one direction: finder's fee
title: finder's fee
fandom: one direction
pairing: harry/louis, eleanor/louis
rating/words: PG-15/~3,500
warnings: infidelity, vague sex, eleanor-centric (i guess that has to be a warning cause people don't really like her)
summary: They build up this shell of a relationship and crawl inside, trying to build a fire inside a house instead of a house around a fire.
The situation begins with a promise from Dan, her PR agent, over Sunday brunch. He had been all business, per usual, wearing a gray blazer with his hair neatly cropped. He casually mentioned over the phone that he had someone that he wanted her to meet.“You’ll love him, El.” He promised and Eleanor was always one to trust his judgment. So she goes on the date with nothing but a name in mind and when she first sees Louis, it’s hard to remember where she knows him from.
“You’re quite familiar.” She tells him as they sat down across from each other at the small table. “Have I seen you around?” He blushes a little, reaching up to fix his fringe in a gesture so delicate that she had to stifle a laugh.“I’m on the telly sometimes.” He tells her and its then that it clicks-“Oh, you’re from that group of lads on the X-Factor!” And he nods and smiles, a grin so white that she thinks she might go blind. “Well, isn’t that exciting?” They set off on a conversation on how the whole thing came about and it’s fascinating, watching him talk about this group of boys and this competition and how much he loves performing and “Yeah, Simon seem to take a shine to us, it’s crazy, really!” because he’s engaging, he’s charismatic, especially when she sees him up close. But the more she watches him, the more cues she picks up on and by the end of the night, things are starting to feel a bit strange.
He offers to drive her home so that she doesn’t have to take a cab and she accepts, flattered by his chivalry. They talk some more on the ride home and he asks her about her family, her job, and what sort of books she likes to read and it turns into the kind of easy, quiet chatter she expects from her oldest friends. However, there’s no physical chemistry between them whatsoever- the only time he really touches her is when he put a hand on the small of her back to help her out of his car and there isn’t even the slightest glimmer of naughtiness in his eyes when he compliments her on her skirt. The pieces come together in her mind slowly, very slowly, but it isn’t until they’re at her front door and she leans forward a bit (he’s been so nice this whole time and he’s rather fit, she may as well let him kiss her) and he instead puts an arm around her and hugs her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he pulls away. Oh.
Oh.
“I had a lovely time meeting you, Eleanor Calder.” He says with a smile as she unlocks her door.
“I should say the same to you, Louis Tomlinson.” She teases back, waving to him as he walks back to his car parked on the sidewalk. Once inside, she looks at her phone- three new text messages, all from girlfriends wanting to know how the date went.
“how was he!!”
“tell me how it went! 2nd date???”
“wat did u think of him!”
She taps a quick response-“he was vry nice & vry fit but idt there will be a second date. Will explain tmmrw!” because, honestly, how did she not know it the minute she first laid eyes on him? Regardless, she keeps Louis’ number in her phone- he was a good laugh and easy to talk too and the way the night had ended didn’t mean she couldn’t pursue a friendship with him. She shoots off another text, this one to Danny.
“very funny joke. hope u had a laugh. he was lovely tho, fyi.” She falls asleep before she can receive Danny’s response.
“be at my office at 10 on sat. vry glad to hear tht he was nice. xoxo”
-
She arrives early on Saturday, walking into Danny’s office with two croissant rolls. “How’d it go?!” he exclaims as he embraces her. She recaps the night as quickly as she can; hoping to make it clear from the get go that there was minimal scandal. “And afterwards?” Danny prods. She shakes her head. “Good. Can’t give that sort of thing up too early.” He’s dead serious, which makes her wonder a bit. Danny’s not one to drag a joke on too long and she was half-way expecting him to fess up to it the minute she walked in. “His people called. They said he’s quite fond of you and would love to take you out again.”
Eleanor laughs, harsh and uneasy. She searches Danny’s face for any hint that he’s not serious but finds nothing but complete sincerity. “I…I mean, well…” she stutters, searching for something to say. Danny frowns. “I thought you said he was lovely.”
struggles to explain without sounding like an ass. “Yes, he was, I had a really nice time but he…he was…” So obviously gay, she wants to say. “He wasn’t picking up what I was putting down.” She concludes, her heart aching a bit as she watches Danny’s face fall.
