought their friendship was unshakable. But now?
He said he felt pushed aside,Louis thought, his throat like I didn't need him anymore. But why?Louis had tried to give Oli space, to let him focus on Sally and the baby. He'd thought he was doing the right thing by not leaning too heavily on him.I was so caught up in Harry—so happy to have him back. I didn't need as much from Oli anymore, and maybe that hurt him. But does that justify what he did?
The thought stung, sharper than he expected. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his head tilting back against the 's done so much for me. Maybe I should've noticed sooner. Maybe I should've reached out more, shown him I still needed then his stomach twisted, anger flaring briefly before fading into a simmering he didn't just tell someone something about me. He told them the one thing I've tried to keep hidden my entire life. The one thing I wasn't ready to share. He turned my most private truth into his complaint. He betrayed me. I trusted him completely.
His breathing hitched as the weight of it all settled over him didn't he just call me? Why didn't he come to me instead of running to some stranger? He could have told me he felt neglected. He never said a word and then ran to a bar and told some guy that I'm fucking Harry I that blind to how he felt? Was I really that terrible of a friend? Or was Oli a terrible friend?
The emptiness in his chest grew heavier, the questions piling on top of one another, threatening to crush now I know.A pang of bitterness crept wasn't just a coincidence that they knew. That they said I'm the one fucking Harry Styles. That they knew who I am. Oli talked about me and said that. It wasn't just a guess that I love Harry. They used what Oli told them to destroy me. To hurt me in the worst way possible. And I have to live with that now. That Oli, my best friend, helped—unintentionally or not—someone destroy the relationship with the love of my life.
Every time I think about the attack, I think about Harry. The two things are inseparably connected. And the fact that they made me come while talking about Harry—they destroyed the most intimate moments of my life.
He opened his eyes, the sterile ceiling above him offering no comfort. His thoughts turned to Harry, and a fresh wave of uncertainty washed over him. Harry had been furious, protective, standing up for Louis in a way that made his chest ache with gratitude. But beneath it all, Louis knew there was doesn't fully understand what he's signed up for. Not yet.
Louis's gaze drifted to the empty chair where Harry had sat only moments 's so good to me right now. He's here, he's supportive, but does he know how long this will take? How much work it's going to be to get back to normal?I don't think it will ever be normal again. I can't imagine being intimate with Harry again. The memories of the attack are too swallowed hard, his throat he know how much harder it will get once this is public?
His thoughts spiraled further, a dark cloud forming in his people find out I'm gay—when they inevitably find out about us—everything is going to change. The headlines, the judgment, the hate. Will Harry still stand by me then? What if his management tells him not to? What if he decides it's too much?A sharp pang of doubt cut through didn't really insist on staying here. He left with gave in so quickly because I impulsively told him to go. He didn't really question what I was doing, what I was thinking. Is he already halfway out the door? I gave him the opportunity, and he took it, without hesitation.
The doubt clawed at him, unrelenting. He clenched his hands into if I'm not enough for him? What if I'm just dragging him down?The thought was unbearable, and yet it felt if I'm the problem? Maybe everything is going wrong because of me. The decisions I make. The way I act.
His breath quickened as his mind replayed every misstep, every moment he thought he might have failed the people he I a bad friend to Oli? Am I too broken for Harry? Do I deserve this? Are these the consequences of my actions?
Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back, forcing himself to stay composed. The quiet of the room pressed in around him, and for the first time in a long while, Louis felt completely, utterly lost.
Louis lay in his hospital bed, the sterile walls of the room closing in on him like a vice. His body ached from the day's trials, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the heaviness in his chest. He felt hollow, as though someone had scooped out the parts of him that mattered and left him to stare at the empty shell that remained. His arms, still bandaged and weak, rested uselessly on the blanket. He lifted his right arm to wipe away a tear that ran down his cheek, pain rushing through his broken arm. His thoughts still spiraled.
What's the point?he thought bitterly, his gaze 's the bloody point of any of this?
His mind wandered, unbidden, to Liam. The steadfast anchor who had always seemed to know what to do, who had been a brother in every way that mattered. Liam had been the glue that held them all together, the one who could calm storms and guide them through the chaos. But now… now he was gone.
You would've known what to do,Louis thought, his chest would've told me whether to forgive Oli, whether to trust Harry. You'd have given me one of your speeches—calm, firm, the way you always did. And I'd have believed you, because you never got it wrong. Not like me. I'm so lost without your help.
The ache in his chest deepened as his thoughts shifted to his mum. Her warm smile, her soft voice, her endless faith in him, no matter what. She had been his rock, his cheerleader, his sanctuary. But she was gone too, taken far too soon by a cruel, unrelenting illness. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her voice, her laugh, just to ease his pain a bit, but all he could hear was his own self-loathing.
She'd be so disappointed in me,he thought, his breath hitching.I couldn't save Fizzy. I couldn't save her little girl. Mum trusted me to look after everyone, and I failed. I let Fizzy fall so far into her grief that she couldn't find her way out. And now she's gone, because I couldn't pull her back. Because I wasn't enough.
The image of Fizzy, his bright, bubbly sister, flashed in his mind. Her laughter, her sarcasm, the way she could light up a room. And then the way she'd crumbled after their mum died. The way she'd turned to anything—anyone—to numb the pain. The last time he'd seen her, her eyes had been hollow, her spark extinguished. He'd tried, God, he'd tried so hard to reach her. But it hadn't been enough.
She died alone, Louis. Because you weren't strong enough to bring her back. Mum wouldn't be proud of you now. She wouldn't. She would hate you for what you've become.
His chest heaved as the thoughts continued their relentless Liam… I couldn't save him either. I was so wrapped up in my own mess, my own mistakes, that I didn't even see how much he was struggling. I wasn't there when he needed me. I didn't pick up on the signs fast enough. What kind of friend does that make me? What kind of brother?
