Larry Stylinson One-Shots

Angst: Refers to a genre of stories with prevalent physical or, mainly, emotional torment of characters.

Smut: A writting style that is sexually explicit. Erotic fiction.

Fluff: A fanfiction in which the story has no plot. Only humourous or romantic nonsense.


4. #3


Note: I didn't like Louis in the beginning>:(

Title: Scaring the Thought of Kissing Razors

Rating: nc-17

Summary: The first time Harry finds out he loves Louis is when they’re touring. They’re out on stage, it’s Louis’ solo in the song, and Louis is singing his heart out, looking out to the crowd, his blue eyes sparkling.

Warnings: Self harm, Character death, Language, may be triggering

Disclaimer: I do not own one direction. This is made up stuff.

The first time Harry finds out he loves Louis is when they’re touring. They’re out on stage, it’s Louis’ solo in the song, and Louis is singing his heart out, looking out to the crowd, his blue eyes sparkling.


Louis doesn’t like Harry the way Harry likes him. It’s clear as the ocean. Louis is straight. He has a skinny, beautiful girlfriend, who is smart and funny and quirky and not Harry. The realization then hits Harry that Louis will never love him.

Harry cried himself to sleep that night.


Whenever Louis came bursting into his hotel room, offering that Harry comes with the lads and him to the club, Harry almost says yes. But then Louis’ girlfriend, Eleanor comes up behind him dressed in her too expensive clothes and asks if he’s ready, Harry says no. Louis’ smile doesn’t even drop, and the happiness in his eyes still doesn’t fade.

All Harry can think about that night is the fact that Louis in general really doesn’t even care.


When Harry wakes up the next morning, his eyes still are sore. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, and cringes at his messy hair and red, puffy eyes. Harry thinks he looks disgusting. He probably always looks disgusting though. That’s another reason to add why Louis will never love you. Harry thinks to himself.


Louis notices every time Harry’s smile falls, but then he replaces it with one of those fake smiles that are too good not to believe. He knows Harry though, and he knows there’s something wrong.

But Louis doesn’t do anything about it, because as soon as he asks advice from Eleanor to talk about it, she changes the subject and he shrugs it off.


When the tour is finally over, Harry doesn’t go to the party that Niall throws, even though Louis says he’s going alone and he really wants Harry to be there. Harry knew he only said that because Eleanor wasn’t there. If she was, Louis wouln’t even take a second glance his way.

So Harry stays at Louis and his flat and goes inside his bedroom, crying himself to sleep for the fifth night in a row.


The first time Harry cuts is when Eleanor is over, and Louis and her are in his room, screaming in ecstasy from the make up sex they’re having. Harry hurts so much that he actually takes one of his disposable shaving blades and indents into his skin that leaves blood trickling down his wrist. Harry feels the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He feels free.


Harry likes the scars the razor leaves. He also likes the blood. His favorite thing though, the razor. Within the month that he had been slicing his skin open, he’s gotten a real box of razors, so they’ll last longer, and Louis will quit asking where all the shaving razors are.

The razors are his anchor, they’re the only thing that’s keeping him from floating off into a different, dark world.


Harry’s grateful that it’s winter. London is freezing and he gets to pile up in clothing and wear bunches of bracelets.

Winter means more scars.


Louis comes into Harry’s room one night, proposing the idea of a guys night. Harry’s still madly in love with him, and he just can’t say no.


All day Harry has a smile and he’s ready to hang out with Louis and he just feels good today. A spark of hope is bubbling in his chest and he’s thinking, maybe Louis is changing, maybe he won’t be with Eleanor so often. We can be like we used to.

And so when Louis says he’s about to be home, Harry calls and orders Chinese takeout, because he knows that’s Louis’ favorite.

The food gets there within five minutes, and Louis isn’t. Harry sends him a text, because he knows it’s snowing a little outside and Louis could have possibly gotten hurt, but when Harry doesn’t get a text or call back, his mind is on overdrive.


Thirty minutes later, Louis walks through the door with Eleanor trailing behind him, both of them giggling. Harry’s eaten his food already, and yes, cried a bit. He comes out of his room because he notices Louis’ laugh and then spots them.

Louis sees him to because a second later he’s coming up and hugging him, apologizing for being late, and saying that he had to pick Eleanor up. Harry stares at Eleanor, and doesn’t hug Louis back.

Harry’s heartbroken.


Louis comes in Harry’s room afterwards because for the rest of the day, Harry stayed in his room and didn’t talk to Louis.

