round 17 - team future - everything's fine (heartbeat racing down the interstate - 3/5
part 1 | part 2
part xii: it's me you're talking to
come on it's me you're talking to there's something going on inside of you don't have to say it, but I wish you would cause it would be much easier
--
When it was Liam's turn to drive, Zayn snagged the front seat and the two of them talked quietly. Niall sat in the far back, listening to demos on his iPod and scribbling down notes in a tattered blue moleskine--it seemed that even on "vacation", he brought work with him. When Zayn asked why he'd bothered, the brunet had shrugged.
"It's not work if it's fun, is it?" he'd said, then slid his headphones back on and going back to what he was doing.
Harry too was working--he was rapidly editing three days worth of footage into a montage video, keys clacking rapidly on his laptop. Like Niall, he had headphones on and couldn't hear the quiet conversation between Zayn and Liam.
"So why were you so mad at me?" Liam asked quietly. The road was straight and flat, an easy enough drive. The problem was not getting too bored and falling asleep. Since Niall had vetoed radio ("It fucks with my analysis, so no. Figure something else out to do"), the only thing left to do was talk. "We didn't talk for four years, and then suddenly we're friends on this road trip. What gives?"
"Maybe I'm just tired of fighting."
Liam would have given Zayn a long hard look if he wasn't focusing on not letting the van drift into the other lane. "And that's why, last time I called your bakery, I was not very kindly told to go fuck myself with a broom handle?"
Zayn winced. "I've really got to stop letting Rosie answer the phone."
"Your girlfriend, then. Or, your girlfriend's sister." Liam sighed as they came up behind a pickup truck going exactly the speed limit. As he signaled and passed, Liam said, "If she's getting defensive over you, obviously you had to tell her something to make her hate me. So. Why, exactly, were you pissed beyond reason? Because you called me shitfaced drunk last night to tell me you were in love with Harry, something someone could very easily hold over your head or use to make you miserable, but you chose to call me. You couldn't be too mad at me if you chose me instead of Niall, or your girlfriend, or one of your friends in London. Hell, even Olly would have been a better pick than me, if you were really pissed off. So. What gives? "
Zayn sighed and stared out the window. "I dunno. I mean. We were friends, weren't we? For awhile at least. But then I always sided with Harry, and you always sided with Louis. It pissed me off you never saw the shit that Harry was going through. So I guess I took it out on you?"
"I always hated how you didn't see how hard it was on Louis," Liam countered. He carefully merged back into the correct lane, fifty feet past the pickup, who seemed to have taken being passed by a VW van as an insult. At least, if the way they'd sped up and seemed to be attempting to race was anything to go by. "He was the one who got stuck with the fake girlfriend, the one who had to deal with all the interview questions and the collective fan hate whenever he said something they didn't quite approve of in relation to 'Larry'. What is this jerk doing?"
"I think she took offense, mate." Zayn snorted. "To be honest, I'd take offense at being passed by a VW too."
"Oh, shut up." Liam waved at the other driver, allowing her to pass. He was rewarded with a middle finger and the tail lights of the truck flashing as they sped down the highway and turned off onto a dirt road. "Anyways. That's why we were fighting?"
"I guess," Zayn said. "Me having a crush on Harry probably didn't help things." He looked over his shoulder quickly to make sure Harry hadn't heard--he hadn't, too engrossed in whatever he was editing. "So I was always trying to take his side, and you were taking Louis', which made Harry upset, and that pissed me off."
"Well, we're over it now, right?" Liam looked so hopeful, Zayn considered saying 'no' just to wind him up, but decided against it.
"Yeah, I guess."
Zayn had barely managed to fall asleep when the van pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
"What's going on?" he asked. "I don't actually have to go to the bathroom, we can keep going."
"Why'd we stop?" Harry asked, finally stopping with his incessant tapping. "Zayn need to go to the bathroom again?"
Liam's "we're going swimming" overlapped with Zayn's vehement "not this time! Just because we stop doesn't mean I have to pee!"
"What?" It was Niall who asked this time. "We're doing what?"
"Well, there's a lake, I'm getting restless sitting, let's go swimming," Liam said, matter-of-factly. "Zayn, you've learned how to swim, right?"
"Yeah...but why now? Why in a lake?"
"Why the hell not?" Liam said, and no one had a counter argument for that. They all piled out of the van, and stripped down to their underwear (or in Harry's case, right down to the nude) before simply diving in.
Niall vaguely thought it should have been more awkward than it was, but apparently four years of touring and living in extremely close quarters with each other had trained any sort of self-consciousness right out of them.
Niall splashed Harry without really thinking about it; Harry yelped and retaliated. Soon, it became an all out war--Liam and Harry against Zayn and Niall. As no one bothered to establish rules, it quickly devolved into ducking each other under the water and attempting to knock everyone else off balance. Their churning feet stirred up mud and silt at the bottom of the lake, muddying the waters and turning them cloudy brown.
After the fight (essentially once Zayn and Niall had admitted defeat and sworn retaliation in the form of not sharing the marshmallows they'd bought in Vegas for the bonfire they were having for lunch), Harry floated on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky, dotted with puffy clouds. To the left side of his vision, he could see a storm forming, but it looked far enough away not to be a problem they'd have to worry about anytime soon. Liam and Zayn had climbed out of the lake, pulled on their jeans, and were working on starting up a bonfire. Niall was doing what looked to be underwater somersaults. Harry wasn't questioning it, so long as Niall wasn't splashing him. He closed his eyes and floated, soaking in the warmth and the coolness of the water all in one. It was entirely pleasant, doing nothing and having nothing waiting on him.
"Lunch," Liam called after maybe half an hour. "And for God's sake, put some trousers on!"
"I'm wearing pants!" Niall yelled back, but clambered out of the lake and tugged on his jeans. The material immediately soaked through, clinging to his legs. "Better?"
Harry opened his eyes and waved at the others. "I'm good here!"
"Oh, so you'll miss out on hot dogs and marshmallows for lunch?" Zayn called back. Harry got out of the water at that, but refused to put on trousers until Liam threatened him with melted marshmallow on his privates. Harry put on his trousers pretty quickly after that.
Niall unearthed a football from the back of the van, half-buried under a pile of stuff they'd accumulated the past four days. He bounced it on his knees, showing off a few tricks he clearly hadn't forgotten in the past few years.
"How come you're not over here stuffing your face?" Harry asked through a mouthful of hotdog and crisps. "Seems like your kind of meal."
"Not supposed to eat right after swimming," Niall said prissily. "You get cramps."
"That's right before swimming, Niall."
"Oh, in that case, gimme some." Niall plopped down next to Zayn and grabbed a stick to roast his hotdog.
Liam set a portable radio on the table and set it to a music station for them to listen to while they ate. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet without conversation, but rather a content one.
When one of Liam's songs came up on the radio, Harry pelted him with bits of crisps until Liam relented and sang along, belting out the lyrics he'd written for Danielle. By the end of the song, they were all singing, laughing and feeling like they were back at the bungalow.
Immediately after, a song Niall had written came up, and he chose a dare.
Harry grinned. "Chubby bunny challenge!"
Niall managed to fit eleven marshmallows in his mouth before Zayn confiscated the bag, saying he actually wanted to eat s'mores.
At some point, Niall retrieved his guitar from the van and started playing songs; Liam immediately turned off the radio and offered the blue cooler for Niall to sit on. No one was entirely sure when, but Liam eventually wound up with the guitar while Niall challenged Zayn to an impromptu soccer match.
Time passed there, by the lake, probably an hour or more. The only reason they left was when it began to rain.
"Shit," Liam said, and hurriedly started putting out the fire. Zayn helped by packing up the cooler and the radio, shoving them into the back of the van.
They all dove into the van as the skies really began to pour rain down on them.
Liam took one look at the others, absolutely drenched, and burst into laughter. The sound swelled to fill the van, the four of them laughing like idiots, piled into the backseat, limbs overlapping and body heat soaking together as rain poured down from the sky.
"So who's driving?" Liam asked lightly. "Not me."
"I'll have a go," Zayn said. "Gives me an excuse for bathroom stops, if I'm driving." He looked down at his soaked clothes. "Probably should change first, though."
"Yeah, probably," Niall agreed, and wriggled out of the pile. "I packed beach towels for when we go to the beach, we can use those to dry off. Zayn, your bag is the green duffle, right?"
"No, that's mine," Harry said. "Zayn's is the blue wheeler bag."
"Ah gotcha." Niall tossed towels at Harry, who passed them to the others to begin drying off. Niall started digging in the various bags to retrieve dry clothes for each of them. "Here's something to write home about. How's your camera, Harry?"
"Totally fine, somehow," Harry replied. "Not even damp. I think the footage of your chubby bunny challenge is fine, even."
"Damnit," Niall swore. Zayn laughed, pulling his wet shirt over his head, wadding it up and then throwing it at Niall, who tossed a bundle of dry clothes at Zayn in return.
"That video's going to go viral, I hope you know."
"Unfortunately, I do," Niall grumbled. "Whatever. Liam, which shirt do you want?"
"Blue plaid?" Liam had wrapped his towel snugly around himself like a blanket and was neatly folding his wet clothes, rather than crumpling them up like Zayn and Harry were doing. "It should be near the top. Red duffel, by the way."
"Yeah, got it."
"Can we hang wet stuff on the back seat to dry?" Harry suggested, trying to towel dry his hair and not caring that he was sitting there buck naked. "I'll stay in the back, whoever else can share a bench with me and we can use the other two to dry stuff."
"Put your trousers on, Harry," Niall said by way of reply, and threw a familiar white jumper as well as a pair of sweatpants at Harry. "But the drying thing is a good idea."
Zayn, now fully changed, clambered into the driver's seat to give Liam and Harry more room to change. "It's still fucking weird that the steering wheel's on this side," he said. "How'd you get used to it?"
"Time," Niall offered. He managed to change his trousers with minimal problems. "Hey, Haz, you haven't driven yet."
"I'll drive tonight," Harry said, spreading a relatively dry towel on the seat before sitting; the four of them dripping had managed to get it pretty wet. "Zayn's driving right now."
"Oh, I see how it is," Liam teased, struggling not to brain himself as he struggled out of his soaking wet jeans. "Let everyone else drive while you makes us look like idiots on camera, I know your game."
"And there's the old Liam," Niall crowed triumphantly, head emerging from--the armhole?--of his shirt. "Also, ow, who destroyed my clothes?" He disappeared back into the folds of fabric. "Oh, Christ. Little help here?"
Liam leaned over to help Niall into his shirt (there was a very pointed mutter of "Jesus Christ, Niall, you are twenty-four years old, how the hell do you not know how to put on your shirt?", which was equally pointedly ignored in turn) while Harry chortled and flopped into the passenger seat, apparently deciding to let Niall and Liam share the backseat instead of sitting there as he'd said he would earlier.
"Onward, Jeeves," he deadpanned. "And turn on the heating, it's fucking freezing in here."
"It's October and we just went swimming, what do you expect?" Zayn muttered, but obliged.