Louis swallowed hard, his throat dry, the tears threatening to spill over again. He felt like a failure, like every relationship in his life had been marked by his inability to truly be what people needed him to be.I'm useless. I ruin everything I touch. I can't even hold onto the people I love the most. I pushed away Harry once again, even though he's been the best thing in my life these past few months.
How am I supposed to believe I can be enough for Harry? For anyone?
The thought of Harry sent a fresh pang through , who is so kind, so present, so steady—for thoughts he pushed away came he doesn't know what he's getting into. He doesn't know how long it'll take for me to be even a fraction of who I used to be. What if he can't handle it? What if he realizes I'm not worth the trouble? What if he loses himself in trying to help me?
Louis bit down hard on his bottom lip, willing the despair to stay locked I'm just too broken. Maybe that's why this keeps happening. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve them. I'm happy that he left. I won't pull him back to this. I can't ask him to come back to this, to be unhappy again.
His thoughts spiraled darker, deeper, pulling him into a place he wasn't sure he could climb out of. The physical pain in his chest and arms sharpened, his body reacting to the weight of his anguish. He clenched his fists weakly, frustration bubbling beneath the fight?he bother? What's left for me? What's the point of any of this if I'm always going to be this… this wreck? I can't see a way out. I will never feel like myself again.
But then, like a sudden flash of lightning in the darkness, the answer hit .
The thought of his son jolted him upright, the sharp pain in his ribs momentarily . He's what matters. He's always been what reached for his phone with trembling hands, fumbling slightly before managing to unlock it. His fingers hovered over Briana's contact before he pressed the video call button.
The screen lit up as the call connected. Briana's face appeared, her smile warm but quickly shifting to surprise as she saw Louis. "Louis? Hey! It's good to hear from you," she said, her tone pleasant but tinged with something that made Louis's chest tighten.
"Hey, Bri," Louis said softly, his voice quieter than he intended. He adjusted the camera slightly, showing his face more clearly. He was dressed in a simple sweatshirt, his hair combed, and his face with less of the bruises she'd seen before. But his eyes… Briana's smile faltered as she noticed the emptiness in them. The spark, the glimmer of life she'd always recognized in him—even on his worst days—was gone. His eyes looked eerily hollow.
"Is Freddie around?" Louis asked, his voice tentative. "Can I—can I talk to him?"
Briana hesitated, and Louis felt his chest tighten further. "He's not here right now," she said, her tone apologetic. "He's out with Caleb. They're spending some time together—just the two of them. Their bond's really been growing lately."
Louis forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's… that's great," he said, his voice strained. "I'm glad they're getting along so well."
"He really looks up to Caleb," Briana added, her tone carefully neutral, though she couldn't hide the slight tension. "It's been so good for him."
Louis's stomach twisted. He knew Caleb was a good guy, and he truly liked him. But still, the creeping sense of dread wouldn't if I'm being replaced?
"He hasn't called me the past couple of days," Louis said, trying to sound lighthearted, though the ache in his chest deepened. "I guess he's been busy?"
Briana hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him through the screen. "He's just been really focused on school and spending time with Caleb. You know how kids are," she said, her voice gentle but now tinged with concern.
Louis nodded, his smile tight. "Of course. I get it. No worries."
But Briana didn't let it drop. "Are you sure you're okay, Louis?" she asked, leaning slightly closer to the camera. "You… you look better, but you don'tseembetter. You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you? Is someone there with you?"
Louis shifted uncomfortably, forcing another smile. "I promise, I'm fine. Really. I've got someone with me," he lied smoothly. "And I'm feeling much better. I've even been walking around a bit."
"Walking?" Briana's eyebrows knit together in mild disbelief. "Louis, you were in the ICU not that long ago. Are you sure you're not overdoing it?"
"Bri, I'm fine," Louis said quickly, his tone a touch too bright. "I just wanted to say hi to Freddie, but it's fine. Tell him I love him, yeah? And that he doesn't need to call if he's busy. Just… let him know I'm thinking about him. That I love him very much, always will."
Briana studied him for a long moment, her worry now clear. "I'll tell him," she said softly. "But Louis… if something's wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
Louis's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "I know. Thanks, Bri. Take care, yeah?"
"You too," she replied, her eyes lingering on him for another moment before the call ended.
As the screen went dark, Louis let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on the phone as a fresh wave of hopelessness washed over Freddie doesn't need me swallowed hard, blinking rapidly against the sting of tears.I'm just a burden. Maybe it's better if… if I let go. If I stop expecting too much from people. If I stop hoping that it will get better.
Louis sank back into the pillows, his body trembling as his thoughts spiraled further. The walls around his heart rebuilt themselves, brick by brick, a cold and necessary defense against the hurt that seemed to follow him wherever he is just who I am now. Broken. Alone. Unworthy of anything more.
Meanwhile, Briana sat staring at her phone, her unease growing. She opened the group chat with the others, her fingers hovering over the I say something?she looks so much better, but… those hollow eyes. That smile. Something's wrong. I can feel it.
She started typing:Hey, is anyone with Louis at the moment? He called me, and—She stopped, her thumb hovering over the send 's with him, he told me. Maybe I'm just overreacting. Maybe it's the camera making him look worse than he is.
With a deep breath, she deleted the message, setting the phone down with a heavy sigh. But the worry didn't leave her. If anything, it settled deeper in her chest, gnawing at her as she tried to convince herself that everything was fine. That Louis would be okay.
Louis lay back against the stiff hospital pillows, his thoughts circling like vultures over a wounded animal. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of machines, but inside his head, it was chaos. The chaos grew darker, more relentless, unstoppable. He hadn't realized just how far he'd slipped until now, how close he was to a precipice he'd never dared to approach before.
The weight on his chest was suffocating, each breath feeling heavier than the last.I'm too weak. Every breath feels like a could feel how much harder it was to breathe with his broken ribs, every inhalation a painful reminder of his shattered bother?he thought keep fighting for air when it hurts so much?
