as loud as lions (2/3). harry/louis, pg-13.
See header post for more details.
( 1/3) ( 3/3)
Louis stays in for the most part after that. Every time he leaves the house he gets swarmed by paparazzi and fans and people he doesn't even want to call fans anymore because the things they say are so cruel that they leave him speechless. He only ever goes out with Harry, feeling safer that way, but it's a double-edged sword and he can't help wondering if he'd attract less attention if he went alone. The worst part is that he doesn't think he's forgiven Harry yet. Sometimes he thinks he has, and then there's another shouted slur or a shove from a stranger in the supermarket, and he can't help but think that if Harry had kept his mouth shut they wouldn't be here. They wouldn't have to deal with this.
But he needs him. He clings to him, because Harry is handling it so well. He knows when to ignore the comments, when it's obviously just delusional young girls who thought they were going to marry one of the boys one day, and when it's something more harmful and dangerous, something Harry need to speak up against. And it's confusing, because Louis is so grateful and so in awe of him, and yet at the same time there's this bitter resentment simmering under the surface that he can't ignore. Harry will hold his hand even if there are cameras surrounding them, and Louis hates it and loves it at the same time-it makes him feel so exposed, but safer too.
Things get a little better with the magazine's release because at least now people have some answers to their questions, but it seems to make people think they're entitled to even more information now, like everything concerning the boys' relationship is up for grabs. And then there are the fans who can tell it's mostly bullshit, the fans who pick holes in the story and demand to know the real truth. Louis stays inside more and more and Harry braves the public on his own, going out and doing their shopping and errands and handling it all so well. It rattles him, of course, and he looks worn-out when he gets back home and often goes quiet, sloping off to be alone-but he can cope with it, and that's the important thing. That's what Louis can't do.
Of course it's not all bad, but even the good stuff is stressful sometimes. There's so much pressure, suddenly, from the LGBT side of things; they want Harry and Louis to be representatives and now it seems like everywhere they go they're being asked for their opinions on political matters. Harry embraces it, wearing his 'Love is Equal' t-shirt far more often now, showing his pride. Officially, they've both come out as bisexual-the true details of Harry's sexuality were deemed "too complicated" by management, and of course Louis can't be gay when they need the public to believe that his relationship with Eleanor was real. And in a way that's okay, because Louis doesn't think he's ready to come out fully yet, doesn't know if he could handle the fan reaction-it seems bad enough already. But he doesn't feel comfortable in the LGBT community if he's still technically lying, still feeding into society's homophobia, and so he has to distance himself from it, and that makes people angry. It seems like no matter what they do, they're upsetting someone.
As time passes, they receive more positive comments. It still doesn't come close to reaching the same volume as the outrage, but it seems like the supportive people are quieter, understanding, and maybe a little bit scared themselves. They approach Harry, mostly-they seem unsure of Louis still, because he's been so tight-lipped about the issue-and every now and then Harry will come home from somewhere a little emotional, and he'll tell Louis about a gay teen who stopped him in the street and thanked him. They still check Twitter, too, and though the majority of their messages are still truly horrible they're getting better at ignoring those, and there will be some gems of support, the occasional trending topic reminding them to stay strong. Larry Fans Have Your Back trends for several hours the day their Hello! issue comes out, and Harry actually cries as the two of them scroll through the related Tweets.
But then, #cheatersarecowards trends too. Louis tries to ignore it-it doesn't even apply to him in reality-but knowing that so many people are judging them for something they haven't even done is so frustrating. Management says it's necessary, that they just can't risk exposing how much fakery goes on in this industry, but it seems unfair that it has to be at Louis's expense, and Harry's-people attack him too, for starting something with Louis in full knowledge that he was still with Eleanor. Harry says it just shows how dumb management is, if they really thought it was a good idea to add even more reason for the fans to turn against the boys. He tries to keep them both strong by telling Louis that one day, even if it's in ten years when they're no longer relevant, they'll get to tell the whole truth. (And Louis wonders how he can say ten years with such certainty, when Louis feels like everything they've worked so hard for is about to fall apart in a single month.)
It's just that none of this is predictable, it's so overwhelming and it's like a rollercoaster-every time Louis is feeling a little better, something comes along to tear him down again, and it can be the slightest thing, just one nasty comment he stumbles across on a Sugarscape article, or something bigger, like hearing that one of his sisters is getting bullied at school now because everyone knows her brother's dating a boy. That's what hurts the most, he thinks, the way that all of this extends so much further than it ever has, that their families and friends and even vague acquaintances are having to deal with the cruelty and viciousness of the public. Reporters keep trying to get exclusive interviews from their parents, and fans hover around outside their homes, shouting, taking out their anger and disappointment on the boys' families.
Eleanor is facing troubles too, always being stopped in the street and asked if she ever suspected Louis was cheating on her, getting barrages of Tweets telling her she should have known and that she was an idiot not to see it. The fans aren't so cruel to her but they're mocking and it seems just as bad, and she's so frustrated by it, calling Louis a few times to rant to him about how much it sucks that they can't just tell the truth.
"Just, whatever you do, don't do one of them shitty tell-all interviews in a gossip rag," jokes Louis, trying to cheer her up. "I Didn't Know My Boyfriend Was Gay, or something like that."
"Oh please," says Eleanor. She laughs, but she sounds stressed and tired, and Louis hates how much this is affecting everyone; it makes him feel so guilty even though he knows deep down they haven't done anything wrong. (He knows it, but he has to keep saying it to himself anyway, repeating it over and over in his head.)
***
Management want the two of them to make more public appearances, don't want to give the impression that they're hiding away or that the band is going to be less active now. It's convenient, perhaps, that all of this has happened during a quiet period, a bit of downtime-but Harry wonders if it might've been nice to have the distraction of touring at the same time, and a more immediate way of judging the fan reaction. The MSG concert isn't for a while, still, and they've got a signing set up a few days before it but it all seems so far away to Harry.
They attend a movie premiere together, their first official outing as a couple, and it feels strange to go without the others. It's almost like the band has been split in two, now, it's "the couple" and "the other three" and Harry doesn't like it; the five of them are a unit, always have been and always should be, even if the media's focus wants to separate them neatly. The others are pretty much getting sidelined by management, actually, not allowed to mention the boys' relationship at all. None of them really understand it-they get hassled in the street and online just as much as anyone else who has the slightest connection to Harry and Louis, and it seems like it might be better if they were allowed to speak up about it but they're not.
At the premiere, Harry and Louis do a couple of red carpet interviews and Louis is sarcastic and self-deprecating to an almost uncomfortable degree. They pose for photos, and Louis is tense, shrugging away from Harry's arm around him-and it's not even any different from how they've been photographed before, and paparazzi have amassed several pictures of them holding hands by now, but there's something about the statement of it, the reality, the knowledge that now every slightest touch means something. Now everyone sees it what it truly is, when before they could hide behind the guise of intense friendship and simple tactility. Harry accidentally comes across some of the photos online later, and people have noticed how awkward they look together, already speculating that perhaps they're going to break up.
A couple of days later there's a phone interview with Nick Grimshaw and that goes a lot better-it's so lovely to have Nick speaking out in support of them on Radio One, telling them how brave they are and how he's really rooting for them. Nick has known about their relationship for a long time, and even though he's not allowed to admit that on air, Louis is much more relaxed speaking to an old friend, someone he doesn't fear is judging him.
But Louis still can't cope with it all, not really. He's wildly unpredictable lately-even more so than usual-and Harry has to walk on eggshells because he doesn't know how to judge Louis's moods. It's never been easy anyway, because Louis is an enigma even at the best of times, but this has sent him into some sort of breakdown and he will veer wildly from one emotion to the next. In the public eye he still feels so exposed and Harry can't stand it, the way he'll freeze up in front of the paparazzi and sometimes the reporters too. He's never like that, usually. He's always been able to mock people for their stupid or nosy questions, barely giving it a second thought, putting up his defences in an instinctive split-second. But this-this is different. Every time it's mentioned by a stranger it's like they're stripping Louis bare, leaving him with nothing to hide behind. Of course Harry wants him to open up, but not like this, not when he's being forced to, not when strangers are doing it for him, peeling back his layers and prying.
And sometimes Louis will spend hours on end just moping, wandering listlessly around the flat, barely eating and unable to really concentrate on anything. He'll cling to Harry, needy, telling him not to go out. He'll just want comfort at those times, want to curl up together in bed or on the sofa, have Harry pet and stroke at him soothingly and hold him close and not talk unless it's to tell him everything's going to be okay. But it can all turn around in mere minutes and he'll snap, push Harry away, shout at him about how it's all his fucking fault in the first place. Then he'll storm out, go to Zayn's for a bit until he calms down (and he'll invariably not mention any of it again when he comes back, sidling back in all false smiles like everything's fine). Sometimes he'll just needle Harry, making little hurtful remarks all day long until Harry's the one who loses it, demanding to know what his problem is.