They drove for a good while and after the third hour of nothing but rain and road, Niall began listing all the ways Ireland was superior to the United States. Most of his points seemed to include the size of the country, the side of the road they drove on, and the distinct lack of good Irish food. He was on his forty-fifth reason (Liam had tuned out around the fifth reason, and Harry had put on his headphones at the seventeenth) when Zayn finally pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckled his seatbelt and hurled himself at Niall with the apparent intent to claw the Irishman's eyes out.
Harry sighed, powered off his iPod, clambered into the driver's seat and switched on the radio.
Only twenty-two more hours of driving to Graceland, not counting stops.
--
part xiii: a lot of wonder
there's a lot of wonder left inside of me and you thank god even crazy dreams come true never let a bad day be enough to go and talk you in to giving up
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis! Opening night, yeah? Break a leg!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's Amy. I think I left my phone at either yours or Charlie's? I'm using Peter's cell right now, but I'd really like mine back. If it's at yours, could you bring it tonight? Please and thank you!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Charlie here. Good luck tonight, Lou! I'm sorry I won't be able to give you your good luck kiss before the show, but I'll be sitting front and center. We can go for dinner after at that diner you love--that is, if I can tear you away from your cast mates and the inevitable party they'll be throwing for you! But Lou...I know you, you're freaking out right about now. Don't. You put long hard work into this, and you'll do great. I've sat in on rehearsals, remember? It's not just because we're dating. Love you lots, kisses!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's your mum, wishing you good luck on Mary Poppins tonight! The girls miss you lots, we're all upset we couldn't be there for your opening night, but Lottie and Flick both have uni, and we couldn't get tickets for another two months anyways! We'll be visiting for a week then anyways. Daisy and Phoebe are doing well in school, they send their love. Phoebe said to tell you that you're all over tumblr, that she had to blacklist your name, whatever that means. Daisy's got a track meet next weekend, her boyfriend's coming, not sure how I feel about him yet but he seems sweet enough, Daisy's glad you're not here to scare him off! Gran and Gramps say hi, I haven't talked to Anne recently but I'm sure she'd send love if she could, and--oops, that's the oven timer, making a cake for the school bake sale, love you lots, take care of yourself, miss you, bye!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"This is a message for Louis Tomlinson from Dr James' office. This is a courtesy reminder to Louis Tomlinson that his weekly therapy appointment has been rescheduled to eleven-thirty on Tuesday morning, rather than three-forty on Monday afternoon. If Louis Tomlinson is unable to make the appointment, please call Dr James' office within the next twenty four hours at 555-3298."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it´s Lottie. Just wanted to say hi and good luck! Break a leg! And Skype me when you get the chance!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's Taylor! I'm going to be in New York next week, I've got a concert, and I was hoping we could meet up? Be nice to see you again. Give Charlie my love!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Niall here. It's your opening night, isn't it? At least, according to Google it is, because you haven't told any of us anything. Good luck anyways. You never liked break a leg, thought it was bad luck. Anyways, we'll be in New York in about a week and a half. I think Liam's got us tickets to see your show, not sure how since everyone says it's sold out for the next few months. But we'll be there. Have fun, do what you love and don't forget us, okay?"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, you're late! Hurry up and get here!"
--
part xiv: actors on a stage
does it help you to pray as you faded away like a memory cause all we are just chapters on a page and after all, we're actors on a stage.
--
Louis was running late.
To be honest, that was usually his default setting. But being late tonight was not something he could do, considering it was one of the biggest nights of his career, and possibly his life.
He flashed his ID card at the guard, who buzzed him in, and then it was a dead sprint to wardrobe and makeup. He could almost hear Charlie scolding him for being late, but Charlie wasn't here, Charlie was stuck in a room full of preschoolers until just before show time. Charlie liked that kind of thing, though, so Louis wasn't complaining.
He flew through check in, and then bolted up the stairs, feeling mildly panicked for being late. Opening night and he was late--how did that fare for the rest of his time here?
Various people stopped him and gave greetings or wished him luck as he sprinted down three hallways and up two flights of stairs. He appreciated the sentiment, he just wished they wouldn't want to stop and talk when he was running late and Marta, the head makeup artist, was probably going to disembowel him the second he set foot in the makeup room.
He quickly changed into basketball shorts and a tank top and dumped the rest of his stuff down, pulling on a battered hoodie as he ran down to makeup.
"And this is why your call time is an hour earlier than everyone else's," Marta informed him smartly as he skidded into the makeup room and tripped into the makeup chair. "Because the show would start an hour late if we didn't get you here an hour early." She pulled the box labeled Tomlinson/Bert Makeup in red sharpie out from under the makeup table. "Alright, let's get you all chimney sweeped up, Tomlinson."
She began daubing liquids and powders on his face, beginning to transform him into Bert the chimney sweep.
"Sorry I'm late," Louis said as she worked on his forehead. He was an expert at staying still while someone plastered makeup on him; One Direction had been good for that much, at least. "Couldn't find my phone, and then my sister called and you know how hard it is to get off the phone with her, especially when she wants to hear about Charlie."
"How is Charlie doing?" Marta was good friends with Charlie; Louis had never quite figured out why, as they were radically different people.
"Charlie's...Charlie. Working at the preschool, painting the spare room, somehow managing to lose house keys every other day." Louis rolled his eyes fondly. "How else do you describe Charlie?"
Marta laughed. "Tell indescribable Charlie I say hi, then."
"Sure."
"So, you nervous?" Marta smacked his face with some sort of powder puff, sending Louis into a sneezing fit.
"Be careful with that!"
"You didn't answer my question!"
"You didn't give me time to!" Louis protested. He shrugged then. "I don't know, a little? It's sort of...big shoes to fill, you know? And it's so different from everything I've ever done."
"Well, it's everyone's opening night," Marta said practically. "You're not the only one with butterflies. I think Tamara was going to cry."
Louis opened his mouth to reply but he was smacked with the powder puff again. He didn't think Tamara would cry; this was her second large role, and she seemed to have been born for the role of Mary Poppins.
"Don't move," she ordered, but it was kind. "You can talk in five minutes, but if you move now, you'll mess up my lines. Oh! And Peter said to tell you he did what you requested with the tickets. You still don't know which day?"
Louis wanted to reply but knew he'd end up with a mouth full of primer if he tried to speak now.
It took another half an hour to get his makeup done exactly the way Marta wanted it, and by then the other makeup artists were working on his cast mates. Marta kept up a steady stream of chatter, and it was soothing, listening to someone who wasn't about to panic.
"Make sure your harness is on securely, and tell Tamara that she should mind her harness and make sure she's wearing her leggings underneath that skirt." At this point, Marta was just rattling off general advice. "Picture the audience in their underwear, ad lib if you have to, and don't antagonize the orchestra, they have the power to make your life very miserable. Now get your hair done, get harnessed and miked, get into costume and then back here for touchups. After that is your warmups, you've already stretched, haven't you?" Louis nodded. He knew this routine by heart, had done it for the countless dress rehearsals and had it pounded into him by the smaller roles he'd held in other musicals, but it was soothing to have someone take care of him. "And Louis?"
"Yeah?"
"You didn't get cast because of who you are. You got cast because you're good. Genuinely good."
Louis smiled. "Thanks, Marta."
Louis waved goodbye as Marta headed down the hall, probably to attack anyone she could find wandering around without makeup.
The hairstylists came after him next, so it was another ten minutes of someone yanking at his head and ordering him to stay still. The only difference was that the hairstylists swore a lot more than Marta.
He waited to get miked, and once that was done, it was only a matter of heading down to costuming, pulling on his costume and trying not to muss his hair too much.
The techs were finally comfortable with him now, which had taken a month of rehearsal to get to. He was apparently different from everyone else, the smallest reason being that he had the least amount of trouble adjusting his accent to that of Bert's, which was sometimes nice and sometimes awkward. The kids who played Jane and Michael (all six of them, who rotated the roles every night) were always asking for tips on improving their accents, which he did happily. He liked being helpful, since he was certainly the most out of place.
Hayley and Jake, the kids on tonight, tapped on his door after he'd been banished to his dressing room so as not to disturb anyone else.
They were both in costume, miked and had their makeup done, completely ready to go, probably had been ready for awhile now. Which, in Louis' mind, was the worst thing anyone could have done to them. This was their first big performance, bigger than any of the school productions they'd participated in before. Letting them have free time only let them be nervous.
"Hey, come on in!" he said cheerfully, and ushered them in along with their handler. "I was just finishing up. How are you doing?"
He led them in a conversation that was really about nothing at all until they were both smiling and seemed less nervous.
Then, of course, Jake asked the question Louis was just waiting for one of them to ask.
"How do you get over stage fright?" Jake asked, swallowing water. Their handler was texting on her phone, not really paying attention to them now that they were talking with Louis. "You don't seem nervous at all."
"You don't, you're never not going to have stage fright," he told them cheerfully, adjusting his hat. "It's a fact of performing. But it'll stop scaring you eventually, and besides, a little nerves is good. It keeps you on your toes and lets you know you care about what you're doing. If you're not nervous, you've stopped caring."
Hayley had been a fan of One Direction (he'd learned that painfully on the day when they'd met; her high pitched shriek was somehow worse than a legion of fangirls, but she'd since calmed down and considered him a big brother rather than one of her idols) and took him at his word; Jake looked more doubtful.
"It's easier if you have a sort of ritual," Louis added when Jake looked like he was either going to cry or have a minor meltdown. "I always used to count to fifty, forwards and backwards. If you're focusing on the numbers, you're not focusing on your butterflies. My mate Liam always did pushups. I wouldn't recommend that in your costumes. You could do extra scales, or hop on one foot. Something to keep you occupied."
"Thirty minutes to curtain!" Both Hayley and Jake jumped, looking more nervous now that show time was actually drawing close.
"Come on, let's go warm up. That's something that'll keep your mind off it, yeah?" Louis swung his jacket on and led them down the hallway, greeting the various cast and crew members they saw on the way. He stood near them as the entire cast ran through their scales and vocal exercises. At one point, he managed to send Jake and Hayley into a giggle fit, cracking jokes about their director.
After warmups, it was just a matter of waiting to step on stage.
Hayley and Jake were whisked off to the other side of the stage, to wait for their marks, and with them gone, Louis was back to focusing on memories and his own nervousness.
Tamara, in full Mary Poppins regalia, sat next to him. "Calm down," she said, her voice already taking on her affected accent.
"I am calm," Louis retorted. "I've performed for larger crowds." Of course, he'd had his boyfriend and three of his best friends there beside him every step of the way, and here, he had a cast, but he was still alone.
"And that right there is how I know you're freaking out. You never bring up your past." Tamara smiled. "It's normal to be nervous your first day. Next week, this'll be old hat."
"Why can't any of you be catty Broadway stereotypes?" Louis complained, burying his face in his hands but taking care not to smudge his makeup--Marta would kill him and dance on his grave. "Then I'd have a plausible reason to hate all of you for being supportive."
