Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Louis Tomlinson was currently wielding an itemized list of grievances he’d like to file against the world. 

First up on said list? Social media. 

More specifically, the addictive nature of social media and how it had led him - once a normal, functioning member of society - into becoming a person glued to his cell phone. 

He spent most of his days reaching for that damn rectangular box. It stole so much of his time. The act of reaching for it was nonstop. It was necessary for the life he lived. Louis still hated it. 

Before he met his wife - before he somehow made a name for himself on social media - Louis had vehemently opposed any and all social media. He despised how fleeting it was, how trendy certain apps became before disappearing when the next big thing emerged, designed by yet another millionaire who cared little for the good of the public. Much to his sisters’ dismay, Louis refused to even download a single app on his phone that would lead directly to strangers having the ability to comment on his life. He didn’t even have Snapchat. 

Social media was invasive, temporary, a waste of time. Louis wanted no part in it. 

But then Cleo Lancaster bounded into his life; all shiny brown hair and a smile that made his stomach flutter and with her, of course, came her Tiktok account. Back then, coffeewithcleo was nothing more than a hobby. It mainly consisted of Cleo sipping her coffee from the battered coffee maker she’d inherited from her mother while she talked about her life. Over the course of the next year, more and more users began tuning into “coffee time” every day at four o’clock and her little account became a multi-million dollar brand. From the very start, Louis admired her bravery. He wasn’t the type of person who could sit in front of a camera to talk to himself. The thought made him vaguely nauseous. 

Cleo wore him down eventually, though. It became especially impossible to decline her invitations to join the chats the longer they stayed together. She insisted that her followers wanted to know more about him and about them and for whatever reason - insanity, maybe, or the fact that he wanted her to continue to love him and look at him like he hung the stars - he’d agreed to make an appearance or two. Only an appearance or two. Her fans were all for it, constantly asking to see him more and hear his input on her discussion points. Videos featuring both Cleo and him tended to reach a million views within days. 

That’s when louinblue was born. 

Seemingly overnight, Louis went from relative nobody to an internet personality who provided a new, exciting angle for his girlfriend’s lifestyle content. He went from someone who only used his phone to call his mom and his friends - if that - to someone who filmed at least two videos a day and did livestreams every other Wednesday. And, over time, he actually found that he liked it. Loved it, even. He felt like his life wasn’t just another meaningless blip among millions, but that it was important. It mattered. 

Louis mattered. 

The money rolled in. The old coffee maker was replaced with a brand gift from Keurig. It was pale blue (their signature color). All at once, Louis let go of his childhood dream of working in music - ideally as a tour manager - and instead threw himself into the career and brand they were building. 

They bought a house together, one that Louis never would have been able to afford otherwise. Somewhere along the way, he’d asked Cleo to marry him, and she’d agreed with ample enthusiasm. They vlogged it all: their engagement party, the bridal party, bachelor/bachelorette parties. Hell, Vogue even covered their wedding. Those perfect moments, more than anything, quelled any doubt that had crept into Louis’ mind about Cleo’s devotion to their relationship. They loved each other. They loved what they did. That was enough. 

None of this changed how overly aware Louis was of his own screen time. When he wasn’t recording, he was checking his notifications and responding to brands in his emails. Or appearing in the background of Cleo’s videos. Or on calls with various podcasters and other creators talking about his job. It was his life, but it was also exhausting and sometimes - just sometimes - he yearned for quiet. 

Which was why, on this particular Thursday night, his phone was on silent and locked in his and Cleo’s bedroom while he moved about their pale blue kitchen, listening to his favorite album at a volume that was probably causing extensive hearing damage. But he didn’t care. He had the house to himself for an hour or so more, and he was going to take advantage of the rare moment of solitude. He loved his wife, yes, that much was true, but when a camera was a third wheel in your relationship, one began to appreciate the moments they spent without it. 

As he put the microwave pizza in the oven – complete with extra pepperoni and green peppers that he’d chopped himself – he hummed along to the melody. He knew how much Cleo loved eating this very pizza after a concert, and since she was currently seeing one of her favorite artists, it was essential that he have it ready for her when she returned. No doubt they’d sit at the table for hours while she waxed poetic about live music. Listening to her was one of his favorite pastimes. She had this way of weaving a story that made you want to listen, even if it was just about the right pot to put your new aloe plant in. 

With the pizza on its way to melted perfection, Louis prepped the coffee maker and mixed together an energy drink that he then put in the fridge to keep cold. She always wanted one or the other (never both) so it was important to have them ready for whatever version of Cleo came rushing through the door. 

Before Louis knew it, that hour had slipped by. Their front door, though, stayed closed. Louis wasn’t too overly concerned. In New York - especially after a concert - everything was backed up. Twenty minutes could be stretched to an hour. It wasn’t a big deal. The pizza was still warm in the oven and Cleo being late meant he had time to take their white labradoodle, Dakota, out before the recount of the “concert of the century” began. 

“Koda!” Louis called. The pitter patter of paws came bounding in immediately from Louis’ filming studio. He smiled. His dog was a blur of white, sliding to a stop just seconds before she crashed into their sliding door. Louis was grateful. The last time, her imprint on the glass stayed for days. 

“You’re so silly, pretty girl,” he told her, letting her out into the yard. 

She bounded past him excitedly, running the length of their well kept yard exactly five times before finding the perfect place to poop. It had been their well-practiced routine for two years now and, to this day, it made Louis laugh. She was the goofiest dog he’d ever owned. He loved her. 

(And, not to brag, but Louis was definitely the favorite parent. Dakota loved Cleo too, but she was obsessed with him).

When Louis stepped back into the house a good fifteen minutes later, he took a detour to grab his phone off the nightstand before hurrying to give Dakota her treat. She was already sitting next to the cabinet where they kept them, watching him with her big brown eyes as if to say how dare you do anything before giving me what I’m owed . Her ridiculously long white eyelashes fluttered. Louis snorted and gave her an extra treat, which she chomped happily as Louis swiped his phone off quiet mode. 

Immediately, notifications came flooding in. Louis felt himself smiling as he caught a few nice comments flashing by. He’d posted a few new videos earlier in the day that were very much in theme with Cleo’s new infatuation with appropriate footwear for every occasion, and people seemed to be vibing with it. He couldn't help but be a little proud of himself. He wasn't exactly built for the influencer life. He’d fallen into it with a little nudge from Cleo, who made content like it was easier than breathing. Ideas flowed from her and she knew exactly what to say and how to say it in order to elicit the desired reactions. It was a gift he didn’t quite possess, but he was doing his best and felt all the more motivated when it paid off. A little recognition never hurt anyone, right?

His smile slipped, though, when no texts from Cleo came through. That was slightly unsettling. Usually she texted when she was going to be late, and it was now approaching a half hour since she said she would be home. Louis opened their texts. His lips quirked into a small smile as he read their last conversation.

Cleo: Made it to MSG. Now to get one of those disco drinks everyone’s been talking about haha.

Louis: Have the best time! Love you :) 

Cleo: ily2

Louis thumbed over her last message and then typed out a quick text to ease his mind.

Louis: Let me know when you’ll be home. I’ve got all your favorites :) 

Closing out his texts, he pulled down the notification bar and scrolled aimlessly. Most were just likes, but he saw quite a few comments as well. Again, that rush of pride swelled in his chest. Getting comments routinely proved to be a challenge, but it was also the engagement that boosted him in the algorithm.  Growing his account wasn’t his biggest goal as a creator, it was his sole source of income, so he had to care about it at least a little. 

His eye caught on a more recent notification then, and his brow furrowed. 

@harrysgirl28: can’t believe @coffeewithcleo would do this. @louinblue we’re with you.  

Huh. That was … not at all related to any of his recent videos. That had nothing to do with footwear. That was weird . Maybe they’d tagged the wrong people by accident.

But then he scrolled through them more slowly, and saw more of the same.

@lizasaurusrex: @louinblue deserves better. Justice for Louis!

@campycameron: @coffeewithcleo should be ashamed of herself. @louinblue divorce this bitch.

@plantdad1450: @louinblue dude … hope you got a prenup.

Louis felt something like panic start to swell in his chest. He swiped up to get back to his home screen. Upon opening TikTok, he saw a glaring 99+ staring at him from the Inbox icon. Fingers shaking, he clicked on it. 

New Followers: 649

Activity: 500 comments; 8200 likes

Message Requests: 176

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Louis to have a lot of notifications these days. It wasn’t even weird for him to be tagged with Cleo in 80 percent of the comments that he did receive. They were married, after all, and she had basically kickstarted his career. But this felt different. Something about this felt odd. Like all these people were in on some kind of secret that he wasn’t privy to. Why were they acting like Cleo had wronged him? Why would he want to divorce her? Why … 

He clicked on Activity and looked at the most recent comment.

@sunflowervolumejade: omg @louinblue has to see this! Can’t believe @coffeewithcleo would do something like this in front of all these people. Disgusting behavior, actually.

Clicking on the video was probably the last thing he should do. It was, in fact, the last thing he wanted to do. But he had to know. And so he did exactly that. Somewhere along the way, he realized he had stopped breathing.  

A slightly grainy video popped up, the shrill screaming nearly deafening as whoever operated the camera tried to focus on a stage. There was a man with a guitar, and he was smiling and engaging with the crowd. Light reflected off of the sequins on his pink sparkly suit, dazzling the audience. If Louis wasn’t mistaken, that was Harry Styles. The very same Harry Styles whose show Cleo was supposed to be coming home from right now.