“So you don’t think he was interested in you?” She sighs a little and nods her head. Yes, yes, something like that. “That’s so strange. I thought for sure you would get along.” There’s a hint of nerves coloring his voice, like something’s tickling the back of his throat.
“I mean- we got along, Dan. There just wasn’t any chemistry. Maybe I’m just not his type.” Gender included, she adds to herself. “I don’t know if I want to go see him again. I guess I’ll have to think about it.” Danny is silent for a few moments, sitting himself down behind his desk and tenting his fingers. Something about the whole thing just feels wrong. “Tell me, Dan. Be honest. Why are they so keen for me to see him again?”
Danny takes a deep breath and scrubs his face in his hands. She can tell this is not something he is supposed to be telling her. “Eleanor.” His voice is soft and quavering and full of almost-guilt. “You are being offered an opportunity to serve as a solution to a very specific type of problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The kind that we can’t afford to let get out of control.” For a moment, he just looks at her.” Do you understand what I am saying?”
Danny stares her down and little by little, she realizes that it was never her call in the first place.
-
“Don’t worry.” Danny told her the day that everything was made official. ‘You don’t have to lift a finger. Your people will handle it.” And handle it they do. Dates are scheduled, tabloids are notified- she and Louis spend most of their time walking away from crowds of flashbulbs, trying to shield their eyes so they won’t break their ankles from misstepping. Danny texts her occasionally, telling her to tweet something to Louis, even if the boy in question is right beside her. She changes her relationship status on Facebook, they take a lot of horrible self-photos together. They build up this shell of a relationship and crawl inside, trying to build a fire inside a house instead of a house around a fire.
Louis, to his credit, is doing his best. He takes her out to dinner, he calls her once a day, he plays with her hair when they watch Law and Order together on Sunday nights. She starts to think that maybe she was wrong about him, because sometimes she’ll catch him looking at her- in line at the grocery store, while they’re walking together in a park, when he’s helping her out of a taxi- and she’ll see something there that might resemble the kind of love that she’s looking for from him. The moments are few and far between but she clings to them, holds them tight to her chest and remembers them only when she’s at her loneliest, for fear that they might fade away with overuse.
She can’t help herself- with each passing day, she allows herself to wonder if maybe, in time, something genuine could come out of this. The feeling that she’s deluding herself gets smaller and smaller every day, but she can’t tell if it’s real of if she’s just beginning to believe her own headlines.
It would be an easier pill to swallow, if she didn’t exist as this separate part of Louis’ life, not to be discussed or mentioned within the Boys’ Club of the band. She’s jealous of Danielle, of her seemingly automatic inclusion to the boys’ little circle of inside jokes and daily tweets to each other. Every time she signs onto the website, she’s greeted with a barrage of back-and-forths between Danielle and Liam, Zayn and Liam, Harry and Zayn, Harry and Louis.
Harry and Louis. The perpetual soap in her eye.
-
Louis yanks her arms back and she gasps in a decidedly non-erotic way as her face hits the mattress and she struggles to breath. He holds her wrists in a death grip behind her back, still thrusting furiously, like he’s angry at her and perhaps he is, but god, it’s not her fault. She turns her face to the side, inhaling deeply and screwing her eyes shut against the raw, unpleasant burning. He hadn’t loosened her up enough, had barely even taken the time to get a finger in her before replacing it with his cock. She throws in a few moans, hoping that’ll finish him off quicker but he makes a choking sound in the back of his throat.
“Shut up. Please.” He orders, in a voice strangled with something she can’t name. He’s not harsh or mean about it but rather desperate, yearning in a way that makes her feel a bit sorry for him, if only for a moment. His pace quickens and his blunt nails dig into the small of her back as he finishes, making a sound that’s almost like a sob as he comes. He pulls out slowly, taking care of the condom before lying next to her, making sure to leave plenty of space. Her whole body aches. She wonders if this is just a phase or if this will be his preferred way of fucking from here on out.