"It's Disney, love. We'd like to pretend we're all nice people here. And it's hard to hate you, despite being a bigger name than the rest of us here." She kissed him briefly on the cheek. "You'll do fine. Now go hit your mark, I think the stage manager's about to blow a gasket that you're not already standing there waiting."
Louis rolled his eyes but did as he was told, slipping on the character like a coat. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about how different it was performing on Broadway rather than on a tour, another person rather than himself. Now wasn't the time to be thinking that of all the people important to him, only Charlie could be here tonight. Now wasn't the time for any of that.
When the curtain rose, he fell into the role completely, becoming Bert. He let himself get lost in the story, and thought--he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.
--
part xv: everything's fine
everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine
--
You know who it is. Leave a message at the beep.
"Hi, Niall? This is Anne. Cox. Um, Harry's mum, but I guess you knew that. I'm a bit worried about Harry, he's been acting really...off, lately, and...oh, God, this sounds horrible, but I don't quite trust him to tell me the whole truth right now. Is he really doing okay, or is he just lying to make his mum feel better? I feel horrible for asking, but I just need to know. Thanks, love."
--
"Hi, Liam!"
"Danielle?"
"Yeah! Your phone's actually on for once, what gives?"
"Um, yeah. Just got off the phone with Harry's doctor."
"What happened?"
"Not enough sunscreen, not enough water, we're in the south, everyone's pretty sure it's sunstroke?"
"It's October."
"Try telling the weather in the American South that. It's ridiculous. How are you, love?"
"I'm doing pretty well. House is still lonely but. You'll be home soon. A week or so, yeah?"
"Six days. I can't believe this trip's already been eight days. Seems so much shorter."
"But you're having fun?"
"Yeah, I really am. It'd be more fun if Haz didn't have heatstroke, but you can't win them all."
"Where are you today?"
"Somewhere in the south, and that's all I really know. We're doing Graceland later this afternoon--that is, if Harry's up to it, and then it's an overnight drive to Florida for two days at Disney. Then up the coast towards New York. We're stopping in DC if we have time, but we've got to be there by Thursday morning to try to get rush tickets for Louis' show. There's no promise we'll see it, but at least we'll have tried. Then I fly back to Seattle Friday afternoon. I should be back in Victoria by early Saturday morning."
"I'll make waffles."
"Sounds yummy. Want me to pick anything up to go with those waffles when I'm getting home?"
"Fresh cream and strawberries--we can have homemade whipped cream with your hot chocolate and strawberries. I miss you, Li."
"I won't even be gone two weeks. I've been gone longer."
"Yeah, and remember how that turned out?"
"Dani..."
"Relax, Liam. We got married. I'm not going to dump you over being gone two weeks, not when you're trying so hard to stay home as much as possible. I love you, okay?"
"Love you too."
"I know."
"So. What's been going on in Victoria?"
"Not much."
"Tell me about it anyways."
"Of course..."
--
Hello, this is Death. I'm not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll be right with you.
"Harry! It's Cher! Thanks for finally calling me back, it's good to know you're alive. But why'd you go on a roadtrip with the lads? And why didn't you invite me? Would've been like old times! Anyways, take care, okay? The triplets say hi! Kisses!"
--
This is Anne Cox! Leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Anne! It's Niall. Harry's doing fine--he had a bit of sunstroke earlier, but with enough water and some sleep he'll be back to normal. If you'd like I can call you and leave reports for the rest of the trip? There's not much trip left, but...my mum worries too, so. She'd kill me if I didn't help."
--
part xvi: main street usa
i'm walking right down the middle of main street usa i know it's no illusion it's a dream that's here to stay for the time of your life you oughta find yourself here you're welcome any time you have the mind to appear
--
Graceland was everything Harry expected. He was practically vibrating with excitement as they followed the guide into garishly decorated rooms. The others were considerably less excited. Niall eyed the Jungle Room with disgust and fascinated horror.
"Glad we didn't end up like this," he muttered to Zayn and Liam, both of whom grinned.
"What, building an outrageous mansion as a monument to our fame and a show of wealth and power? Popping so many drugs to maintain the high that we die on the toilet?" Zayn shrugged. "How'd none of us end up like that anyways?"
"We had friends. Each other. We never got to the point where the high wore off and we needed drugs to pretend," Liam said quietly. "And then after...we went and did what we loved, got an all new kind of high. I mean, you, Zayn. You opened your bakery, worked on the X-Factor, got over Taylor. Mostly," he amended when Niall gave him a doubtful look. "Niall, you went to LA, wrote songs, got into the production side of things like you always wanted. Me, I married Danielle, kept doing what I loved, just by myself. Louis, he went to Broadway and he's kicking ass at it, pardon my French. Harry though....I always worry about Harry."
"Why him?"
"Why do you think? Look, Harry and I might not have gotten along the last five years, but even I saw how badly it hurt him when he and Louis split. He'd already lost the most, it'd be the easiest for him to slip that little bit further into drugs and alcohol and end up one of those celebrities that everyone wonders what went wrong." Liam shrugged. "I think Louis was the only one who didn't really get how big of a thing it was, him breaking up with Harry. We all knew, and even the fans guessed something had happened. No one ever knew, but they guessed, and we've all been on tumblr, we know how perceptive the fans can be. So. Yeah. I always worry about Harry."
The trio looked at Harry, bouncing eagerly after the tour guide, asking questions quickly and quietly.
"I don't think we have to worry," Zayn said finally. "At least not now?"
"Yeah, I figured that out two days in," Liam said cheerfully. "Pre-Vegas, or so? Harry's completely fine. He just doesn't think he is."
"Come on guys, hurry up!" Harry called. "We're going into the suit room!"
"Same old Harry." Liam sighed and ran to catch up. Zayn and Niall followed at a slower pace.
"If we bought Harry an Elvis jumpsuit, what's the probability that he'd never wear anything else ever again?" Niall asked. "At least willingly?"
"Very high," Zayn retorted. "Which is why we're not."
Niall grinned wickedly. "We so are, aren't we?"
"If we can get it past Liam."
"I'm just picturing Harry trying to go see Louis' show in an Elvis jumpsuit."
Zayn choked on air, coughing and eyes watering at the mental image. "Oh, God. He would."
"Meet you in the gift shop?"
"We're getting this past Liam," Zayn agreed. "I just want to see that."
It turned out that they could not, in fact, get it past Liam, who very much disapproved of them even trying. The point was nullified anyways when Harry returned to the van in an Elvis wig and sunglasses, along with Liam's Vegas T-shirt.
Liam was already regretting Graceland.
--
The thirteen hour drive to Disneyworld was a test of Niall's patience. Zayn's too, although Zayn had managed to fall asleep an hour in.
Liam and Harry were both incredibly, somewhat freakishly excited about Disneyworld. Niall stood by his opinion that Liam and Harry were both secretly small children in the bodies of twenty-year-old men.
After the fourth hour of Harry and Liam harmonizing "We're going to Disneyworld!" along to various songs on the radio, he pulled over and issued an ultimatum.
"Either you're going to be quiet about your love of Disneyworld, or I'm going to start blasting Sufi drum music for the remainder of the drive," he threatened.
Harry and Liam did not quiet down.
Niall turned the volume up with relish.
--
"We're going to Disneyworld," Harry sang, bright and early. Niall rolled over and buried his head under the pillow, groaning and flipping Harry off from deep his cocoon. They'd arrived at two in the morning and had immediately fallen asleep. Of course, four hours later, Harry was up and bouncing around, excited for Disneyworld.
"We're going when Zayn is conscious," Niall mumbled, burrowing deeper in his coverlet. While Florida itself was ridiculously warm for October, the air conditioner had been set to near-Arctic temperature for whatever reason, and the little bits of Niall that stuck out from underneath his blanket were pebbling with goose bumps."G'way, lemme sleep."
"But we've only got today and tomorrow for Disney," Harry whined, looking like he was actually going to get upset. "And I want to see the parks. All the parks! All four of them! Come on, get up!" He started tugging at Niall's blankets.
It took another half an hour of wheedling and whining and a promise of the biggest cup of coffee Harry could find alongside an Arnold Palmer with lunch before Niall finally acquiesced and climbed out of bed. By then, Liam had managed to rouse Zayn. How, no one was entirely sure and the look on Liam's face discouraged them from asking.
They arrived at Magic Kingdom just before it opened and rushed through entering the park. Harry grabbed Liam and they disappeared into the depths of Fantasyland, while Niall and Zayn sleepily located the first place they could find that sold coffee. Then they went to wait in line for Space Mountain, still not quite awake. It was a relatively calm morning, and they weren't recognized.
At three, Harry and Liam managed to track them down and drag them to Epcot on the monorail.
"We're going to eat dinner at the UK Pavilion," Liam informed them brightly. "And make fun of all the inaccuracies."
Niall wished he had a headache so he'd have an excuse to beg off.
They spent the rest of the day in Epcot, wandering around the various pavilions and through FutureWorld. Harry had managed to get extended day passes, so they had permission to stay in the park until midnight, which Harry and Liam took as terrifying permission to visit every single part of the park.
Niall regretted ever suggesting Disneyworld, especially when a tourist decided to take offense at Liam's accent during dinner, telling him he was obviously faking it. Liam in turn took offense at being told his accent was fake and reacted accordingly--ending in everyone being kicked out of the restaurant.
"Great," Harry grumbled. "Now we have to find another restaurant with space for dinner."
The Moroccan restaurant had an opening and they all collapsed onto the cushion-seats gratefully. They chatted through dinner until it became apparent Harry had fallen asleep at the table.
"Should we wake him?" Zayn asked quietly. "Because he'll be pissed if we don't, but if we do it's another four hours of wandering around Epcot."
"Let him sleep for the rest of dinner and then wake him up," Liam suggested before unearthing a cocktail umbrella from one of his pockets and tucking it behind Harry's ear.
"Where did you even get that?"
"I wore these jeans in Vegas," Liam said, shrugging. "Must have been saving them for some reason, I've got like ten of them."
Zayn choked on his drink. Niall laughed. Harry snored on.
--
part xvii: we are alive
how does it feel just to know that we are alive there ain't no better reason we can make it tonight everything is alright
--
This is Anne Cox! Leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Anne! Niall here. Harry's doing well, really, really freakishly excited about Disneyworld, but...he's fine. Mostly. Is he normally this excited about theme parks? Scratch that, yes he is. Do you approve us tranquilizing him so we can actually leave the park?"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Hi, Louis! It's Niall. I guess it's a bit too late for you to come join us, but you're missing a hell of a lot. Harry and Liam are going nuts over Disneyworld, remember when we went to Disneyland Paris? Not really a point to this, just wanted to check in."
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Danielle! It's Liam! We're in Disneyworld, and I'm bringing you back Mickey Mouse ears with your name on them!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Unless you want the Goofy Hat? I'll get you it too anyways. You can have both!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Dani! I found little key chains with your name on them! And a Minnie Mouse T-shirt I think you'll like!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"They have human sized stuffed animals. And Mickey Mouse baby gear!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Danielle, please pick up your phone, your husband is busying twenty million things for--no, Zayn, grab Liam please, Harry, you're not helping--fucking hell, when did I become babysitter? Danielle, call your husband before we murder him."