(And it wasn’t the point - it absolutely was not the point - but that damn popstar was probably the prettiest person Louis had ever seen in his life. His curls cropped at his chin, framing a jagged jaw line that could probably cut Louis. Blinding green eyes. A bright smile. The camera quality was poor and, still, Louis that he would say yes to anything Harry fucking Styles wanted). 

((Cleo wouldn’t mind him saying such a thing. She would probably encourage it, on a vlog. Louis’ brand also centered around his openness regarding his bisexuality and how it did - and didn’t - impact their marriage. His followers tended to call him brave. Louis didn’t know if he agreed)). 

(((Anyway))). 

On screen, Harry Styles was beaming. “Well, everyone, it’s time for the Love on Tour Lovers Cam!” He drew out the words like a sports announcer. The crowd screamed even louder. Louis winced. “Hug your wife, your husband, your lover, your new best friend, or the stranger next to you nice and tight. We’re gonna say hello to a few of you.”

The big screen switched from showing Harry to the crowd. Despite his misgivings, Louis smiled. The first fans shown were bananas (Louis didn’t know why, but he loved it all the same). Next were two women sharing a pink, sparkly boa. They kissed. The crowd screamed. 

“Let’s go lesbians, let’s go!” Harry said into the mic. Louis snorted. When the camera panned to four friends - one dressed as a bunch of grapes, one a watermelon, one a strawberry, and the last a cherry - Harry cheered in appreciation. The group hugged. “Would you look at that! A fruit salad!” 

Why was Harry Styles so god damn endearing? Louis smiled at the chaos, at the pure joy in the crowd. 

Then the camera switched to a new couple standing up on a balcony. 

The woman in front had her head leaning back against a man’s shoulder. His arms circled her waist, palms spread over her stomach. He looked quite a bit older than she did, but Louis wasn’t here to judge. If they were in love, good for them. He knew how nice it felt to be in that place.

The moment the couple realized they were on screen, however, the woman’s hands came up to cover her face, and the man all but disappeared, crouching down out of sight of the camera. 

What?  

“Whoa, what happened there? Either they’re having an affair or they’re really shy,” Harry said with a laugh from the stage, and the crowd roared twice as loud. 

Louis paused the video, staring. He wasn’t even sure his heart was beating. Because even with the potato-like camera quality, he could clearly see the ring stack glinting on the woman’s hand, stacked in the same way Cleo always stacked her rings. A rose tattoo on the woman’s other wrist poked out beneath a shiny purple sleeve. Louis’ heart clenched. Cleo had … she got that very same tattoo as a reward for hitting two million followers last year. He could see the bright purple, sequined shirt and white feather boa that he’d watched Cleo fret over for hours before leaving the house. Her freshly curled brown hair was decorated with purple tinsel for the occasion. It was all so … so Cleo.  

It was his wife. 

His wife. In the arms of another man. In public. And now it was all over the internet. 

Louis watched it again, and again, and again. Every comment he clicked on led him to a similar video from another angle. The more he looked, the bigger the balloon in his chest swelled. It was a fusillade of emotion preparing to burst. When the prick-point came, he wasn’t sure what emotion would consume him. Would it be anger? Disappointment? Heartbreak? Resignation? All of the above?

His weak body collapsed helplessly against the counter, legs unable to keep him upright. He barely registered Dakota’s whining as she tried to play with him. Impatient paws dug into his skin. He didn’t feel a thing. Cleo was … she had just … and she wasn’t home with him, which meant she was probably with whoever this guy was instead. She went home with someone else. His wife, the love of his life, the woman he’d given up so many of his dreams for, had just thrown away everything they’d built together. Their brand. Their marriage. Their lives. And for what? He’d thought they were happy. Successful. Content. It didn’t … nothing about this made sense. 

It had to be wrong. He needed it to not be true. 

Letting himself slide down to the floor, Louis hunched over his phone, shallow breaths bleeding through that same swelling balloon in his chest. Maybe it would keep growing and growing until he either exploded or asphyxiated. He couldn’t stop watching the video. No matter what platform he went on, there it was. Sometimes he was tagged. Sometimes he wasn’t. But he couldn’t escape it. Even the news was starting to pick it up. At the top of his feed was a tweet from PopBase, whoever the fuck they were, and the headline made his stomach churn.

@PopBase: Lifestyle influencer Cleo Lancaster has been caught cheating on husband Louis Tomlinson with boss and CEO of Stargazer LLC, Randy Cyrus. The pair was spotted at a Harry Styles concert in NYC.

Oh.

So it was him. Louis hadn’t been sure, but in the end, who else would it have been? It was Randy, after all, who had offered Cleo these tickets. It was Randy who invited Cleo out to business meetings and trips and dinners at least once a week since she’d started working for him five months ago, picking up a gig as a Personal Assistant so she could show her followers that balancing a job with an influencer schedule was possible (even if she only worked three days a week). It was Randy who always forgot Louis’ fucking name even when Louis brought Cleo lunch nearly every Tuesday. 

Randy Cyrus. His wife had cheated on him with Randy f ucking Cyrus. In public .

The balloon burst. 

Any shock and disappointment and sadness simmering in his gut was gone in an instant, and instead his heartbreak was nursed by a simmering, overwhelming rage. It was this rage that propelled him off the floor, his body moving of its own accord as though he’d been replaced by Robot Louis.

Pizza? In the garbage. 

Energy drink? Down the drain. 

Coffee? Removed from the coffee maker and thrown with more force than was necessary into the trash can, joining the pizza and half of Cleo’s breakfast and all the normal trash that existed when this house was normal and whole and not this .

And then he sat down in one of the slightly uncomfortable (but very aesthetic, according to Cleo) chairs that faced the door, and he waited, his phone growing hot in his hand from the influx of notifications as the world continued to remind him of what she’d done.

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

It was 11:03 PM when Louis’ world first fell apart; a viral video spreading like wildfire, an inferno hellbent on destroying anything in its path. Louis still felt its flames on his cheeks. 

It was 12:14 AM when he parked himself in his chair, refusing to move until that door opened, until something more than his phone or Dakota made a noise in this damn home, until his wife decided to finally grace him with her presence.

It was 3:30 AM when he finally turned off his notifications again, unable to handle the constant buzz of his life continuing to blow to smithereens.

And it was 4:17 AM when Cleo decided to come sneaking through their front door. 

Louis hadn’t slept a wink. Dakota fell asleep at his feet hours ago, but he had too much pent up energy to even think about resting. He wanted to pace, to scream, to throw every valuable thing they owned just to feel something other than what was currently setting fire to his insides. He wanted to destroy. But he didn’t. He remained where he was, waiting. 

And, just like he knew she would, Cleo finally came home. For the first time, though, the sight of her silhouette brought no relief, no joy, no comfort. Instead, it only made him angrier. She was coming back hours too late, when she probably assumed Louis would be asleep, when she could get away with not talking about it. 

Who knew if she even intended to stay, or if she was just changing before heading to her lover’s much less humble abode?

Cleo didn’t see him at first. Her back was to him as she eased herself over the threshold. Dakota’s head popped up and, like the good dog she was, emitted a few barks before settling on a growl, taking a prowling few steps towards her. She jumped, the door closing behind her much louder than Louis was sure she intended, and then, like a mom in teen movie, Louis flicked on the antique lamp behind him, illuminating the foyer in a dull, yellow light.

“Oh … Louis, you’re up. Hi. I-”

“Thought I’d be asleep. Yeah. I figured.”

Louis could barely hear his own voice past the pounding of his own heart in his ears, but he was surprised at how calm he sounded. No, it wasn’t calm … it was apathetic. Resigned. Like the anger inside him was not translating into words. But maybe that was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to reign it in if he let it out.

Cleo didn’t say anything in return, preferring instead to readjust her feather boa and tug off her jacket. She wouldn’t look at him. Maybe she thought he didn’t know … maybe she thought she could get away with it all if she just kept her eyes averted. 

Maybe Louis would play along just to see how far she’d take it.

“I was worried about you,” he said slowly, rising from his chair. Dakota immediately circled his legs, protection mode fully engaged.

“You knew where I was. Just out with friends after the show like usual,” Cleo said, flipping her slightly lank brown curls over her shoulder. A piece of tinsel fell out. “You didn’t have to wait up, babe.”

“Oh, but I did.” His voice had an edge to it this time. The anger was finally making itself known, boiling over into his speech. Her easy lie was the final straw. “Had to be sure you weren’t bringing your secret boyfriend home. That would make for a crowded bed, you know.”

Cleo paled.

She closed her big brown eyes, taking a visible breath that was visible, even across the room. Louis’ words reverberated around their room, dulling the elaborate, chic decorations and expensive artwork and the couch they used to cuddle on after a day’s work. 

The words were out there - real and tangible and undeniable - but Louis didn’t feel any different. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t know how to do this. 

It was four in the morning. He wanted to be asleep. 

Cleo took a step forward, gaze decidedly on the polished floors. “So you saw it, then?”

“Saw what?” Louis said, the picture of innocence. “What could I possibly have seen that would make me say such a thing, Cleo? Tell me, because I’m just not sure if I -”

“Don’t be an asshole, Lou,” Cleo snapped.

“ Me ? I’m the asshole? I was here, in our house, waiting for you to come home with your favorite pizza and drinks, and you were out at a concert in some other man’s arms. Oh, and not just any man, but your fucking boss. The same boss who you said wasn’t flirting with you, wasn’t trying to get into your pants, wasn’t trying to steal you away from me. Guess you beat him to the punch.”

“You don’t understand, Louis. It was a misunderstanding. It’s not what you think.”