"What do you fucking think?" Louis will scream back, raw emotion bursting out of him, and Harry can't stand it, can't stand knowing that he's caused this, that no matter which way he tries to look at it, Louis's hurt is because of him. He tells himself sometimes that this would have happened sooner or later but he knows, knows it's worse that he did it the way he did, without Louis's permission. He knows it feels like a betrayal and he knows that Louis's trying to forgive him but that a part of him can't let go, because none of this is over, because every time someone calls them fags or Tweets at them about how let down they feel, it's like opening the wound up all over again. It can't heal, not like this.
It's getting to them. Harry knew it would. He's tried so hard to be the strong one, to take all of this in his stride, and for the most part he manages it, because he's been ready for this for a long time and there's no nagging fear or worry in the back of his mind that they might have done something wrong after all. No, he loves Louis and sometimes he's so proud of it that a part of him wants to talk about it all day long, wants to answer all those intrusive questions that get shouted at him on the street. Because sometimes it doesn't even matter to him that no one has the right to know-Harry's had to keep his mouth shut for so fucking long that he just wants to say it, say everything finally, tell that stranger about the first time Louis kissed him, tell that interviewer about the first time they had sex, tell that paparazzo about the way Louis still can't stop his face from lighting up whenever Harry says I love you.
And it's so hard to put up with it, to carry all of this on his back-to have to shut up and lie when they've finally been given a taste of what it could be like if they were truly honest instead, and to keep fighting against the idiots that act like he's the worst person on earth for loving who he does, and to try and be so strong for everybody. He has to try to sense out Louis's moods and it seems to be getting harder and harder; there's no pattern where there used to be. He no longer knows when he's supposed to give Louis space, if he should respond to the yelling with silence or with kisses, or whether Louis will welcome Harry's hand down the front of his sweatpants or slap it away.
He tries so hard to do the absolute best that he can, to give Louis whatever he seems to need, but it's just getting so difficult to tell these days and Louis won't talk to him about it. Whenever Harry tries to get him to, he clams up even more like Harry is one of those prying strangers, and it's like a physical ache in Harry's chest because he feels like they're being torn apart by this and that's the one thing he thought would never happen, could never happen.
His Mum suggests he come back home for a little while, and at first Harry is completely against the idea because how could it help to leave Louis, now? To willingly separate themselves when they're already being pulled further and further from each other as it is? But his Mum says it's probably what they need, that the stress of it all is getting to them and they're taking it out on each other and maybe they need a few days to cool off. Harry relents eventually. Part of him wants it, anyway, a guilty part-Louis is driving him mad and just because he deserves it doesn't mean it's pleasant. And he's worried for his family anyway, knows they're still getting hassled and maybe that won't exactly ease off if he goes up to Holmes Chapel and joins them but at least he can help them fight back.
Louis utterly freaks out when Harry tells him the plan. Harry has been supporting the two of them for days now, Louis barely leaving the house anymore. Harry always does all the housework anyway but now he's doing all the errands as well and he does worry that things will completely fall apart without him. At first Louis is angry but it quickly slips into pure panic, and he nestles his face in Harry's shoulder and mutters "Don't leave me," in a voice so desperate that it makes Harry feels sick with guilt.
"Just for a few days," he promises, voice rough as he strokes Louis gently, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I think we need it. Your Mum can come stay, right, 'til I come back? Call her and see if she will? Or you could have the others round every night or go round to theirs so you're not alone."
The suggestions seem to calm Louis down a little, though Harry knows that what Louis really needs is him and it won't be quite the same, won't be good enough. Harry's the only one Louis really believes when he says that things are going to get better, the only one who can soothe him with sex when he's panicking, the only one who can hold him close under the covers until everything stops spinning.
But it's a struggle even for Harry these days.
Jay can only get away from work for a couple of days and Harry is planning to be gone for five, but Louis has quickly turned around on his initial alarm at the idea of being left alone and now assures Harry he'll be fine, and-god, Harry can't stand it, can't stand not knowing what's going on in Louis's head. He's always had at least some idea and lately he just feels like he's floundering, like he can't even begin to predict Louis's reaction to anything. He accepts this, though, glad to think that Louis is at least willing to try and cope-or pretending to himself that he is, which is still something.
But on the day that Harry's planning to leave Louis's mood swings once again and he won't leave Harry alone while he's packing, making stupid snide comments and riling Harry up until he can't fucking take it anymore. He tries so hard just to keep his mouth shut when Louis does this, not to rise to it because he really doesn't want them to fight, but sometimes he can't help it. He doesn't have a proper outlet for his emotions because he's supposed to be the strong one, everyone's fussing over Louis and Harry's not allowed to break down as well because one of them needs to cope. He's had late-night Skype chats with Gemma and calls to his Mum and stepdad that have lasted hours and he's cried at least twice on Zayn and Niall by now, but it's not fair that Louis is allowed to be a mess around him and Harry has to stay stoic and calm.
"You could at least just say how you actually feel," he snaps at Louis as he tugs his suitcase down the stairs, following him into the living room, "if you're mad at me just fucking say why."
Because Louis always seems to do that, starts in at Harry about something completely insignificant just because it's easier for him to pretend that's what's bothering him, so he doesn't have to admit the real reason.
"You know why!" Louis shouts back at him, throwing himself onto the sofa and crossing his arms like a petulant child. And yeah, that's the thing, Harry does know, and Louis's let up his guard a few times now and said what he really thinks, which is why it's so fucking stupid that he still seems to think he's clinging onto some kind of cover. Like Harry doesn't know how upset he really is. It's delusional and it makes Harry feel like Louis doesn't trust him.
"So stop hiding behind excuses!" Harry cries, and he can feel the anger boiling up in his blood just looking at Louis sitting there acting like he's done nothing wrong, like he's some victim of Harry's deliberate cruelty. He keeps going before he can stop himself. "Just stop hiding full stop-hiding how you feel, hiding from the world, hiding in the fucking closet-"
He knows he's gone too far as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Louis's head jerks up and his mouth opens, like he can't believe Harry would even say that, and for a moment Harry sees it, sees how much he's hurt him; the pain is all over his face like he's been slapped and Harry feels awful, but in a split-second Louis gathers himself, builds his walls back up.
"That's rich coming from the person who dragged me out," he snaps. "Not everyone wants to go around flaunting it, do they? Maybe I want to keep it private instead of shoving it in people's faces all the time with t-shirts and fucking bumper stickers. You're not some kind of saint, Harry, just because you've given a few little lesbians a cuddle and told some reporters you support gay marriage. Jesus."
Harry clenches his fists. He knows that's not how Louis really feels and it's so frustrating, the way he keeps dodging the real issue. "You can pretend it's not jealousy if you want, but I know you wish you could go out there and face everyone the way I do every day."
Louis sneers at him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Shut up, alright?" Harry bursts out, the fury really rising in him now. "Don't act like it's so easy, you don't even do it! I'm the one who's having to put up with it all the time, for both of us, and you get to stay here and avoid it all just because you're scared. Do you think I'm not scared, Lou?" His voice cracks, softens. "I'm scared as shit but I know it's not going to get any better if I just hide under my duvet all day."
Louis's face goes hard; it looks like a conscious effort to avoid letting Harry see that he's upset. "It's funny how you think you've got the right to criticise how I'm dealing with this when I wouldn't have to deal with it at all if you hadn't outed us in the first place." He says it almost airily, like he's trying to sound offhand.
"There we go," Harry sighs. He's glad they've finally got there; now maybe they can talk this out instead of just carrying on with the avoidance. Louis's admitted it before, of course, but it's always been in a sudden explosion of emotion and then he's panicked at the idea of actually going into it, and stormed out before Harry could get any further. Harry goes over to the sofa, slides in to perch on the coffee table, and speaks softly. "I've said I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do. I can't take it back."
"I know that," Louis scoffs. "That's why it's pointless trying to talk about it. It's not gonna change anything."
Harry had gone calm, but at Louis's words he feels the anger trickling back in. "Then you've got to stop punishing me for it," he says tightly. "That's not gonna change anything either."
"No, but you fucking deserve it," Louis mutters, kicking at the coffee table, his arms still tightly folded. He's not looking at Harry at all.
"I made a mistake!" Harry shouts. "I'm not saying you have to forgive me completely but I can't live with you like this, you're making me crazy." He doesn't even mean it to come out so harsh, but it does.
"It's not easy for me either," Louis bites out. "Having to be around you all the time when you're the one who's caused all this."
"It's a good thing I'm going, then, isn't it?" He'd almost forgotten, but it all comes back to him now, that he's going to be leaving, gone for five whole days. He has to get going pretty much now actually, but he can't just walk out on Louis when they're still fighting. He leans forward, putting a tentative hand on Louis's knee, but Louis jerks, shaking him off. "Lou," he says gently, "I'm not trying to attack you, I just-I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me."