--
"Hello?"
"Hi, Taylor? It's Zayn."
"Zayn! Oh my god! Hi, how are you?"
"I'm doing pretty alright. I'm in Florida with the lads right now, second day in Disney, have a bit of downtime while we're waiting in line. And you?"
"I'm doing well, thanks. You better than you were the other night?"
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"Don't be. I got to talk to you, which was nice."
"So...how've you been, Taylor?"
"I've been pretty alright. Writing and recording for my next album, visiting everyone back home for a week before tour starts in earnest. You know. Normal stuff. And you?"
"Been on a road trip with the lads, but I guess you knew that. Sorry about the Vegas phone call, by the way."
"Not a problem. I'm glad you told me about Harry, though."
"Shit, I told you about that?"
"Zayn. We talked for half an hour about everything that went through your mind. I know all about Harry, and Nicolle, and then about the fact that your bladder apparently can't handle four hours in a car."
"...I blame altitude and air pressure for that one."
"I'm not going to ask. The point is...you called me and talked about it. And we didn't yell, and...it sort of felt like old times. But...yeah. I'd like to point out that you called me both times we've talked this week. Just. For future reference."
"I don't think most phone calls with exes go like this."
"Probably not. Did you have a reason for calling?"
"Sort of? Liam told me I should probably call to apologize for the Vegas thing. And...I'm sort of tired of fighting, if you can believe that. We've gotten far enough we can be friends, right?"
"Sounds good to me. I'd love to chat more, but...I've got to get back into the studio, so. I'm free...not tonight, but...on Wednesday night, that sound good? We can have a long talk."
"Great. Talk to you then?"
"Yeah. And Zayn?"
"Hm?"
"I love you."
"...love you too."
--
part xviii: let's call it what it is
this is just therapy let's call it what it is not what we were with a death grip on this life always transitioning this is just therapy cause you won't take my calls and that makes god the only one who's left here listening to me
--
Harry couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, flipping over and over, turning like an eggbeater between the soft sheets of his bed. Across the room, Niall snored on, oblivious to Harry's frustration.
It had been a long two days, running through all the Disney parks in record time. He should have been exhausted--and he was. He just couldn't sleep.
Finally, Harry slipped out of bed and stood in the middle of the room, wearing flannel pajama pants and a soft cotton t-shirt that he was pretty sure had once belonged to Liam. He didn't normally wear clothes to bed, but it was chilly and he wasn't about to let his bits freeze off.
He snagged the keys to the van off the nightstand, whispering an apologize to the soundly asleep Niall. Harry slipped on his shoes and tiptoed out of the room.
He walked down three flights of stairs, wishing he'd thought to bring a jacket. But he wasn't going back up to the room--if he returned, he wouldn't have the courage to leave again.
The van was parked nearby, so he unlocked the door and sat in the front seat. Without really thinking about it, he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving. Where, exactly, he was going, he didn't know.
He just knew he had to go somewhere that wasn't there.
This wasn't something he ever thought he'd do--getting in the car and driving through the countryside with nothing but the clothes on his back for the simple sake of driving. He was grateful that the van was manual, because it gave him something to focus on rather than just his thoughts.
Harry switched on the radio, just to have some sort of noise in the car. Spinning the dial at random, he landed on a college radio station that seemed to be run by hipsters stuck in 2011, if the amount of Two Door Cinema Club and Foster The People was anything to go by.
He managed to drive half an hour, just driving circles around the town before one of his own songs came on, just as the sun started to come up.
He thought of the game they played, the four of them in the van he now drove in alone. How he was supposed to sing along, or tell a story. A story would be easy enough--he'd written this song to tell one, after all. He'd written this song for Louis, a way of saying everything he never could say to Louis' face.
Harry began to sing along, feeling every emotion the song described.
He hadn't thought he'd ever be here, needing time alone like this. Only went to show how much he missed Louis, really.
He was lonely, which was something he didn't want--or expect--to be. He was surrounded by people, all of whom wanted to help him, and no one who could. He wasn't used to that, he was used to being surrounded by the people he'd gladly lay his life down for. And he hadn't had that recently.
In a way, this was therapy, saying something sort of like a prayer to open and empty air and trying to loosen his death-grip on something that was already gone.
Except...was it gone? All of it?
It hadn't been horrible. There were so many good memories that overwhelmed the bad. He knew Louis had loved what they were just as much as Harry had, which was what confused Harry.
He remembered weekends in bed, lazily exploring each other's bodies, listening to the radio, swimming in soft sheets that smelled like Louis and sex. There were days when all they'd wanted was to hold hands and cuddle, and days when they couldn't get close enough. There were fights, yes, Harry wasn't deluded enough to forget that, but they were always smoothed over quickly.
What had gone wrong? What had caused them to fall apart?
There were questions he wanted to ask Louis, about why they'd ended, and how they'd gotten so far just to fall apart. Questions about why they'd wrecked the others while they were at it, and questions about why Harry hadn't been good enough in the end. He wanted to know where Louis was now, what he was doing, if he was happy. The complete communications blackout had done nothing but make Harry wish he'd had more time.
He just wanted answers, damnit.
He drove for a long time, listening to the radio and thinking of questions that he couldn't answer the way Louis could, until the sun had risen and the roads had slowly filled with morning traffic and the clock was telling him it was nine AM.
Finally, he couldn't take it any longer and fished his mobile out of his pocket. He didn't even bother to scroll through the contacts, just dialed in a number he knew by heart, and waited for the dial tone.
--
part xix: fairytales are full of shit
if happy ever afters did exist i would still be holding you like this all those fairy tales are full of shit one more fucking love song i'll be sick now i'm at a payphone
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"You know what, Louis? You always blame me for how everything ended. But I was never the one afraid of what people thought of me--I wanted the world to know I loved you. And I still do, you know. I never stopped. I was never able to, and some days I'm scared I won't ever love anyone as much as I loved you. I would have married you. I would have loved you for all of our lives. And you're the one who pulled away. You're the one who left. You're the one who couldn't take it and gave me away. So I'm done. I'm done trying to apologize. I'm done trying to fix things. I'm not done loving you, but I'm done regretting it and I'm done wasting my time on it. We can't be friends, you've made that clear enough. So... fuck you, Louis Tomlinson. Thanks for wasting eight years of my life."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"It is my fault. But I'm not going to apologize. You romanticize everything about us, but we were never going to work out like you wanted us to. So. Yeah, I broke it off. I'm happy now, Harry. If you ever loved me, don't ruin this for me."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"We could have worked, Louis. I know you know that. You just didn't want it to. And that's why we didn't work. So. Fuck you."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"We didn't work because we weren't right. You left me as much as I left you."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"In case you've forgotten, it takes two people for a relationship, but only one for a breakup. I sure as hell didn't break up with you, so... yeah. Just... why wouldn't we have worked, Louis? Why? Tell me that much, at least."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"Because we wanted different things. You wanted something I couldn't give you--I wanted something you couldn't give me. It's for the best that we ended it."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"What did you want that was different from me, Louis? Because I would have done anything for you. You know that."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"Are we seriously doing this over voicemail? Stop calling me, Harry. If you're done, let it go. I'm not answering any more calls from you."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"I'm calling you, Lou. You'd better pick up. Or I'll get Liam and Niall involved."
--
"Louis Tomlinson."
"Hey. It's me."
"I do have caller ID, you know."
"I wouldn't know that. I haven't talked to you in four years now."
"And whose fault was that?"
"Yours, I'm pretty sure."
"Really? I thought the cold shoulder you've been giving me was a pretty clear sign of you wanting nothing to do with me."
"I thought you dumping me made it pretty clear what you wanted to have to do with me."
"I wanted to be friends, Harry. You wanted to be husbands. Bit of a directional difference there. We definitely weren't going in one direction."
"Did you just make a One Direction joke?"
"I might've."
"..."
"...So, when are you coming to New York?"
"We'll be there Thursday morning. Liam's the first one out, at three on Friday, and then Zayn and I are both flying at five. Niall's going to drive back to LA."
"Have any plans?"
"Not really. Liam wants to see your show. Niall wants to go to Coney Island and enter an eating contest. Zayn wants to go on a bus tour of the city. Normal stuff."
"Harry, was there a point to this phone call?"
"I just wanted to know what went wrong."
"You're turning into that stalkerish ex, Harry. It's getting creepy."
"That didn't answer my question."
"What question? As far as I heard, you just gave me a statement."
"Louis."
"What?"
"You fell in love with someone else."
"What?"
"You fell in love with someone else, that's why you left, that's why we ended, you fell in love with someone who wasn't me!"
"Yes..."
"I get it now. You loved me. You loved someone else more."
"Yes..."
"...Is that all you're going to say?"
"What do you want me to say, Harry?"
"I'm sorry? Or at least give me a name, or to have the common decency to tell me when you dumped me."
"I didn't fall in love right away, but...yeah, I fell in love with someone else, is all. It happens. I mean. You and I weren't working anyways, not in the way you wanted it to."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, you're my best friend. Or. You were. I loved making you happy--I loved being with you. But I didn't like being with you."
"I don't get it."
"I loved you as a friend more than I loved you as a boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, the sex was great--but the relationship...it felt like we were trying for something that only one of us really wanted. You were happy, but I wasn't. Neither was Eleanor. So I ended it. I swear I didn't mean to end the band, but...collateral damage. I think that's just what happens when one party's more in love than the other."
"It wasn't a divorce, though. Why didn't you still talk to the rest of them? Especially Liam?"
"Harry. They were always closer to you than to me. So when we split up...they just fell on your side. It's easier to be mad at the one who broke their best friend's heart. You were the quote-unquote innocent party, and they just found it easier to be mad at me."
"What's her name?"
"Sorry?"
"What's her name?"
"Harry."
"I deserve to know that much at least. You fell in love with someone else. A her. What's her name?"
"Harry..."
"Tell me."
"Charlotte. Charlie."
"Is she pretty?"
"Harry!"
"Just tell me!"
"Beautiful. She's in university to be a teacher. She's Eleanor's girlfriend's cousin. But she's smart, and funny and...I don't know. I just. She makes me happy."
"I'm glad. I wish it could have been me."
"Harry. There's no comparing you."
"Of course there's comparing us. You picked her over me, didn't you?"
"Drop it."
"How is she better than me?"
"Stop it, Harry. Stop it right now."
"What does she have that I didn't? How is she better? Why wasn't it me."
"If you're just going to tell me I'm stupid for loving someone else, I'm hanging up, Harry."
"I just want to know what she has that I didn't."
"Don't call me. Ever again."
