(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.

"I'm alive," He says meekly, fingers tracing the empty bottle that's now laying on his best.

He hears Eleanor take a deep breath of relief and can hear her muttering something to someone else in the background. There are a few minutes of heavy fumbling on the other side of the phone before she starts speaking directly to Louis.

"Tell me, how much have you had to drink?" Her voice is shaking, and Louis has to give it to her. This woman has known the ins and outs of Louis for years and she knew the way he got when things got bad.

"Almost finished my entire cabinet but it's not working anymore. I feel like I'm drowning constantly. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm so tired," Louis tries to say flatly, but his voice betrays him and it cracks halfway. Tears freely flowing from his burning eyes.

"I'm going to come around and we'll get everything cleaned up. I think I'll get Nate to clear out the house. You can't have these things tempting you. You can't keep doing this to yourself," Eleanor's soft voice soothes Louis' tension to a certain extent, but Louis finds himself already stumbling to the bathroom.

"It's all too late," Louis says so softly and he isn't sure if he's talking to Eleanor or himself. He doesn't wait for Eleanor to respond as he hangs up and drops his phone to the floor. His mind transfixed on the idea of lulling himself to sleep with the endless supply of medications he's acquired over the years.

The light to the bathroom is blinding and Louis covers his eyes with his hand instinctively, groaning as his knees buckle slightly. He can't seem to get his body moving fast enough as his feet drag along the floor with each step. He can't help but want to rip apart his skin and scream. This is his fault and he couldn't look Harry in the eye and have him know it. Louis can feel the physical crack of his heart widen and then there's a searing ache that radiates across his chest and up to his throat.

"I'm so sorry," His voice is shattered, as he grips the ledge of the bathroom sink. His eyes remain trained on the basic white sink for a few moments until he slowly moves his line of sight to focus on his reflection. He doesn't know how much time passes as he watches his reflection slowly break. His dull blue eyes are bloodshot, and eyelashes are clumped from the tears that have been coming and going over the last couple days. Under the bathroom light his skin looks washed out, and his whole being just radiates tired.

Louis forces himself to open the cabinet, eyes quickly taking in all the different brands. Something he had done thousands of time before, except this time with more malicious intent. His entire adult life was spent plagued with the traumatic memories of the psychological and physical abuse he endured, and he was certain that he was made to stay broken. There wasn't anything in this world that would undo the damage and Louis was for sure certain that he didn't want to feel this pain again. It wasn't just Harry; it was the fact his sexuality made him violently ill. With every thought of happiness came another that involved memories of near-death experiences. Those memories left Louis' heart hammering against his ribcage, mouth dry as sandpaper and the sensation of being suffocated.

"I just want it to be over, it's never going to end. It's never going to end," He mutters to himself, fingers gently brushing along the lids of the bottles. He feels another sob wrack his body, and his knees buckle again as he presses his whole-body weight into the bench.

A distant memory that comes surging through to the forefront of Louis' brain. The images causing him to drop his hands back to grip the bench and suck in a breath, whole body shaking in fear. Louis remembers it so vividly and the memory sucks him right back to being in the moment. The scared teenager silently pleading for forgiveness as he shakily grips onto a handful of medications. He can hear the way his father is screaming across the hall, it is enough for Louis to cower. This happened almost daily and this day was no exception... it was one of the worst days. This was when Troy had read Louis' private journal, the very same one that Louis openly spoke about his sexual confusion. God Louis wishes he just kept it to himself.

The metallic taste of blood was something that would never escape Louis and the agony of the broken ribs and fractured jaw he felt that day. His mother had stepped in, but by then it was too late. Louis was done, he was so unbelievably done. It was the same feeling as he was enduring right now. The overwhelming feeling of being backed into a corner by a world of monsters with no way out. It was either he took himself out or they did it. Louis wasn't going out on anyone's terms but his own. He knew that much about himself. The flashbacks of the abuse overcome Louis like a tidal wave, and he blindly grabs for whatever he can reach in the cabinet. He has approximately 5 seconds before his knees give out and he can't find the strength to hold himself up anymore.