"If me being a bit difficult is your biggest problem, you're lucky," Louis says bitterly. "Try and imagine how I feel for once."
Harry is speechless for a moment, so stunned by how little they're understanding each other, and it provokes his temper again, he can't help it. Louis just doesn't fucking see how much Harry's doing for him.
"That's all I do these days," he almost snarls. "You don't even get how hard I'm trying."
Louis sets his jaw, looks up at Harry defiantly. "You wanted this to happen, so fucking deal with it."
They go round in circles, each of them getting more and more aggravated as the fight goes on. It's probably one of the worst they've ever had, because they're not holding back, because Harry physically can't anymore. Everything he's been trying to keep locked inside, all the rage, just explodes up out of him and it comes out brutal. Louis is even worse and neither of them can rein it in, not until they're both hoarse and exhausted and their faces are wet with tears. And that's when Harry realises how late he is, that his Mum is going to worry if he doesn't set off right now.
"I don't want to leave it like this," he says brokenly, trying to pull Louis towards him even though a part of him is still seething, wanting to shove him away instead.
Louis shrugs him off, turns his back on him, heading upstairs without looking back. "No, whatever," he says, and it hurts how well he can do that, make his voice sound like he doesn't give a shit, so easily when Harry feels like his feelings are written all over him, obvious in everything, in the way he talks and moves and the look on his face. "Just go, I don't care."
"I know you do," Harry says weakly, but he feels like he's assuring himself more than anything, and he doesn't follow Louis up, just stands there and watches until Louis is out of view.
And then he wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, gets his suitcase and his keys, and leaves.
***
It's awful without Harry. His Mum makes it a little better, helping out around the flat and looking after him, but it's just not the same. Harry's absence is like a constant ache and Louis keeps thinking about all the things he said, and the worst thing is that he knows he meant all of them. When they were screaming at each other he really wanted Harry to leave, but now that he's gone Louis can't stand it.
His Mum keeps telling him he just needs to stick it out, that when Harry comes back they'll kiss and make up and everything will be fine. They just need a bit of time apart, she assures him. She tries to get him to go out for dinner with her on her last night there but he won't; he can just imagine them getting hounded in the restaurant and it's bad enough that he and Harry have to put up with that, he won't inflict it on her too.
After she leaves, the flat seems even more empty, and he knows he should probably pop round to one of the others' for some company but he just wants to mope instead, sit around and wallow in his own gloom. There are leftovers in the fridge, meals Harry made for them before he went away, but looking at them just reminds Louis of him and so he decides to live off Pot Noodles and cereal instead.
On his last night alone, Liam shows up at the door.
"You need to go out, Lou," he says.
"Not really," Louis shrugs. "Harry always shops like he's preparing for the apocalypse; we've got tons of food. I could probably survive for a good few months like this."
He tries a grin, but Liam just looks at him with sad, sympathetic eyes.
It's complicated with Liam. He's the one Louis's stayed in touch with the least, the one whose calls he's ignored the most. It's not fair and he knows it, because Liam isn't really to blame. Liam didn't go out and sell the photo to the papers, he just took it because his best friends were in love and seeing them kiss made him happy. And the thing is, Louis's the one who persuaded him to keep it in the first place. Liam's had his email account hacked before so he was wary, but Louis really couldn't bear the thought of the photo being deleted and lost forever. It's so rare for him and Harry to have any real mementos of their relationship. Their Mums have some photos taken with a film camera, the two of them snuggling at various family gatherings, but it's always seemed so risky to have anything more, anything digital. And Liam's the sensible one, and so Louis thought it would be okay and made him keep it. He used to sneak Liam's phone out of his pocket sometimes when he wasn't paying attention, just to look at the picture, to see the way he and Harry look in private, so happy with each other, not having to hold anything back. It was the worst feeling in the world to see that picture on Jonathan's computer and to realise it was being viewed on millions of screens around the world. It was so intimate, so fucking special to him, and now it's tainted.
And maybe that's the worst part, the fact that he knows he ought to be blaming himself just as much as he blames Liam. He knows, if he's really honest with himself, that Liam probably would have deleted it in a moment if Louis hadn't encouraged him not to. But it's easier to blame someone else, someone who's not just a nameless faceless hacker, and there's something that just keeps nagging at him with Liam, like it does with Harry, that feeling of you caused this that he can't shake. And when Liam looks at him with that worried, guilty face it makes him almost angry, because a part of him is glad that Liam's suffering but another part (a much bigger part) can't stand it, can't stand that they all have to be hurting and mad at each other because of something that somebody else started.
"I'm going to take you clubbing," says Liam, kind of decisively, though there's a slight note of questioning in his voice like he's not sure if it's okay to take charge like this. Louis knows that's his way of dealing with things, though; it's like taking their phones and laptops away, taking control of the situation in any way he can that will make him feel better.
"You hate clubbing," is Louis's response.
"Yeah, but you like it, so we're going," Liam says. "Get your jacket on. Oh, and I guess some proper trousers would be a good idea."
"What you trying to say?" Louis retorts, still trying to go for the jovial approach. "Height of fashion, these."
Louis is wearing pyjama bottoms and has been for about three days now. He was sitting in front of the TV watching reruns of Mock The Week when Liam showed up, and though a part of him wants to go right back to the warm comfort of the sofa, he is starting to go a little stir crazy and he misses going out, misses the fun of it, the loud music and the noise and the lights.
"Come on, let's get going," Liam says encouragingly, coming inside and guiding Louis towards the bedroom to change.
Louis stops. "There are gonna be people, Li," he says in a small voice, because he can't pretend-he can't just forget about it and act like he's not scared, as much as he wants to.
Liam rubs his back. "I know," he says, "but we can go someplace weird where people won't expect to see you."
Louis laughs at that, but he is starting to come around to the idea. Maybe it won't be so bad if he's with Liam because people will be expecting him to be with Harry and might be less likely to notice them. He feels a stab in his gut at the thought of going out without Harry, though, not having him by his side to stand up to all the jeers and taunts. But he feels Liam's strong hand between his shoulder blades, soothing and sure, and he thinks about how sick he is of hiding away, and-he knows he can't hide forever.
They go to some bar Louis's never heard of, and it takes an impressively long time for anyone to catch on that they're there. It's a slightly older crowd, mostly people who don't recognise them or don't even know who they are, and Louis relaxes into the scene after a few drinks and persuades a still-sober Liam to come dance with him. He actually starts having fun; it feels kind of like old times, back before they got so popular and they could go for a night out sometimes without being noticed. And it feels especially good after everything that's happened in the past few weeks-it's a relief to just relax, to be in a crowd of people who aren't yelling at him and insulting him and telling him he's broken their hearts. He thinks of Harry and he thinks he'll be proud of him, pleased he's been brave and gotten out of the house, and he decides to phone him when they get home. He'll apologise, explain why he's been so off with him lately, and they can properly talk it all through and make up, and maybe those feelings of resentment will fade.
A song Louis loves comes on and he takes Liam by the hands, trying to get him to dance a little more enthusiastically, and Liam splutters with laughter. He looks so thrilled that Louis is having a good time, and Louis thinks of the calls he ignored and feels awful, because he knows Liam has just been trying to help all this time, trying to do whatever he can to make Louis feel better. And Louis does feel better.
And then someone bumps into him, violently, on the dance floor, elbow jabbing into Louis's stomach. It's not an accident, not really.
"You're one of them gay ones out of that boyband, aren't you?" says the guy. He's obviously drunk, and he looks big and strong and Louis is actually a little scared. He can't help it, he instantly imagines newspaper headlines about homophobic attacks and photos of himself lying beat-up in an alleyway, and he freezes.
But then Liam shouts "What?!" at the guy, cracking up and acting bewildered. "Who?"
The guy's too drunk to persist, luckily, and he just shrugs and then gets dragged away into the crowd again. Louis flashes Liam a grateful smile but-the spell is broken now. Reality has come crashing back down over him. Everybody fucking knows, even middle-aged men who can't remember the name of the band, they still know, and it makes Louis feel sick with nerves again and he feels like he'll never get used to that, the fact that it's not a secret anymore.
"Hey," says Liam, hand on Louis's waist as he leans in, and Louis both loves and hates that he's still willing to touch him like this even in public, even after that-it warms his heart but he can't help but feel like it's a bad idea; it's not exactly going to help anything. "Hey, do you wanna go somewhere else?"
"Home," says Louis, before he even really thinks it through. He just wants to go home again, where it's safe, and he wants Harry to be there waiting for him so he can read out positive Tweets to him or tell him again about the teenage gay couple that stopped him in Tesco the other day to say what a difference they've made. He wants Harry to curl around him and protect him and kiss him and tell him it's going to be okay, over and over and over until he finally believes it.