What's the next step?he wondered, staring blankly at the ceiling. The question wasn't rhetorical—it hung in his mind like a dark specter, ominous and inescapable. And the answer came, unbidden and sharp.
What if I just ended it?The thought hit him like a blow to the chest, leaving him if I just kill myself—then it would be over. The pain, the effort, the despair.
His body went cold. The thought was sudden, insidious, and terrifyingly clear. It wasn't something he'd planned or even consciously considered before, but now it was there, whispering to him like a cruel 'd be so easy. There's a razor in the bathroom. You've got the painkillers. No more struggle. No more failing. Just would only take a moment.
His breath hitched, his chest tightening as he tried to shove the thought away. But it lingered, curling around his mind like smoke, poisoning every corner of his already fragile resolve.
What the hell is wrong with me?he thought, panic beginning to creep in, clawing at the edges of his did I get here?
He clenched his fists weakly, his nails pressing into his palms as if the pain might snap him out of it. But the voice didn't 've failed at everything that matters,it couldn't save Fizzy. You couldn't save Liam. You're nothing but a burden now—to Harry, to Freddie, to only tolerate you because they have to. They stay out of pity, out of obligation. They'd be grateful if you were gone.
Louis squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts to stop, but they only grew louder. His mind filled with images of Fizzy, her bright smile before everything fell apart.I couldn't save her,he thought, his heart aching.I couldn't stop her from slipping away. She was my sister, my responsibility, and I failed her.I disappointed Mum. I broke the promises I made to her.
Then came Liam's face, one of his best mates, the one who had always been there, steady and he wasn't.I should've seen the signs. I should've done more. But I didn't. And now he's gone too.
The guilt was crushing, an unbearable weight pressing him deeper into the now, I'm failing. I've pushed Harry , who would be here looking after me right now. But he can't anymore—he left.I've let Oli down so badly that he ran to strangers instead of me. Freddie barely needs me 's found a father in Caleb, someone who can give him a real family, someone who's normal. Someone who's kind of father am I? What kind of man?
The voice grew louder, 're weak. You're broken. You're nothing. Why are you still fighting? What's left to fight for?The pain will end, and you'll finally be at peace. Everyone will be happier once you're gone.
Louis's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest heaving as the thoughts spiraled further out of control. And then, the most terrifying thought of all surfaced, clear and cold:Why not just stop? Just end it. Go to the bathroom, take the razor. Don't be such a coward. Everyone wants this.
For a moment, the thought almost felt like relief. It promised quiet, an end to the relentless ache, the weight of his failures, the emptiness that swallowed him whole. But then, something deep inside him rebelled—a flicker of resistance, small and fragile, but there. A spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished.
He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling as the enormity of his own mind's betrayal hit .The word was faint, a whisper of hope buried deep beneath the isn't who I am. I don't want this. I can't do isn't me. This isn't who I am.
His chest heaved, tears streaming silently down his face as he gripped the edge of the blanket. The thoughts still circled, menacing and cruel, but that spark—the tiniest ember—remained.I don't want this to be who I am. I can't let this be the end.
Images of the people he loved began to flood Louis's mind, each one hitting him like a wave, sharp and unrelenting. Freddie's small, hopeful face came first, his son's bright eyes lighting up with pure, unfiltered adoration every time he looked at would Freddie think?The thought twisted like a knife in his chest, the weight of it could I do that to him? How could I leave him to wonder why he wasn't enough to keep me here?The image of Freddie's smile, his laughter, his tiny arms reaching up for a hug, pierced through Louis's despair.
He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to grow up wondering if his dad loved him, if he mattered enough. He deserves stability, love, someone who's there for him every step of the way. How could I let him think he failed me? How could I fail him like that?Tears blurred Louis's vision as the thought wrapped around his chest, suffocating him.
Harry's face came next, the raw emotion in his eyes just a couple minutes ago, when Louis had pushed him left because I told him to,Louis thought listened because I asked him to. And now? How would he live with that?
The thought grew darker, more they blame him? Would the others—Zayn, Niall, Lottie—turn on him because he left me here? Because he listened to me when I was too broken to know what I needed? Would Harry blame himself? Would he carry that guilt forever?
Louis squeezed his eyes shut, the image of Harry's heartbreak unbearable.I told him to leave. But he loves me—I know he does. Deep down, I believe him. And if that's true, if he really loves me, then this would destroy him. It would rip his heart out. I can't let him feel that. I can't put this on him.
Then came Lottie. Her face swam into his mind, etched with worry, her eyes filled with the weight of responsibility she'd carried for far too long. Her shoulders, already burdened with so much loss, would be crushed under the weight of one 's already lost so much—Mum, Fizzy. How could I add to her pain?
His heart ached as he imagined her trying to pick up the pieces again, trying to hold the family together when she could barely hold herself 'd have to be the strong one again. She'd have to carry the burden of explaining to everyone, of keeping the others afloat while drowning herself.
She'd never recover from that. Not really. This would break her in ways she wouldn't be able to fix. I can't put her in that place. I can't let her carry this. She doesn't deserve it. None of them do.
His mind drifted to his fans, the ones who'd stayed with him through everything. The ones who found strength in his words, his music, his resilience.I've always told them it's only a bad day, not a bad life. How could I betray that? How could I leave them when they're barely hanging on because of me?
The realization hit him like a lightning bolt, jolting him out of his spiral.I can't do this. I won't. This isn't me. I need help. I can't be alone right now—not with my own thoughts.
His hands trembled as he reached for his phone, unlocking it with slow, shaky movements. He thought about sending a message to Harry, but the nagging worry of dragging Harry down, of making him miserable and unable to breathe, stopped left. He took the first chance to walk away. Maybe he just doesn't have the strength to be here right now.