In what she thinks is a gesture of tenderness, he reaches out and takes her hand, examining it in the dim light of the room. It’s not quite a caress, but it’s almost romantic, if she pretends hard enough. He sighs, frowning at her finger tips.
“I don’t like it when you paint your nails.”
-
The more nights she spends at Louis’s flat, the more she begins to notice a pattern.
Almost every night, at exactly 1:30, Louis gets out of bed and pads into the living room, turning on one of the side table lamps. A few minutes later, a door shuts on the other end of the flat and someone else walks into the room. Harry. They talk softly for varying amounts of time- sometimes its a few minutes, sometimes its hours. But eventually, always, there is the slow, sickening sound of rustling fabric, of Harry’s soft keening, his groan as her boyfriend pushes into him, the squeak of the couch springs as Harry and Louis move together, Louis’ breathing ragged enough that it echoes.
Eleanor is awake for it, she always is, lying in the darkness with her eyes screwed shut, listening to the sounds of them making love like some sick, masochistic voyeur. She’s known from the first date, from that first hug outside her home, but she’s somehow convinced herself that, despite everything, Louis is hers. And he is, in a sense. He’s her responsibility, hers to look after. Harry’s lucky- he only gets Lou during these clandestine meetings, the secret trysts in the dead of night. Eleanor has him every other time in the day- when he’s cranky and tired and overworked and overwhelmed and not willing to look at her face when they fuck. Harry doesn’t deserve that soft, beautiful side of Lou. He hasn’t earned it, hasn’t fought for it the way Eleanor has.
And despite everything, she’ll keep trying, though her boyfriend’s rejection of her has more to do with what she is than who she is. And maybe one day her efforts won’t be so futile anymore- Louis will come back to her and she’ll be given what has been rightfully hers all along.
-
And one day, she just snaps. Louis has the boys over and they’re sitting around in the living room, shouting at each other and laughing at things she’ll never understand. Zayne makes a joke about Danielle’s ability in bed and Liam throws something at him, missing by a wide arc. He turns into Louis, making a crude comment about Eleanor and Louis just shrugs, exchanging a knowing look with Harry, who begins to laugh. She watches it from the kitchen table, where she sits, trying to concentrate on the morning paper. They know that she can hear them, they must, and the fact that she’s being mocked in front of her sends her blood pressure up.
Louis says something softly and she gets up from the table as discreetly as possible in an effort to hear him more clearly. She catches the tail end of it- “and I don’t know, it just doesn’t do it for me sometimes.” She can’t do this. She steps into the living room.
“Does Harry do it for you?” her voice and knees feel weak and she immeadiatly regrets this. It wasn’t the right time or the right place or the right anything. She was the last person this sort of thing was supposed to happen to.
Louis just stares at her, slackjawed. Niall makes a joke that she ignores, still staring at her boyfriend, who gives a slow “….what?”
“I said.” She repeats, slowly and as clear as she can make it with rage closing in around her tonsils. “ Does Harry do it for you?” Harry is staring down at his hands, picking at his cuticles. Louis shakes his head, getting up slowly and Eleanor advances, until they’re both standing in the center of the room. She hears Zayn get up and move towards the couch but all she cares about right now is what Louis has to say.
“El, I’m not sure what you mean. I-“
“Fucking around with this Lolita, this little slut, does that do it for you? Is it because he’s barely a kid, does that turn you on?” she demands, her pitch flying as she struggles to remain calm. She sees Niall gasp indignantly and raise a hand quickly before thinking better of it as she turns on them- him and Liam and Harry all crowded together on that godforsaken living room couch. “What?” she barks. Liam is clutching Harry’s arm, holding him close and Zayn stands in front of them, creating a makeshift barrier between Eleanor and the one person whose neck she wants to wring more than anything. “Oh, I get it.” Even when he’s fucking other people’s boyfriends, they all still protect him. Laughter bubbles in her throat, making its way out of her in hysterical tears that are threatening to spill over. “He’s fucking all of you? You all just pass him around, everyone gets a turn?” No one says a word, they all just stare with saucer-wide eyes. She can see Liam tenses up and for a moment his eyes flash dark with anger. Something that feels like regret clenches in her stomach. She never meant to bring him into this. Out of all of them, Liam was always the one she could trust.