Louis sits down on his bed, putting a hand on Harry’s knee. Harry flinches back and moves his knee, feeling his heart pounding.

“What’s wrong, Haz?”

Harry almost laughes because god, Louis is so fucking stupid. Instead he shrugs. Louis can see right through him and doesn’t give up.

“Are you mad at me?”

And then Harry snaps.

“Oh, no! Louis don’t be so silly! I’m totally not mad that for about five months you’ve been replacing me for your girlfriend! I’m certainly not mad that you abandoned me on our guys night for your girlfriend. Why would I be mad at you for it? It’s selfish and plain bullshit.”

Louis can tell that Harry is using sarcasm and he gets mad himself because Harry is getting mad for a stupid reason.

“Haz, she’s my girlfriend. I love her. Of course I’m going to be spending my time with her. I don’t see why it makes you mad that we’re not hanging out. News flash, it’s you who’s been distant all of this time. It’s your fault, Harry. Not mine.”

Harry doesn’t want to fight with Louis. So he just buries himself under the covers and waits until Louis gets impatient and leaves.

Just before he hears the door close, he swears he hears Louis whisper ‘I hate him so much’

Whenever he knows Louis asleep, he takes his razors and slices into his skin.


The next morning, Louis comes into Harry’s room to apologize, and stay for a cuddle. He shakes Harry until Harry’s dull mossy eyes show, and then softly murmurs, ‘I’m sorry.’

Harry nods his head, and then Louis climbs into bed with him, where instantly Harry turns around and clings to Louis.

Harry’s still half asleep and all he knows is that Louis is in here and he smells good and he’s cuddling him and for now he’s overjoyed.

But when Louis looks down to see Harry, he notices the little red lines on the wrist that is covering Harry’s face.

Louis doesn’t know what to really think right now. He was still processing every thing in his head. Harry cut himself. Harry was so lonely that he cut himself. Or maybe that wasn’t the reason.

Louis took ahold of Harry’s wrist, tracing the scars and angry red lines. Harry’s eyes opened fully then, alarmed, and ripped his wrist away from Louis’ grasp.

“Why?” Is the only thing Louis asks, and Harry doesn’t know what to do or say so he shrugs. Louis rolls his eyes.

“You did it Harry. You obviously know why.”

Harry went over why in his mind. Once he opened his mouth to speak, though, the only thing that came out was a sob and then Harry was bawling. Louis did all he knew to do and brought the distraught boy into his arms, and let him cry out his troubles.

After the crying faded down into small whimpers, Harry didn’t know why he said it, but he did.

“I love you so much, Lou. I want to be with you.”

And then Louis through Harry off of him, a disgusted look on his face.

“What?” He asked, making sure he heard correctly. Harry knew he couldn’t get out of this. He sucked in a big breath, and wiped his eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

Louis didn’t say anything back. He just got up and left the room. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, and started crying once he heard the front door slam shut.

Harry was tired. So, so tired. Not as in sleepy tired, where you feel like you’re going to pass out. Tired as in he was tired of life, tired of that constant pain in his heart.

So Harry wrote a note to each of the boys, and then took the sleeping pills out of his bathroom. He got out his favorite bottle of wine, and then downed all the pills, and fell asleep on his bed, where he smiled in triumph because, finally, he was numb.


Louis should’ve been shocked when he saw Harry lying on his bed, four notes neatly folded and parallel to him and vomit coming from his blue lips.

But he wasn’t. Louis was numb, unresponsive because he knew that he caused this, and that it was all his fault. Louis didn’t bother reading the note. He got up and threw them away, then called Liam, telling him what had happened.

Liam showed up there three minutes later and cried. He texted Niall and Zayn and they came over here too. All three boys were a wreck, but it was Louis who was sitting there, complentating his feelings.

He then realized that he loved Harry, and even though he spent all this time fighting it, he was accepting it now.


Louis didn’t really believe in Heaven or Hell. He thought that when people were dead their souls just wandered around the Earth.

Maybe Harry’s would be here now.


A week later Zayn wandered into Louis’ flat to see how he was holding up, and what he saw was what he wasn’t expecting.

In Louis’ room, his carcass was laying dead on the ground, and blood splattered the plain walls. Next to Louis there was a gun, and a note.

Through teary eyes, Zayn opened it up and stared at it in wonder.

‘I’m coming for you’


Everyone thought it was a killer that offed Louis, but when the police came and took fingerprints, the only person’s who’s fingerprints matched up was the one of the crime.


I can't handle the feels I'm having oh gawd:'(

Anyways thanks for reading:D:D

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