Navigating to his contacts felt like an impossible task, but somehow, he managed. Instead of messaging Harry, he created a new WhatsApp group with the people he trusted most at this moment: Lottie, Niall, and Zayn.
Louis:Can someone come over quickly? I don't think I should be alone with my head right now, and I sent Harry away. I'm sorry for bothering you.
He hit send and immediately felt a wave of shame and fear crash over if they think I'm weak? What if they think I'm being dramatic?
But the replies came almost instantly, each one a lifeline pulling him back from the edge.
Zayn:I'm coming, Lou. I'm nearby. Planned to be there this afternoon. Will be with you in 15 minutes, tops.
Louis exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. Zayn's calm presence had always grounded him, even when they'd been at odds.
Niall:Lou, mate, are you okay? I'm a bit further away, but if you need me, I'll come right now. Just say the word.
Lottie:What's going on? Are you hurt? Do you need me? I can come too, but I'm not close. Please, just tell me you're okay until Zayn gets there.
Tears welled in Louis's eyes as he stared at the screen. He didn't feel like he deserved this kind of care, this kind of love, but he clung to it anyway, like a lifeline in a storm. But he couldn't manage to reply to Lottie; his fingers felt too heavy, his mind too drained.
Zayn:I'll be there soon. Just hold tight. You're not alone, Lou.
The other two messages followed quickly, their concern wrapping around Louis like a protective shield.
Niall:Zayn, let us know if we should come too, yeah? We'll be there as fast as we can.
Lottie:Please, keep us updated, Zayn. Lou, we love you. You're not alone.
Louis set the phone down, his breathing still uneven but steadier than it had been minutes ago. He wasn't okay—not even close. But he'd reached out. He'd taken a step away from the edge, and for now, that was enough.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of the door and the presence of someone who wouldn't let him fall. Someone who would remind him that even in his darkest moments, he wasn't alone.
Harry and Oli sat side by side in the sterile hospital hallway, their silence thick with tension. It had been 45 minutes since Louis had asked them to leave, and the weight of the passing time pressed heavily on both of them. Oli kept glancing nervously at the closed door, his leg bouncing restlessly. Harry, meanwhile, sat rigidly, his jaw clenched, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and with each one, Harry's resentment toward Oli grew sharper, more visceral. Harry had made mistakes with Louis in the past—he'd hurt him, pushed him away unintentionally. It had been his own mental health and Louis's struggles that he didn't fully understand that had made them fall apart. But his mistakes had never been fueled by jealousy or recklessness, never by something so selfish it could ruin lives. Oli's actions had been childish, thoughtless. And now, Louis was paying the price.
Harry stared down at his phone, his fingers tightening around it every time the screen lit up with a notification—not from Louis. Each buzz sent a fresh wave of frustration coursing through him. How could things have gotten this bad?
"Maybe we should send someone in," Oli suggested quietly, his voice tinged with anxiety. "He's been alone too long."
Harry's head snapped toward Oli, his green eyes blazing. "Don't even start," he hissed. "You think you get to have an opinion on this? After what you've done? You're the reason we're out here in the first place."
Oli flinched at the venom in Harry's voice. "I know I messed up," he muttered, his tone defensive but laced with guilt. "But I'm worried about him too. I'm just saying—"
"Worried about him?" Harry cut him off, his voice rising slightly. "If you were so worried about him, you wouldn't have spilled his most personal secrets. You wouldn't have given them ammunition to use against him. Do you even understand what you've done?"
Oli looked down at his hands, his leg bouncing faster. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he said quietly. "I was just… I didn't think—"
"Exactly," Harry snapped. "You didn't think. You were selfish and reckless, and now Louis is the one paying for it." He leaned closer, his voice low and furious. "And you have the nerve to sit here and talk about being worried? About your job? Like that even matters after everything you've done?"
Oli's head shot up, his face pale. "I wasn't talking about my job," he said defensively, though his voice wavered. "I just—"
"You mentioned it earlier," Harry interrupted coldly. "As if that even begins to compare to what Louis has lost. Do you understand how betrayed he feels? How much damage you've caused?"
Oli's mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked away, his guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped.
Harry turned his attention back to his phone, his fingers tightening around it. The silence between them was deafening, punctuated only by the occasional muffled sound from the hospital hallway. Harry's thoughts churned, a chaotic mix of regret and fury.
I should've stayed.I should've argued with Louis, made him see that I wanted to stay even if he thought he needed space. Harry's mind replayed their conversation earlier, how Louis had warned him that he'd push him away sometimes. Louis had said he wouldn't always mean it.
And yet, I still left. I walked out at the first opportunity, Harry thought bitterly.I've only confirmed what he's most afraid of—that I'll always leave when things get hard.
Oli shifted beside him, glancing at Harry's phone. "You're not texting anyone?" he asked hesitantly. "Shouldn't you tell someone? Zayn, Niall, Lottie—anyone?"
Harry shook his head, his voice strained. "Just leave me alone. If I tell them he's alone, they'll panic. I wouldn't want to break your news via text. And I promised everyone—Zayn, Lottie, Niall, Briana, the twins—that I wouldn't leave him alone. That I'd stay, no matter what, and if I couldn't, I'd write them immediately. And now…" He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. "I broke that promise. I messed up."
"You didn't have to leave," Oli muttered under his breath, but his words weren't entirely accusatory. They were filled with his own guilt.
Harry's grip on his phone tightened. "No, I didn't," he admitted bitterly. "But you… you made this so much worse. You're the reason we're in this mess. I didn't think straight." His voice trembled with anger. "How could you do this to him? To us?"
Oli opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it, his guilt evident in the way he hunched his shoulders. He looked away, unable to meet Harry's gaze.
Harry ignored him, staring at the group chat with trembling fingers. He wanted to type something, to explain, but he didn't know it too late to tell them now? Or should I wait a little longer—maybe he really does just need to breathe.