"Alright. But-"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Goodbye, Lou. I love you."
part xii: it's me you're talking to
come on it's me you're talking to there's something going on inside of you don't have to say it, but I wish you would cause it would be much easier
--
When it was Liam's turn to drive, Zayn snagged the front seat and the two of them talked quietly. Niall sat in the far back, listening to demos on his iPod and scribbling down notes in a tattered blue moleskine--it seemed that even on "vacation", he brought work with him. When Zayn asked why he'd bothered, the brunet had shrugged.
"It's not work if it's fun, is it?" he'd said, then slid his headphones back on and going back to what he was doing.
Harry too was working--he was rapidly editing three days worth of footage into a montage video, keys clacking rapidly on his laptop. Like Niall, he had headphones on and couldn't hear the quiet conversation between Zayn and Liam.
"So why were you so mad at me?" Liam asked quietly. The road was straight and flat, an easy enough drive. The problem was not getting too bored and falling asleep. Since Niall had vetoed radio ("It fucks with my analysis, so no. Figure something else out to do"), the only thing left to do was talk. "We didn't talk for four years, and then suddenly we're friends on this road trip. What gives?"
"Maybe I'm just tired of fighting."
Liam would have given Zayn a long hard look if he wasn't focusing on not letting the van drift into the other lane. "And that's why, last time I called your bakery, I was not very kindly told to go fuck myself with a broom handle?"
Zayn winced. "I've really got to stop letting Rosie answer the phone."
"Your girlfriend, then. Or, your girlfriend's sister." Liam sighed as they came up behind a pickup truck going exactly the speed limit. As he signaled and passed, Liam said, "If she's getting defensive over you, obviously you had to tell her something to make her hate me. So. Why, exactly, were you pissed beyond reason? Because you called me shitfaced drunk last night to tell me you were in love with Harry, something someone could very easily hold over your head or use to make you miserable, but you chose to call me. You couldn't be too mad at me if you chose me instead of Niall, or your girlfriend, or one of your friends in London. Hell, even Olly would have been a better pick than me, if you were really pissed off. So. What gives? "
Zayn sighed and stared out the window. "I dunno. I mean. We were friends, weren't we? For awhile at least. But then I always sided with Harry, and you always sided with Louis. It pissed me off you never saw the shit that Harry was going through. So I guess I took it out on you?"
"I always hated how you didn't see how hard it was on Louis," Liam countered. He carefully merged back into the correct lane, fifty feet past the pickup, who seemed to have taken being passed by a VW van as an insult. At least, if the way they'd sped up and seemed to be attempting to race was anything to go by. "He was the one who got stuck with the fake girlfriend, the one who had to deal with all the interview questions and the collective fan hate whenever he said something they didn't quite approve of in relation to 'Larry'. What is this jerk doing?"
"I think she took offense, mate." Zayn snorted. "To be honest, I'd take offense at being passed by a VW too."
"Oh, shut up." Liam waved at the other driver, allowing her to pass. He was rewarded with a middle finger and the tail lights of the truck flashing as they sped down the highway and turned off onto a dirt road. "Anyways. That's why we were fighting?"
"I guess," Zayn said. "Me having a crush on Harry probably didn't help things." He looked over his shoulder quickly to make sure Harry hadn't heard--he hadn't, too engrossed in whatever he was editing. "So I was always trying to take his side, and you were taking Louis', which made Harry upset, and that pissed me off."
"Well, we're over it now, right?" Liam looked so hopeful, Zayn considered saying 'no' just to wind him up, but decided against it.
"Yeah, I guess."
Zayn had barely managed to fall asleep when the van pulled to the side of the road and stopped.
"What's going on?" he asked. "I don't actually have to go to the bathroom, we can keep going."
"Why'd we stop?" Harry asked, finally stopping with his incessant tapping. "Zayn need to go to the bathroom again?"
Liam's "we're going swimming" overlapped with Zayn's vehement "not this time! Just because we stop doesn't mean I have to pee!"
"What?" It was Niall who asked this time. "We're doing what?"
"Well, there's a lake, I'm getting restless sitting, let's go swimming," Liam said, matter-of-factly. "Zayn, you've learned how to swim, right?"
"Yeah...but why now? Why in a lake?"
"Why the hell not?" Liam said, and no one had a counter argument for that. They all piled out of the van, and stripped down to their underwear (or in Harry's case, right down to the nude) before simply diving in.
Niall vaguely thought it should have been more awkward than it was, but apparently four years of touring and living in extremely close quarters with each other had trained any sort of self-consciousness right out of them.
Niall splashed Harry without really thinking about it; Harry yelped and retaliated. Soon, it became an all out war--Liam and Harry against Zayn and Niall. As no one bothered to establish rules, it quickly devolved into ducking each other under the water and attempting to knock everyone else off balance. Their churning feet stirred up mud and silt at the bottom of the lake, muddying the waters and turning them cloudy brown.
After the fight (essentially once Zayn and Niall had admitted defeat and sworn retaliation in the form of not sharing the marshmallows they'd bought in Vegas for the bonfire they were having for lunch), Harry floated on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky, dotted with puffy clouds. To the left side of his vision, he could see a storm forming, but it looked far enough away not to be a problem they'd have to worry about anytime soon. Liam and Zayn had climbed out of the lake, pulled on their jeans, and were working on starting up a bonfire. Niall was doing what looked to be underwater somersaults. Harry wasn't questioning it, so long as Niall wasn't splashing him. He closed his eyes and floated, soaking in the warmth and the coolness of the water all in one. It was entirely pleasant, doing nothing and having nothing waiting on him.
"Lunch," Liam called after maybe half an hour. "And for God's sake, put some trousers on!"
"I'm wearing pants!" Niall yelled back, but clambered out of the lake and tugged on his jeans. The material immediately soaked through, clinging to his legs. "Better?"
Harry opened his eyes and waved at the others. "I'm good here!"
"Oh, so you'll miss out on hot dogs and marshmallows for lunch?" Zayn called back. Harry got out of the water at that, but refused to put on trousers until Liam threatened him with melted marshmallow on his privates. Harry put on his trousers pretty quickly after that.
Niall unearthed a football from the back of the van, half-buried under a pile of stuff they'd accumulated the past four days. He bounced it on his knees, showing off a few tricks he clearly hadn't forgotten in the past few years.
"How come you're not over here stuffing your face?" Harry asked through a mouthful of hotdog and crisps. "Seems like your kind of meal."
"Not supposed to eat right after swimming," Niall said prissily. "You get cramps."
"That's right before swimming, Niall."
"Oh, in that case, gimme some." Niall plopped down next to Zayn and grabbed a stick to roast his hotdog.
Liam set a portable radio on the table and set it to a music station for them to listen to while they ate. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet without conversation, but rather a content one.
When one of Liam's songs came up on the radio, Harry pelted him with bits of crisps until Liam relented and sang along, belting out the lyrics he'd written for Danielle. By the end of the song, they were all singing, laughing and feeling like they were back at the bungalow.
Immediately after, a song Niall had written came up, and he chose a dare.
Harry grinned. "Chubby bunny challenge!"
Niall managed to fit eleven marshmallows in his mouth before Zayn confiscated the bag, saying he actually wanted to eat s'mores.
At some point, Niall retrieved his guitar from the van and started playing songs; Liam immediately turned off the radio and offered the blue cooler for Niall to sit on. No one was entirely sure when, but Liam eventually wound up with the guitar while Niall challenged Zayn to an impromptu soccer match.
Time passed there, by the lake, probably an hour or more. The only reason they left was when it began to rain.
"Shit," Liam said, and hurriedly started putting out the fire. Zayn helped by packing up the cooler and the radio, shoving them into the back of the van.
They all dove into the van as the skies really began to pour rain down on them.
Liam took one look at the others, absolutely drenched, and burst into laughter. The sound swelled to fill the van, the four of them laughing like idiots, piled into the backseat, limbs overlapping and body heat soaking together as rain poured down from the sky.
"So who's driving?" Liam asked lightly. "Not me."
"I'll have a go," Zayn said. "Gives me an excuse for bathroom stops, if I'm driving." He looked down at his soaked clothes. "Probably should change first, though."
"Yeah, probably," Niall agreed, and wriggled out of the pile. "I packed beach towels for when we go to the beach, we can use those to dry off. Zayn, your bag is the green duffle, right?"
"No, that's mine," Harry said. "Zayn's is the blue wheeler bag."
"Ah gotcha." Niall tossed towels at Harry, who passed them to the others to begin drying off. Niall started digging in the various bags to retrieve dry clothes for each of them. "Here's something to write home about. How's your camera, Harry?"
"Totally fine, somehow," Harry replied. "Not even damp. I think the footage of your chubby bunny challenge is fine, even."
"Damnit," Niall swore. Zayn laughed, pulling his wet shirt over his head, wadding it up and then throwing it at Niall, who tossed a bundle of dry clothes at Zayn in return.
"That video's going to go viral, I hope you know."
"Unfortunately, I do," Niall grumbled. "Whatever. Liam, which shirt do you want?"
"Blue plaid?" Liam had wrapped his towel snugly around himself like a blanket and was neatly folding his wet clothes, rather than crumpling them up like Zayn and Harry were doing. "It should be near the top. Red duffel, by the way."
"Yeah, got it."
"Can we hang wet stuff on the back seat to dry?" Harry suggested, trying to towel dry his hair and not caring that he was sitting there buck naked. "I'll stay in the back, whoever else can share a bench with me and we can use the other two to dry stuff."
"Put your trousers on, Harry," Niall said by way of reply, and threw a familiar white jumper as well as a pair of sweatpants at Harry. "But the drying thing is a good idea."
Zayn, now fully changed, clambered into the driver's seat to give Liam and Harry more room to change. "It's still fucking weird that the steering wheel's on this side," he said. "How'd you get used to it?"
"Time," Niall offered. He managed to change his trousers with minimal problems. "Hey, Haz, you haven't driven yet."
"I'll drive tonight," Harry said, spreading a relatively dry towel on the seat before sitting; the four of them dripping had managed to get it pretty wet. "Zayn's driving right now."
"Oh, I see how it is," Liam teased, struggling not to brain himself as he struggled out of his soaking wet jeans. "Let everyone else drive while you makes us look like idiots on camera, I know your game."
"And there's the old Liam," Niall crowed triumphantly, head emerging from--the armhole?--of his shirt. "Also, ow, who destroyed my clothes?" He disappeared back into the folds of fabric. "Oh, Christ. Little help here?"
Liam leaned over to help Niall into his shirt (there was a very pointed mutter of "Jesus Christ, Niall, you are twenty-four years old, how the hell do you not know how to put on your shirt?", which was equally pointedly ignored in turn) while Harry chortled and flopped into the passenger seat, apparently deciding to let Niall and Liam share the backseat instead of sitting there as he'd said he would earlier.
"Onward, Jeeves," he deadpanned. "And turn on the heating, it's fucking freezing in here."
"It's October and we just went swimming, what do you expect?" Zayn muttered, but obliged.