Louis raises a hand, begin another bullshit excuse. “El, its not-“
She turns on one heel and faces him again, more furious than she had ever been in her life. “I hear you!” she screams and her voice cracks obscenely- she can see Harry flinch out of the corner of her eye. “I hear you every. Fucking. Night.” She repeats, quieter this time because that’s it, isn’t it? It’s over. There’s no explaining this one away, she can tell by the look on Louis’ face, by the way that no one jumps up to provide an alternate explanation. She could pretend all she liked before but this….she can’t deny this, could never deny the way that Louis steps away from her, like he’s surrendering. He looks to the floor for a moment, the silence so thick in the room that she thinks she might choke. And then, oh God, there is it. Louis’ eyes flit upwards for a millisecond, glancing to Harry with a gaze full of the concern and passion he could never give her. And she knows, god, she knows in all the ways she never wanted to.
Louis looks back to her. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.” he says, his voice tight and restrained. Liam gets up from the couch, pulling Niall and Harry up with him. Harry catches her eye on the way out and for the first time, she begins to wonder if she is the problem. Maybe this isn’t the love story of Louis and Eleanor but the love story of Harry and Louis and this time, she is the bad guy, the one who must be overcome, beaten down and vanquished.
-
Danny calls her the next day, notifying her of an emergency PR meeting. His voice says it’s optional but his tone declares it mandatory and, like a good little robot, she obeys. It’s quick and dirty- Louis sits across the table with his own PR agent, silent and brooding, refusing to look up from his phone. Danny discusses things for a moment with Louis’ suit with their heads bent together- and it’s over before she really registers that she even set foot into the offices. Danny takes her arm and leads her out of the room, not even asking her to leave the building with Louis. He talks to her as they walk briskly to the car, speaking as nonchalantly as though they had just come from coffee.
“So Louis will be taking you out to dinner sometime next weekend, hopefully the paps won’t find you, eh?’ he winks cheekily, opening the car door for her. “Louis is going to take the weekend off, but he should be home with you by Tuesday night. Does that sound good?” Vomit rises in her throat and suddenly the back of the cab feels twelve sizes too small. This isn’t love, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself. It’s an assigned role- She is in the picture so that Harry and Louis can have their fun without the wrath of conservative parents and the intrusive media coming down like the fist of God upon them. She’s the cover up, the veil, the catalyst for someone else’s story. This isn’t love, it’s a contract and she should have known from the start.
She reads the fan blogs, she knows what these teenaged fan girls say about them- how strong Louis and Harry are, how heroic they are to go through this together but what about Eleanor? But it’s not just their burden to carry, it’s hers too. Who will be the one to call Eleanor brave?
-
Two weeks later, she comes home early from a charity event to find them in Louis and Eleanor’s bed, Louis on top of Harry, half-naked and desperate and pinning Harry’s pale, thin wrists to the mattress. Lou pulls off him immediately as soon as he hears the bedroom door open, his face going from flushed to pale to slightly green in a matter of moments as he sees her.
“El….” He stutters out, but she can barely hear him as white noise floods her ears. She watches Harry as he sits up and scoots backwards, pressing his spine against the head board and bringing his knees up to his chest, like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. His eyes are wide and scared, scared of her, she realizes and that would make her laugh, had the situation permitted it. His mouth is still plump and bruised, swollen with kisses that she had always thought were hers, unfairly stolen by this ridiculous, curly-haired child. She pinches the bridge of her nose, waiting for tears- tears of sadness, of disappointment, of anything really. But the only thing she feels is the overwhelming urge to get as far away from this flat as possible.
“I’m going to go to lunch.” She says softly, still not opening her eyes. “Please clean up when you are finished.” And that’s it. She picks up her purse and she leaves, her hands steady as she pulls the front door closed behind her.
Later that night, at her friend’s convincing, she texts Louis to inform him that she is going to her sister’s house for an extended holiday and he responds back that he understands, that he hopes to talk to her soon and that he loves her.