Liam doesn't argue, can tell from the look in Louis's eyes that there isn't any point. "I'll call a car," he says, already fishing out his phone.
As they make their way towards the door, Louis can feel eyes on him and he can't even tell anymore if he's just being paranoid but he swears people are staring at them now, whispering-he sees one woman hold up her mobile, snap a photo. They hurry out the door and instantly Louis is almost blinded by camera flashes-paparazzi are lined up, waiting. Someone must have spotted them and not approached them, just Tweeted about it and let the news spread. Louis's heart leaps into his throat. He feels sick, so sick of this, he just wants to be left alone. But it's not rage, it's more like defeated acceptance now, and so he just drops his head and tries to force his way through the cluster of photographers with Liam in tow.
"Hey, where's your boyfriend?" calls a voice, a little louder than the others and familiar-Louis looks up and spots the speaker, a paparazzo he's seen before, at least three times now and always more obnoxious than the rest. He looks back down, ignoring him, but the guy persists. "Had a bit of a tiff, eh? Whatsa matter? Not pleasing him in the bedroom?" Louis rolls his eyes and forces his way through; they're almost up to him now. "Hey, which one of you is the bottom and which is the top, anyway? Something tells me you seem like the kinda bloke to just lie back and take it-"
"Hey," says Liam, "leave him alone."
His voice is too gentle to really have any effect and Louis turns to see that he's actually smiling a little, attempting friendliness even when this arsehole's done nothing at all to deserve it. For a second Louis finds himself wishing he was with Harry instead of Liam; Harry, who'd get right up in this prick's face and tell him in no uncertain terms not to speak to Louis that way. He's never really mean about it, just about eight billion times more sure of himself than Liam sounds right now.
"Li," Louis mutters, reaching for Liam's arm to tug him along past this idiot. Liam reaches up to take his hand instead and another series of flashes go off.
"Oh-ho," calls the paparazzo, grinning, "making your way through the rest of the band now, eh? Boyfriend won't be happy to see these, find out you're cheating on him. Once a cheater, always a cheater, though, that's what they say-"
It happens in a flash-Louis feels Liam let go and then suddenly there's commotion; he doesn't see it happen, by the time he turns around the paparazzo is already doubled over, camera swinging loose around his neck and his hands cradling his face. Liam is hissing, rubbing at his fist, and-
"Did you just deck him?" Louis blurts, incredulous, looking from Liam to the crumpled paparazzo and back again.
"Uh-yeah," says Liam sheepishly. The other photographers are snapping away, making sure they've got decent coverage of this development, but at least they've shut up now, stunned into silence. Louis quickly takes Liam's non-punching hand and pulls him along, off down the street and around the corner while the paparazzi are still distracted.
"We probably should've brought security," says Liam in a small voice, still nursing his fist, as they come to rest against a wall and wait for the car to pick them up.
Louis shakes his head in amazement. "Who needs security when you've got Liam Payne?" he says, and faux-swoons. "My hero!"
"Shut up," says Liam gruffly, but he's grinning and Louis sees that he's blushing a little too. "I've never punched anyone before, have you? I didn't realise it would hurt so much."
"You wimp."
"Hey, I just defended your honour back there! I think I even made the guy's nose bleed." Liam goes rapidly from bragging to regret, then, biting his lip and adding, "I hope he's okay."
Louis cracks up, shaking his head. "He was a wanker, Liam. Don't feel bad about it."
Liam still looks a little conflicted, but Louis pulls him into a grateful hug, nuzzling into his chest, and he feels Liam relax against him, strong arms enveloping Louis's body.
"Thanks," he says into Liam's shirt.
"Mmhm," is Liam's meek response.
They cuddle for a bit, and then joke around, Louis winding Liam up by suggesting that the paparazzo might be gravely injured and have to go to hospital. But then Liam starts wondering aloud about how this'll be presented in the press, says maybe they should call one of their publicists and see if they can stop the story getting out. Louis informs him that he could probably punch an old lady and get away with it, and Liam snorts with laughter and then goes sombre, says perhaps it'll be good for people to see just how much the boys are being affected by everyone's negativity, show them that it's not okay and they won't stand for it. And then Louis goes quiet too, and on the journey home he starts to come down from the high of it, the exhilaration of seeing Liam do something so bizarre and wonderful. It was wonderful, and already Louis can feel that resentment slipping away and forgiveness creeping in, the whole incident with the photo fading into the past, but-
There's something about it that makes him feel somehow useless, pathetic, and it's only once he and Liam have hugged goodbye and gone into their separate flats that he really reflects on it and realises why it's bothering him. He should've been the one to punch that wanker in the face. He should have done it for himself, because he was the one being taunted and insulted, not Liam. It's not Liam's job to fight Louis's battles for him, and, he realises now, it's not Harry's either. Louis should be standing up for himself, especially in a situation like this, where it feels like he's had no say in anything that's happened so far. Forced out of the closet by circumstances beyond their control (and Harry, a bitter little part of his brain reminds him) and shoehorned into a story by management, and now he can't even fight back against one guy saying some dickish things; someone else even does that for him.
He can't control any of this, it feels like. It's out of his hands and that's terrifying.
He thinks about Harry, but the idea of calling him seems silly now-Harry probably doesn't want to hear from him. He hasn't tried to get in touch with Louis either, after all. He's probably sick of having to deal with all of this, having to look after Louis as well as himself throughout all this mess, and getting a panicked phone call from Louis at nearly 2am is probably the last thing he wants.
Louis puts his pyjama bottoms back on and goes to bed.
He's woken up by his phone ringing only a few hours later and he startles, sitting bolt upright, brought out of an alcohol-induced heavy sleep. There's something about early morning calls that causes him anxiety now. It's like every time he's woken up by the phone he expects another catastrophe, and as he reaches out for his mobile he tells himself, it's okay, it's okay, it can't exactly get worse.
He's got a few missed calls, he realises then, all from management, and he realises he must not've heard his phone ringing while he was out. His mouth goes dry and his heart starts in on that nervous hammering and he wonders what it could be, what's gone wrong now-and then he remembers Liam punching the paparazzo last night and he relaxes a little. Maybe it's just that.
"Hello?"
"Louis, Jesus Christ, answer your phone," snaps a clipped voice back at him. It's Clive from public relations. Louis doesn't like Clive. He suspects that Clive is homophobic. He always regards Harry and Louis with a faint air of disgust, and never even bothers to try and sound sympathetic when he's barking orders about how they really need to stop sitting beside each other in interviews if they can't keep their hands to themselves.
"He was standing up for me," Louis says groggily.
"What?"
"Liam," Louis clarifies, "when he punched the guy."
There's a pause, and then Clive just completely bypasses the topic. "Have you been in touch with Eleanor? Checked Twitter?"
"No?" says Louis, puzzled, and his stomach twists with the realisation that if this isn't about Liam then he has no idea what it is about.
"She's announced that she was a beard," Clive tells him. "Tweeted it last night. Must've lost her patience, s'pose the girl's been under a lot of scrutiny, but even so, terribly irresponsible. She deleted the Tweets at our request but of course they still got out there."
It's 5am and Louis is still bleary with last night's drinking and lack of sleep, but the words feel like a stab in the gut. "She-what?" he sputters.
"Do you understand what this means?" Clive says condescendingly.
"No, please enlighten me," Louis snaps, losing his patience.
"The fans aren't idiots, as much as they may seem like it sometimes," Clive says. "They've figured out that this means you and Harry must have been an item for at least as long as Eleanor's been on the scene. And they're not particularly happy to find out they've been lied to."
Louis feels sick.
"Anyway," Clive goes on with a sort of long-suffering sigh, like all of this is just such an inconvenience to him, "there's not a lot we can do at this point, can't exactly backtrack on it, so we're working on a statement now to give the press, the gossip blogs, that sort of thing. We're hoping to make it quick and quiet-a brief little apology and we might be able to prevent all this from blowing up."
"But-just a statement? We're not going to do another interview?" Louis doesn't even know which would be better; at least if it's in management's hands entirely then he doesn't have to figure out how to deal with it, but if they're going to tell the whole truth finally he'd kind of like to do it on his own terms.
"We can't afford to wait around, Louis," says Clive sternly. "We need to try and recover from this as quickly as possible before it spreads further. You don't need to worry, we're going to make ourselves look like the bad guys, paint you in a really good light-innocent party in the whole thing, forced into lying to your devoted adoring fans, yada yada yada. You'll win them all back in five minutes."
"But-" says Louis.
"I don't have time to argue," Clive cuts him off sharply. "It's a busy morning."
Then he hangs up.
And-Louis doesn't even think about it, not for more than a couple of seconds at least. He climbs out of bed. He throws on some clothes. He gets a backpack out of the closet and stuffs some more clothes in it. He storms through to the bathroom to get his toothbrush, and then he leaves the flat, and just gets on a train.