A misunderstanding. “Oh, I’m sure,” Louis said, his voice ice. “Because the way you both tried – pathetically, I might add – to get off camera as quickly as possible definitely screams of it not being what I think it was. I’m sure it was innocent.”

“You’re not listening to me and -” 

“Do you really think you deserve for me to listen to you?” Louis demanded, voice rising for the first time. “That I owe you anything right now? Because I’m not convinced, not when all you could come up with after four hours was to call it a misunderstanding.” 

Cleo threw her arms in the air, a flush coloring the pale skin hiding behind a small smattering of freckles. “What do you want me to say?” She demanded, the words flat. “That I’m sorry? That it didn’t mean anything? That I’ll never see him again? Because all of those would be lies!”

Her words hit Louis like multiple punches. Somewhere in his mind, in his heart, he must have still been holding out hope that this was all one big mistake. That it wasn’t them, that they could talk about it, that Cleo would regret it and would atone for it and that they could be okay again, even if it was way in the future. But she had taken that kernel of hope and obliterated it. It was gone, leaving nothing but hallowed echoes. The words rang in Louis’ ears like the world’s worst kind of church bell.

“So … so you thought … ” Louis tried to find his voice, but couldn’t. He tried to come up with a retort, something snappy, something scathing that would hurt her in the same way he was hurting, but nothing came. He was frozen between the righteous rage over her actions and the heartbreaking truth she’d just spoken. It was hanging in the air between them. A poison.

Cleo, at least, had the decency to look mildly guilty. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I love him, Louis,” she admitted, the words soft. “I have since the day I met him. And I’m sorry if me living my truth hurts you, but-”

Louis let out a hysterical laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. “ Living your truth ? Lying to me is living your truth? Cheating on your husband of three years is living your truth? Throwing away our entire lives together for one concert is living your truth? You have a fucked up sense of that concept, Cleo, I have to say …”

He was pacing now. The adrenaline was coursing through his body, brought on by pure emotion and a deep, innate desire to run as far from this situation as he could. Running and hiding and running and hiding until he escaped, until he no longer felt this overwhelming, festering mess.

“So … so all those times you were out at dinners and events with him as his assistant were really, what … dates? Have you actually been with him right in front of me this entire fucking time?”

Louis wasn’t sure he wanted that answer, but at the same time, he needed it. He needed to know how deep this ran, how oblivious he’d been, how wrapped up in his love for Cleo he’d allowed himself to become that he’d missed every single sign. 

Except he hadn’t missed them. He’d questioned her every single time, and every single time, she’d acted like he was overthinking and paranoid and not trusting her. She’d gaslit him every step of the way, and he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. 

“It didn’t start out like that,” Cleo admitted, taking a step towards him. Dakota growled again. “I swear, it didn’t. But me and Randy-”

“Ah, so it’s Randy now. I had to call him Mr. Cyrus every time he walked into a room and you’re calling him Randy ? God-” Louis gripped his hair, pausing his pacing long enough to look at her and see the truth of it all reflected in her doe eyes. “You’ve really just been lying to me this whole time. I should have known when you wanted to get a second job that it was all too good to be true.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cleo said sharply, and there again was the laugh that didn’t belong to him. 

“You basically coerced me into giving up my job and my dreams because you made enough money for both of us, because influencing gave us the lifestyle we wanted and we didn’t need any corporation interfering in our livelihoods. But then you come to me out of the blue and say that you applied for a personal assistant job, and I just went along with it. I didn’t ask a single question, and I should have. I was so stupid, but you … you lied to me. Over and over again. On purpose. You…”

Cleo folded her arms over chest. A feather from her boa fell to the floor. “You can’t blame this all on me, Louis. It takes two to fuck up a relationship. This is your fault too.”

“ How ?” Louis stopped pacing again, striding straight into her space. She didn’t move back, staring at him with erect shoulders. “ How is any of this my fault? You’re the one who took extravagant gifts from your boss. You’re the one who was caught out with him in public tonight. You’re the one who broke every vow we made, in front of a pastor and otherwise. Please tell me where I personally went wrong in this situation.”

“You didn’t love me enough!”

All the air was sucked straight out of the room. 

Louis froze, his footsteps fading along with his heart and his lungs and his mind. Cleo’s face was blotchy and red. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. Even still, she continued standing sure and confident. Louis didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to.

Cleo brushed her hair angrily out of her face. “You never gave me enough, Lou. Never. Not when I begged you to do brand deals with me, not when I wanted to film a night in for my blog, not even when I wanted to take you to this concert instead and you refused! Randy would have given you a ticket!”

Louis closed his mouth. Opened it. Closed it again. He rubbed his hands over his face and, to his right, he felt Dakota settle beside him. “Of course , this is all about your brand,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It has nothing to do with me as a person or as your husband. It all has to do with revenue. Clearly that’s all I am to you … some sort of trophy husband just sitting around until you have a use for me, huh?” Louis gave a quiet, hysterical huff of a laugh. “And for the record, I didn’t refuse. You never actually asked me.”

“Oh, so suddenly me assuming that you’d offer to spend time with me is what caused this? Suddenly I have to ask for a date night?”

“I never said that.”

A tense silence fell between them. Cleo pressed her lips together, looking around the foyer for something else to say, and Louis … Louis could feel himself deflating. He could feel all that anger slowly fading away, leaving only an aching heart in its wake.

“You never really ask me for anything, did you know that?” Louis heard the words leave his mouth without consciously preparing to say them, but now that they were out there, he found he had more to say. “You tell me we’re doing a video, or that I need to do a Q&A, or that I need to start accepting brand deals even if I don’t agree with their cause because it’s money coming in. You tell me where we’re going for my birthday dinner or what nights of the week we can go out or how often I get to see my family. But you never ask me what I want.” Louis’ stomach sank as he had a sudden realization. “I … I can’t remember the last time you did that. I don’t know if you ever have.”

“So? I thought you liked our little dynamic, how we work together. I thought we loved each other,” Cleo said, her mouth turning down in a little pout that felt just a little bit patronizing. 

“So did I. But clearly you don’t love me enough to even talk to me when you think you’re in love with someone else, so clearly, we have different ideas of love,” Louis spat back, but there was very little venom behind it. He was tired. He was hurt. He wanted this to be over. And not just this night, this moment, this fight. He wanted - no needed - this to be over. All of it. Their careers, their vows, their rings. Their relationship. “Cleo, I want a divorce.”

Once upon a time, Louis would have done anything to save this. He would have drowned himself to right the ship, to get them back to land. Little did he know there was nothing on board worth saving.  

Cleo’s face became a mask of horror. Wordlessly, she shook her head. “Louis, come on, don’t be rash. You’re always so dr-”

“Don’t call me dramatic,” Louis stopped her. The exhaustion was now spreading from his mind to his body, making him want nothing more than to curl up in bed and not move for days. His body was so heavy. “You’ve been lying and manipulating me and cheating on me for months, and I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. We’re done.”

Cleo’s face reddened. Her eyes filled with alligator tears that she had used in her videos – and on him, now that he thought about it – many times. He closed his eyes, refusing to let her play him like a fool. Not this time. 

“Fine,” she said, voice hard, “then I want you out.”

Louis’ eyes flew open. “What?”

Cleo’s gaze became steadier, angrier. “I want you to get the fuck out of my house. And don’t bother coming back. Have your lawyer call mine, or whatever, but I never want to see you again.”

“This is our house, Cleo. You can’t just make me leave.”

“Oh, but I can.” Cleo’s smile was vindictive. “When we bought this house, I made all the money. The house is in my name. So get out or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“You can’t be fucking serious …” Louis started, but Cleo held up her hand, and like a trained puppy, Louis’ words died on his lips. 

“Get out.”

Louis didn’t think there was anything left inside him that could still break. He was wrong. Even as he reached for his wallet and Dakota’s leash, shards of his heart splintered away, piercing his insides until he could barely draw breath. 

“Oh, you don’t think you’re taking my dog, do you?”

Louis’ gaze snapped to Cleo’s. “Of course I am. She’s my dog.”

“ Our dog, actually,” Cleo said, using the same tone Louis had used just moments before. “And I say she stays. Take it up with my lawyer.”

Dakota whined at her tone and tried to run to Louis, but Cleo grabbed her collar and held her back. Louis’ eyes filled with tears as Dakota’s whines echoed through the foyer, but he didn’t want someone taking her away because he tried too hard to fight Cleo. She had much better lawyers at her disposal, and like it or not, this was Dakota’s home – the only home she’d ever known. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, crouching down so he was on eye level with his dog. “I’ll get you back, I swear it.”

Dakota leapt at him, but Cleo, with strength Louis didn’t know she possessed, held fast. Louis took a few backwards steps towards their front door, staring around at everything. The glass figurines on the table by the door. The uncomfortable chair he’d spent all night in and its twin. The arching ceiling and the curved staircase and the thrifted rug he’d managed to sneak into the house by telling Cleo it was vintage. His wife … ex wife now, he supposed, and his dog. Everything he’d built and worked for and loved was here, and he was leaving it behind. 

He turned his back to her, pulling the door open, but at the last second, he turned again, his mind a jumbled mess.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you try to talk to me about this? You could have. I would have listened. Why did you lie?”

The words came out whispered, more emotional than Louis would have liked, but he had to ask them. He couldn’t leave without trying.

Cleo didn’t say anything. She just shrugged. And that was all Louis needed to get him to let the door close between them.