She decides, right then, that yes, she can live like this. If only for a little while longer.
fandom: one direction
pairing: harry/louis, eleanor/louis
rating/words: PG-15/~3,500
warnings: infidelity, vague sex, eleanor-centric (i guess that has to be a warning cause people don't really like her)
summary: They build up this shell of a relationship and crawl inside, trying to build a fire inside a house instead of a house around a fire.
The situation begins with a promise from Dan, her PR agent, over Sunday brunch. He had been all business, per usual, wearing a gray blazer with his hair neatly cropped. He casually mentioned over the phone that he had someone that he wanted her to meet.“You’ll love him, El.” He promised and Eleanor was always one to trust his judgment. So she goes on the date with nothing but a name in mind and when she first sees Louis, it’s hard to remember where she knows him from.
“You’re quite familiar.” She tells him as they sat down across from each other at the small table. “Have I seen you around?” He blushes a little, reaching up to fix his fringe in a gesture so delicate that she had to stifle a laugh.“I’m on the telly sometimes.” He tells her and its then that it clicks-“Oh, you’re from that group of lads on the X-Factor!” And he nods and smiles, a grin so white that she thinks she might go blind. “Well, isn’t that exciting?” They set off on a conversation on how the whole thing came about and it’s fascinating, watching him talk about this group of boys and this competition and how much he loves performing and “Yeah, Simon seem to take a shine to us, it’s crazy, really!” because he’s engaging, he’s charismatic, especially when she sees him up close. But the more she watches him, the more cues she picks up on and by the end of the night, things are starting to feel a bit strange.
He offers to drive her home so that she doesn’t have to take a cab and she accepts, flattered by his chivalry. They talk some more on the ride home and he asks her about her family, her job, and what sort of books she likes to read and it turns into the kind of easy, quiet chatter she expects from her oldest friends. However, there’s no physical chemistry between them whatsoever- the only time he really touches her is when he put a hand on the small of her back to help her out of his car and there isn’t even the slightest glimmer of naughtiness in his eyes when he compliments her on her skirt. The pieces come together in her mind slowly, very slowly, but it isn’t until they’re at her front door and she leans forward a bit (he’s been so nice this whole time and he’s rather fit, she may as well let him kiss her) and he instead puts an arm around her and hugs her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he pulls away. Oh.
Oh.
“I had a lovely time meeting you, Eleanor Calder.” He says with a smile as she unlocks her door.
“I should say the same to you, Louis Tomlinson.” She teases back, waving to him as he walks back to his car parked on the sidewalk. Once inside, she looks at her phone- three new text messages, all from girlfriends wanting to know how the date went.
“how was he!!”
“tell me how it went! 2nd date???”
“wat did u think of him!”
She taps a quick response-“he was vry nice & vry fit but idt there will be a second date. Will explain tmmrw!” because, honestly, how did she not know it the minute she first laid eyes on him? Regardless, she keeps Louis’ number in her phone- he was a good laugh and easy to talk too and the way the night had ended didn’t mean she couldn’t pursue a friendship with him. She shoots off another text, this one to Danny.
“very funny joke. hope u had a laugh. he was lovely tho, fyi.” She falls asleep before she can receive Danny’s response.
“be at my office at 10 on sat. vry glad to hear tht he was nice. xoxo”
-
She arrives early on Saturday, walking into Danny’s office with two croissant rolls. “How’d it go?!” he exclaims as he embraces her. She recaps the night as quickly as she can; hoping to make it clear from the get go that there was minimal scandal. “And afterwards?” Danny prods. She shakes her head. “Good. Can’t give that sort of thing up too early.” He’s dead serious, which makes her wonder a bit. Danny’s not one to drag a joke on too long and she was half-way expecting him to fess up to it the minute she walked in. “His people called. They said he’s quite fond of you and would love to take you out again.”
Eleanor laughs, harsh and uneasy. She searches Danny’s face for any hint that he’s not serious but finds nothing but complete sincerity. “I…I mean, well…” she stutters, searching for something to say. Danny frowns. “I thought you said he was lovely.”
struggles to explain without sounding like an ass. “Yes, he was, I had a really nice time but he…he was…” So obviously gay, she wants to say. “He wasn’t picking up what I was putting down.” She concludes, her heart aching a bit as she watches Danny’s face fall.