"I can't breathe," He wheezes, eyes screwed shut as his back slides down against the bench until his legs touch the cold tiles. His fingers are the epitome of numb at this point, but he knows he's going something in his hand. The terror that takes over his body is indescribable, and he knows this is one of those attacks that he's avoided for far too long. He forces his eyes open to look down at the yellow tinted bottle held tightly in his hand, and it happens in slow motion. His fingers fumble to unscrew the lid, and his breathing stays heavy and erratic. The corners of his vision threatening to disappear as tunnel vision takes over. The pressure of trying to take the lid off gets too much and Louis angrily pulls at it, instantly regretting his decisions as he watches the small white capsules land on his lap and floor around him.

He frantically picks them up and cups them in his palm. He doesn't bother counting because his brain is too far gone to even comprehend numbers at this point. He finishes with his hand cupped and staring down at the full handful of capsules that suddenly weigh a tonne. There's a slight hesitation but he quickly shakes himself out of it as the pain in his chest worsens and he lets out a shaky breath. He picks one up between this thumb and forefinger and brings it up to his eyes, turning it slightly and watching it in awe.

"The very thing that has the power to kill me, yet I'm not scared,"

He opens his mouth and places it on his tongue, and instantly forces himself to swallow. He feels it gets stuck for a quick moment and he instinctively gags. It dislodges but leaves a terrible taste in his mouth and that's when he realises, he needs to force himself up and at the very least drink from the tap. It's the only thing that's going to make this less horrible. The heaviness of his body and legs make it nearly impossible for Louis to pull himself up again, his whole body tilting forward. He uses his spare hand to turn the tap on, clenching his jaw trying to stop the instinctual urge to throw up from the taste and feeling of the medication in his throat. He leans down and takes a couple of mouthfuls of the water, quickly swallowing. He repeats himself a total of 3 more times before he jumps at the sound of Nate and Eleanor's voice.

How the fuck did they get inside?

Louis accidentally drops the capsules again and stares down at the floor and bench where they lay haphazardly. There's a churning in his stomach and he feels like the world is tilting on its axis. He closes his eyes as he focuses on the sound of footsteps quickly making their way through the house. They're nearing and Louis can't find it within himself to fix the mess that he's caused around him.

His thoughts, however, are quickly cut off as both Eleanor and Nate appear in the doorway. Eleanor's eyes widen and face instantly pales as she takes in the scene of the medications strewn everywhere and Louis' drunken and weak body slumped into the bench. Nate doesn't even contemplate as he gently shoulders past Eleanor and pulls Louis into a bear hug. Louis doesn't feel like he's inside his own body, and the tears that are burning his cheeks feel foreign to him.

"How many did you take?" Eleanor's voice is strained, as she takes a hesitant step into the bathroom and eyeballing the disaster in front of her. She doesn't even look at Louis now and it's purely out of the fact that she'll fall apart now if she does. Louis can't form words as he watches the way Eleanor's heart breaks in front of him. He feels Nate's grip tighten on him and he slumps into the warmth of his body. He feels completely drained of energy at this point.

"How many Louis? I need you to tell me," Nate places his mouth next to Louis' ear, voice low so that only Louis can register what he's saying. Louis swallows and grips at his shoulders, prying himself off Nate as he takes a wobbly step back.

"4. Why are you here? What are you trying to achieve? Leave me alone," Louis stutters, a surge of anger suddenly fills his veins and ignites strength into his weak limbs. He feels Nate reach for him again but Louis swats at him, eyes narrowing in the direction of his best friend and then back to Eleanor. "What do you want from me? There's nothing more I can fucking give. I've ruined everything," The volume of his voice begins to rise, breath picking up as he feels the fear and resentment returning to replace the anger.

"We want you safe, that's what we want. This isn't okay, what are you trying to achieve Lou? You could kill yourself," Eleanor sounds exasperated, as she flails her hands around for emphasis. Her hazel eyes glimmer with both heartbreak and rage as they finally settle on Louis' weak frame.