It clicked with a finality that tore him into pieces. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

HARRY STYLES’ LOVE ON TOUR STOP IN NEW YORK CITY IS WHERE RELATIONSHIPS GO TO DIE: PROMINENT TIKTOK INFLUENCER AND CEO CAUGHT IN MESSY AFFAIR AT THE POPSTAR’S SOLD-OUT MSG GIG

…

CEO RANDY CYRUS TO BE PUT ON TEMPORARY LEAVE AS STARGAZER INVESTIGATES ALLEGED AFFAIR WITH PERSONAL ASSISTANT, THE COMPANY CONFIRMS 

…

#OHNOCLEO : POPULAR LIFESTYLER VLOGGER CAUGHT CHEATING ON HUSBAND AT HARRY STYLES CONCERT 

…

“EITHER THEY ARE SHY OR THEY ARE HAVING AN AFFAIR” : HARRY STYLES POKES FUN AT COUPLE CAUGHT CHEATING ON THEIR SPOUSES AT HIS SHOW

…

YOU KNOW IT’S NOT THE SAME AS IT WAS! READ THE BEST REACTIONS FROM THE AFFAIR HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLD

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Louis shouldn’t be doing this. 

It was counter-productive, really. An ill-advised endeavor; a scorched path he was following only so he could collect the tools to his own self-destruction. Even Lottie, his sister, had texted him to say, don’t you dare look at your phone right now. 

It was good advice. Solid. So logical it was almost unbelievable to think that she was the younger sibling. Louis should really, really listen to her. He should turn his phone off and instead watch the world pass him by through the window of the train. He should people-watch fellow passengers. He should work on drafting some sort of statement. He should call his lawyer. He should do literally anything else but doom-scroll through the hundreds of news articles being written about his wife getting caught cheating on him at a fucking pop concert. 

And yet… 

AP News. 

People.

NBC.

Los Angeles Times. 

USA Today. 

So fucking many news outlets. Major news outlets. They were writing about him. Him and Cleo. 

Hell, CNN had even tossed their hat into the ring to write some clever play on one of Harry fucking Styles’ most famous songs. Some journalist was probably paid hundreds and given several pats on the pat for coming up with WATERMELON SUGAR, BYE! 

It wasn’t even remotely clever. Except it was. 

Except it was written about Louis’ life and his wife’s very public affair. And that… it didn’t feel real. It shouldn’t be real. If there was absolutely anything that someone absolutely shouldn’t be doing, it was fucking Cleo going to a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden with another fucking man that she said she had fallen in love with. 

For a sick, horrible, twisted moment, Louis couldn’t help but think about Cleo’s excitement had things been different. Ending up on the jumbotron at a Harry Styles concert? That was her dream. She would have come home a little past midnight and talked Louis’ ear off, shown him blurry pictures she’d managed to grab of her face on the big screen. They would have stayed up for hours and then she would wake up at eight to film the story over again for her devoted Tiktok followers. 

It would have meant everything to her. 

(And not just because she could have capitalized off the moment). 

God … one day Louis would probably get to a point where he hated her. Thoughts of his wife ((his ex-wife. Not technically or officially yet, but it was over. It was done)) would consume him with a rage that turned his blood to fire. He’d be happy at the thought of her pain. Right now, though, the anger was but mere flickering embers. All he felt was sad. Confused. 

You didn’t love me enough. 

Was that true? How could that be true? When Louis had given up his life and his dreams for her? When their relationship was his everything? When …

Was there something he could have done differently? If he had been better, done better, was better … would that have kept Cleo from falling for Randy fucking Cyrus? 

He didn’t know. He would never know. 

But … 

But there was something he could know. There was something the very worst parts of him had to know. Maybe it was understandable, to a certain extent. He had spent the better part of the past two years living for comments on his posts, for the lazy afternoons when Cleo and he would respond to their followers or laugh together at the best comments. In so many ways, those strangers on Tiktok were just as much a part of them as the wedding band on their fingers. And, now that it was all over, Louis couldn’t help but wonder what those strangers had to say. 

He couldn’t check his Tiktok yet. It was too personal, too close. It would make it too real. So instead, he settled with looking again at his phone screen and clicking on the article he had just scrolled past. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, but he was going to. He had to. 

YOU KNOW IT’S NOT THE SAME AS IT WAS! READ THE BEST REACTIONS FROM THE AFFAIR HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLD

Harry Styles’ pink sequin jumpsuits are once again at the scene of the crime. 

Except this time, the popstar might just be playing detective in what has become the scandal of the summer. It all began last night at Madison Square Garden. The U.S. leg of Styles’ groundbreaking Love on Tour was scheduled to continue with a flourish. The headline tour has meant months of glittery outfits, electric pop performances, and nineteen surprise performances of the unreleased track Medicine. Millions across the United States are scheduled to attend the tour, and 20,000 more packed the famous MSG yesterday in anticipation of a show to remember. 

They got exactly that, though maybe not in the way they expected. 

“It’s time for the Love on Tour Lovers Cam!” Styles began with a grin, prompting the start of a beloved tradition. “Hug your wife, your husband, your lover, your new best friend, or the stranger next to you nice and tight. We’re gonna say hello to a few of you.”

All went well for the first three camera pans on the jumbotron. There were two bananas in love. Two people with a feathery blue boa tying them together who kissed, much to the delight of the crowd. Four friends in different fruit fits clinging to each other, making what Styles called a fruit salad. 

And then disaster struck. 

The camera panned to a man and woman cuddled together on a balcony, swaying along with peaceful smiles. The man was holding his lover around the waist. She was leaning back into him. It was- for all intents and purposes- a lovely sight to behold. 

Within seconds, though, the couple had broken apart. The woman visibly panicked and ducked, hiding her face with both hands as the man all but jumped out of frame. It was a move that confused both the audience and Styles himself. 

“Well… either they are shy or they are having an affair,” he joked, which prompted laughter from his devoted fans. Seconds later, Styles continued with his hit song Cinema. The internet, though, was not as quick at moving on. 

Sleuths on Twitter had the couple identified before the show had even ended: 

@grapejuiceblues94: u guys i am about to expose how chronically online i am but that’s fucking CLEO LANCASTER THE LIFESTYLE VLOGGER. SHE’S BUILT HER ENTIRE BRAND OFF OF LOVING HER HUSBAND, WHO IS NOT THAT GUY IN THE VIDEO!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!! 

After the public had her name, it took seconds for them to piece together that the man was none other than Randy Cyrus, CEO of Stargazer LLC, a corporate data collection company that provides analysis for thousands of businesses around the world. In only twelve hours, the original video has amassed over 20 million views, 15 million likes, and countless comments and quips. It’s so newsworthy, of course, because of one very important fact:  

Both Lancaster and Cyrus are married to other people. 

Lancaster married Louis Tomlinson in 2022. Cyrus has been married to his wife, Sandra, for five years. 

Though neither camp has released any statement, the newly declared Kiss Cam Gate has been the talk of all social media. It is- quite simply- the internet at its very best. Here is a collection of the funniest, the brightest, and most controversial takes regarding this monumental moment in pop culture history. 

A Celebration of the Moment:

@tasteslikestrawberries: Oh Love on Tour you will always be famous. A cheating scandal not involving Harry was absolutely what we all deserved 

@imhavingyourbaby: Wonderful, wonderful day to be a Harry Styles fan. Horrible day to be a CEO :) we win 

@jesssimons: Remember ladies, this is why we only cheat on our husbands at Justin Bieber concerts. 

@KangaroosAreTerrifying: what are some beginner concerts for someone just getting into cheating? 

@MilanApothecary: Us here at the Milan Apothecary are delighted to aid in the treatment of all ailments! A summer cold? A broken toe? Get caught cheating at a Harry Styles concert? Come here to take your medicine!

@VogttheGoat: If you’re having a bad day the good news is I can think of at least two other people who are having a worse day 

@SnowglobesandSurprises: GUYS! I asked my personal assistant if she wants to go to a Harry Styles concert with me and she said YES! 

Most Have Sympathized with Louis and Sandra: 

@blueeyes28: yes i love the concert memes but also can we all please just remember that louis tomlinson and sandra johnson are actual victims here and they don’t deserve this at all. they’re real people and i think we need to all be more sympathetic and understanding 

@calmbeforethestorm: Idk I hope that ceo and his mistress literally lose everything they just wrecked two marriages and that’s disgusting 

But some stubborn fans- though the large minority- are on Cleo’s side: 

@coffeelovers: okay but… this is going to sound really, really awful but bear with me. can we really blame cleo? louis has been SO vocal in his vlogs about being b*s*xual and while cleo has always been lovely and supportive… i don’t know how you could ever really trust him when you know you’ll only be able to satisfy half your husband’s needs. maybe this was a “cheat before you get cheated on” situation????????  

@live_laugh_cleo: ok but i support women’s rights AND women’s wrongs. cleo making both men look foolish you love to see it. idc that’s my girl 

@cleoscoffeeholics: Oh, I’m supposed to care that cleo is getting it??? Cause I don’t??? She could fuck Randy Cyrus on camera on hers and louis’ bed and I’d be like THAT’S MY BABY!!! Literally love her sm I will be seated for our next coffee hour 

@babyimperfect: This is why we don’t marry bisexual men lol you’ll never be satisfied. Looks like Cleo has learned her lesson 

For context: Lancaster’s current husband, Louis Tomlinson, is also a lifestyle vlogger and is very open about being bisexual. 

Though there are the rare debates breaking out, much of the discourse around the affair has remained light, funny, and … dare we say … a unifying moment across the country? It sounds almost silly, but coming together to laugh, to joke, to poke fun at a CEO’s expense is exactly what we as humans love best. 