He glanced at the clock on his 's almost been an hour.I'll give him until he just needs a little time, and everything will be fine.
But deep down, Harry didn't believe it. The knot in his stomach only grew tighter, his mind racing with worst-case if he does something stupid?The thought clawed at him, making it hard to breathe. He'd been so close to texting the group when the sound of rapid footsteps broke the tense silence.
Harry and Oli both turned sharply toward the source of the noise. Zayn was striding down the hallway, his face a storm of worry and determination, his pace faster than either of them had expected.
"Zayn," Harry said, standing abruptly. "You're already here? You weren't supposed to come until this afternoon."
Zayn didn't slow down, his sharp gaze locking on them. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, his tone cutting. "And why didn't you text me, Harry?" His voice carried a sharp edge of betrayal as he approached, his eyes darting between Harry and Oli like a hawk assessing its prey. "Why the fuck are you both out here instead of in there with him?"
Oli opened his mouth, guilt plastered across his face. "It's a long story—"
"I don't care about the story," Zayn snapped, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. "What the fuck is going on? Why is Louis alone? He shouldn't be alone."
Oli faltered, his voice trembling. "I… I messed up, Zayn. Big time. I said things I shouldn't have, and it caused all of this. Louis—he told us to leave."
"Then why the hell are you still sitting out here?" Zayn snarled, anger flaring like a lit match. He turned to Harry, his expression just as fierce. "We agreed, agreedyou wouldn't leave him alone, no matter what. Even if he asked you he asked you to. Or at least tell one of us to take over. What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous that is?"
Harry flinched at the accusation, Zayn's words hitting him like a tidal wave. "I—he was so insistent, Zayn," he stammered. "He said he needed to be alone. I didn't want to upset him more—"
"I don't give a shit what he said," Zayn interrupted, his voice low and furious. "He's not in a place to know what he needs right now. You should know what he 's emotionally unstable—how the hell could he be anything else? That's why we made the damn agreement in the first place."
Oli tried to interject, but Zayn silenced him with a glare that could cut steel. "You," Zayn growled, pointing a finger at Oli. "You don't get to say another word until I've talked to Louis. Whatever you did, I'll deal with you later. And if I find out it's as bad as it sounds, I'll make damn sure you pay for it."
Zayn turned back to Harry, his voice softer now but no less firm. "You better hope he's okay, mate. You betterpraythat he's still in there and that he's still… salvageable."
With that, Zayn turned on his heel and stormed toward the door, leaving Harry and Oli frozen in place. Harry felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, the weight of Zayn's words settling heavily in his chest.
Oli sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. "I'm such a fuck-up," he muttered.
Harry didn't respond. He was too busy staring at the door Zayn had just disappeared through, his mind consumed by one desperate , Louis. Please be okay.
Zayn stepped into the hospital room quietly, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed the door open. The soft hum of machines filled the air, and the muted light from the small bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room. His eyes landed on Louis immediately.
Louis was sitting upright in bed, his body unnaturally still, his gaze distant. He stared at nothing, his expression blank, his hands resting limply on his lap. To someone who didn't know him, he might have looked fine, just tired. But Zayn knew better. He saw it immediately—the hollowness in Louis's eyes, the light that once burned so brightly extinguished, leaving only a void. It was in the slump of his shoulders, the heavy stillness that seemed to anchor him to the bed. It was a quiet scream for help, even if Louis didn't realize it.
"Louis," Zayn said softly, stepping closer, his voice hesitant but warm. "Mate, are you alright?"
Louis turned his head slowly, like even that movement cost him strength he didn't have. His gaze met Zayn's, and for a moment, he didn't speak. His lips parted slightly, as though forming words was an effort. Finally, his voice emerged, quiet and flat, void of the usual fire that defined him.
"No. I'm not." The admission fell from his lips, each word heavier than the last. "My thoughts… they're dangerous. I can't be alone with them, Zayn. Please, just… distract me. Talk to me. About anything."
Zayn's chest tightened at the rawness of Louis's words. He pulled a chair closer to the bed, sitting down so they were at eye level. "Alright," he said gently, his voice steady even as his emotions churned inside him. "But, Lou, I need to know—what are you thinking about? What's going on in your head?"
Louis hesitated, his gaze dropping to his trembling hands. Zayn thought he wouldn't answer, but then Louis took a deep, shuddering breath. When he looked back up, his eyes glistened, and his voice wavered as he spoke.
"I thought about ending it," Louis admitted, the words falling like stones. "Just… giving up. It scared me, Zayn. It scared me so much. I don't want to feel like that. I don't want to… to go there. But the voice in my head, it keeps saying it. Keeps telling me I've failed everyone. That I'm a burden. That everyone would be happier without me."
Zayn's heart shattered as he listened. He had never seen Louis like this—so vulnerable, so raw, stripped of the protective layers he wore like armor. He leaned forward slightly, his hands clenching tightly in his lap as he tried to keep his voice steady. "Louis," he said softly, "you're not a burden. You've never been a burden. Why would you think that?"
Louis let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a broken exhale. "Why wouldn't I?" he countered, his voice cracking as emotion bubbled to the surface. "I couldn't save Fizzy. I couldn't get her to see the light, to stop the drugs. She's gone because I wasn't enough. And Liam… I couldn't save him either. He was one of my best mates, Zayn, and I couldn't stop him from slipping away. I failed them both."
Zayn's throat tightened as he watched Louis unravel. He wanted to interrupt, to reassure him, but Louis's words tumbled out faster, as if he couldn't hold them in any longer.
"And now I've failed Oli by being a bad friend, pushing him away. Giving him a reason to betray me. I've failed Harry by not being true to myself. I can't even be a proper father to Freddie. What kind of example am I setting? What kind of man am I?" His voice cracked on the last word, the weight of his guilt dragging him down.