"I ruined everything. I fucked it,"

There's a heavy silence as Nate and Eleanor look at one another in confusion and concern as Louis buries his face into Nate's shoulder and his shoulders shake with exhaustion. Louis is unsure if his body could produce anymore tears at this point.

"You've done nothing wrong," Eleanor steps forward, running her hands through his matted hair and massaging his scalp in comfort. Louis sighs at the feeling, relishing in the fact it takes away the tenseness of his body even for the slightest second.

"I fucked him. I fucked him and it's all gone to shit,"

Louis isn't sure if he says it and his whole body instantaneously freezes and tenses. He can hear Nate's heart rate picking up and there is a noise that escapes Eleanor's mouth which Louis can't decipher.

"What? What are you on about?" Eleanor suddenly speaks, voice guarded against any emotion. Louis wants to melt into the floor, disappear and never return at this point. The mortification is settling in but the alcohol pulsing through his veins is making it so much easier. He can't keep it inside anymore; it's going to be the death of him.

"He told me he loved me and I can't say it back. I fucked it all up. I got stuck in the moment and now he's leaving and it's all over. I fucked it all up." Louis stammers, his vision suddenly going hazy. The amount of fear that takes over his body is enough for him to suck in a sharp breath and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. There's silence for a few seconds and Louis opens his eyes again.

The lights of the bathroom are now blinding, and the sound of his blood coursing through his veins is deafening in his ears. Every limb in his body begins to shake, and he can't seem to get enough oxygen in. His throat constricting further as the surge of a panic attack takes over his being.

"What? You're completely out of it Louis. We can talk about this tomorrow. We need to get you okay first. You've been drinking for days and now you're on a suicide mission. Just breathe,"

"I can't speak about this tomorrow. I can't speak about it at all. I've ruined my life. I've ruined his life. Look at me, Eleanor. I never wanted to be this way, Dad's going to kill me," Louis forces the words out, and by the end of it, he's yelling. His voice is thick with terror and he's broken out in full sweat. Between the heightened panic attack, the alcohol, and the medication it's a deadly concoction in his stomach.

Louis' stomach flips which causes him to let out a warning groan, pushing himself off Nate and stumbling towards the ceramic bowl of the toilet. He clenches his jaw as he feels the saliva building and that feeling in his gut that signifies, he is about 2 seconds out from bringing up the remnants of his stomach. Just as he drops to his knees and leans forward, the acid immediately rises, and he gags.

The taste is foul, and he squeezes his eyes shut as his whole-body tenses with each heave. His nose and throat instantly begin burning, and tears threaten to spill from the corners of his eyes. Nothing has ever felt more in slow motion than this moment. The horror of knowing Nate and Eleanor are standing just a couple of feet away witnessing this atrocity, and the embarrassment of allowing himself to get to this stage caused him to gag again.

There is a sense of discomfort as his brain registers how his shirt is damp with his sweat and clings to him. He feels like he's burning up but it's just the embarrassment of the situation. Once he feels the sensation of retching slowly subside, he instantly fumbles to pull his shirt off. He breathes a sigh of relief as he feels Nate's warm and steady hands grab a hold of him and assist with it. He hears the shower turn on and Louis weakly turns his head towards it, eyes landing on Eleanor who looks severely uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry," He mumbles, slowly blinking. His eyes are feeling heavier as the seconds pass but he knows he needs to get into the shower and clean himself up before getting to sleep. He is silently helped up by Nate and ushered towards the shower. Nate doesn't even hesitate to step in the shower, his clothes instantly becoming drenches by the constant stream of water.

"You've ruined your clothes," Louis frowns as he is placed under the showerhead, the hot water therapeutically hitting his back. Showers were Louis' safe space.

"I'll steal something of yours. Least you can do after all this," Nate smiles softly, any sign of disappointment or anger has completely dissipated. "What were you talking about, Louis? What did you do? I know tomorrow you're not going to talk so right now is the best chance I've got at finding out," Nate presses, eyes wearily looking over towards Eleanor who hesitantly steps towards Louis.

