New Beginning Another Hope

Serena Paris Young was 8 when her dad died of cancer, and 3 months later her mum committed suicide. I had to mature a lot and I was taken away to a foster home. i've been there since i was 8 and the day i get adopted i just had to be clumsy me and trip on a stair and fall into a guys arms (luckily he caught me). What will happen? Who adopts her? you'll have to read to find out!!

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16. IMAGINE:

A/N:

ok so for the next chapter Serena and Abbi are going to prank the boys BUT i don't have any ideas for what they will do so if you could please comment ideas of pranks that can do and to what boy that would help me get the next chapter up a lot fast thanks.

 

LOVE YOU my little potatoes.

 

 

THIS MADE ME CRY SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND COMMENT IF YOU CRY

 

Goodbyes (They're Harder Than You Think):

 

Harry didn't know why he felt this way; why he had this feeling that everyone would be better without him. 

 

Why his boyfriend Louis would be better without him.

 

Regardless, the pill bottle, full of prescription drugs taken for his insomnia, (one of which, kept him up all night, imagining his greatest fears come to life with a series of "what if's,) was becoming more and more like a desirable way to leave.

 

So he takes one.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

Five.

 

Eight.

 

Ten.

 

And it's all black.

 

*

 

It's not Louis who finds his body, turning cold on the sheets of their shared bed, unmade from activities done in the morning.

 

No, it's Gemma, who comes to share the news of the engagement to her boyfriend of five years, Ashton.

 

It's her, the girl so giddy with excitement she can hardly stand straight. Of course, she doesn't once she finds him, her knees weakening until she's on the floor, eyes blurred with tears while she tries to ring for help.

 

She knows he's gone though.

 

Harry is cold.

 

It doesn't take very long for paramedics to arrive, Harry to be taken away, and certainly for Louis to hear of the tragedy that occurred in his very own room. 

 

Gemma rings Anne, her voice quivering with sadness as she describes, in detail, what she witnessed. Louis holds Gemma tight to help keep her upright and standing, but more as a distraction to prevent his own body from giving in.

 

Louis doesn't cry, no. It had to be a dream, right? He'd wake up, his body in a cold sweat, and Harry would stir slightly beside him, his morning voice prominent in his words as he soothes Louis back into peaceful slumber, lightly kissing his forehead before settling back into bed himself.

 

But this isn't some nightmare that Louis can wake up from. It's tragic and scary and so painfully /real/ that he can't bear to do anything but deny the obvious.

 

To no surprise, Harry is dead. His heart stopped beating long before Gemma even discovered him. 

 

Gemma cries.

 

Anne bawls.

 

Louis, Louis stays quiet.

 

He thinks.

 

Of better times, like when he and Harry would cuddle on the couch, watching movies and sneaking kisses. Or, when Louis tried to make a romantic dinner for two, burning the steaks and everything else he tried to cook. Harry just shrugged, chuckling and giving Louis a peck on the cheek with a cheerful, "Someday, I'll teach you to cook."

 

Harry never really got around to it though, teaching Louis to cook without burning the food to a crisp. He never will, Louis realizes, because he's dead. Gone. Cold. 

 

And that's when Louis breaks, sobbing into a jumper long since thought of as his, though Harry had given it to him quite a long time ago.

 

"It'll be okay, Louis," Anne reassures him, though it's hard when hiccups erupt from you from crying so much.

 

"No," he says weakly, wiping his eyes. "Harry never taught me to cook."

 

*

 

/The bed feels weird./

 

/This food isn't half as good as Harry's cooking./

 

/The house doesn't have his smell anymore./

 

Thoughts plague Louis, racing in and out of his head as he suffers the aftermath of Harry's passing a few days before. 

 

With each passing day, it all becomes so real. And boy, does it hurt like hell.

 

Louis chugs a glass of water, slamming the glass down on the countertop. It shatters in his hand, glass shards pricking his skin, causing small wounds to form.

 

"Shit," Louis mutters, running his hand under the warm water of the kitchen sink, picking glass out of his hand. He carelessly tosses the now broken cup in the garbage, cursing himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

 

Thankfully, he doesn't get anything on his tux, which lays pristine and perfect on his body, which is far from even decent on the inside.

 

A car's horn sounds from outside, snapping Louis out of another reverie with Harry while his hand runs under the water. He quickly shuts the faucet off, storming out of the house to greet his guests, though solemnly.

 

Niall is driving, the seat beside him empty. Louis ponders over where Valerie is, but not for very long before he is once again torn from his thoughts.

 

"How you holding up, lad?" Niall asks, attempting to make small talk as he pulls out of Louis' driveway. Louis appreciates his effort, but he just can't bring himself to say much other than a simple,

 

"Just like every other day."