They drove for a good while and after the third hour of nothing but rain and road, Niall began listing all the ways Ireland was superior to the United States. Most of his points seemed to include the size of the country, the side of the road they drove on, and the distinct lack of good Irish food. He was on his forty-fifth reason (Liam had tuned out around the fifth reason, and Harry had put on his headphones at the seventeenth) when Zayn finally pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckled his seatbelt and hurled himself at Niall with the apparent intent to claw the Irishman's eyes out.
Harry sighed, powered off his iPod, clambered into the driver's seat and switched on the radio.
Only twenty-two more hours of driving to Graceland, not counting stops.
--
part xiii: a lot of wonder
there's a lot of wonder left inside of me and you thank god even crazy dreams come true never let a bad day be enough to go and talk you in to giving up
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis! Opening night, yeah? Break a leg!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's Amy. I think I left my phone at either yours or Charlie's? I'm using Peter's cell right now, but I'd really like mine back. If it's at yours, could you bring it tonight? Please and thank you!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Charlie here. Good luck tonight, Lou! I'm sorry I won't be able to give you your good luck kiss before the show, but I'll be sitting front and center. We can go for dinner after at that diner you love--that is, if I can tear you away from your cast mates and the inevitable party they'll be throwing for you! But Lou...I know you, you're freaking out right about now. Don't. You put long hard work into this, and you'll do great. I've sat in on rehearsals, remember? It's not just because we're dating. Love you lots, kisses!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's your mum, wishing you good luck on Mary Poppins tonight! The girls miss you lots, we're all upset we couldn't be there for your opening night, but Lottie and Flick both have uni, and we couldn't get tickets for another two months anyways! We'll be visiting for a week then anyways. Daisy and Phoebe are doing well in school, they send their love. Phoebe said to tell you that you're all over tumblr, that she had to blacklist your name, whatever that means. Daisy's got a track meet next weekend, her boyfriend's coming, not sure how I feel about him yet but he seems sweet enough, Daisy's glad you're not here to scare him off! Gran and Gramps say hi, I haven't talked to Anne recently but I'm sure she'd send love if she could, and--oops, that's the oven timer, making a cake for the school bake sale, love you lots, take care of yourself, miss you, bye!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"This is a message for Louis Tomlinson from Dr James' office. This is a courtesy reminder to Louis Tomlinson that his weekly therapy appointment has been rescheduled to eleven-thirty on Tuesday morning, rather than three-forty on Monday afternoon. If Louis Tomlinson is unable to make the appointment, please call Dr James' office within the next twenty four hours at 555-3298."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it´s Lottie. Just wanted to say hi and good luck! Break a leg! And Skype me when you get the chance!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, it's Taylor! I'm going to be in New York next week, I've got a concert, and I was hoping we could meet up? Be nice to see you again. Give Charlie my love!"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Niall here. It's your opening night, isn't it? At least, according to Google it is, because you haven't told any of us anything. Good luck anyways. You never liked break a leg, thought it was bad luck. Anyways, we'll be in New York in about a week and a half. I think Liam's got us tickets to see your show, not sure how since everyone says it's sold out for the next few months. But we'll be there. Have fun, do what you love and don't forget us, okay?"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Louis, you're late! Hurry up and get here!"
--
part xiv: actors on a stage
does it help you to pray as you faded away like a memory cause all we are just chapters on a page and after all, we're actors on a stage.
--
Louis was running late.
To be honest, that was usually his default setting. But being late tonight was not something he could do, considering it was one of the biggest nights of his career, and possibly his life.
He flashed his ID card at the guard, who buzzed him in, and then it was a dead sprint to wardrobe and makeup. He could almost hear Charlie scolding him for being late, but Charlie wasn't here, Charlie was stuck in a room full of preschoolers until just before show time. Charlie liked that kind of thing, though, so Louis wasn't complaining.
He flew through check in, and then bolted up the stairs, feeling mildly panicked for being late. Opening night and he was late--how did that fare for the rest of his time here?
Various people stopped him and gave greetings or wished him luck as he sprinted down three hallways and up two flights of stairs. He appreciated the sentiment, he just wished they wouldn't want to stop and talk when he was running late and Marta, the head makeup artist, was probably going to disembowel him the second he set foot in the makeup room.
He quickly changed into basketball shorts and a tank top and dumped the rest of his stuff down, pulling on a battered hoodie as he ran down to makeup.
"And this is why your call time is an hour earlier than everyone else's," Marta informed him smartly as he skidded into the makeup room and tripped into the makeup chair. "Because the show would start an hour late if we didn't get you here an hour early." She pulled the box labeled Tomlinson/Bert Makeup in red sharpie out from under the makeup table. "Alright, let's get you all chimney sweeped up, Tomlinson."
She began daubing liquids and powders on his face, beginning to transform him into Bert the chimney sweep.
"Sorry I'm late," Louis said as she worked on his forehead. He was an expert at staying still while someone plastered makeup on him; One Direction had been good for that much, at least. "Couldn't find my phone, and then my sister called and you know how hard it is to get off the phone with her, especially when she wants to hear about Charlie."
"How is Charlie doing?" Marta was good friends with Charlie; Louis had never quite figured out why, as they were radically different people.
"Charlie's...Charlie. Working at the preschool, painting the spare room, somehow managing to lose house keys every other day." Louis rolled his eyes fondly. "How else do you describe Charlie?"
Marta laughed. "Tell indescribable Charlie I say hi, then."
"Sure."
"So, you nervous?" Marta smacked his face with some sort of powder puff, sending Louis into a sneezing fit.
"Be careful with that!"
"You didn't answer my question!"
"You didn't give me time to!" Louis protested. He shrugged then. "I don't know, a little? It's sort of...big shoes to fill, you know? And it's so different from everything I've ever done."
"Well, it's everyone's opening night," Marta said practically. "You're not the only one with butterflies. I think Tamara was going to cry."
Louis opened his mouth to reply but he was smacked with the powder puff again. He didn't think Tamara would cry; this was her second large role, and she seemed to have been born for the role of Mary Poppins.
"Don't move," she ordered, but it was kind. "You can talk in five minutes, but if you move now, you'll mess up my lines. Oh! And Peter said to tell you he did what you requested with the tickets. You still don't know which day?"
Louis wanted to reply but knew he'd end up with a mouth full of primer if he tried to speak now.
It took another half an hour to get his makeup done exactly the way Marta wanted it, and by then the other makeup artists were working on his cast mates. Marta kept up a steady stream of chatter, and it was soothing, listening to someone who wasn't about to panic.
"Make sure your harness is on securely, and tell Tamara that she should mind her harness and make sure she's wearing her leggings underneath that skirt." At this point, Marta was just rattling off general advice. "Picture the audience in their underwear, ad lib if you have to, and don't antagonize the orchestra, they have the power to make your life very miserable. Now get your hair done, get harnessed and miked, get into costume and then back here for touchups. After that is your warmups, you've already stretched, haven't you?" Louis nodded. He knew this routine by heart, had done it for the countless dress rehearsals and had it pounded into him by the smaller roles he'd held in other musicals, but it was soothing to have someone take care of him. "And Louis?"
"Yeah?"
"You didn't get cast because of who you are. You got cast because you're good. Genuinely good."
Louis smiled. "Thanks, Marta."
Louis waved goodbye as Marta headed down the hall, probably to attack anyone she could find wandering around without makeup.
The hairstylists came after him next, so it was another ten minutes of someone yanking at his head and ordering him to stay still. The only difference was that the hairstylists swore a lot more than Marta.
He waited to get miked, and once that was done, it was only a matter of heading down to costuming, pulling on his costume and trying not to muss his hair too much.
The techs were finally comfortable with him now, which had taken a month of rehearsal to get to. He was apparently different from everyone else, the smallest reason being that he had the least amount of trouble adjusting his accent to that of Bert's, which was sometimes nice and sometimes awkward. The kids who played Jane and Michael (all six of them, who rotated the roles every night) were always asking for tips on improving their accents, which he did happily. He liked being helpful, since he was certainly the most out of place.
Hayley and Jake, the kids on tonight, tapped on his door after he'd been banished to his dressing room so as not to disturb anyone else.
They were both in costume, miked and had their makeup done, completely ready to go, probably had been ready for awhile now. Which, in Louis' mind, was the worst thing anyone could have done to them. This was their first big performance, bigger than any of the school productions they'd participated in before. Letting them have free time only let them be nervous.
"Hey, come on in!" he said cheerfully, and ushered them in along with their handler. "I was just finishing up. How are you doing?"
He led them in a conversation that was really about nothing at all until they were both smiling and seemed less nervous.
Then, of course, Jake asked the question Louis was just waiting for one of them to ask.
"How do you get over stage fright?" Jake asked, swallowing water. Their handler was texting on her phone, not really paying attention to them now that they were talking with Louis. "You don't seem nervous at all."
"You don't, you're never not going to have stage fright," he told them cheerfully, adjusting his hat. "It's a fact of performing. But it'll stop scaring you eventually, and besides, a little nerves is good. It keeps you on your toes and lets you know you care about what you're doing. If you're not nervous, you've stopped caring."
Hayley had been a fan of One Direction (he'd learned that painfully on the day when they'd met; her high pitched shriek was somehow worse than a legion of fangirls, but she'd since calmed down and considered him a big brother rather than one of her idols) and took him at his word; Jake looked more doubtful.
"It's easier if you have a sort of ritual," Louis added when Jake looked like he was either going to cry or have a minor meltdown. "I always used to count to fifty, forwards and backwards. If you're focusing on the numbers, you're not focusing on your butterflies. My mate Liam always did pushups. I wouldn't recommend that in your costumes. You could do extra scales, or hop on one foot. Something to keep you occupied."
"Thirty minutes to curtain!" Both Hayley and Jake jumped, looking more nervous now that show time was actually drawing close.
"Come on, let's go warm up. That's something that'll keep your mind off it, yeah?" Louis swung his jacket on and led them down the hallway, greeting the various cast and crew members they saw on the way. He stood near them as the entire cast ran through their scales and vocal exercises. At one point, he managed to send Jake and Hayley into a giggle fit, cracking jokes about their director.
After warmups, it was just a matter of waiting to step on stage.
Hayley and Jake were whisked off to the other side of the stage, to wait for their marks, and with them gone, Louis was back to focusing on memories and his own nervousness.
Tamara, in full Mary Poppins regalia, sat next to him. "Calm down," she said, her voice already taking on her affected accent.
"I am calm," Louis retorted. "I've performed for larger crowds." Of course, he'd had his boyfriend and three of his best friends there beside him every step of the way, and here, he had a cast, but he was still alone.
"And that right there is how I know you're freaking out. You never bring up your past." Tamara smiled. "It's normal to be nervous your first day. Next week, this'll be old hat."
"Why can't any of you be catty Broadway stereotypes?" Louis complained, burying his face in his hands but taking care not to smudge his makeup--Marta would kill him and dance on his grave. "Then I'd have a plausible reason to hate all of you for being supportive."
"It's Disney, love. We'd like to pretend we're all nice people here. And it's hard to hate you, despite being a bigger name than the rest of us here." She kissed him briefly on the cheek. "You'll do fine. Now go hit your mark, I think the stage manager's about to blow a gasket that you're not already standing there waiting."