“So you don’t think he was interested in you?” She sighs a little and nods her head. Yes, yes, something like that. “That’s so strange. I thought for sure you would get along.” There’s a hint of nerves coloring his voice, like something’s tickling the back of his throat.
“I mean- we got along, Dan. There just wasn’t any chemistry. Maybe I’m just not his type.” Gender included, she adds to herself. “I don’t know if I want to go see him again. I guess I’ll have to think about it.” Danny is silent for a few moments, sitting himself down behind his desk and tenting his fingers. Something about the whole thing just feels wrong. “Tell me, Dan. Be honest. Why are they so keen for me to see him again?”
Danny takes a deep breath and scrubs his face in his hands. She can tell this is not something he is supposed to be telling her. “Eleanor.” His voice is soft and quavering and full of almost-guilt. “You are being offered an opportunity to serve as a solution to a very specific type of problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The kind that we can’t afford to let get out of control.” For a moment, he just looks at her.” Do you understand what I am saying?”
Danny stares her down and little by little, she realizes that it was never her call in the first place.
-
“Don’t worry.” Danny told her the day that everything was made official. ‘You don’t have to lift a finger. Your people will handle it.” And handle it they do. Dates are scheduled, tabloids are notified- she and Louis spend most of their time walking away from crowds of flashbulbs, trying to shield their eyes so they won’t break their ankles from misstepping. Danny texts her occasionally, telling her to tweet something to Louis, even if the boy in question is right beside her. She changes her relationship status on Facebook, they take a lot of horrible self-photos together. They build up this shell of a relationship and crawl inside, trying to build a fire inside a house instead of a house around a fire.
Louis, to his credit, is doing his best. He takes her out to dinner, he calls her once a day, he plays with her hair when they watch Law and Order together on Sunday nights. She starts to think that maybe she was wrong about him, because sometimes she’ll catch him looking at her- in line at the grocery store, while they’re walking together in a park, when he’s helping her out of a taxi- and she’ll see something there that might resemble the kind of love that she’s looking for from him. The moments are few and far between but she clings to them, holds them tight to her chest and remembers them only when she’s at her loneliest, for fear that they might fade away with overuse.
She can’t help herself- with each passing day, she allows herself to wonder if maybe, in time, something genuine could come out of this. The feeling that she’s deluding herself gets smaller and smaller every day, but she can’t tell if it’s real of if she’s just beginning to believe her own headlines.
It would be an easier pill to swallow, if she didn’t exist as this separate part of Louis’ life, not to be discussed or mentioned within the Boys’ Club of the band. She’s jealous of Danielle, of her seemingly automatic inclusion to the boys’ little circle of inside jokes and daily tweets to each other. Every time she signs onto the website, she’s greeted with a barrage of back-and-forths between Danielle and Liam, Zayn and Liam, Harry and Zayn, Harry and Louis.
Harry and Louis. The perpetual soap in her eye.
-
Louis yanks her arms back and she gasps in a decidedly non-erotic way as her face hits the mattress and she struggles to breath. He holds her wrists in a death grip behind her back, still thrusting furiously, like he’s angry at her and perhaps he is, but god, it’s not her fault. She turns her face to the side, inhaling deeply and screwing her eyes shut against the raw, unpleasant burning. He hadn’t loosened her up enough, had barely even taken the time to get a finger in her before replacing it with his cock. She throws in a few moans, hoping that’ll finish him off quicker but he makes a choking sound in the back of his throat.
“Shut up. Please.” He orders, in a voice strangled with something she can’t name. He’s not harsh or mean about it but rather desperate, yearning in a way that makes her feel a bit sorry for him, if only for a moment. His pace quickens and his blunt nails dig into the small of her back as he finishes, making a sound that’s almost like a sob as he comes. He pulls out slowly, taking care of the condom before lying next to her, making sure to leave plenty of space. Her whole body aches. She wonders if this is just a phase or if this will be his preferred way of fucking from here on out.