 

His blunt answer is enough to shut Niall up, though Louis wonders if Niall's babbling would be better than a silence filled with thoughts. Because thoughts for Louis meant memories of Harry, and that made him want to break all over again.

 

The car ride doesn't last very long, (Louis thanks God for that one,) and Niall and Louis exit the car, greeted by the other lads of One Direction.

 

Liam is already crying, his unceasing sobs bringing down everyone around him, who were just waiting for the right moment to cry themselves.

 

Louis promises to himself and to Harry to stay strong, though, so he bottles up his emotions and keeps a straight face while they walk down the sidewalk.

 

Harry's family is already gathered, some crying, some reminiscing about old times, but all wishing to be anywhere but here.

 

Louis leads the crowd into the church, bracing himself to see the scene in front of him.

 

The room is empty, rows of seats soon to be occupied lining the sides of a long, red carpet that serves as a walkway. At the end of it, is Harry.

 

Louis chokes back tears, imagining that Harry's just sleeping. Well, in a casket, but sleeping all the same. He looks peaceful enough. His eyes closed and his face neutral, as if he went painlessly. 

 

At least that's what the doctors told them. He went painlessly.

 

Louis doesn't dare be the first to say his goodbye. Instead, he takes a seat, allowing others to pass by him. 

 

One by one, people whisper heartfelt goodbyes that bring them to tears, if they weren't before. Louis just watches, a sharp pang in his heart, like he was being stabbed each time Harry left someone's life for good. 

 

When it becomes too much, Louis pulls out the note. It wasn't very long, but still, he loved it. He had read it over probably a hundred times, but each time was different, almost as if there were new words for Louis to read; a new message.

 

It was Harry's suicide note.

 

He had found it a little while after returning home from the hospital, his eyes puffy and red from crying, though he still scanned over the page, soaking in every bit of information he could from if.

 

/Louis,

 

Wow, that was a stupid way to start this. No "Dear Louis," or "My Beloved Louis." Just, "Louis," though I don't really think I need to put anything with it. You're name is enough, right? It was always enough for me.

 

If you're reading this, I guess I am really dead. That's kind of hard to imagine, you know? I won't get to kiss you anymore, or entwine our fingers together when you're sad, because I know how much you like your hand to be held. 

 

Anyway, I just wanted you to know this isn't your fault. This was a decision I had to make on my own with my own opinion and my own desire. 

 

I didn't want to leave you Louis, but it just hurts so much.

 

Do you remember when we met in the bathroom? You were washing your hands when I happened to bump into you by accident. (Well, it wasn't really an accident, but until now, you didn't know that.) Ever since then, we've grown together, both as a couple, and as friends. I couldn't ask for a better friend, I really couldn't Louis.

 

But even back then, I knew you were too good for me. Even now, I know you're too good for me. I love you with all my heart, but you deserve better than just a broken piece of junk like me.

 

I'm not very good at goodbyes, and I really don't /want/ this to be goodbye. So it won't be. It'll be a see you soon.

 

I'll see you soon (Really),

Hazza/

 

Louis ponders over such absurd thoughts, but he doesn't question them. He can't question Harry anymore.

Now, is a time for acceptance.

 

He must accept the fate given to him.

 

Louis sighs, getting up from his seat to finally say goodbye. He's ready. It's time.

 

Seeing Harry up close is so surreal the room actually spins around Louis, his head reeling. Still, he manages to compose himself, placing a hand on Harry's chest.

 

"I love you, Haz. And don't worry, I was never too good for you. If anything, /you/ were too good for /me/. I don't know if you can hear me from the great beyond in heaven or whatever, but if you can, I just want you to know that I love you and I always will." Louis whispers, hoping no one overhears his words of depart.

 

A single tear streams down Louis cheek, and he shakes his head, wiping it away with the sleeve of his tux.

 

Placing Harry's note in his folded hands, Louis closes the casket, and walks away.

 

*

 

Louis doesn't return to work the day following Harry's burial, instead respectively taking a few days off.

 

Being around sick people probably wouldn't help him much, after all.

 

So Louis sits on the couch, wallowing in self pity and mint chocolate chip ice cream, Harry's favorite. Louis personally hates the flavor, so he allows the tub to sit in his lap, melting. 

 

His phone rings beside him, though Louis just assumes it's another call of sorrowful (not really) condolences from someone only Harry's probably talked to and mentioned his boyfriend once, maybe twice. Maybe it was before they even started dating. Louis doesn't know. He doesn't really care. 

 

It's not though, it's a concerned Niall, calling just to get Louis out of his house. 

