Homophobic (l.s)

Chapter 31

(Thanks for your patience. Here's a much-needed update. Also please note that I'm now back at university full time so updates might not be consistent but I'll try my best.

TW: S*ICIDAL TENDENCIES, read at your own risk)

The days since the last interaction blurred together and each day the ability to breathe became more difficult. There was a suffocating sadness that gripped tightly at Louis' throat, and he found drinking made it disappear. Or that was until a certain point. There were many different stages of grief that Louis was going through but the main aspect was losing Harry. The overwhelming feeling of guilt gnawed in the depths of Louis' soul and there was nothing he could do to ignore it. The alcohol numbed the feeling of suffocating, but it made the internal guilt worse by tenfold.

But when he boards himself up in his flat and drinks himself oblivion, he finds himself in a state of peril. The ongoing psychologist appointments had settled some of the residual trauma that lingered deep inside Louis' brain but in these moments, it call came back to haunt him. He ignores the constant barrage of text messages and calls from Eleanor, and soon enough Nate's also consistently checking in on him.

Hey Louis, can you just let me know you're alive at least. Got your ex-girlfriend on the phone to me stressing about your health.

Louis. Just answer me. Or at the very least just reply to Eleanor.

If I must get in my car and drive to you, I am going to beat your ass.

Each day Louis finds himself needing to drink a considerable amount more and soon enough he finds himself staring at the medicine cabinet. It does not take a psychologist to tell him to know he's relapsing, and it's harder than he has in his entire life. The constant echo of torment reverberates around Louis' head, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and hands that refuse to stop shaking. Louis considers letting it all go because there was nothing on gods green earth that would fix the damage inside his soul. Nothing would heal his inability to be himself, and sure as hell, nothing was going to remove his fathers' permanent imprint in his brain.

Louis' hands shake harder as he re-reads the email that he had previously typed up, yet it remains unsent. He can't bring himself to do it. He should have known this was going to happen, he was selfish. He knew Harry deserved the best chance in life and getting him away from possible trauma would be beneficial for both his academics and his personal growth. The letter of resignation sits there mocking his very existence. A dull laugh escapes Louis' mouth as he stares at the blurry words, tears threatening to spill.

To Whom It May Concern,

I'm writing this as official documentation of my immediate resignation from Seabrook High. Due to unseen personal circumstances, I am no longer able to fulfil my duties as a permanent educator within the drama department. I wish I was able to give a bit more forewarning but I will provide documents of evidence over the next week to assist with my withdrawal from your wonderful faculty. You have provided me with a beautiful career, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute in my position, however, at this point, I can no longer do this role adequately.

I will be eternally grateful to you for allowing me to be an educator there. But this is goodbye.

Regards,

Mr Louis William Tomlinson.

He slams his laptop shut and swallows back the sob that starts to build in his throat, tears softly falling onto his cheeks and eyes burning. He doesn't want to feel a thing anymore. He tilts his head back slightly and brings the cold bottle to his lips, shotting back the remnants of Jack Daniels left. He's completely unaware of the burning it leaves in the back of his throat and the way his stomach instinctively flips at the taste. He turns his head towards his phone when he hears it ringing again, for probably the 50th time. It's within arms reach and he cringes as Eleanor's name flashes on the screen. He knows this won't stop and soon enough they'll force themselves into the house if he doesn't reply. He holds the vibrating phone in his hands and weakly presses it to his ears, swallowing thickly. He tries his best to keep his voice from wavering.