3/3
( 1/3) ( 3/3)
Louis stays in for the most part after that. Every time he leaves the house he gets swarmed by paparazzi and fans and people he doesn't even want to call fans anymore because the things they say are so cruel that they leave him speechless. He only ever goes out with Harry, feeling safer that way, but it's a double-edged sword and he can't help wondering if he'd attract less attention if he went alone. The worst part is that he doesn't think he's forgiven Harry yet. Sometimes he thinks he has, and then there's another shouted slur or a shove from a stranger in the supermarket, and he can't help but think that if Harry had kept his mouth shut they wouldn't be here. They wouldn't have to deal with this.
But he needs him. He clings to him, because Harry is handling it so well. He knows when to ignore the comments, when it's obviously just delusional young girls who thought they were going to marry one of the boys one day, and when it's something more harmful and dangerous, something Harry need to speak up against. And it's confusing, because Louis is so grateful and so in awe of him, and yet at the same time there's this bitter resentment simmering under the surface that he can't ignore. Harry will hold his hand even if there are cameras surrounding them, and Louis hates it and loves it at the same time-it makes him feel so exposed, but safer too.
Things get a little better with the magazine's release because at least now people have some answers to their questions, but it seems to make people think they're entitled to even more information now, like everything concerning the boys' relationship is up for grabs. And then there are the fans who can tell it's mostly bullshit, the fans who pick holes in the story and demand to know the real truth. Louis stays inside more and more and Harry braves the public on his own, going out and doing their shopping and errands and handling it all so well. It rattles him, of course, and he looks worn-out when he gets back home and often goes quiet, sloping off to be alone-but he can cope with it, and that's the important thing. That's what Louis can't do.
Of course it's not all bad, but even the good stuff is stressful sometimes. There's so much pressure, suddenly, from the LGBT side of things; they want Harry and Louis to be representatives and now it seems like everywhere they go they're being asked for their opinions on political matters. Harry embraces it, wearing his 'Love is Equal' t-shirt far more often now, showing his pride. Officially, they've both come out as bisexual-the true details of Harry's sexuality were deemed "too complicated" by management, and of course Louis can't be gay when they need the public to believe that his relationship with Eleanor was real. And in a way that's okay, because Louis doesn't think he's ready to come out fully yet, doesn't know if he could handle the fan reaction-it seems bad enough already. But he doesn't feel comfortable in the LGBT community if he's still technically lying, still feeding into society's homophobia, and so he has to distance himself from it, and that makes people angry. It seems like no matter what they do, they're upsetting someone.
As time passes, they receive more positive comments. It still doesn't come close to reaching the same volume as the outrage, but it seems like the supportive people are quieter, understanding, and maybe a little bit scared themselves. They approach Harry, mostly-they seem unsure of Louis still, because he's been so tight-lipped about the issue-and every now and then Harry will come home from somewhere a little emotional, and he'll tell Louis about a gay teen who stopped him in the street and thanked him. They still check Twitter, too, and though the majority of their messages are still truly horrible they're getting better at ignoring those, and there will be some gems of support, the occasional trending topic reminding them to stay strong. Larry Fans Have Your Back trends for several hours the day their Hello! issue comes out, and Harry actually cries as the two of them scroll through the related Tweets.
But then, #cheatersarecowards trends too. Louis tries to ignore it-it doesn't even apply to him in reality-but knowing that so many people are judging them for something they haven't even done is so frustrating. Management says it's necessary, that they just can't risk exposing how much fakery goes on in this industry, but it seems unfair that it has to be at Louis's expense, and Harry's-people attack him too, for starting something with Louis in full knowledge that he was still with Eleanor. Harry says it just shows how dumb management is, if they really thought it was a good idea to add even more reason for the fans to turn against the boys. He tries to keep them both strong by telling Louis that one day, even if it's in ten years when they're no longer relevant, they'll get to tell the whole truth. (And Louis wonders how he can say ten years with such certainty, when Louis feels like everything they've worked so hard for is about to fall apart in a single month.)
It's just that none of this is predictable, it's so overwhelming and it's like a rollercoaster-every time Louis is feeling a little better, something comes along to tear him down again, and it can be the slightest thing, just one nasty comment he stumbles across on a Sugarscape article, or something bigger, like hearing that one of his sisters is getting bullied at school now because everyone knows her brother's dating a boy. That's what hurts the most, he thinks, the way that all of this extends so much further than it ever has, that their families and friends and even vague acquaintances are having to deal with the cruelty and viciousness of the public. Reporters keep trying to get exclusive interviews from their parents, and fans hover around outside their homes, shouting, taking out their anger and disappointment on the boys' families.
Eleanor is facing troubles too, always being stopped in the street and asked if she ever suspected Louis was cheating on her, getting barrages of Tweets telling her she should have known and that she was an idiot not to see it. The fans aren't so cruel to her but they're mocking and it seems just as bad, and she's so frustrated by it, calling Louis a few times to rant to him about how much it sucks that they can't just tell the truth.
"Just, whatever you do, don't do one of them shitty tell-all interviews in a gossip rag," jokes Louis, trying to cheer her up. "I Didn't Know My Boyfriend Was Gay, or something like that."
"Oh please," says Eleanor. She laughs, but she sounds stressed and tired, and Louis hates how much this is affecting everyone; it makes him feel so guilty even though he knows deep down they haven't done anything wrong. (He knows it, but he has to keep saying it to himself anyway, repeating it over and over in his head.)
***
Management want the two of them to make more public appearances, don't want to give the impression that they're hiding away or that the band is going to be less active now. It's convenient, perhaps, that all of this has happened during a quiet period, a bit of downtime-but Harry wonders if it might've been nice to have the distraction of touring at the same time, and a more immediate way of judging the fan reaction. The MSG concert isn't for a while, still, and they've got a signing set up a few days before it but it all seems so far away to Harry.
They attend a movie premiere together, their first official outing as a couple, and it feels strange to go without the others. It's almost like the band has been split in two, now, it's "the couple" and "the other three" and Harry doesn't like it; the five of them are a unit, always have been and always should be, even if the media's focus wants to separate them neatly. The others are pretty much getting sidelined by management, actually, not allowed to mention the boys' relationship at all. None of them really understand it-they get hassled in the street and online just as much as anyone else who has the slightest connection to Harry and Louis, and it seems like it might be better if they were allowed to speak up about it but they're not.
At the premiere, Harry and Louis do a couple of red carpet interviews and Louis is sarcastic and self-deprecating to an almost uncomfortable degree. They pose for photos, and Louis is tense, shrugging away from Harry's arm around him-and it's not even any different from how they've been photographed before, and paparazzi have amassed several pictures of them holding hands by now, but there's something about the statement of it, the reality, the knowledge that now every slightest touch means something. Now everyone sees it what it truly is, when before they could hide behind the guise of intense friendship and simple tactility. Harry accidentally comes across some of the photos online later, and people have noticed how awkward they look together, already speculating that perhaps they're going to break up.
A couple of days later there's a phone interview with Nick Grimshaw and that goes a lot better-it's so lovely to have Nick speaking out in support of them on Radio One, telling them how brave they are and how he's really rooting for them. Nick has known about their relationship for a long time, and even though he's not allowed to admit that on air, Louis is much more relaxed speaking to an old friend, someone he doesn't fear is judging him.
But Louis still can't cope with it all, not really. He's wildly unpredictable lately-even more so than usual-and Harry has to walk on eggshells because he doesn't know how to judge Louis's moods. It's never been easy anyway, because Louis is an enigma even at the best of times, but this has sent him into some sort of breakdown and he will veer wildly from one emotion to the next. In the public eye he still feels so exposed and Harry can't stand it, the way he'll freeze up in front of the paparazzi and sometimes the reporters too. He's never like that, usually. He's always been able to mock people for their stupid or nosy questions, barely giving it a second thought, putting up his defences in an instinctive split-second. But this-this is different. Every time it's mentioned by a stranger it's like they're stripping Louis bare, leaving him with nothing to hide behind. Of course Harry wants him to open up, but not like this, not when he's being forced to, not when strangers are doing it for him, peeling back his layers and prying.
And sometimes Louis will spend hours on end just moping, wandering listlessly around the flat, barely eating and unable to really concentrate on anything. He'll cling to Harry, needy, telling him not to go out. He'll just want comfort at those times, want to curl up together in bed or on the sofa, have Harry pet and stroke at him soothingly and hold him close and not talk unless it's to tell him everything's going to be okay. But it can all turn around in mere minutes and he'll snap, push Harry away, shout at him about how it's all his fucking fault in the first place. Then he'll storm out, go to Zayn's for a bit until he calms down (and he'll invariably not mention any of it again when he comes back, sidling back in all false smiles like everything's fine). Sometimes he'll just needle Harry, making little hurtful remarks all day long until Harry's the one who loses it, demanding to know what his problem is.