Louis tilts his head back and allows the warmth to envelop the rest of his head and body, and he relishes in it.

"For legal reasons, I cannot say," and that's all it takes before Eleanor suddenly shrieks which causes Louis to flinch in fear. He blinks the water out of his eyes and focuses on her figure that's now starting to pace the bathroom. All sense of calm was now replaced with energy that Louis was afraid of.

"You don't even have to say it. I know what you've done. I asked you the other day...mostly as a joke. I'm going out on a whim and going to say you've fucked a student. How irresponsible can you be Louis? They're minors," She whispers in a way that's so vicious it stings. Louis can tell by the reddening of her face that she's focusing on not screaming. She knows better, she knows yelling just means neighbours will potentially overhear it. "Please, please tell me that you're talking about something else,"

"I've ruined it all. I did not think I'd go that far. It started with a kiss, and then it kind of just happened. I was so stuck in the moment. He's leaving and it's over now. I've written my resignation...I can't be around students anymore. I'm sick....I'm sick," Louis sighs, tears blending with the shower water that's pouring over him.

Before Eleanor can bring herself to respond, she is ordered by Nate to fetch warm pyjamas and a towel. The weight of Louis' eyelids are growing and he's now leaning against the walls of the shower. Nate switches off the water supply and doesn't comment on Louis' confession. There's a new sense of awkwardness now, and it's beyond uncomfortable. Another minute passes before Eleanor re-enters with the pyjamas and a towel for Louis to dry off.

"You're not going to resign. What you're going to do is get some sleep and do damage control as of tomorrow. I can't lecture you when you're under the influence like this. I'm going to give you the chance to speak about this tomorrow when you're sober. There's no excuse for your actions but I want to hear your side of things. It doesn't make it okay though," Eleanor mutters as she hands Louis the dry towel.

"Sober me won't admit it. But I love him. And sober me is scared. I can't love another man," Louis says quietly, his chest tightening at the admission.

"You love him?" Nate speaks up for the first time. Louis starts to dry off his hair with the towel, his breathing becoming heavier. If you ever tell another man you love them, I'll find you and I will kill you. And that's a promise. His dad's words echoing at the forefront of his brain. Louis cannot take another panic attack. His body physically cannot cope and when he feels his head starting to spin, he shakes his head.

"No?" Eleanor answers for him. Her voice makes guilt weigh heavy on Louis' shoulders.

Why is it so hard? Why is it so hard to admit it? Louis shakes his head again, words refusing to form on his tongue. It's as if he's voice box has been ripped out of his throat. He physically can't form the words he's desperate to say.

I will kill you.

Louis shakes his head again, this time more convincing. He can't look up from the tiles and his vision blurs with another round of tears. He's gripping the towel for dear life now, and he wishes he could disassociate again. He doesn't want to be inside his body anymore. He wants to be free, and far away from the shackles of his past. Free from his trauma. The freedom to love, and to be loved.

"Why did you do it? If you don't love him...." Eleanor starts but then she decides she doesn't want to press any further. "I'll stop. Let's get you dressed and have you drink some water. You're going to need it cause tomorrow is not going to be fun for you,"

Louis silently follows her instructions and Nate assists with dressing Louis' weak and drunken body. He notices the way that Nate gently rubs his back, a silent act of support. Louis swallows the lump in his throat. He wants the memories of his father to leave, he wants it all to go away. He's never going to be free. He does his best to focus on the words his sisters would say to him over, and over through the years. He attempts to drown out his fathers' words with theirs.

He who is brave is free. 

(A/N: Check out my new fic called The Switch (l.s) 

I'm really excited about this one and have great plans! Plus I'm incredibly proud of the quality of writing I'm producing while writing it. It's the one I'm the most proud of. I'm doing a lot of in-depth research to make it the best it can be. So please give it a read! Comment, vote and add to your libraries (only if you want).

Thanks so much for your love and support for THIS fic. I read every single comment and they make me so happy! keep voting, commenting and doing your thing. You guys are the best. 

If you want to interact with me more, follow me on twitter @tomlingrin! 

Love, Ash x )