Louis rolled his eyes but did as he was told, slipping on the character like a coat. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about how different it was performing on Broadway rather than on a tour, another person rather than himself. Now wasn't the time to be thinking that of all the people important to him, only Charlie could be here tonight. Now wasn't the time for any of that.
When the curtain rose, he fell into the role completely, becoming Bert. He let himself get lost in the story, and thought--he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.
--
part xv: everything's fine
everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine
--
You know who it is. Leave a message at the beep.
"Hi, Niall? This is Anne. Cox. Um, Harry's mum, but I guess you knew that. I'm a bit worried about Harry, he's been acting really...off, lately, and...oh, God, this sounds horrible, but I don't quite trust him to tell me the whole truth right now. Is he really doing okay, or is he just lying to make his mum feel better? I feel horrible for asking, but I just need to know. Thanks, love."
--
"Hi, Liam!"
"Danielle?"
"Yeah! Your phone's actually on for once, what gives?"
"Um, yeah. Just got off the phone with Harry's doctor."
"What happened?"
"Not enough sunscreen, not enough water, we're in the south, everyone's pretty sure it's sunstroke?"
"It's October."
"Try telling the weather in the American South that. It's ridiculous. How are you, love?"
"I'm doing pretty well. House is still lonely but. You'll be home soon. A week or so, yeah?"
"Six days. I can't believe this trip's already been eight days. Seems so much shorter."
"But you're having fun?"
"Yeah, I really am. It'd be more fun if Haz didn't have heatstroke, but you can't win them all."
"Where are you today?"
"Somewhere in the south, and that's all I really know. We're doing Graceland later this afternoon--that is, if Harry's up to it, and then it's an overnight drive to Florida for two days at Disney. Then up the coast towards New York. We're stopping in DC if we have time, but we've got to be there by Thursday morning to try to get rush tickets for Louis' show. There's no promise we'll see it, but at least we'll have tried. Then I fly back to Seattle Friday afternoon. I should be back in Victoria by early Saturday morning."
"I'll make waffles."
"Sounds yummy. Want me to pick anything up to go with those waffles when I'm getting home?"
"Fresh cream and strawberries--we can have homemade whipped cream with your hot chocolate and strawberries. I miss you, Li."
"I won't even be gone two weeks. I've been gone longer."
"Yeah, and remember how that turned out?"
"Dani..."
"Relax, Liam. We got married. I'm not going to dump you over being gone two weeks, not when you're trying so hard to stay home as much as possible. I love you, okay?"
"Love you too."
"I know."
"So. What's been going on in Victoria?"
"Not much."
"Tell me about it anyways."
"Of course..."
--
Hello, this is Death. I'm not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll be right with you.
"Harry! It's Cher! Thanks for finally calling me back, it's good to know you're alive. But why'd you go on a roadtrip with the lads? And why didn't you invite me? Would've been like old times! Anyways, take care, okay? The triplets say hi! Kisses!"
--
This is Anne Cox! Leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Anne! It's Niall. Harry's doing fine--he had a bit of sunstroke earlier, but with enough water and some sleep he'll be back to normal. If you'd like I can call you and leave reports for the rest of the trip? There's not much trip left, but...my mum worries too, so. She'd kill me if I didn't help."
--
part xvi: main street usa
i'm walking right down the middle of main street usa i know it's no illusion it's a dream that's here to stay for the time of your life you oughta find yourself here you're welcome any time you have the mind to appear
--
Graceland was everything Harry expected. He was practically vibrating with excitement as they followed the guide into garishly decorated rooms. The others were considerably less excited. Niall eyed the Jungle Room with disgust and fascinated horror.
"Glad we didn't end up like this," he muttered to Zayn and Liam, both of whom grinned.
"What, building an outrageous mansion as a monument to our fame and a show of wealth and power? Popping so many drugs to maintain the high that we die on the toilet?" Zayn shrugged. "How'd none of us end up like that anyways?"
"We had friends. Each other. We never got to the point where the high wore off and we needed drugs to pretend," Liam said quietly. "And then after...we went and did what we loved, got an all new kind of high. I mean, you, Zayn. You opened your bakery, worked on the X-Factor, got over Taylor. Mostly," he amended when Niall gave him a doubtful look. "Niall, you went to LA, wrote songs, got into the production side of things like you always wanted. Me, I married Danielle, kept doing what I loved, just by myself. Louis, he went to Broadway and he's kicking ass at it, pardon my French. Harry though....I always worry about Harry."
"Why him?"
"Why do you think? Look, Harry and I might not have gotten along the last five years, but even I saw how badly it hurt him when he and Louis split. He'd already lost the most, it'd be the easiest for him to slip that little bit further into drugs and alcohol and end up one of those celebrities that everyone wonders what went wrong." Liam shrugged. "I think Louis was the only one who didn't really get how big of a thing it was, him breaking up with Harry. We all knew, and even the fans guessed something had happened. No one ever knew, but they guessed, and we've all been on tumblr, we know how perceptive the fans can be. So. Yeah. I always worry about Harry."
The trio looked at Harry, bouncing eagerly after the tour guide, asking questions quickly and quietly.
"I don't think we have to worry," Zayn said finally. "At least not now?"
"Yeah, I figured that out two days in," Liam said cheerfully. "Pre-Vegas, or so? Harry's completely fine. He just doesn't think he is."
"Come on guys, hurry up!" Harry called. "We're going into the suit room!"
"Same old Harry." Liam sighed and ran to catch up. Zayn and Niall followed at a slower pace.
"If we bought Harry an Elvis jumpsuit, what's the probability that he'd never wear anything else ever again?" Niall asked. "At least willingly?"
"Very high," Zayn retorted. "Which is why we're not."
Niall grinned wickedly. "We so are, aren't we?"
"If we can get it past Liam."
"I'm just picturing Harry trying to go see Louis' show in an Elvis jumpsuit."
Zayn choked on air, coughing and eyes watering at the mental image. "Oh, God. He would."
"Meet you in the gift shop?"
"We're getting this past Liam," Zayn agreed. "I just want to see that."
It turned out that they could not, in fact, get it past Liam, who very much disapproved of them even trying. The point was nullified anyways when Harry returned to the van in an Elvis wig and sunglasses, along with Liam's Vegas T-shirt.
Liam was already regretting Graceland.
--
The thirteen hour drive to Disneyworld was a test of Niall's patience. Zayn's too, although Zayn had managed to fall asleep an hour in.
Liam and Harry were both incredibly, somewhat freakishly excited about Disneyworld. Niall stood by his opinion that Liam and Harry were both secretly small children in the bodies of twenty-year-old men.
After the fourth hour of Harry and Liam harmonizing "We're going to Disneyworld!" along to various songs on the radio, he pulled over and issued an ultimatum.
"Either you're going to be quiet about your love of Disneyworld, or I'm going to start blasting Sufi drum music for the remainder of the drive," he threatened.
Harry and Liam did not quiet down.
Niall turned the volume up with relish.
--
"We're going to Disneyworld," Harry sang, bright and early. Niall rolled over and buried his head under the pillow, groaning and flipping Harry off from deep his cocoon. They'd arrived at two in the morning and had immediately fallen asleep. Of course, four hours later, Harry was up and bouncing around, excited for Disneyworld.
"We're going when Zayn is conscious," Niall mumbled, burrowing deeper in his coverlet. While Florida itself was ridiculously warm for October, the air conditioner had been set to near-Arctic temperature for whatever reason, and the little bits of Niall that stuck out from underneath his blanket were pebbling with goose bumps."G'way, lemme sleep."
"But we've only got today and tomorrow for Disney," Harry whined, looking like he was actually going to get upset. "And I want to see the parks. All the parks! All four of them! Come on, get up!" He started tugging at Niall's blankets.
It took another half an hour of wheedling and whining and a promise of the biggest cup of coffee Harry could find alongside an Arnold Palmer with lunch before Niall finally acquiesced and climbed out of bed. By then, Liam had managed to rouse Zayn. How, no one was entirely sure and the look on Liam's face discouraged them from asking.
They arrived at Magic Kingdom just before it opened and rushed through entering the park. Harry grabbed Liam and they disappeared into the depths of Fantasyland, while Niall and Zayn sleepily located the first place they could find that sold coffee. Then they went to wait in line for Space Mountain, still not quite awake. It was a relatively calm morning, and they weren't recognized.
At three, Harry and Liam managed to track them down and drag them to Epcot on the monorail.
"We're going to eat dinner at the UK Pavilion," Liam informed them brightly. "And make fun of all the inaccuracies."
Niall wished he had a headache so he'd have an excuse to beg off.
They spent the rest of the day in Epcot, wandering around the various pavilions and through FutureWorld. Harry had managed to get extended day passes, so they had permission to stay in the park until midnight, which Harry and Liam took as terrifying permission to visit every single part of the park.
Niall regretted ever suggesting Disneyworld, especially when a tourist decided to take offense at Liam's accent during dinner, telling him he was obviously faking it. Liam in turn took offense at being told his accent was fake and reacted accordingly--ending in everyone being kicked out of the restaurant.
"Great," Harry grumbled. "Now we have to find another restaurant with space for dinner."
The Moroccan restaurant had an opening and they all collapsed onto the cushion-seats gratefully. They chatted through dinner until it became apparent Harry had fallen asleep at the table.
"Should we wake him?" Zayn asked quietly. "Because he'll be pissed if we don't, but if we do it's another four hours of wandering around Epcot."
"Let him sleep for the rest of dinner and then wake him up," Liam suggested before unearthing a cocktail umbrella from one of his pockets and tucking it behind Harry's ear.
"Where did you even get that?"
"I wore these jeans in Vegas," Liam said, shrugging. "Must have been saving them for some reason, I've got like ten of them."
Zayn choked on his drink. Niall laughed. Harry snored on.
--
part xvii: we are alive
how does it feel just to know that we are alive there ain't no better reason we can make it tonight everything is alright
--
This is Anne Cox! Leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Anne! Niall here. Harry's doing well, really, really freakishly excited about Disneyworld, but...he's fine. Mostly. Is he normally this excited about theme parks? Scratch that, yes he is. Do you approve us tranquilizing him so we can actually leave the park?"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Hi, Louis! It's Niall. I guess it's a bit too late for you to come join us, but you're missing a hell of a lot. Harry and Liam are going nuts over Disneyworld, remember when we went to Disneyland Paris? Not really a point to this, just wanted to check in."
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Hi, Danielle! It's Liam! We're in Disneyworld, and I'm bringing you back Mickey Mouse ears with your name on them!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Unless you want the Goofy Hat? I'll get you it too anyways. You can have both!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Dani! I found little key chains with your name on them! And a Minnie Mouse T-shirt I think you'll like!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"They have human sized stuffed animals. And Mickey Mouse baby gear!"
--
You've reached Danielle Peazer. I'm unable to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message at the beep!