 

When the phone calls don't recede even in the least bit, Louis realizes this, sighing, and knowing that if he weren't to answer soon, Niall would be over.

 

Well, his house is shit right now, and well, so is Louis, so he's forced to weigh his options.

 

"Niall, what do you want?" Louis asks, his usual sarcastic self. He can almost hear the relief in Niall's voice, like maybe Louis was getting better.

 

He wasn't.

 

"I was going to invite you over, Mr. Cranky. Izzy's been asking for uncle Woo all day." Niall mocks his daughter's voice, who never really could pronounce the "L" in Louis' name. 

 

"Cut the bullshit. You're worried I'm going to do what Harry did, aren't you?"

 

"No, Lou, really-"

 

"Never mind, I'll be over in a bit." 

 

Maybe that wasn't right to say, but Louis couldn't give a damn about Niall's feelings at the moment. Currently, the world could piss off.

 

He slams the front door behind him as he enters Niall and Valerie's home, the patter of tiny feet greeting him as Isabella scurries to see her uncle.

 

"Uncle Woo!" she exclaims, practically jumping in his arms. And for the first time, Louis actually /smiles/. Like, a smile he would have with Harry, conversing of a family of their own in the near future. 

 

"Hey baby girl," Louis says, tickling her stomach slightly. She giggles her little girly laugh, the way all three year olds do.

 

"Told you." A voice speaks up from the doorway, catching Louis' attention. Niall stands there, his arms crossed, his face stern. "I wasn't 'bullshitting' you."

 

"No cursing around Izzy!" Valerie chastises him from another room. She always did have super hearing to Niall's cursing around their daughter.

 

"Izzy, go play with mummy," Niall tells his daughter.

 

"But daddy-"

 

"Izzy." His tone is warning, like a strict parent. The kind of tone that kids fear from their parents. The, "you're not getting your way," tone. Isabella pouts, running off into the other room.

 

"What was that about? You asked me to come over for her," Louis mutters sarcastically, leaning back against the door.

 

"You know what it was about," Niall tells him, talking as though Louis were his daughter, the strict parent tone still prominent in his voice. "What was that over the phone? Do you think we don't trust you?"

 

"What, trust me not to kill myself? No, I don't think you really do. I don't think anyone does, really."

 

Niall looks taken aback, his eyes glazing over like he's prepared to cry.

 

"I lost one band member. Don't make me lose another..."

 

"This isn't about you! This isn't about anyone! I get calls day in and day out with condolences and grieving relatives I didn't even know /existed/! You all just expect me to move on from Harry. I /can't/ just move on, Niall! I /loved/ him!" Louis breaks, almost screaming as tears threaten to escape from his eyes. "I loved him," he repeats, crumpling down on the floor.

 

And well, Isabella really doesn't get to play with her uncle like planned. Instead, she hears the slight sound of a muffled cry, and even her mother sniffles. She's not sure what is going on, but she has some clue that it's about uncle Louis and uncle Harry and a bottle of pills. Isabella hopes they get better, because medicine is for sick people, right?

 

*

 

Harry's grave is more beautiful than ever, assortments of flowers and gifts bunched together on the soft grass; presents from fans and family alike. 

 

It seemed like the world mourned the loss of Harry.

 

Niall thought it would be best for Louis to get closure for his closure, suggesting Louis visit Harry's grave, so he sits cross-legged, staring at the words engraved on the stone. 

 

"Gone, but never forgotten. A legend in music, and a blessing to every life he was involved in. We will always love you, Harry."

 

"They got it all wrong," Louis tells Harry, rubbing his thumb over Harry's name, "you were more than that. Though, I guess if I decided what went on the tombstone, we would need a skyscraper to fit all. I always did have tons to say about you, didn't I?"

 

Silence.

 

"I remember you use to tell me, 'Lou, if you talk this much about me, what else am I going to say when I introduce myself? They'll know all about me already!' 

 

And I remember, I just laughed and kissed your cheek and told you to just tell them one of your stupid knock knock jokes. You were so fond of them, weren't you?"

 

Silence.

 

"And bananas. And cold winter nights, where we would huddle next to the fire place in our house. You were all the warmth I needed, holding me tight in your arms, humming old Bad Company songs. You were always a fan of Classic Rock music. I loved when you sang it. Do you remember me saying that to you before?"

 

Silence.

 

"I think I said it before. I guess it doesn't matter now. I miss you Harry, I really do. Maybe one day I'll move on and get a boyfriend and have a real family and my own kids and I'll-" he stops, choking back tears. "It won't be the same without you, Haz. Raising kids won't be the same. Getting married. Cuddling on cold winter nights. It won't be the same ever again, will it Harry?"

 

Silence.

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

 

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