"What do you fucking think?" Louis will scream back, raw emotion bursting out of him, and Harry can't stand it, can't stand knowing that he's caused this, that no matter which way he tries to look at it, Louis's hurt is because of him. He tells himself sometimes that this would have happened sooner or later but he knows, knows it's worse that he did it the way he did, without Louis's permission. He knows it feels like a betrayal and he knows that Louis's trying to forgive him but that a part of him can't let go, because none of this is over, because every time someone calls them fags or Tweets at them about how let down they feel, it's like opening the wound up all over again. It can't heal, not like this.
It's getting to them. Harry knew it would. He's tried so hard to be the strong one, to take all of this in his stride, and for the most part he manages it, because he's been ready for this for a long time and there's no nagging fear or worry in the back of his mind that they might have done something wrong after all. No, he loves Louis and sometimes he's so proud of it that a part of him wants to talk about it all day long, wants to answer all those intrusive questions that get shouted at him on the street. Because sometimes it doesn't even matter to him that no one has the right to know-Harry's had to keep his mouth shut for so fucking long that he just wants to say it, say everything finally, tell that stranger about the first time Louis kissed him, tell that interviewer about the first time they had sex, tell that paparazzo about the way Louis still can't stop his face from lighting up whenever Harry says I love you.
And it's so hard to put up with it, to carry all of this on his back-to have to shut up and lie when they've finally been given a taste of what it could be like if they were truly honest instead, and to keep fighting against the idiots that act like he's the worst person on earth for loving who he does, and to try and be so strong for everybody. He has to try to sense out Louis's moods and it seems to be getting harder and harder; there's no pattern where there used to be. He no longer knows when he's supposed to give Louis space, if he should respond to the yelling with silence or with kisses, or whether Louis will welcome Harry's hand down the front of his sweatpants or slap it away.
He tries so hard to do the absolute best that he can, to give Louis whatever he seems to need, but it's just getting so difficult to tell these days and Louis won't talk to him about it. Whenever Harry tries to get him to, he clams up even more like Harry is one of those prying strangers, and it's like a physical ache in Harry's chest because he feels like they're being torn apart by this and that's the one thing he thought would never happen, could never happen.
His Mum suggests he come back home for a little while, and at first Harry is completely against the idea because how could it help to leave Louis, now? To willingly separate themselves when they're already being pulled further and further from each other as it is? But his Mum says it's probably what they need, that the stress of it all is getting to them and they're taking it out on each other and maybe they need a few days to cool off. Harry relents eventually. Part of him wants it, anyway, a guilty part-Louis is driving him mad and just because he deserves it doesn't mean it's pleasant. And he's worried for his family anyway, knows they're still getting hassled and maybe that won't exactly ease off if he goes up to Holmes Chapel and joins them but at least he can help them fight back.
Louis utterly freaks out when Harry tells him the plan. Harry has been supporting the two of them for days now, Louis barely leaving the house anymore. Harry always does all the housework anyway but now he's doing all the errands as well and he does worry that things will completely fall apart without him. At first Louis is angry but it quickly slips into pure panic, and he nestles his face in Harry's shoulder and mutters "Don't leave me," in a voice so desperate that it makes Harry feels sick with guilt.
"Just for a few days," he promises, voice rough as he strokes Louis gently, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I think we need it. Your Mum can come stay, right, 'til I come back? Call her and see if she will? Or you could have the others round every night or go round to theirs so you're not alone."
The suggestions seem to calm Louis down a little, though Harry knows that what Louis really needs is him and it won't be quite the same, won't be good enough. Harry's the only one Louis really believes when he says that things are going to get better, the only one who can soothe him with sex when he's panicking, the only one who can hold him close under the covers until everything stops spinning.
But it's a struggle even for Harry these days.
Jay can only get away from work for a couple of days and Harry is planning to be gone for five, but Louis has quickly turned around on his initial alarm at the idea of being left alone and now assures Harry he'll be fine, and-god, Harry can't stand it, can't stand not knowing what's going on in Louis's head. He's always had at least some idea and lately he just feels like he's floundering, like he can't even begin to predict Louis's reaction to anything. He accepts this, though, glad to think that Louis is at least willing to try and cope-or pretending to himself that he is, which is still something.
But on the day that Harry's planning to leave Louis's mood swings once again and he won't leave Harry alone while he's packing, making stupid snide comments and riling Harry up until he can't fucking take it anymore. He tries so hard just to keep his mouth shut when Louis does this, not to rise to it because he really doesn't want them to fight, but sometimes he can't help it. He doesn't have a proper outlet for his emotions because he's supposed to be the strong one, everyone's fussing over Louis and Harry's not allowed to break down as well because one of them needs to cope. He's had late-night Skype chats with Gemma and calls to his Mum and stepdad that have lasted hours and he's cried at least twice on Zayn and Niall by now, but it's not fair that Louis is allowed to be a mess around him and Harry has to stay stoic and calm.
"You could at least just say how you actually feel," he snaps at Louis as he tugs his suitcase down the stairs, following him into the living room, "if you're mad at me just fucking say why."
Because Louis always seems to do that, starts in at Harry about something completely insignificant just because it's easier for him to pretend that's what's bothering him, so he doesn't have to admit the real reason.
"You know why!" Louis shouts back at him, throwing himself onto the sofa and crossing his arms like a petulant child. And yeah, that's the thing, Harry does know, and Louis's let up his guard a few times now and said what he really thinks, which is why it's so fucking stupid that he still seems to think he's clinging onto some kind of cover. Like Harry doesn't know how upset he really is. It's delusional and it makes Harry feel like Louis doesn't trust him.
"So stop hiding behind excuses!" Harry cries, and he can feel the anger boiling up in his blood just looking at Louis sitting there acting like he's done nothing wrong, like he's some victim of Harry's deliberate cruelty. He keeps going before he can stop himself. "Just stop hiding full stop-hiding how you feel, hiding from the world, hiding in the fucking closet-"
He knows he's gone too far as soon as the words come out of his mouth. Louis's head jerks up and his mouth opens, like he can't believe Harry would even say that, and for a moment Harry sees it, sees how much he's hurt him; the pain is all over his face like he's been slapped and Harry feels awful, but in a split-second Louis gathers himself, builds his walls back up.
"That's rich coming from the person who dragged me out," he snaps. "Not everyone wants to go around flaunting it, do they? Maybe I want to keep it private instead of shoving it in people's faces all the time with t-shirts and fucking bumper stickers. You're not some kind of saint, Harry, just because you've given a few little lesbians a cuddle and told some reporters you support gay marriage. Jesus."
Harry clenches his fists. He knows that's not how Louis really feels and it's so frustrating, the way he keeps dodging the real issue. "You can pretend it's not jealousy if you want, but I know you wish you could go out there and face everyone the way I do every day."
Louis sneers at him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Shut up, alright?" Harry bursts out, the fury really rising in him now. "Don't act like it's so easy, you don't even do it! I'm the one who's having to put up with it all the time, for both of us, and you get to stay here and avoid it all just because you're scared. Do you think I'm not scared, Lou?" His voice cracks, softens. "I'm scared as shit but I know it's not going to get any better if I just hide under my duvet all day."
Louis's face goes hard; it looks like a conscious effort to avoid letting Harry see that he's upset. "It's funny how you think you've got the right to criticise how I'm dealing with this when I wouldn't have to deal with it at all if you hadn't outed us in the first place." He says it almost airily, like he's trying to sound offhand.
"There we go," Harry sighs. He's glad they've finally got there; now maybe they can talk this out instead of just carrying on with the avoidance. Louis's admitted it before, of course, but it's always been in a sudden explosion of emotion and then he's panicked at the idea of actually going into it, and stormed out before Harry could get any further. Harry goes over to the sofa, slides in to perch on the coffee table, and speaks softly. "I've said I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do. I can't take it back."
"I know that," Louis scoffs. "That's why it's pointless trying to talk about it. It's not gonna change anything."
Harry had gone calm, but at Louis's words he feels the anger trickling back in. "Then you've got to stop punishing me for it," he says tightly. "That's not gonna change anything either."
"No, but you fucking deserve it," Louis mutters, kicking at the coffee table, his arms still tightly folded. He's not looking at Harry at all.
"I made a mistake!" Harry shouts. "I'm not saying you have to forgive me completely but I can't live with you like this, you're making me crazy." He doesn't even mean it to come out so harsh, but it does.
"It's not easy for me either," Louis bites out. "Having to be around you all the time when you're the one who's caused all this."
"It's a good thing I'm going, then, isn't it?" He'd almost forgotten, but it all comes back to him now, that he's going to be leaving, gone for five whole days. He has to get going pretty much now actually, but he can't just walk out on Louis when they're still fighting. He leans forward, putting a tentative hand on Louis's knee, but Louis jerks, shaking him off. "Lou," he says gently, "I'm not trying to attack you, I just-I can't do this. I don't know what you want from me."