"Danielle, please pick up your phone, your husband is busying twenty million things for--no, Zayn, grab Liam please, Harry, you're not helping--fucking hell, when did I become babysitter? Danielle, call your husband before we murder him."
--
"Hello?"
"Hi, Taylor? It's Zayn."
"Zayn! Oh my god! Hi, how are you?"
"I'm doing pretty alright. I'm in Florida with the lads right now, second day in Disney, have a bit of downtime while we're waiting in line. And you?"
"I'm doing well, thanks. You better than you were the other night?"
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"Don't be. I got to talk to you, which was nice."
"So...how've you been, Taylor?"
"I've been pretty alright. Writing and recording for my next album, visiting everyone back home for a week before tour starts in earnest. You know. Normal stuff. And you?"
"Been on a road trip with the lads, but I guess you knew that. Sorry about the Vegas phone call, by the way."
"Not a problem. I'm glad you told me about Harry, though."
"Shit, I told you about that?"
"Zayn. We talked for half an hour about everything that went through your mind. I know all about Harry, and Nicolle, and then about the fact that your bladder apparently can't handle four hours in a car."
"...I blame altitude and air pressure for that one."
"I'm not going to ask. The point is...you called me and talked about it. And we didn't yell, and...it sort of felt like old times. But...yeah. I'd like to point out that you called me both times we've talked this week. Just. For future reference."
"I don't think most phone calls with exes go like this."
"Probably not. Did you have a reason for calling?"
"Sort of? Liam told me I should probably call to apologize for the Vegas thing. And...I'm sort of tired of fighting, if you can believe that. We've gotten far enough we can be friends, right?"
"Sounds good to me. I'd love to chat more, but...I've got to get back into the studio, so. I'm free...not tonight, but...on Wednesday night, that sound good? We can have a long talk."
"Great. Talk to you then?"
"Yeah. And Zayn?"
"Hm?"
"I love you."
"...love you too."
--
part xviii: let's call it what it is
this is just therapy let's call it what it is not what we were with a death grip on this life always transitioning this is just therapy cause you won't take my calls and that makes god the only one who's left here listening to me
--
Harry couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, flipping over and over, turning like an eggbeater between the soft sheets of his bed. Across the room, Niall snored on, oblivious to Harry's frustration.
It had been a long two days, running through all the Disney parks in record time. He should have been exhausted--and he was. He just couldn't sleep.
Finally, Harry slipped out of bed and stood in the middle of the room, wearing flannel pajama pants and a soft cotton t-shirt that he was pretty sure had once belonged to Liam. He didn't normally wear clothes to bed, but it was chilly and he wasn't about to let his bits freeze off.
He snagged the keys to the van off the nightstand, whispering an apologize to the soundly asleep Niall. Harry slipped on his shoes and tiptoed out of the room.
He walked down three flights of stairs, wishing he'd thought to bring a jacket. But he wasn't going back up to the room--if he returned, he wouldn't have the courage to leave again.
The van was parked nearby, so he unlocked the door and sat in the front seat. Without really thinking about it, he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving. Where, exactly, he was going, he didn't know.
He just knew he had to go somewhere that wasn't there.
This wasn't something he ever thought he'd do--getting in the car and driving through the countryside with nothing but the clothes on his back for the simple sake of driving. He was grateful that the van was manual, because it gave him something to focus on rather than just his thoughts.
Harry switched on the radio, just to have some sort of noise in the car. Spinning the dial at random, he landed on a college radio station that seemed to be run by hipsters stuck in 2011, if the amount of Two Door Cinema Club and Foster The People was anything to go by.
He managed to drive half an hour, just driving circles around the town before one of his own songs came on, just as the sun started to come up.
He thought of the game they played, the four of them in the van he now drove in alone. How he was supposed to sing along, or tell a story. A story would be easy enough--he'd written this song to tell one, after all. He'd written this song for Louis, a way of saying everything he never could say to Louis' face.
Harry began to sing along, feeling every emotion the song described.
He hadn't thought he'd ever be here, needing time alone like this. Only went to show how much he missed Louis, really.
He was lonely, which was something he didn't want--or expect--to be. He was surrounded by people, all of whom wanted to help him, and no one who could. He wasn't used to that, he was used to being surrounded by the people he'd gladly lay his life down for. And he hadn't had that recently.
In a way, this was therapy, saying something sort of like a prayer to open and empty air and trying to loosen his death-grip on something that was already gone.
Except...was it gone? All of it?
It hadn't been horrible. There were so many good memories that overwhelmed the bad. He knew Louis had loved what they were just as much as Harry had, which was what confused Harry.
He remembered weekends in bed, lazily exploring each other's bodies, listening to the radio, swimming in soft sheets that smelled like Louis and sex. There were days when all they'd wanted was to hold hands and cuddle, and days when they couldn't get close enough. There were fights, yes, Harry wasn't deluded enough to forget that, but they were always smoothed over quickly.
What had gone wrong? What had caused them to fall apart?
There were questions he wanted to ask Louis, about why they'd ended, and how they'd gotten so far just to fall apart. Questions about why they'd wrecked the others while they were at it, and questions about why Harry hadn't been good enough in the end. He wanted to know where Louis was now, what he was doing, if he was happy. The complete communications blackout had done nothing but make Harry wish he'd had more time.
He just wanted answers, damnit.
He drove for a long time, listening to the radio and thinking of questions that he couldn't answer the way Louis could, until the sun had risen and the roads had slowly filled with morning traffic and the clock was telling him it was nine AM.
Finally, he couldn't take it any longer and fished his mobile out of his pocket. He didn't even bother to scroll through the contacts, just dialed in a number he knew by heart, and waited for the dial tone.
--
part xix: fairytales are full of shit
if happy ever afters did exist i would still be holding you like this all those fairy tales are full of shit one more fucking love song i'll be sick now i'm at a payphone
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"You know what, Louis? You always blame me for how everything ended. But I was never the one afraid of what people thought of me--I wanted the world to know I loved you. And I still do, you know. I never stopped. I was never able to, and some days I'm scared I won't ever love anyone as much as I loved you. I would have married you. I would have loved you for all of our lives. And you're the one who pulled away. You're the one who left. You're the one who couldn't take it and gave me away. So I'm done. I'm done trying to apologize. I'm done trying to fix things. I'm not done loving you, but I'm done regretting it and I'm done wasting my time on it. We can't be friends, you've made that clear enough. So... fuck you, Louis Tomlinson. Thanks for wasting eight years of my life."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"It is my fault. But I'm not going to apologize. You romanticize everything about us, but we were never going to work out like you wanted us to. So. Yeah, I broke it off. I'm happy now, Harry. If you ever loved me, don't ruin this for me."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"We could have worked, Louis. I know you know that. You just didn't want it to. And that's why we didn't work. So. Fuck you."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"We didn't work because we weren't right. You left me as much as I left you."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"In case you've forgotten, it takes two people for a relationship, but only one for a breakup. I sure as hell didn't break up with you, so... yeah. Just... why wouldn't we have worked, Louis? Why? Tell me that much, at least."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"Because we wanted different things. You wanted something I couldn't give you--I wanted something you couldn't give me. It's for the best that we ended it."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"What did you want that was different from me, Louis? Because I would have done anything for you. You know that."
--
Hi, you've reached Harry Styles. I'm not taking any calls at the moment, so leave a message only if it's important.
"Are we seriously doing this over voicemail? Stop calling me, Harry. If you're done, let it go. I'm not answering any more calls from you."
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"I'm calling you, Lou. You'd better pick up. Or I'll get Liam and Niall involved."
--
"Louis Tomlinson."
"Hey. It's me."
"I do have caller ID, you know."
"I wouldn't know that. I haven't talked to you in four years now."
"And whose fault was that?"
"Yours, I'm pretty sure."
"Really? I thought the cold shoulder you've been giving me was a pretty clear sign of you wanting nothing to do with me."
"I thought you dumping me made it pretty clear what you wanted to have to do with me."
"I wanted to be friends, Harry. You wanted to be husbands. Bit of a directional difference there. We definitely weren't going in one direction."
"Did you just make a One Direction joke?"
"I might've."
"..."
"...So, when are you coming to New York?"
"We'll be there Thursday morning. Liam's the first one out, at three on Friday, and then Zayn and I are both flying at five. Niall's going to drive back to LA."
"Have any plans?"
"Not really. Liam wants to see your show. Niall wants to go to Coney Island and enter an eating contest. Zayn wants to go on a bus tour of the city. Normal stuff."
"Harry, was there a point to this phone call?"
"I just wanted to know what went wrong."
"You're turning into that stalkerish ex, Harry. It's getting creepy."
"That didn't answer my question."
"What question? As far as I heard, you just gave me a statement."
"Louis."
"What?"
"You fell in love with someone else."
"What?"
"You fell in love with someone else, that's why you left, that's why we ended, you fell in love with someone who wasn't me!"
"Yes..."
"I get it now. You loved me. You loved someone else more."
"Yes..."
"...Is that all you're going to say?"
"What do you want me to say, Harry?"
"I'm sorry? Or at least give me a name, or to have the common decency to tell me when you dumped me."
"I didn't fall in love right away, but...yeah, I fell in love with someone else, is all. It happens. I mean. You and I weren't working anyways, not in the way you wanted it to."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, you're my best friend. Or. You were. I loved making you happy--I loved being with you. But I didn't like being with you."
"I don't get it."
"I loved you as a friend more than I loved you as a boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, the sex was great--but the relationship...it felt like we were trying for something that only one of us really wanted. You were happy, but I wasn't. Neither was Eleanor. So I ended it. I swear I didn't mean to end the band, but...collateral damage. I think that's just what happens when one party's more in love than the other."
"It wasn't a divorce, though. Why didn't you still talk to the rest of them? Especially Liam?"
"Harry. They were always closer to you than to me. So when we split up...they just fell on your side. It's easier to be mad at the one who broke their best friend's heart. You were the quote-unquote innocent party, and they just found it easier to be mad at me."
"What's her name?"
"Sorry?"
"What's her name?"
"Harry."
"I deserve to know that much at least. You fell in love with someone else. A her. What's her name?"
"Harry..."
"Tell me."
"Charlotte. Charlie."
"Is she pretty?"
"Harry!"
"Just tell me!"
"Beautiful. She's in university to be a teacher. She's Eleanor's girlfriend's cousin. But she's smart, and funny and...I don't know. I just. She makes me happy."
"I'm glad. I wish it could have been me."
"Harry. There's no comparing you."
"Of course there's comparing us. You picked her over me, didn't you?"
"Drop it."
"How is she better than me?"
"Stop it, Harry. Stop it right now."
"What does she have that I didn't? How is she better? Why wasn't it me."
"If you're just going to tell me I'm stupid for loving someone else, I'm hanging up, Harry."
"I just want to know what she has that I didn't."
"Don't call me. Ever again."
"Alright. But-"
--
You've reached Louis Tomlinson's phone. He's unavailable to take your message at the moment. If you'd like to leave a callback number, press 1. If you'd like to leave a message, press 2.
"Goodbye, Lou. I love you."