Right before their 11:00 first pitch against the Chicago Cubs, the Cleveland Spiders debuted a “kiss cam” that exposed their mascot- Slider’s- affair with Onion the hot dog. The sold out stadium, the Web, was instantly cheering and laughing at the antics. Forty thousand people were in on the joke. There is something … beautiful about it. 

On Twitter, one user wrote: 

@JasonAGordon: Harry Styles deserves the noble peace prize I can’t lie. 

We are inclined to agree. Everyone say thank you, Harry! Stay tuned for when Love on Tour comes to Cleveland, Ohio in just three days time. 

Jude Peterson

Yahoo 

A unifying moment. 

Louis’ life ending is a unifying moment that millions are talking about. 

Millions. 

Swallowing hard, Louis locked his phone and immediately looked to his right, where two teenage girls were chatting quietly amongst themselves. They hadn’t spared Louis a single glance, had given no indication that they recognized them, but it occurred to him that they could. Anyone could. He’d gained thousands of followers overnight. Everyone is talking about him and Cleo and…

He sank further in his seat, hiding his face as best he could with his arms, and he hated himself for even thinking that he was at all recognizable to the general public, but… but the truth of the matter was that anyone talking to him right now could send him over the edge. Whether to offer their support or to claim to his face that him being bisexual brought all of this upon himself. 

God. 

Lottie was right. Reading any of that was a mistake. He needed to throw his phone in the harbor and run away. He needed to disappear. He needed everyone to forget his name and he needed to unlearn the taste of Cleo’s smiling lips against his. Her perfume. Her shampoo. Dakota’s soft fur. The balcony in the penthouse they were so excited to buy last year. They documented the moving process on their vlogs and it was supposed to be the start of forever and now Louis needed to forget those moments ever existed. 

Most of all, though, he needed his mom. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

There was an innate comfort in returning to a little, pale yellow house on Mercurial Boulevard. 

Though Louis moved out for college six years ago - and though, just yesterday, home had meant a penthouse in the West Side of Manhattan - a part of him would never feel more like himself than he did when returning to his childhood home. The front yard where he learned to ride his bike and skinned his knee (several times) and tried to sneak across when going out late at night. That old, creaky front porch that still held the same old, equally creaky green swing. The four walls that held his first steps, his first words, his first heartbreaks. Tucked away in his mom’s house were the memories he made before he was supposed to be anything to the world but Louis. Growing up, there were never any cameras. No vlogs, no planned content schedules. Like they could all love each other without having to prove to the world that they did. 

Case in point: when Louis opened the door without knocking and hauled his bags onto the floor without saying a word, his mom was there to catch him and he could fall apart in a moment that was allowed to be just theirs. 

He was home. 

Louis’ entire body burned with a pain that seemed determined to reconstruct his very genetic code into one ladened down by Cleo’s betrayal, by Cleo’s love, by the entire world coming together to laugh at his expense. Still, his eyes were dry. He remained calm. He breathed in the smell of his mom’s favorite perfume - that always had an undertone of apple, which made him think of summer and homemade pies and being a kid - and tried his very best to pretend like his life wasn’t over. 

“Oh, my baby.” Johannah murmured, cradling his head with her right hand. She kissed his hair. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.” 

It was probably a good plan. Louis didn’t have any sort of plan at all - he couldn’t possibly imagine making a plan - so he nodded and let his mom guide him to the right, where their cozy, cluttered, eclectic living room waited with a warmth that settled straight in Louis’ bones. 

Their old, grey plaid coach was lumpy and worn and perfect. He sniffled once, but blinked away any tears. His mom hummed and joined him, pressing another kiss to his head. 

You didn’t love me enough. 

“The girls won’t be back ‘til later,” his mom said, still holding him close. He leaned his head against her shoulder and tried to breathe. “But I can ask grandma to watch them tonight, if you want time alone.” 

His throat closed. The offer was tempting. Though he loved his sisters, he knew them coming home would result in one of two equally awful outcomes. 

One: They would treat him with kid gloves, regarding him like one might a spooked, injured wild animal. 

Two: They would speak with an anger he knew wouldn’t be genuine. Even as they raged and insulted Cleo on his behalf, in the back of his mind, all Louis would be able to think about was how much they loved her. The twins fully believed her to be cooler than the Kardashians (their former idols). Cleo helped Lottie establish her own influencer persona. They loved Cleo, maybe even more than they did Louis, and … 

Fuck. 

Louis shook his head. “No, it’s okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse. It was the first thing he said since leaving his home - Cleo’s home. “I want to see them.” 

Despite everything, the chaos of a house full of his loud, lovely, wonderful family would heal him, even if only for a few moments. 

“Okay, baby. They’ll be so excited to see you. It’s been a minute.” 

It had. Despite living in the same city, Louis hadn’t visited in an embarrassingly long time. His film schedule and dates with Cleo and Dakota kept him busy. And that … when was the last time he visited? Late March, for the twins’ birthday? He only called for Mother’s Day, because they spent it with Cleo’s family and Louis promised his mom he would visit as soon as possible and then never did. It was July 24th now. Had it really been almost four months? God. 

He was a bad husband and a horrible son and a deplorable brother. All of the above. He checked all the boxes. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

 “Shhhh.” 

“Wish I was here under … better circumstances.” 

“My Lou, this is your home. You’re always welcome here, no matter the circumstance. I love you.” 

“Love you more.” He hiccuped. “I kinda think I’m gonna die.” 

“Heartbreak will do that to you, sweetheart.” She said it very matter of fact, patient and kind, like Louis was still fifteen and complaining about his old friend refusing to let him join their kickball game at recess. Even back then, she treated every one of his problems like they mattered. “But here’s the secret … you won’t. You’re gonna keep breathing and living and, one day, you’ll even start smiling. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to get better, and I truly believe the best is yet to come, honey. When one door closes, another one opens. One you may have never even expected.” 

In that moment, Louis chose to believe her. 

He had nothing left to lose, after all. So he nodded and curled into her and banished it all - his phone, the internet, his ex-wife, that fucking (gorgeous) popstar with the pink sequin suits - to a place far beyond these four walls. They couldn’t touch him here. He was safe. 

He was safe, he was safe, he was safe. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    

@loueh_oioi_: i genuinely feel so insane bc i have NO ONE to talk about this with !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have followed Louis’ tiktok for YEARS because his posts about bisexuality really resonated with me and now this happens????? i am watching a close friend go through a very public heartbreak except i’m not bc lou disappeared and i dont think he’s coming back :( 

@Alex_Sycamore: I wouldn't blame Louis if we never heard from him again. Like everyone is acting it’s so funny but also this is someone’s marriage that has blown up :/ 

@clevercleo: the blame is on her team, y’all. cleo told us she’s been looking to hire a pr agent, so maybe she’s in a facility where she’s not even allowed to have her phone. i’m not trying to make assumptions. i’m just saying maybe some of you don’t understand how bad this could be for her. 

@sweetstarryhaze: ok, but why did @coffeewithcleo think this was a good idea? Like a public concert? Where you know everyone will be filming? When you have that many followers on social media? How stupid does one have to be to go out with their sidepiece in public? Common sense has left the building, I fear.

@larrysparrows: guys @louinblue hasn’t been online in what feels like an entire lifetime and I just hope someone (not Cleo, B L E H) is giving him cuddles. And tea. And maybe a cucumber sandwich since he really likes those.

@joanroberts5: I bet he forgave her … pretty girls always get away with shit

@flowerfeastie: I hope @coffeewithcleo is having the absolute worst day. may her pillow always be too warm, her soup too cold. amen

@cleoscoffee: we are NOT affiliated with @coffeewithcleo and we absolutely do not condone cheating. Please stop tagging us. We just want to sell coffee.

@clemaniac557: cleo could tell me that this randy guy was her father and I wouldn’t even bat an eye at them being together. Look at the way he looks at her, they’re so sweet together!!!!!!

@ihateeveryone: except @louinblue love you bby. Hang in there.

@rarelyagooodfit: Might I suggest Harry Styles for Man of the Year? No one has been able to unite the world like he has. Dare I say the Styles-Gate will lead us to world peace. It feels so good to just laugh together 

@PopBase: Stargazer has released a statement regarding their CEO’s dalliance at the Harry Styles Show earlier this week. Read it here.

@CleSpiders: Who will we catch on our Kiss Cam tonight? Slider with another hot dog, perhaps? Or maybe another CEO out for a little one on one time with his HR manager or something? Who knows. Better tune in to tonight’s game.

@clarkeslandingrh: Need a vacation spot? Come visit sunny Wickford, Rhode Island. We can promise nice days on the beach, a Wednesday Market, and some pretty good ice cream spots. We cannot promise that you won’t be caught ruining your marriage.

@avocadoh8r: I can’t believe every single kiss cam in the history of football is now just people recreating those cheating scumbags from the Harry Styles show. Nothing like a good ol’ case of infidelity to bring the internet together. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

STARGAZER SPEAKS OUT: CEO PLACED ON UNPAID LEAVE WHILE COMPANY CONDUCTS AND INVESTIGATION INTO CHEATING SCANDAL

For the first time, a representative of Stargazer, LLC has spoken out about the now infamous scandal that occurred at Harry Styles Concert on July 23rd, when Stargazer CEO was caught on the jumbroton in an intimate position with someone who was not his wife. 

The woman, as it turned out, was his personal assistant and lifestyle vlogger, Cleo Lancaster. 