Zayn swallowed hard, his heart aching as Louis's pain spilled out. "Lou—" he began, but Louis cut him off, his voice breaking completely.
"And my mum," Louis whispered, his face crumpling as tears began to fall freely. "She'd be so disappointed in me. I was supposed to protect my sisters, to keep the family together after she died. But look at me, Zayn. I've let everyone down. I'm not even a shadow of who I used to be. I'm just… broken. I don't even know why I'm still fighting. What's left to fight for?"
He wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to bridge the unbearable distance between them, but he hesitated. They hadn't hugged in nearly a decade—not even after Liam's death, when they'd started to rebuild their friendship. A handshake had been the extent of their physical connection, a tentative but significant step. And since Louis's attack, Zayn had been cautious, unsure of what boundaries Louis needed, afraid of crossing an invisible line.
But then Louis looked up, his red-rimmed eyes glistening with tears, his expression softening despite the weight of his despair. Even in this moment, when he was drowning in his own pain, Louis noticed the hesitation in Zayn. He always noticed—he was always the one who read the room, the one who reached out when someone else faltered. Even now, at his most vulnerable, he was doing it again.
Louis's voice was almost a whisper, pleading but gentle, as though he was trying to make it easier for Zayn to respond. "Zayn," he said, his tone careful, unsteady. "Can you… can you hold me? Just for a minute. You don't have to if it's too much, if you don't want to, but… I need it. I really need it."
His words hung in the air, fragile and raw, and Zayn's heart broke all over again. Louis wasn't just asking for comfort—he was giving Zayn permission, trying to make the decision less daunting, less heavy. Even now, he was trying to help Zayn do the right thing.
Zayn didn't hesitate this time. He stood and moved to the side of the bed, carefully wrapping his arms around Louis's trembling frame. The moment their bodies connected, Louis broke completely. The walls he had spent the last hour carefully rebuilding crumbled in an instant, and he collapsed into Zayn's embrace, his sobs wracking his entire body.
Zayn held him tightly, one hand resting on the back of Louis's head, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Let it out, mate," Zayn murmured, his voice steady and calm despite the lump in his throat. "It's alright. I've got you."
Louis clung to him like a lifeline, his tears soaking through Zayn's shirt as he cried harder than he had in years. The pain, the fear, the guilt—all of it poured out in waves, and Zayn stayed with him through it, never letting go.
When Louis's sobs finally began to quiet, Zayn pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. "Louis," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "That voice in your head? It's lying to you. It's not real. You're not weak. You're not a failure. And you're definitely not a burden."
Louis sniffled, his swollen eyes searching Zayn's for something to hold onto. "Then what am I, Zayn?" he asked hoarsely. "Because I don't know anymore."
"You're loved," Zayn said without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "By so many people. Freddie loves you. Harry loves you. Your sisters love you. Your friends—Niall, Amelia, and me—we love you. And your fans, Lou. Do you know how many people you've saved just by being you? By showing up, by fighting? You've been their hope, their anchor. And you've been mine, too."
Louis stared at him, his lips trembling as fresh tears welled in his eyes. "I don't feel like that," he admitted. "I feel like I've let everyone down."
"You haven't," Zayn said firmly, his voice unyielding. "You're human, Lou. You're allowed to struggle. But you haven't let anyone down. You're still here. You're still fighting, even when it feels impossible. And that's enough. You're enough."
Zayn held Louis tightly in his arms, feeling every tremor in his frail body as his sobs quieted into shallow, uneven breaths. Louis's weight seemed to grow heavier against him, his posture slackening as if all the strength had drained from him. Zayn adjusted his hold, his chest tightening at how fragile Louis felt in his arms.
"Louis," Zayn said softly, shifting slightly to get a better look at his face. "Are you alright? What's going on?"
Louis's voice was faint, barely audible. "I'm just… thirsty," he murmured, his lips dry and pale. "And dizzy. But I'm fine. Just tired. I just need a drink."
Zayn's brow furrowed deeply. Louis didn't look fine—his face was pallid, his eyelids drooping, and his words were sluggish, almost slurred. "You don't sound fine," Zayn said gently but firmly. "Hold on, let me get you some water."
He reached for the cup on the bedside table, quickly filling it with fresh water from the pitcher. Sitting back on the edge of the bed, he supported Louis's head carefully, helping him take a few small, weak sips.
"Better?" Zayn asked, setting the cup aside. His eyes never left Louis's face, studying every detail, every flicker of emotion.
Louis nodded slightly, though his expression remained clouded, distant. After a moment, his voice cracked as he mumbled, "How… how do I ever forgive him?"
Zayn tilted his head, confused. "Forgive who?" he asked cautiously. "What happened, Lou? You can tell me."
Louis's gaze dropped to his trembling hands, his fingers curling loosely in his lap. For a long moment, he didn't speak, and Zayn waited, giving him space. Finally, Louis took a shuddering breath, and his voice, trembling and raw, broke the silence.
"Oli. It's about Oli. He told someone… about me. About Harry. About us. That I'm gay."
Zayn froze, his breath catching in his throat. His expression flickered with shock, but it wasn't anger that bubbled to the surface—it was uncertainty, disbelief. "What?" he whispered, his tone hushed, almost as if he couldn't process the weight of Louis's words. "He told someone? About… that?"
Louis nodded slowly, tears already brimming in his eyes again. "He didn't mean to," he said, his voice quivering. "But he told one of them. One of the four attackers. And when they ran into me by chance, when I stepped in… they used it. They knew. They used it. They wanted to hurt me, to punish me for being with Harry. To take the joy out of being close to someone." His voice broke entirely as fresh tears spilled over. "It was all for Oli. A favor. He didn't ask them to do it, but he painted me as a bad friend, like I deserved to be taught a lesson."
