Blood left a trail after you as you struggled up the stairs. A crimson path directing you to your impending doom. Your wrists streamed out tears of red and your eyes reflected it’s sickly glow. Your whole body trembled. You had finally been pushed over your limits and you were free falling into blackness, just hoping you would hit the bottom soon so it could all be over. Finally the door of the bathroom came into view down the hall and you picked up a little speed. Bloody fingers pushed on the too bright white paint, leaving a hand print that made it all a little easier to look at. You pulled the door shut behind you, you weren’t sure why you did it because no one else was home but it seemed right. Somehow you had ended up sitting against the closed door with the pills in one hand and your razor in the other. You also saw a crumpled piece of paper next to you, you’re note. It was almost like you were watching this as a movie and there were little nicks in the disk so it would skip around because you had no recollection of writing the note or getting the pills. Tears were still coming fast and they mingled with the shed blood. One final cut, you thought to yourself as you drew the blade once again over your smooth skin. As thick trails of color began to bead up at the surface of the cut and run over the edges a sick smile spread across your face and then you started to laugh. The whole reality of this seemed almost comical to you. You popped a pill into your mouth between giggles and swallowed hard, imagining it running through your body, the effects spreading through your blood. Another pill and then another. The room began to blur slightly, giving everything a softer feeling. You weren’t even thinking about what you were doing anymore. Every inch of your being wanted you to end it, it was automatic to keep taking the pills. “I’m so sorry Louis” you whispered quietly, “I really did try.” Your hand fell limp at your side as the sleeping part of the pills took affect and you nodded off, vaguely aware that you didn’t ever want to wake up and now you wouldn’t have to.
“Oh sweeeetie. I’m hoooome” Louis called throughout the house, shutting the door with his foot since he was holding two coffees. He had been a little late from recording so he thought he owed you the treat. “Babe?” he called again. He kicked off his shoes and started for the stairs. That’s when he saw the blood. His eyes grew, horror and sadness creating a sickening pale. He ran forward, taking the stairs three at a time but still clutching the coffee because he wanted to believe that he would find you perfectly fine just sitting upstairs and then you could both drink and laugh about it. “Please, please, please” he muttered as he sprinted forward. He was unaware of who he was talking to but at that moment it seemed so important that he keep saying it. “Please, oh god please.” He skidded to a stop in front of the bathroom. It was like something out of a horror movie, the hand print, the sudden realization that the one person you love may never be able to hold you again, never be able to laugh at your joke, never able to breath again. “(Y/N)!" He screamed, the only reply was the soft echo of his own frantic voice. He pushed open the door, causing your body to fall forward into a fetal position. That’s how he found you. Curled up on the ground, blood pooled around you like some sort of sadistic swimming event, eyes closed softly, hair spread out, a slight smile forming at the corners of your mouth. He fell to his knees beside you, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking violently. “Wake up! Wake up god damn it! I need you here! Wake up (Y/N)! You can’t be fucking dead, wake up!” Then just as suddenly as this burst of anger had came it was gone, replaced with looming figure of sadness. It completely covered him, making him seem much older than he was. “Please, please, please” he still whispered. He picked you up softly in his arms and smoothed your hair. If he ignored the blood it was just like when you used to fall asleep in his arms after a long day. Still cradling your head he picked up the note you had written for him. He read it, eyes overflowing with tears. The last word you had written was “Sorry” and as he read that he kissed you on the forehead. “No I’m sorry” he said softly.