Their statement was brief, but poignant: 

“We here at Stargazer LLC are proud of the culture we have created, and stand by our values of hard work, family, and a diverse, equitable company. To have our brand now so intrinsically tied to this horrific scandal is an embarrassment to Stargazer. Moving forward, we have placed CEO Randy Cyrus on unpaid leave while we investigate the happenings of July 23rd. Cleo Lancaster has been relieved of her duties as Personal Assistant. 

We are unable to say more as the investigation gets underway, but we want to send our support to Louis Tomlinson and Sandra Johnson, who are very much the victims in a story that has caught on like wildfire because of its theatrical nature. We urge the public to remember that these are real people with real lives who are now navigating a very real heartbreak. Thank you.” 

Neither Louis Tomlinson or Sandra Johnson, the spouses of Lancaster and Cyrus, have released any statement. Newsweek reached out for comment, but received no reply. 

Stay tuned as this story continues to unfold! Subscribe here! 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

The next few days passed in a haze of blurred vision and his sisters’ giggles and Louis mastering the art of swallowing down any and all emotions that came just a bit too close to bubbling over the surface. 

He braided the twins’ hair. He helped Fizzy paint her room lilac, which was a project she’d wanted to finish for months. He even helped his mom make pie. He absolutely did not check his phone or leave the house. When the evening news came on, he not so discreetly fled the scene. 

To the girls’ credit, they also seemingly became experts at ignoring the large, stomping elephant in the room. Even when said elephant knocked photos off the wall and made the home’s foundation shake and slept on their couch. They just didn’t talk about it. Louis didn’t know if it was his mother’s doing or if the girls were just lovely, but with every minute they got away with not talking about it, he could breathe a little easier. 

He could handle the whispers that floated out from rooms he wasn’t in. He could ignore the looks Lottie kept sending him. Hell, he could even overlook the way his sisters would sometimes look at their phones and then at him with wide, sympathetic blue eyes. 

Each of those acts were easy to ignore, so Louis did. He instead put all of his effort in reclaiming his title as the Best Big Brother in the World. Baking, playing, painting. The possibilities were endless. If he played his cards right, he would never have to go outside again. 

Because he never planned to. Go outside, that is. 

The thing was … there were people out there. Thousands - no millions - of people who were now only ever going to know him as the guy whose wife’s affair became an internet sensation. Anywhere he went - whether the beach or the park or the fucking grocery store - gave the public access to another story or an awkward run in. Fans who supported Cleo might spot him. Sympathizers might try to give him their condolences and he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. 

Two days after the concert that ended his life, he tried to play outside with the baby twins and he became so paranoid that someone was watching him that his chest tightened. His throat closed. He couldn’t breathe and the sky was seconds from falling and so he forced a distraught Doris and Ernie to come inside. He hadn’t crossed a single threshold since. He never would again. Everything he needed was here. 

His mom loved him. She would understand. 

Of course, though, his plan to shove his phone down the garbage disposal and disappear forever reached its very first challenge on the 28th, five days after the concert and four days since his marriage effectively ended. There had been no contact with Cleo, no checking in on Tiktok. Everything had been quiet and peaceful and easy, and then Phoebe stepped into the living room with pale skin framed by her long, brown hair. 

“What is it?” Louis asked at once, sitting up. He took in her wide eyes, her trembling lips, and suddenly felt ready to re-enter the world to kill whoever made her look so … so hurt. 

“Mom said I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Phoebe muttered, looking down at her feet. She was wearing bunny slippers, paired with a guilty slouch to her shoulders. 

Oh? 

“Okay …” 

“But I think you should know because … because she mentioned you.” His little sister's voice was small. She sounded so young. 

“Me? Mom mentioned me?” 

Phoebe shook her head. “Cleo did.” 

The name was a sucker-punch to the heart. Louis visibly winced. “You spoke to Cleo?” 

As far as Louis knew, Cleo hadn’t called. She hadn’t reached out and, truthfully, he didn’t expect her to. She was both too prideful and perhaps too in love with Randy to be concerned about where he had disappeared to. 

Stupid fucking Randy.

(Besides, if she wanted to find him, it’s not like he fucked off to New Zealand or Narnia or something. She spent several holidays at his mom’s house. She knew where to find him). 

((She would never be brave enough to come here. She was terrified of Johannah)). 

“I didn’t, no.” Again, Phoebe shook her head. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Fuck her.” 

Louis should probably yell at her for swearing. He agreed with her too much to care. “Fuck her.” 

“She … um. Posted a video. This morning. The incident from her point of view.” 

Of fucking course she did. Louis rolled his eyes, even as the knife that made a home in his chest twisted. He hardly noticed his organs being torn to shreds. 

“She waited five whole days.” Not even a fucking week. “I’m almost impressed.” 

Phoebe hesitated. “Do you wanna watch it?” 

Actually, yes. “Not in the slightest. I’m just gonna send it to my divorce lawyer and call it a day, honestly.” 

Phoebe nodded once and stepped further into the room, past the french doors that blocked the room from the rest of the house. The plastic squares throughout the frame looked like frosted glass. It was the perfect detail to make the home look like a little cottage come Christmas time. 

“I had a question about that, actually,” she said, still so uncharacteristically quiet. Louis beckoned her over. “The divorce.” 

“Yes, you can still talk to her once it’s finalized,” Louis said at once, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her head. “I know she was helping you-” 

His sister silenced him with one disbelieving look. She pulled back, fixing him with a gaze that would make their mother proud. “Why the fuck would I want to talk to her again?” She demanded. 

“Um, language?” 

“She’s a … she’s the worst, Lou. She broke your heart. She’s dead to me.” 

Louis winced. “Pheebs-” 

“I was just gonna ask if we could still see Dakota,” his sister hissed, hands bawling into fists on her lap. “You know, the creature that actually has value and brings joy into our lives. Fuck Cleo. And fuck you for thinking I want to ever see her again.” 

“Phoebe, language.” 

His sister stood in a huff of anger, any of the reservation gone. Her eyes were ice. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but we’re actually on your side, Lou,” she said, “Almost the entire world is on your side! Harry Styles is on your side! So basically anyone who matters is just … this world you’re running from? No one hates you. No one thinks you’re in the wrong, ‘cept a few idiots.”

Louis blinked back a few (incredibly inopportune) tears. “They don’t hate me, but they pity me. That’s almost worse.” 

“I would pity anyone in your situation. It’s human to feel bad for someone who -” 

“Stop.” 

Phoebe shook her head and stepped towards the door. Louis watched her long, brown plait bounce against the soft, thin fabric of her tank top. He almost expected her to walk out, to leave without another word. Just as she reached the threshold, though, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. The blaze in her gaze had simmered down to mere embers.

When she spoke, her voice was softer than the air conditioner humming in the background. “I get why you’re hiding from the world,” she said, “I just don’t get why you’re hiding from us.” 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“A MOMENT I DEEPLY REGRET” - CLEO LANCASTER BREAKS SILENCE AFTER VIRAL VIDEO THAT SHOWED THE INFLUENCER CHEATING ON HER HUSBAND AT HARRY STYLES CONCERT 

… 

LIGHTS UP, WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE, CLEO LANCASTER (A CHEATER)

…

CLEO LANCASTER LOSES OVER 500,000 FOLLOWERS AFTER FIRST VIDEO FOLLOWING KISS CAM GATE 

…

WILL LOUIS TOMLINSON EVER RETURN TO TIKTOK? INFLUENCER STILL SILENT FIVE DAYS AFTER CHEATING SCANDAL 

…

ON HIS TOMLINSOWN: CLEO LANCASTER SUGGESTS MARRIAGE HAS ENDED FOLLOWING VIRAL AFFAIR VIDEO 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

The very worst thing about having such a large family filled with driven, intelligent women is that Louis was almost always wrong when his siblings and he fought. 

A part of him knew he was wrong before Phoebe even left the room. 

He spent the next few hours in a sort of fugue state. Though he didn’t get up off the couch or chase after his sister to apologize, he did finally take his phone out of his bag for the first time in five days and that… that was a major deal in and of itself. 

Because he lied to Phoebe. He did want to see this video. He wanted to see how Cleo explained it away. He wanted to see what she said about him. 

Besides, Louis had been married for three years, had dated Cleo for two. There would always be a piece of him that would hope she was okay. He needed to see for himself. 

So, three hours after his sister left the room (and likely warned the rest of the house to just leave him alone), Louis took his iPhone off the charger and powered it on, his thumb dragging over its yellow back again and again. The famous Apple logo appeared. A picture of Louis and Cleo on their honeymoon in the Bahamas followed. Cleo in a floral, full-length dress. Louis wearing a matching tie. Them smiling with all the hope of the forever they promised each other. 

God. Maybe he wasn’t ready. 

Before he could fully process the picture, though, dozens of notifications began flooding Louis’ screen. Text messages from friends and work partners. Tweets. Tiktok messages. Fucking interview requests from the very same news outlets Louis couldn’t believe were writing about him. 

Nothing from Cleo. It would have gone to the very top of his screen. 

With shaking hands, Louis unlocked his phone with his usual passcode (082122 - their anniversary) and went immediately to Tiktok. He decidedly kept away from the notifications tab and the For You page, opting instead to go to the search bar. His fingers still shook as he typed in coffeewithcleo but he forced himself to keep going, to do it, to not look at trending topics before he clicked on her profile. He didn’t look at her profile picture (a picture from their wedding) or her bio (which called herself blessed to be married to louinblue) and went to click on her most recent video. The title filling most of the thumbnail read, STORYTIME! ENDED UP ON THE JUMBOTRON AT A HARRY STYLES CONCERT! 