"If me being a bit difficult is your biggest problem, you're lucky," Louis says bitterly. "Try and imagine how I feel for once."
Harry is speechless for a moment, so stunned by how little they're understanding each other, and it provokes his temper again, he can't help it. Louis just doesn't fucking see how much Harry's doing for him.
"That's all I do these days," he almost snarls. "You don't even get how hard I'm trying."
Louis sets his jaw, looks up at Harry defiantly. "You wanted this to happen, so fucking deal with it."
They go round in circles, each of them getting more and more aggravated as the fight goes on. It's probably one of the worst they've ever had, because they're not holding back, because Harry physically can't anymore. Everything he's been trying to keep locked inside, all the rage, just explodes up out of him and it comes out brutal. Louis is even worse and neither of them can rein it in, not until they're both hoarse and exhausted and their faces are wet with tears. And that's when Harry realises how late he is, that his Mum is going to worry if he doesn't set off right now.
"I don't want to leave it like this," he says brokenly, trying to pull Louis towards him even though a part of him is still seething, wanting to shove him away instead.
Louis shrugs him off, turns his back on him, heading upstairs without looking back. "No, whatever," he says, and it hurts how well he can do that, make his voice sound like he doesn't give a shit, so easily when Harry feels like his feelings are written all over him, obvious in everything, in the way he talks and moves and the look on his face. "Just go, I don't care."
"I know you do," Harry says weakly, but he feels like he's assuring himself more than anything, and he doesn't follow Louis up, just stands there and watches until Louis is out of view.
And then he wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, gets his suitcase and his keys, and leaves.
***
It's awful without Harry. His Mum makes it a little better, helping out around the flat and looking after him, but it's just not the same. Harry's absence is like a constant ache and Louis keeps thinking about all the things he said, and the worst thing is that he knows he meant all of them. When they were screaming at each other he really wanted Harry to leave, but now that he's gone Louis can't stand it.
His Mum keeps telling him he just needs to stick it out, that when Harry comes back they'll kiss and make up and everything will be fine. They just need a bit of time apart, she assures him. She tries to get him to go out for dinner with her on her last night there but he won't; he can just imagine them getting hounded in the restaurant and it's bad enough that he and Harry have to put up with that, he won't inflict it on her too.
After she leaves, the flat seems even more empty, and he knows he should probably pop round to one of the others' for some company but he just wants to mope instead, sit around and wallow in his own gloom. There are leftovers in the fridge, meals Harry made for them before he went away, but looking at them just reminds Louis of him and so he decides to live off Pot Noodles and cereal instead.
On his last night alone, Liam shows up at the door.
"You need to go out, Lou," he says.
"Not really," Louis shrugs. "Harry always shops like he's preparing for the apocalypse; we've got tons of food. I could probably survive for a good few months like this."
He tries a grin, but Liam just looks at him with sad, sympathetic eyes.
It's complicated with Liam. He's the one Louis's stayed in touch with the least, the one whose calls he's ignored the most. It's not fair and he knows it, because Liam isn't really to blame. Liam didn't go out and sell the photo to the papers, he just took it because his best friends were in love and seeing them kiss made him happy. And the thing is, Louis's the one who persuaded him to keep it in the first place. Liam's had his email account hacked before so he was wary, but Louis really couldn't bear the thought of the photo being deleted and lost forever. It's so rare for him and Harry to have any real mementos of their relationship. Their Mums have some photos taken with a film camera, the two of them snuggling at various family gatherings, but it's always seemed so risky to have anything more, anything digital. And Liam's the sensible one, and so Louis thought it would be okay and made him keep it. He used to sneak Liam's phone out of his pocket sometimes when he wasn't paying attention, just to look at the picture, to see the way he and Harry look in private, so happy with each other, not having to hold anything back. It was the worst feeling in the world to see that picture on Jonathan's computer and to realise it was being viewed on millions of screens around the world. It was so intimate, so fucking special to him, and now it's tainted.
And maybe that's the worst part, the fact that he knows he ought to be blaming himself just as much as he blames Liam. He knows, if he's really honest with himself, that Liam probably would have deleted it in a moment if Louis hadn't encouraged him not to. But it's easier to blame someone else, someone who's not just a nameless faceless hacker, and there's something that just keeps nagging at him with Liam, like it does with Harry, that feeling of you caused this that he can't shake. And when Liam looks at him with that worried, guilty face it makes him almost angry, because a part of him is glad that Liam's suffering but another part (a much bigger part) can't stand it, can't stand that they all have to be hurting and mad at each other because of something that somebody else started.
"I'm going to take you clubbing," says Liam, kind of decisively, though there's a slight note of questioning in his voice like he's not sure if it's okay to take charge like this. Louis knows that's his way of dealing with things, though; it's like taking their phones and laptops away, taking control of the situation in any way he can that will make him feel better.
"You hate clubbing," is Louis's response.
"Yeah, but you like it, so we're going," Liam says. "Get your jacket on. Oh, and I guess some proper trousers would be a good idea."
"What you trying to say?" Louis retorts, still trying to go for the jovial approach. "Height of fashion, these."
Louis is wearing pyjama bottoms and has been for about three days now. He was sitting in front of the TV watching reruns of Mock The Week when Liam showed up, and though a part of him wants to go right back to the warm comfort of the sofa, he is starting to go a little stir crazy and he misses going out, misses the fun of it, the loud music and the noise and the lights.
"Come on, let's get going," Liam says encouragingly, coming inside and guiding Louis towards the bedroom to change.
Louis stops. "There are gonna be people, Li," he says in a small voice, because he can't pretend-he can't just forget about it and act like he's not scared, as much as he wants to.
Liam rubs his back. "I know," he says, "but we can go someplace weird where people won't expect to see you."
Louis laughs at that, but he is starting to come around to the idea. Maybe it won't be so bad if he's with Liam because people will be expecting him to be with Harry and might be less likely to notice them. He feels a stab in his gut at the thought of going out without Harry, though, not having him by his side to stand up to all the jeers and taunts. But he feels Liam's strong hand between his shoulder blades, soothing and sure, and he thinks about how sick he is of hiding away, and-he knows he can't hide forever.
They go to some bar Louis's never heard of, and it takes an impressively long time for anyone to catch on that they're there. It's a slightly older crowd, mostly people who don't recognise them or don't even know who they are, and Louis relaxes into the scene after a few drinks and persuades a still-sober Liam to come dance with him. He actually starts having fun; it feels kind of like old times, back before they got so popular and they could go for a night out sometimes without being noticed. And it feels especially good after everything that's happened in the past few weeks-it's a relief to just relax, to be in a crowd of people who aren't yelling at him and insulting him and telling him he's broken their hearts. He thinks of Harry and he thinks he'll be proud of him, pleased he's been brave and gotten out of the house, and he decides to phone him when they get home. He'll apologise, explain why he's been so off with him lately, and they can properly talk it all through and make up, and maybe those feelings of resentment will fade.
A song Louis loves comes on and he takes Liam by the hands, trying to get him to dance a little more enthusiastically, and Liam splutters with laughter. He looks so thrilled that Louis is having a good time, and Louis thinks of the calls he ignored and feels awful, because he knows Liam has just been trying to help all this time, trying to do whatever he can to make Louis feel better. And Louis does feel better.
And then someone bumps into him, violently, on the dance floor, elbow jabbing into Louis's stomach. It's not an accident, not really.
"You're one of them gay ones out of that boyband, aren't you?" says the guy. He's obviously drunk, and he looks big and strong and Louis is actually a little scared. He can't help it, he instantly imagines newspaper headlines about homophobic attacks and photos of himself lying beat-up in an alleyway, and he freezes.
But then Liam shouts "What?!" at the guy, cracking up and acting bewildered. "Who?"
The guy's too drunk to persist, luckily, and he just shrugs and then gets dragged away into the crowd again. Louis flashes Liam a grateful smile but-the spell is broken now. Reality has come crashing back down over him. Everybody fucking knows, even middle-aged men who can't remember the name of the band, they still know, and it makes Louis feel sick with nerves again and he feels like he'll never get used to that, the fact that it's not a secret anymore.
"Hey," says Liam, hand on Louis's waist as he leans in, and Louis both loves and hates that he's still willing to touch him like this even in public, even after that-it warms his heart but he can't help but feel like it's a bad idea; it's not exactly going to help anything. "Hey, do you wanna go somewhere else?"
"Home," says Louis, before he even really thinks it through. He just wants to go home again, where it's safe, and he wants Harry to be there waiting for him so he can read out positive Tweets to him or tell him again about the teenage gay couple that stopped him in Tesco the other day to say what a difference they've made. He wants Harry to curl around him and protect him and kiss him and tell him it's going to be okay, over and over and over until he finally believes it.