In what she thinks is a gesture of tenderness, he reaches out and takes her hand, examining it in the dim light of the room. It’s not quite a caress, but it’s almost romantic, if she pretends hard enough. He sighs, frowning at her finger tips.
“I don’t like it when you paint your nails.”
-
The more nights she spends at Louis’s flat, the more she begins to notice a pattern.
Almost every night, at exactly 1:30, Louis gets out of bed and pads into the living room, turning on one of the side table lamps. A few minutes later, a door shuts on the other end of the flat and someone else walks into the room. Harry. They talk softly for varying amounts of time- sometimes its a few minutes, sometimes its hours. But eventually, always, there is the slow, sickening sound of rustling fabric, of Harry’s soft keening, his groan as her boyfriend pushes into him, the squeak of the couch springs as Harry and Louis move together, Louis’ breathing ragged enough that it echoes.
Eleanor is awake for it, she always is, lying in the darkness with her eyes screwed shut, listening to the sounds of them making love like some sick, masochistic voyeur. She’s known from the first date, from that first hug outside her home, but she’s somehow convinced herself that, despite everything, Louis is hers. And he is, in a sense. He’s her responsibility, hers to look after. Harry’s lucky- he only gets Lou during these clandestine meetings, the secret trysts in the dead of night. Eleanor has him every other time in the day- when he’s cranky and tired and overworked and overwhelmed and not willing to look at her face when they fuck. Harry doesn’t deserve that soft, beautiful side of Lou. He hasn’t earned it, hasn’t fought for it the way Eleanor has.
And despite everything, she’ll keep trying, though her boyfriend’s rejection of her has more to do with what she is than who she is. And maybe one day her efforts won’t be so futile anymore- Louis will come back to her and she’ll be given what has been rightfully hers all along.
-
And one day, she just snaps. Louis has the boys over and they’re sitting around in the living room, shouting at each other and laughing at things she’ll never understand. Zayne makes a joke about Danielle’s ability in bed and Liam throws something at him, missing by a wide arc. He turns into Louis, making a crude comment about Eleanor and Louis just shrugs, exchanging a knowing look with Harry, who begins to laugh. She watches it from the kitchen table, where she sits, trying to concentrate on the morning paper. They know that she can hear them, they must, and the fact that she’s being mocked in front of her sends her blood pressure up.
Louis says something softly and she gets up from the table as discreetly as possible in an effort to hear him more clearly. She catches the tail end of it- “and I don’t know, it just doesn’t do it for me sometimes.” She can’t do this. She steps into the living room.
“Does Harry do it for you?” her voice and knees feel weak and she immeadiatly regrets this. It wasn’t the right time or the right place or the right anything. She was the last person this sort of thing was supposed to happen to.
Louis just stares at her, slackjawed. Niall makes a joke that she ignores, still staring at her boyfriend, who gives a slow “….what?”
“I said.” She repeats, slowly and as clear as she can make it with rage closing in around her tonsils. “ Does Harry do it for you?” Harry is staring down at his hands, picking at his cuticles. Louis shakes his head, getting up slowly and Eleanor advances, until they’re both standing in the center of the room. She hears Zayn get up and move towards the couch but all she cares about right now is what Louis has to say.
“El, I’m not sure what you mean. I-“
“Fucking around with this Lolita, this little slut, does that do it for you? Is it because he’s barely a kid, does that turn you on?” she demands, her pitch flying as she struggles to remain calm. She sees Niall gasp indignantly and raise a hand quickly before thinking better of it as she turns on them- him and Liam and Harry all crowded together on that godforsaken living room couch. “What?” she barks. Liam is clutching Harry’s arm, holding him close and Zayn stands in front of them, creating a makeshift barrier between Eleanor and the one person whose neck she wants to wring more than anything. “Oh, I get it.” Even when he’s fucking other people’s boyfriends, they all still protect him. Laughter bubbles in her throat, making its way out of her in hysterical tears that are threatening to spill over. “He’s fucking all of you? You all just pass him around, everyone gets a turn?” No one says a word, they all just stare with saucer-wide eyes. She can see Liam tenses up and for a moment his eyes flash dark with anger. Something that feels like regret clenches in her stomach. She never meant to bring him into this. Out of all of them, Liam was always the one she could trust.