The raw pain in Louis's voice pierced Zayn to his core. He tried to find the right words, but the enormity of what Louis had just revealed left him momentarily speechless. His mind raced, grappling with the betrayal Louis felt, the violation of something so personal, so sacred.
"I… I don't know what to say," Zayn admitted quietly, his voice soft but steady. "That's… that's so messed up, Lou. I don't even know what his excuse could be, but…" He hesitated, exhaling slowly. "The way he treated your private life, how careless he was… it's unforgivable."
Louis leaned further into Zayn's chest, his voice breaking again. "And what's worse… I don't think Harry will stay," he confessed, his words tumbling out in a choked sob. "When it gets too hard… he'll leave. He sees how bad I am now, how much of a mess I really am. I've definitely driven him away this time."
Zayn frowned, his jaw tightening as he heard Louis's self-condemnation. "You're not a mess, Lou," he said firmly, his tone laced with conviction. "And I don't believe for a second that Harry's giving up on you. He didn't leave because it was hard. He left because he thought it's what you needed. He made a mistake, but he wanted to do right by you. He won't leave you again. I'll make sure of it."
Louis didn't respond immediately, but his body seemed to relax slightly in Zayn's embrace. The room fell quiet, save for Louis's uneven breaths and the soft hum of the machines. Then, suddenly, Louis shifted, his face twisting in discomfort. He pushed himself away from Zayn, turning sharply toward the edge of the bed with what little strength he had left.
"Louis?" Zayn asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
Louis barely managed to say, "I'm sorry," before his body heaved, and he vomited onto the bed, narrowly avoiding Zayn. He tried to steady himself, leaning against Zayn once again. But a moment later, his body went limp, collapsing back against the pillows. His skin was pale and clammy, and the monitor beside the bed began beeping rapidly, signaling a dangerous drop in his blood pressure and oxygen saturation.
"Louis!" Zayn shouted, his voice breaking with panic. He hit the call button repeatedly and yelled, "I need help in here! Now!"
The door burst open moments later, Tina rushing in with practiced efficiency. Her sharp eyes took in the situation in an instant—Louis's pale, clammy skin, his limp form against Zayn, the beeping monitors signaling alarm. Without hesitation, she moved to Louis's side.
"What happened?" Tina demanded, her voice brisk as she reached for the blood pressure cuff and the monitor attached to Louis's finger.
"He… he said he was dizzy, then he vomited, and now he's just—he collapsed," Zayn stammered, his voice shaky, his arms tightening protectively around Louis's unresponsive body.
Tina's jaw tightened as she quickly assessed Louis's vitals. "I'm calling Dr. Lopes," she said sharply. "Stay with him. Try to keep him as upright as you can."
She hurried to the phone in the room, dialing quickly while Zayn adjusted Louis's position, holding him as upright as his frail frame allowed. Louis's head lolled against Zayn's chest, and Zayn could feel every shallow breath, every uneven rise and fall of his body.
Out in the hallway, Harry sat frozen on the edge of a plastic chair, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles were white. Beside him, Oli paced restlessly, his movements jerky and anxious. Both their heads snapped toward the door as Tina rushed inside, her urgency amplifying the dread that hung thick in the air.
"What's happening in there?" Oli muttered, his voice tight with anxiety. He glanced at Harry, who didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the door. His heart raced, each second dragging painfully. Then, faintly, Tina's voice rang out from inside the room.
"Get Ana. Now."
Oli froze mid-step. "Who's Ana?" he asked, his tone trembling with panic.
"Dr. Lopes," Harry said quietly, his voice strained and tight. His fists clenched at his sides. "She'll fix it. She's the best."
Oli stared at Harry, then shook his head, his breathing shallow. "I… I shouldn't even be here. This isn't my place. I shouldn't have come today." He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But Harry, are you sure… are you sure he'll be okay?"
Harry's jaw tightened, his gaze never leaving the door. His voice was low and unyielding when he spoke. "He has to be." Then, more firmly, "Leave me alone, Oli. I don't have time for your self-loathing right now."
Oli flinched at Harry's tone, taking a step back, but Harry didn't notice. His entire focus was on the door.
The sound of rapid footsteps filled the corridor, and Dr. Ana Lopes appeared, her face calm but determined as she strode past them and into the room. Her confidence was palpable, but it did little to ease the tension gripping Harry's chest.
Unable to stay seated, Harry pushed himself to his feet and followed Ana into the room, ignoring Oli's startled protest. Nothing could keep him out now.
Inside, Ana was already issuing orders. "Tina, get his oxygen mask on. I need an IV bolus now—his blood pressure has bottomed out," she said as she checked the monitors. "Start a second line. We need fluids immediately. Monitor his stats. I want to see improvement in two minutes, or we move to pressors."
Tina moved quickly, securing the oxygen mask over Louis's face and adjusting the flow as instructed. Her hands were steady as she inserted another IV line and hooked it to a fluid bag. The machines continued their ominous beeping, and the room was heavy with tension as Zayn and Harry stood in the corner, helpless.
Two minutes passed. The monitors didn't stabilize.
Ana frowned, her jaw tightening. "Increase the fluid rate. Tina, prep a pressor dose."
The minutes dragged on as Ana and Tina worked methodically, their movements precise and their voices calm, but the pressure in the room was suffocating. Harry's breathing grew uneven, and he buried his face in Zayn's shoulder, his tears soaking into Zayn's shirt. Without a word, Zayn wrapped an arm around Harry, holding him tightly. He didn't need to speak—he understood. He felt the same terror, the same helplessness.
"He's going to be okay," Zayn whispered, though his voice trembled. "He has to be."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the monitors began to stabilize. The erratic beeping softened, and the numbers on the screen climbed back toward safer ranges. Ana let out a quiet sigh of relief but didn't slow her movements.
"His pressure is coming back up," she said, glancing at Tina. "Keep the fluids going. We'll reassess in ten minutes."
