The Letters (Larry Fan Fiction)

Louis Tomlinson was the perfect boy. Soft hair with baby blue eyes. He's nothing anymore. Nothing but dead. That hazy image of Louis' suicide lingers in Harry's mind every second of everyday and he can't help but blame himself. What happens when he finds all of the letters that Louis had ever written him but never sent? The ones in the old shoe box underneath the bed that were never meant to be found...


2. Letter 2


 Dear Harry,

I've had a lot of time to think today, seeing that I was alone. I started off thinking about you but my mind wandered to thoughts about life and what happens after it. Maybe it's a signal that you're my life but I know that that's a lie. I don't even know why I keep trying to convince myself that one day we'll belong to each other and we'll have a family and we'll grow old together. I guess that's just my heart not listening to my mind.

Anyway, this question has been bothering me the entire day: Do you ever wonder if we're not real and that maybe we're just a a figment of someone's imagination.

You know how they say that after you die, you're brain still works for thirteen more minutes? They say that you relive your entire life in those thirteen minutes. So what if this is just the thirteen minutes and we're already dead.

Or maybe we've already lived before. We just don't remember.

These things scare me, Harry. They scare me and I don't know why...

Death scares me because I don't know what it is but at the same time, I can't wait for it. It happens to everyone and no one can stop it.  Once I'm dead, I don't have to worry about all this. This thing called "life". I don't have to worry about who I'll love and what people think about me and I won't have to worry about the way I look.

You know that little voice inside you're head that says "You're not good enough. You're ugly. No one wants you. Die."

But what if it's the truth? That you really aren't good enough and you're ugly. Maybe no one really doesn't want you. Maybe you should die.

I don't know why I'm thinking about this. It hurts.

Do you ever feel that ache? That ache that you can feel deep down inside your core? And it hurts. The feeling makes sure that you know you're helpless and there's nothing you can do about it.

I call that feeling "numb."

I'm numb, Harry...

The jingle of your keys are ringing in my ear, signaling me that you're home. It's that time of day again. 

That time of day when I have to act like everything's fine.

I have to smile.


Act like I'm not breaking inside.

But what am I supposed to do? Tell you that I'm depressed? Tell you how I feel? Tell you that I love you?

No. I can't.

There's so much more I could write about right now, but I can hear your raspy voice calling my name. And for the first time today, I smile.

Thanks for that. For making me smile.

Bye, Pal.

Your friend,


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