And Louis just … he froze. Ended up on the jumbotron at a Harry Styles concert? That was her angle? That was the takeaway? She actually …

Was she making a joke of this? That was how she thought it best to respond? Of all the titles she could have chosen? Was she being fucking serious? 

Louis knew Cleo. He loved Cleo. He knew she would doing anything for views and he had always supported her and admired her ambition and, still, he felt himself staring in shock because there was absolutely no fucking way. 

There it was. The hatred Louis knew he would someday feel was quite suddenly burning through him, leaking out like a powder keg seconds from detonation. His hands shook and it was no longer from nerves or hurt. He couldn’t … was she fucking serious? Like actually? 

“C’mon Tomlinson,” he muttered to himself, “Let’s just get on with it.” 

He pressed the video and held his breath. 

Immediately, Cleo came into frame. She was smiling her typical, super star smile that Louis fell for all those years ago. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped the sides of a coffee mug the way they always did, only this time … 

Louis tilted his head. That wasn’t one of their cups. 

“ Good morning, my lovely little Clemaniacs, and welcome to a long overdue Coffee with Cleo!” She said, as bubbly and enthusiastic as ever. As if she had no idea that millions would be tuning in to watch. “ I hope you can forgive me for being away for so long, but as I’m sure you expected … trying to recap something like that Harry Styles concert proved itself to be a challenge!” 

She laughed, like it was easy. And Louis couldn’t …

She wasn’t home. Their kitchen was all a monochromatic, pale blur - an aesthetic that had become their brand. Cleo always filmed her coffee videos in front of a painting of the sky over an ocean, with her blue mug and the blue walls and … 

And this wall was grey. It wasn’t anywhere in the penthouse. The mug was purple. Was she … at a hotel? Why? Did it feel wrong to be there without Louis? Was it possible that she missed him? What if … 

“ And believe me, my friends, I wanted to talk all about the show, to dissect the setlist and gush about how hot Harry Styles is in person, because let me tell you my friends, those legs! I appreciate the bright jumpsuit, but I wouldn’t mind if he took it off, if you know what I mean …

“I also wanted to show you my outfit because I was so proud of it. Unfortunately, though, the big reveal was spoiled on account of the accidentally viral video that I just so happen to be in.” 

Louis sucked in a breath. 

“And that’s what I want to talk about today, lovies, because it’s important. Because my relationship with you all is the most important thing in the world to me and I never want to do anything to jeopardize that. You all have given me a life I only ever dreamed about as a child and for that, I owe you full transparency. Also, I just love you.

“So, rather than letting this be a spontaneous conversation between friends, I prepared a statement and I would like to read it to you. I hope, afterwards, we can just move forward and continue making memories together.” 

With a jolt, Louis realized Cleo wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. It was glaringly obvious as she picked up a piece of paper, a more somber expression falling over her angelic blue eyes. She pushed her long, brown hair over her shoulder and cleared her throat. 

“ As some of you may know -” 

Louis scoffed. Everyone knows, Cleo. 

“The biggest mistake of my life became a documented internet sensation last week at Madison Square Garden, where I was shown in an intimate manner with another man who was not my husband, who I have been building my life with for five years. I deeply regret this and will never be able to put into words how sorry I am, to my fans who believed in me, and to Louis. We have lived years straight out of a fairytale together and I hate myself for hurting him. 

“Louis has asked for space, and I am giving him just that, even if not being home with him is the hardest thing I have ever had to live through.” 

Louis tapped the video, pausing it. His jaw dropped. He stared and stared and, still, those words rushed through his mind and they made no sense because … 

Not being home with him. 

She was making it seem as though Louis kicked her out. That was why she was filming at a different location. It was every bit as strategic as every single move she had ever made for this stupid fucking vlog. 

Was she filming at Randy’s place? God. 

He couldn’t think about this - he couldn’t do this - and so he pressed play and watched. 

“I have no excuses for what I have done, and the pain I have caused not only Louis, but Sandra as well. All I can say is that I am human and, while my life may seem perfect on Tiktok, I am still just a normal person who has struggles, just the same as all of you and, as we go into this new era, I really want to remind everyone that I am actually not infallible. I do stupid shit sometimes. And everyone judging Randy and myself better damn well make sure they are perfect before doing so.” 

She couldn’t be serious. 

“I also think, though every single one of you knows how much I love social media and being able to connect with all of you across the globe, I think this incident shows the dangerous side of social media. There are now millions of people making memes and jokes about a real life heartbreak between real life people. That’s disgusting, in all honesty. It’s just not right. Randy and I deserve better than that. We all need to be more aware of how our words and moments of laughter and cheap humor hurt others. Which is why … all proceeds from this video will be donated to an Anti-Bullying Campaign. I don’t only want to make the world better, I want to do better.” 

The moment was upon him. Louis hated her. He had reached the point, far sooner than he’d imagined, but it felt strangely good. He found he’d missed the rage. It felt so much better than the pain.

Cleo took a breath, as if letting her own generosity have a moment to shine through. “I also want to express how troubling it is that what should have been a private moment became public without my consent. I respect artists and entertainers but I hope we can all think more deeply about the impact of turning someone else’s life into a spectacle. I have always been a massive Harry Styles fan, but I have lost all respect for him. The nerve he had to laugh at our expense is infuriating. I will never attend another show. 

“And with that … I have said my piece. I ask only for grace as I navigate this new reality and figure out the intricacies of my new chapter. Thank you all so much for tuning in.” She raised her glass. “Until the next cup, my friends! Love you so much!” 

Louis couldn’t give himself a second to process, to think. Instead, he paused the video before it could start again and went straight to the comments. It was probably a grave mistake. He didn’t care . 

The very top one - with over a million likes - read, not u blaming HARRY because you cheated on your husband I FUCKING CANT

Another said, Wrong move, girly pop. You just declared war on Harry Styles and no one wins that one. It’s so over for u 

Cleo I love you SO MUCH!!!! Your so right, shit happens. That doesn’t make you a bad person! Always remember how loved you are 

#WeLoveYouCleo 

Louis is so much hotter than fucking RANDY, what a downgrade my girl hahaha 

Those things about her life not being perfect ……… what if Louis cheated on HER?!?! 

Louis’ grip on his phone became tighter. He clenched it like a lifeline and shook his head, trying to ignore the way the room was spinning. It hurt, was the thing. The way Cleo’s fans - who had always embraced him, who they had trusted enough to share their relationship and lives with - were so willing to turn on him because they didn’t want to believe that Cleo could be cruel for the sake of being cruel. 

Of course Louis deserved to be cheated on. Of course he did. 

He needed to log off. He needed to throw his phone in the fucking harbor. He … 

One last comment caught his eye. 

Sounds to me like she’s trying to put all the blame on Louis (and Harry Styles?) when she was the one out there in public with someone else. Kind of embarrassing for her tbh. Louis deserves better and Cleo deserves every ounce of criticism she receives and then some.

Louis didn’t pause to think before he liked it. 

Then he closed the app. 

For a moment, that pure rush of adrenaline replaced days and days of anguish, of pain. He no longer felt helpless. In his own way, it was him reclaiming the narrative about the way his own life had blown up and he relished the chance. He should go like more comments, or Tweets, or maybe he should - 

Before he could plan his next course of action properly, though, a notification flashed across his screen and Louis froze. 

He dropped his phone. Picked up his phone. Dropped it again. Picked it up again. Brought the notification bar down and stared and still, it was there. It was there and it was real and Louis couldn’t breathe. 

What?! 

Twitter: Harry_Styles wants to send you a direct message! 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

@thebluehue: umm … did anyone else see it? Am I seeing things or did @louinblue just basically discredit @coffeewithcleo’s entire video with one like?

@babyhoneyyyyy: I can’t believe @louinblue liked that comment. I feel so bad for him. Cleo is the WORST.

@lavendarhes: Louis liking that comment and dipping is so passive aggressive of him, and I am HERE FOR IT. GET HER, @louinblue

@untilthenextcup: @louinblue what’s wrong with you? She said she was giving you space and you’re being petty? @coffeewithcleo just ignore him. He’s not worth compromising your happiness.

@mylifeinlyrics: @untilthenextcup seriously? That’s what you’re going with? There’s something seriously wrong with you and anyone else defending her.

@4everyoung: I hope @louinblue knows that we’re all here for him. Cleo is a fucking liar and a cheater and I’m never watching her videos again. 

@nopainsaturdays: @louinblue like as many comments as you want bby. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Louis responded exactly how any rational human being who was just DMed by the world famous popstar who accidentally exposed his wife’s affair to the entire world would: he ran away. 

Not actually, of course. His plan for the rest of his life was still the same. He would never leave Long Island or his mom’s house. He would never so much as smile at another stranger. Still, though, desperate times called for desperate measures. With his phone still clenched in his hand, he stood, slipped on his shoes, and promptly fled the house before anyone could realize he was leaving. 

He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain himself. He wanted to be left alone. 

How fucking dare Harry fucking Styles reach out to him? What could Louis possibly offer a world-famous popstar? It didn’t make sense and Louis wanted nothing to do with him and his stupid pop songs or annoyingly gorgeous legs and sparkly clothes. 

Cleo was right, after all. Harry Styles’ legs belonged in the Louvre.

Cleo. 

Louis didn’t know what to think when it came to her. There was too much. Her fake regret? The way she somehow managed to simultaneously apologize and blame everyone else for her mistake? The way she looked beautiful and whole in that video, while Louis was still struggling to get out of bed? 

Fuck, Louis wasn’t even struggling to get out of bed . He was sleeping on his mom’s couch, in a household too small for him to be taking up space with his ugly, bleeding heart. 