Ten agonizing minutes crawled by, the tension in the room so thick it felt suffocating. Every second stretched endlessly as Harry and Zayn watched Louis's motionless body, their gazes locked on every faint rise and fall of his chest. Each shallow breath seemed too fragile, too fleeting.
Finally, Louis's eyes fluttered open. His lashes trembled as he blinked sluggishly, his gaze glassy and unfocused. Relief washed over Zayn and Harry like a tidal wave, though their hearts remained heavy with fear.
Ana leaned in immediately, her movements calm and measured. "Louis, can you hear me?" she asked, her tone soothing but firm.
Louis blinked again, his eyes wandering the room as if it were unfamiliar territory. His lips parted, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. After a moment, a faint, disoriented whisper escaped. "Where…?"
"Hey," Ana said gently, leaning a little closer to catch his gaze. "Can you tell me your name?"
His brows furrowed, confusion clouding his pale face. His lips moved silently, as if he were testing the shape of the words, but nothing came. Finally, he mumbled, his voice faint and uncertain, "I… I don't know."
Zayn's chest tightened, a sharp pang of panic stabbing through him. "Louis," he said, stepping closer, his voice trembling. "It's me—Zayn. You know your name, mate. You're Louis Tomlinson."
Ana raised a hand slightly, a quiet gesture for Zayn to hold back. Her expression remained calm, her gaze steady on Louis. "Give him time," she said softly, her voice a grounding presence in the room.
She tried again, her tone patient. "Louis, how old are you?"
Louis's eyes flicked toward her, but his gaze didn't hold. It shifted to Zayn, then to Harry, who was standing frozen by the edge of the bed. Louis's lips parted again, but no sound followed. He blinked once, twice, and his brows knit together as his eyes welled up with tears.
"I… don't know," he whispered at last, his voice cracking on the words.
Harry's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. His voice was low, desperate. "Come on, Louis," he murmured, barely audible. "Please. Please, Lou."
Ana didn't rush. Her calm persisted as she leaned forward just slightly, her voice soft but insistent. "Louis, do you know where you are?"
Silence stretched again, heavy and suffocating. Louis's gaze darted around the room, his eyes wide but unfocused. His breath hitched, shallow and uneven, and for a moment it looked as though he might crumble under the weight of his own confusion.
What's wrong with me?The thought clawed its way through Louis's foggy mind, sharp and can't I remember? Why can't I think?His chest felt tight, his heart hammering against his ribs as panic began to seep can't I even answer a simple question? I'm broken. I'm failing again. I'm failing them.
"Louis," Ana tried again, her voice unwavering. "You're safe. Just take your time. You don't have to rush."
The words reached him, faint but steady. His lips trembled as he tried to speak again, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. "Hospital," he whispered, his tone barely more than a breath.
Ana nodded, her expression warm with encouragement. "That's right. You're in the hospital. You're safe here. We're taking care of you."
Louis's gaze drifted again, landing on Harry. His brows knit together as fresh tears spilled over, streaking his pale cheeks. His voice cracked as he asked, "You're still here? You didn't leave?"
Harry stepped forward immediately, his voice trembling. "I was just outside the door, Lou. I never should have left. I won't leave again—I swear."
"You shouldn't have left," Louis whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "Don't… don't leave me again. Even if I ask."
"I know," Harry said, his own tears spilling over as he reached out to brush a stray hair from Louis's damp forehead. "I'm so sorry, Lou. I won't leave again. I promise."
Ana watched the exchange in silence, her face unreadable but understanding. After a moment, she turned to Tina. "Let's get him cleaned up. He'll feel better once he's more comfortable."
Tina nodded and turned to Louis, her voice kind and gentle. "Louis, we're going to clean you up a bit, alright? Change the sheets, get you some fresh clothes. You'll feel much better afterward."
Louis's lips quivered, and his cheeks flushed faintly with embarrassment. "I feel disgusting," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry for the mess. Zayn… did I get you dirty?"
Zayn shook his head firmly, stepping closer to the bed. "Don't worry about me, Lou. You didn't. And even if you did, it doesn't matter. Not one bit."
Tina began her work, moving with practiced care. She gently wiped Louis's face with a warm, damp cloth, her touch light and reassuring. She cleaned his hands and arms, speaking softly as she worked. "Almost done, Louis. You're doing great."
Louis's eyelids fluttered as she worked, exhaustion pulling at him, but he managed to stay awake. Zayn and Harry stayed close, one on each side of the bed, their presence steady and grounding.
Once Tina finished wiping him down, she helped him sit up slightly, her movements careful. "Let's get you into something clean," she said. She helped him into a soft, fresh T-shirt and a comfortable hoodie, adjusting the fabric so it didn't press on his IV lines.
"Fresh sheets now," Tina said, her voice upbeat. With Harry's help, she carefully maneuvered Louis so she could change the linens, making sure he was supported at all times. When the clean bedding was in place, she tucked the blanket around him gently. "There. All set. How do you feel now?"
Louis gave a faint nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Better. Thank you."
Harry sat beside him, and Zayn remained standing close by, his arms crossed but his posture protective. Louis managed a weak smile, though his eyes were still glassy. "Sorry for scaring you," he said, his voice rasping with fatigue. "Guess I'm good at causing drama."
Harry let out a shaky laugh, though his face was still lined with worry. "You scared the hell out of us, Lou."
Louis's smile wavered, and his voice grew softer. "I don't want to… I don't want to scare you. I just… I don't know how to stop this. My thoughts, they… they get so loud."
Zayn leaned closer, his expression serious but kind. "Listen to me, mate," he said firmly. "If those thoughts start acting up again, you tell us. No jokes, no hiding. I don't care what time it is or where we are. You promise me."
Louis hesitated, his eyes flicking between Harry and Zayn. Slowly, he nodded. "I promise," he whispered, his voice fragile but sincere. "Thanks… for staying."