Liam doesn't argue, can tell from the look in Louis's eyes that there isn't any point. "I'll call a car," he says, already fishing out his phone.
As they make their way towards the door, Louis can feel eyes on him and he can't even tell anymore if he's just being paranoid but he swears people are staring at them now, whispering-he sees one woman hold up her mobile, snap a photo. They hurry out the door and instantly Louis is almost blinded by camera flashes-paparazzi are lined up, waiting. Someone must have spotted them and not approached them, just Tweeted about it and let the news spread. Louis's heart leaps into his throat. He feels sick, so sick of this, he just wants to be left alone. But it's not rage, it's more like defeated acceptance now, and so he just drops his head and tries to force his way through the cluster of photographers with Liam in tow.
"Hey, where's your boyfriend?" calls a voice, a little louder than the others and familiar-Louis looks up and spots the speaker, a paparazzo he's seen before, at least three times now and always more obnoxious than the rest. He looks back down, ignoring him, but the guy persists. "Had a bit of a tiff, eh? Whatsa matter? Not pleasing him in the bedroom?" Louis rolls his eyes and forces his way through; they're almost up to him now. "Hey, which one of you is the bottom and which is the top, anyway? Something tells me you seem like the kinda bloke to just lie back and take it-"
"Hey," says Liam, "leave him alone."
His voice is too gentle to really have any effect and Louis turns to see that he's actually smiling a little, attempting friendliness even when this arsehole's done nothing at all to deserve it. For a second Louis finds himself wishing he was with Harry instead of Liam; Harry, who'd get right up in this prick's face and tell him in no uncertain terms not to speak to Louis that way. He's never really mean about it, just about eight billion times more sure of himself than Liam sounds right now.
"Li," Louis mutters, reaching for Liam's arm to tug him along past this idiot. Liam reaches up to take his hand instead and another series of flashes go off.
"Oh-ho," calls the paparazzo, grinning, "making your way through the rest of the band now, eh? Boyfriend won't be happy to see these, find out you're cheating on him. Once a cheater, always a cheater, though, that's what they say-"
It happens in a flash-Louis feels Liam let go and then suddenly there's commotion; he doesn't see it happen, by the time he turns around the paparazzo is already doubled over, camera swinging loose around his neck and his hands cradling his face. Liam is hissing, rubbing at his fist, and-
"Did you just deck him?" Louis blurts, incredulous, looking from Liam to the crumpled paparazzo and back again.
"Uh-yeah," says Liam sheepishly. The other photographers are snapping away, making sure they've got decent coverage of this development, but at least they've shut up now, stunned into silence. Louis quickly takes Liam's non-punching hand and pulls him along, off down the street and around the corner while the paparazzi are still distracted.
"We probably should've brought security," says Liam in a small voice, still nursing his fist, as they come to rest against a wall and wait for the car to pick them up.
Louis shakes his head in amazement. "Who needs security when you've got Liam Payne?" he says, and faux-swoons. "My hero!"
"Shut up," says Liam gruffly, but he's grinning and Louis sees that he's blushing a little too. "I've never punched anyone before, have you? I didn't realise it would hurt so much."
"You wimp."
"Hey, I just defended your honour back there! I think I even made the guy's nose bleed." Liam goes rapidly from bragging to regret, then, biting his lip and adding, "I hope he's okay."
Louis cracks up, shaking his head. "He was a wanker, Liam. Don't feel bad about it."
Liam still looks a little conflicted, but Louis pulls him into a grateful hug, nuzzling into his chest, and he feels Liam relax against him, strong arms enveloping Louis's body.
"Thanks," he says into Liam's shirt.
"Mmhm," is Liam's meek response.
They cuddle for a bit, and then joke around, Louis winding Liam up by suggesting that the paparazzo might be gravely injured and have to go to hospital. But then Liam starts wondering aloud about how this'll be presented in the press, says maybe they should call one of their publicists and see if they can stop the story getting out. Louis informs him that he could probably punch an old lady and get away with it, and Liam snorts with laughter and then goes sombre, says perhaps it'll be good for people to see just how much the boys are being affected by everyone's negativity, show them that it's not okay and they won't stand for it. And then Louis goes quiet too, and on the journey home he starts to come down from the high of it, the exhilaration of seeing Liam do something so bizarre and wonderful. It was wonderful, and already Louis can feel that resentment slipping away and forgiveness creeping in, the whole incident with the photo fading into the past, but-
There's something about it that makes him feel somehow useless, pathetic, and it's only once he and Liam have hugged goodbye and gone into their separate flats that he really reflects on it and realises why it's bothering him. He should've been the one to punch that wanker in the face. He should have done it for himself, because he was the one being taunted and insulted, not Liam. It's not Liam's job to fight Louis's battles for him, and, he realises now, it's not Harry's either. Louis should be standing up for himself, especially in a situation like this, where it feels like he's had no say in anything that's happened so far. Forced out of the closet by circumstances beyond their control (and Harry, a bitter little part of his brain reminds him) and shoehorned into a story by management, and now he can't even fight back against one guy saying some dickish things; someone else even does that for him.
He can't control any of this, it feels like. It's out of his hands and that's terrifying.
He thinks about Harry, but the idea of calling him seems silly now-Harry probably doesn't want to hear from him. He hasn't tried to get in touch with Louis either, after all. He's probably sick of having to deal with all of this, having to look after Louis as well as himself throughout all this mess, and getting a panicked phone call from Louis at nearly 2am is probably the last thing he wants.
Louis puts his pyjama bottoms back on and goes to bed.
He's woken up by his phone ringing only a few hours later and he startles, sitting bolt upright, brought out of an alcohol-induced heavy sleep. There's something about early morning calls that causes him anxiety now. It's like every time he's woken up by the phone he expects another catastrophe, and as he reaches out for his mobile he tells himself, it's okay, it's okay, it can't exactly get worse.
He's got a few missed calls, he realises then, all from management, and he realises he must not've heard his phone ringing while he was out. His mouth goes dry and his heart starts in on that nervous hammering and he wonders what it could be, what's gone wrong now-and then he remembers Liam punching the paparazzo last night and he relaxes a little. Maybe it's just that.
"Hello?"
"Louis, Jesus Christ, answer your phone," snaps a clipped voice back at him. It's Clive from public relations. Louis doesn't like Clive. He suspects that Clive is homophobic. He always regards Harry and Louis with a faint air of disgust, and never even bothers to try and sound sympathetic when he's barking orders about how they really need to stop sitting beside each other in interviews if they can't keep their hands to themselves.
"He was standing up for me," Louis says groggily.
"What?"
"Liam," Louis clarifies, "when he punched the guy."
There's a pause, and then Clive just completely bypasses the topic. "Have you been in touch with Eleanor? Checked Twitter?"
"No?" says Louis, puzzled, and his stomach twists with the realisation that if this isn't about Liam then he has no idea what it is about.
"She's announced that she was a beard," Clive tells him. "Tweeted it last night. Must've lost her patience, s'pose the girl's been under a lot of scrutiny, but even so, terribly irresponsible. She deleted the Tweets at our request but of course they still got out there."
It's 5am and Louis is still bleary with last night's drinking and lack of sleep, but the words feel like a stab in the gut. "She-what?" he sputters.
"Do you understand what this means?" Clive says condescendingly.
"No, please enlighten me," Louis snaps, losing his patience.
"The fans aren't idiots, as much as they may seem like it sometimes," Clive says. "They've figured out that this means you and Harry must have been an item for at least as long as Eleanor's been on the scene. And they're not particularly happy to find out they've been lied to."
Louis feels sick.
"Anyway," Clive goes on with a sort of long-suffering sigh, like all of this is just such an inconvenience to him, "there's not a lot we can do at this point, can't exactly backtrack on it, so we're working on a statement now to give the press, the gossip blogs, that sort of thing. We're hoping to make it quick and quiet-a brief little apology and we might be able to prevent all this from blowing up."
"But-just a statement? We're not going to do another interview?" Louis doesn't even know which would be better; at least if it's in management's hands entirely then he doesn't have to figure out how to deal with it, but if they're going to tell the whole truth finally he'd kind of like to do it on his own terms.
"We can't afford to wait around, Louis," says Clive sternly. "We need to try and recover from this as quickly as possible before it spreads further. You don't need to worry, we're going to make ourselves look like the bad guys, paint you in a really good light-innocent party in the whole thing, forced into lying to your devoted adoring fans, yada yada yada. You'll win them all back in five minutes."
"But-" says Louis.
"I don't have time to argue," Clive cuts him off sharply. "It's a busy morning."
Then he hangs up.
And-Louis doesn't even think about it, not for more than a couple of seconds at least. He climbs out of bed. He throws on some clothes. He gets a backpack out of the closet and stuffs some more clothes in it. He storms through to the bathroom to get his toothbrush, and then he leaves the flat, and just gets on a train.
3/3