Unfixable (A Larry/LiLo AU Short Story)

A/N: Okay...here we go...don't hate me!

WARNING: BoyxBoy, self-harm, death, depression, suicidal thoughts, and A GOOD ENDING, I promise!

This is dedicated to my lovely friend Key, who is an amazayn one-shot writer, and has been urging me to post a 1D bromance story for, well...about a month or two, I believe. So I hope you like it, Key! *crosses fingers*

This story was originally inspired by "My Immortal" by Evanescence, but I found two others that fit it, one that is basically the theme song of this story: "I Will Not Say Good-Bye" by Danny Gokey, and "Your Guardian Angel" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Danny Gokey's song is to the right.

Please enjoy. I'm really anxious to see what you think.

Don't hate me...please...

And yes. Yes, I started bawling while writing this. I. Am. Pathetic.

****

Dear Harry,

     God, it sucks. I hate being the new kid, yet here I am, in my last year of school…and I had to move. This time is different, though. This time, it was my choice to move…and, like the coward I am, I chose to leave. You have every right to hate me, wherever you are. Everything that happened is my fault. And, Hazza, you have no idea how much that hurts. Every day, it’s like a new scar is being ripped into my skin.

     But I shouldn’t tell you about that. No. Wherever you are, I don’t want you to worry. I’m not going to lie to you. You, of all people, don’t deserve that.

    I want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry. You were—and are—my best friend; I loved—and still love—you. I can’t believe it had to end this way.

     Don’t worry about hurting me; I’ll do it myself. Because I already know, Haz. I already know.

     It’s my fault that you’re dead.

     And I’m so sorry.

                                                                                                         Love,

                                                                                                            Louis

♪♫♪♫

I shuffled up the concrete walk, my head down, the hood of my gray sweatshirt pulled up. I was careful not to make eye contact with anyone; I never raised my gaze from my slow-moving feet. I didn’t want anyone to see me. If I could make it through this year without having to interact with anyone, I would be happy. I didn’t want their pity; I didn’t want their sympathy or their “reasonable” words. Mum and my sisters had already tried all of that. Nothing would work. Nothing could work.

            Fresh, salty tears stung my eyes, threatening to fall, as I remembered that. I hadn’t known that it would escalate that far. I hadn’t known that…I gulped. I needed to get ahold of myself. I needed to numb my emotions while I was at school: no tears, no sobbing, no eye contact, no speaking unless directly spoken to. My limbs already felt that way. It was as if my legs were moving of their own accord, heavy in the black jeans I had worn. I had been told by Lottie and Fizzy multiple times this morning that black and gray weren’t my colors, but I disagreed. They were my colors. Anything too bright hurt to look at.