Louis raises a hand, begin another bullshit excuse. “El, its not-“
She turns on one heel and faces him again, more furious than she had ever been in her life. “I hear you!” she screams and her voice cracks obscenely- she can see Harry flinch out of the corner of her eye. “I hear you every. Fucking. Night.” She repeats, quieter this time because that’s it, isn’t it? It’s over. There’s no explaining this one away, she can tell by the look on Louis’ face, by the way that no one jumps up to provide an alternate explanation. She could pretend all she liked before but this….she can’t deny this, could never deny the way that Louis steps away from her, like he’s surrendering. He looks to the floor for a moment, the silence so thick in the room that she thinks she might choke. And then, oh God, there is it. Louis’ eyes flit upwards for a millisecond, glancing to Harry with a gaze full of the concern and passion he could never give her. And she knows, god, she knows in all the ways she never wanted to.
Louis looks back to her. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.” he says, his voice tight and restrained. Liam gets up from the couch, pulling Niall and Harry up with him. Harry catches her eye on the way out and for the first time, she begins to wonder if she is the problem. Maybe this isn’t the love story of Louis and Eleanor but the love story of Harry and Louis and this time, she is the bad guy, the one who must be overcome, beaten down and vanquished.
-
Danny calls her the next day, notifying her of an emergency PR meeting. His voice says it’s optional but his tone declares it mandatory and, like a good little robot, she obeys. It’s quick and dirty- Louis sits across the table with his own PR agent, silent and brooding, refusing to look up from his phone. Danny discusses things for a moment with Louis’ suit with their heads bent together- and it’s over before she really registers that she even set foot into the offices. Danny takes her arm and leads her out of the room, not even asking her to leave the building with Louis. He talks to her as they walk briskly to the car, speaking as nonchalantly as though they had just come from coffee.
“So Louis will be taking you out to dinner sometime next weekend, hopefully the paps won’t find you, eh?’ he winks cheekily, opening the car door for her. “Louis is going to take the weekend off, but he should be home with you by Tuesday night. Does that sound good?” Vomit rises in her throat and suddenly the back of the cab feels twelve sizes too small. This isn’t love, no matter how hard she tries to convince herself. It’s an assigned role- She is in the picture so that Harry and Louis can have their fun without the wrath of conservative parents and the intrusive media coming down like the fist of God upon them. She’s the cover up, the veil, the catalyst for someone else’s story. This isn’t love, it’s a contract and she should have known from the start.
She reads the fan blogs, she knows what these teenaged fan girls say about them- how strong Louis and Harry are, how heroic they are to go through this together but what about Eleanor? But it’s not just their burden to carry, it’s hers too. Who will be the one to call Eleanor brave?
-
Two weeks later, she comes home early from a charity event to find them in Louis and Eleanor’s bed, Louis on top of Harry, half-naked and desperate and pinning Harry’s pale, thin wrists to the mattress. Lou pulls off him immediately as soon as he hears the bedroom door open, his face going from flushed to pale to slightly green in a matter of moments as he sees her.
“El….” He stutters out, but she can barely hear him as white noise floods her ears. She watches Harry as he sits up and scoots backwards, pressing his spine against the head board and bringing his knees up to his chest, like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. His eyes are wide and scared, scared of her, she realizes and that would make her laugh, had the situation permitted it. His mouth is still plump and bruised, swollen with kisses that she had always thought were hers, unfairly stolen by this ridiculous, curly-haired child. She pinches the bridge of her nose, waiting for tears- tears of sadness, of disappointment, of anything really. But the only thing she feels is the overwhelming urge to get as far away from this flat as possible.
“I’m going to go to lunch.” She says softly, still not opening her eyes. “Please clean up when you are finished.” And that’s it. She picks up her purse and she leaves, her hands steady as she pulls the front door closed behind her.
Later that night, at her friend’s convincing, she texts Louis to inform him that she is going to her sister’s house for an extended holiday and he responds back that he understands, that he hopes to talk to her soon and that he loves her.
She decides, right then, that yes, she can live like this. If only for a little while longer.