27 Minutes -Larry Stylinson-

Mistake.

I'm YorkshirePerrie. All credits go to Happinessintime for she is the person who wrote this book. I'll try to update weekly so it can be open to fully read for everyone soon.

---------

Louis POV

July 15th, 2013

It was done.

The truth was finally told and the stage finally set. I've wanted and waited so long to be able to let the words tumble out of my mouth. An invisible weight has been suddenly lifted off my chest causing air to makes its way into my lungs. I was so frightened at speaking the truth but now that I have, my chest rises and falls freely. No restrictions, no rules, nothing but the freedom of the truth. It's like every guideline I was given to follow those few short years ago had wrapped themselves around me like a vine. With the lies and the hurt they continued growing, only becoming stronger and tighter. So tight that my lungs couldn't force air into them anymore and my mind couldn't think coherently.

Now, those vines have been cut and will never wrap around me again.

I feel everything from the past two and a half years roll off of me in waves. A new sensation overcoming me and stretching a soft smile onto my lips. A smile that hasn't been genuine in so long finally replaces the dirty frown and I like it. I like to smile, I don't like to hurt.

I knew this feeling of bliss would be short lived but I closed my eyes and basked in it anyways.

My mind cleared instantly letting me sink into nothing but comfort and peace. I've craved peace for so long, but I knew even now I still didn't have it completely. I won't have it fully until I carry out the reason I started this whole thing.

Opening my eyes I see the shut laptop, the journal and the photo album. It's all settling down on me now; of I what I just did, and just started. I know they will want a deeper explanation but I'm not sure I have one to give. I poured my heart out onto a stupid twitcam in front of the world and them. I know they were watching, I seen the messages but I just couldn't respond. I can't give him any more hope and I know that's what he wants. But there's none left; hope is even further gone than I am.

Standing up I collect the few items I have left and place them neatly together on top of the bed. I wanted them to have those; for Harry to read the journal and see the pictures. I'm not dumb enough to think they won't find me, I know they will. It's only a matter of time now and I know it's not long. These things are the only personal items of mine that have any meaning to me. They seem stupid and cliché but the photo album holds my memories, and the journal holds poems and short stories. It's a collection of love and time spent with those important to me.

The weight of this dark night sinks itself back onto my chest and begins to fill me with pain. It's not just an emotional pain any longer, it's now become physical. I try not to think about it to much but I can't help it. I can't help but think of my sisters, my mum, my friends, and.. my Harry. I always think of Harry. His beautiful face, sweet soft smile and a heart that I still pray will forever be mine.

I hope he moves past this and doesn't blame himself but I find that hard to believe. He's always been so hard on himself, thinking that he is the cause of everyone's problems. Always tries to find ways to fix everything because that's just him. He's a selfless person that only wants the best for anyone who crosses his path.

I hate seeing the way the media or even some fans portrayed him. Thinking he was some kind of intense heart breaker, always out looking for his newest catch. He was made out to be a sex addict, always having a new girl on his arm every night but it wasn't true. They didn't know the Harry we know; the one who stays up writing song lyrics until four in the morning. The one who goes to hospitals to spend time with sick children, or the man who lends money to the homeless on the street. No, they never seemed to recognize any of that. But that's who he is and just another thing added to the list of reasons why I adore him.

I wish I didn't have to leave him, didn't have to break his heart further but I have to. I couldn't stop this madness if I stayed. It would be so much worse and I can't handle that. My mind was made up a long time ago that I was finished with my life. I felt like I had lived a good amount of time even if some of that was in pain. I was just simply done. I had no will to fight anymore nor did I want to. I'm just ready to let go. I won't stay here any longer just to be counting another miserable day.

I decided I wouldn't stay here and live my life as a lie. I wouldn't continue on chalking up my board filled with deceit because that's not who I am. But most importantly, I won't walk another damn day on this earth if I can't have Harry by my side.

This was a way to end all the pain, all the suffering. I wouldn't have to suffer anymore and neither would Harry. He wouldn't have to sit on the sidelines gazing at me and seeing me with someone else. I couldn't do that to him anymore so this is our fix. This is our way to patch things up. The boys would go on and eventually be okay. I know Harry will linger but even he will find the strength to carry on. Or so I hoped.

It had all finally led up to this moment. This final moment where I said my goodbyes and placed myself in this position. I felt at peace with my choice and I wasn't changing it.

So with my mind settling back on that thought I grabbed my bag and made my way to the small bathroom. This bag had been packed for months, filled with multiple different scenarios since I couldn't choose. How does one simply decide their fate of suicide? It was hard enough to make the decision that my life needed to end, but to choose the method seemed out of my reach then.

Locking the door behind me I place the bag up on the counter and look at my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me is half of the boy I used to be. My face looks drained of life and my eyes look lost. There's no hint of happiness or humor, and no trace of a boy who used to be able to feel anything other than sadness. Nothing, it's all gone. Left behind is a sad pathetic excuse of life. Someone who doesn't deserve anything they've ever been handed.

I thought I worked hard for all that we had but maybe they just dragged me a long for the ride. Maybe I was just there. Just drifting along side for the ride and never hearing the words I know they wanted to speak.

Leave

Worthless

Talentless

Unloved

Surely that's what they really think of me. That I was a burden, a tiring burden. Even now as I walk deeper towards the end of the tunnel I must be such a burden. Having made a shit storm out of what I just aired to the world. Shaking my head I know they won't have to worry about it much longer. It will all be over soon.

It really is for the best I think to myself as I open up the bag. A chilling sensation rolls down my spine as I pull out the multiple items and set them a long the counter. A sad chuckle escapes my lips as I think about what I'm doing. I never thought I'd be doing this. Contemplating suicide? Is that really me? How does that feel like the best solution? Why does it seem like it would solve all of my damn problems.

Because you wouldn't be here.

That was why. I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have to hurt or cause hurt. I wouldn't have to see the pain of what I've done showcased every fucking day in my face. No, it will all be done, gone, dead.

I'll be dead.

I know it's what I want and now looking at the counter full of pill bottles, blades, a rope, just various different poisonous things, I just have to choose which way is easiest. Which way I want to let go.

---------
I do not own anything in this fanfiction.
Thankyouu.