He couldn’t do this. 

Fuck Cleo. Fuck Randy. Fuck Harry Styles. Fuck them all. 

(Again, what could Louis offer a popstar? Let the record show he wasn’t even enough for his influencer wife who once vowed to love him forever). 

Louis had nothing to offer anyone, so he wandered aimlessly down the sidewalks; passed houses he had known his entire life. Ms. Maddie, who made the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. Oscar, who once owned a very annoying and very evil chihuahua. Melody’s gorgeous pink house right on the corner, serving as the neighborhood landmark. Louis rushed by it all and felt nothing and everything all at once. He took his phone out, verified that the notification was still there, and hurriedly hid it away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how to do this. So he walked. 

He walked until houses stopped looking familiar, until he could hear the distant crashing of waves, until he could taste the distant promise of salt air. He walked and walked and checked his phone and hid his phone and he walked and he checked his phone and, eventually, he found himself at a lookout, overlooking New York harbor. 

It was beautiful, was the thing. The city. Louis’ marriage. The ring he still wore, the one that used to match Cleo’s. 

She had already taken it off. It hadn’t even been a week. The concert was the 23rd. It was the 28th. Five days. 

It felt like a lifetime. Surely Louis was twenty years older. 

He looked down at the simple gold band (Cleo lived the life of a true minimalist, in every way except for her relationships, it seemed) and couldn’t help help but think that maybe it was time to relearn what his hand looked like without it. 

He wondered how Cleo had felt when she took hers off. 

Louis sat on the rocky edge of the lookout. It was a ten foot drop straight into the water. He could do it. Right here, right now. He could let go. 

He already let go. 

He screwed his eyes shut. He held his breath.

Three, two, one … 

He slid the ring off his finger and threw it as hard as he could into the water. When he opened his eyes, the gold band with C + L forever inscribed on the inside was lost already to the waves. Louis was never going to see it again. He was never going to go home to Cleo and Dakota again. It was over. 

And Louis took his first deep breath and realized, all at once, that his hand felt lighter. His heart felt lighter. He felt … 

He felt a little more like himself. A little braver. A little more free. 

He did it. He actually did it.

As it turned out, he was having a banner day. He had liked a comment that would undoubtedly have everyone talking about him again. Then he threw his wedding band into the ocean. Were these steps forward? 

Once again, he took out his phone. 

Good things tended to come in threes. Maybe, too, did brave acts. 

It was fine. He was safe. He was alone, watching the ocean, and he could open his Twitter DMs and see that a fake Harry Styles account had messaged him and then he could move on to figuring how to apologize to Phoebe (and maybe the rest of his family, too). It literally didn’t matter. Even if the real Harry Styles had reached out to him ((which was simply impossible)), Louis was under no obligation to respond. It was fine. 

Louis just threw his wedding ring into the harbor. Opening a direct message was not allowed to be the scariest part of his day. 

So, he went to his notifications once more and opened the notification and let his phone take him to a message request from …

From Harry Styles, real life popstar. Actual account. Actual human. Actual human with pretty curly hair and sinful legs. 

Shit. 

Harry_Styles: Hello, Louis. This is Harry Styles. I’m a musician, which is something I am afraid you might already know for all the wrong reasons. I hope I am not bothering you (and if I am you do not have to answer), but I just want to express my deepest condolences for what happened at my concert. It was never my intention to bring any pain at all into your life and I hope you are doing okay. I know I can’t really help in any way that matters, but my last show of this leg of tour is in Boston next weekend and I wanted to offer you a free ticket. You don’t have to say yes and I understand why you might feel uncomfortable, but this felt like the least I can do. I would of course pay for any accommodations and travel costs. Again, I am so sorry and I sincerely hope you are doing alright. - H

Louis blinked. And blinked. And blinked. 

Harry Styles hadn’t just messaged him. He had written him a whole paragraph.

Apologizing. Reaching out. Saying Louis didn’t have to answer. Offering free tickets. To his show in Boston. 

Louis dug his nails into his thighs. I gotta hand it to the guy, he thought. It was bitter. He has one hell of a PR team. 

Because surely that was all this was. Harry was a popstar in the prime of his life and had accidentally stumbled upon a PR gold mine that made him look incredible. He already had people saying he deserved the Nobel Peace Prize, for god’s sake. Inviting the poor, humiliated spouse who was cheated on at his show, to his show? It was genius. He would have expected this much earlier if he’d had any room in his brain next to the pain and the simmering anger.

Louis couldn’t even begin to imagine the press reaction. If he said yes, that was. Which he wasn’t going to. At least not for himself. 

louinblue: Hi, Harry. Thank you so much for reaching out and being so generous. I must admit, though, I haven’t really listened to a ton of your music and I would feel bad stealing an opportunity from a real fan. My sister loves you. I could give her the ticket instead? 

Perfect. Louis nodded in satisfaction. He doubted he would hear back - inviting a sister to the show wouldn’t garner nearly as much attention. It wouldn’t be as good of a story. Harry wasn’t going to respond, but if he did, Louis could make it up to Phoebe. He just hoped the other girls would understand. 

Or maybe he should give the ticket to Lottie. She was older and didn’t have a twin to fight over the show with. It made more sense. Besides, it didn’t matter because Harry wasn’t going to - 

His phone buzzed. Louis’ stomach dropped. 

Harry_Styles: Hi again! You’re such a good brother :) I get it, I have a sister too. She’s my best friend. 

Harry_Styles: Between me and you, though, I’ve been told my shows are fun for veteran fans and rookies alike! And I extended this offer to Sandra Johnson as well, but she politely declined, so there is an extra ticket if you and your sister both want to come …

Louis bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. He shook his head. 

louinblue: I have four sisters who would want to attend, I’m afraid I still have to keep myself outta the equation 

There. Perfect. There was no way Harry Styles would continue pressing. No one cared that much, most especially a world famous popstar . 

World famous popstars were never that nice. 

Harry_Styles: Would you look at that! I just found five extra tickets in my pocket … 

Unbelievable. 

Harry_Styles: I might even be able to find six if you invent an aunt whose greatest ambition in life is to boop my lovely little Niall’s nose after he performs at TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts 

louinblue: Niall? 

Harry_Styles: My guitarist and best friend :) man oh man you really are a rookie 

Harry_Styles: But seriously, Louis, if you’re not comfortable or just don’t want to, I understand. The same way I understood with Sandra. There is no pressure. I just feel like I blew up your life on accident and I want to do something nice, but it’s not about me at all. You can say no I swear 

Oh, this PR mastermind was good. 

louinblue: $30,000 would also be a nice thing to do and it involves less travel  …

Harry_Styles: DONE

Harry_Styles: Be right back, converting that from pounds ……. 

Despite himself, Louis laughed. Vaguely, he realized it was the first time he had smiled and laughed for real in five days. He had faked it for the twins, for Doris and Ernie, but this one …

This one was for him. And it felt … good. It was nice to know he could still laugh and smile. 

louinblue: As if you don’t have an American bank, Styles 

louinblue: But hey, it’s my turn to be serious. YOU didn’t blow up my life. Cleo did that all on her own and I don’t blame you for any of it. You don’t have to do anything nice for me because you did nothing wrong, except put on what I am sure was a great show 

louinblue: But that being said … do you really mean it? Five tickets? 

This may just be the greatest PR move in history, but Louis didn’t know if he minded. He was also using Harry as a way to re-establish himself as the world’s best big brother. If nothing else, a show in Boston would mean everything to the girls. 

Besides, whoever Louis was messaging (because he doubted it was actually Harry) was absolutely lovely and if someone working for Harry Styles was this lovely, well, maybe Louis didn’t mind supporting the brand. Somewhere along the way, his entire life had become a brand deal. This was no different. 

Harry_Styles: Five tickets! Plus flights and hotel rooms paid for. It’s all yours, if you want it :) 

Again, Louis smiled. 

louinblue: You know … I think I do 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“I HATE MYSELF FOR HURTING HIM” - CLEO LANCASTER SPEAKS OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME CHEATING SCANDAL, ASKS FOR PRIVACY AS HUSBAND LOUIS TOMLINSON AND SHE WORK ON MARRIAGE

…

ARE BELOVED TIKTOK COUPLE CLEO LANCASTER AND LOUIS TOMLINSON HEADING TOWARDS DIVORCE?

,,,

SANDRA JOHNSON AND RANDY CYRUS HEADED TO DIVORCE COURT, TMZ CONFIRMS

…

DID CLEO LANCASTER’S APOLOGY VIDEO BACKFIRE? READ WHY THOUSANDS CLAIM THE INFLUENCER TOOK NO ACCOUNTABILITY IN CHEATING SCANDAL

The influencer has lost 1.28 million followers since the video was posted four days ago

…

“ARE YOU ACTUALLY TOGETHER?’ - HARRY STYLES HAS NEW FAVORITE PUNCHLINE, CONTINUES TO POKE FUN AT COUPLES SHOWN ON BIG SCREEN AT EVERY SHOW

…

IS THE LEGACY OF HARRY STYLES’ LOVE ON TOUR … DIVORCE?

…

WELCOME TO THE FINAL SHOW! AS HARRY STYLES PREPARES TO TAKE STAGE ONE LAST TIME IN BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS THIS EVENING, WE HAVE CREATED A LIST OF OUR TOP 10 FAVORITE MOMENTS FROM THE U.S. LEG OF LOVE ON TOUR

Bet you can’t guess #1

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Louis thought he knew what it meant to be starstruck. 

He had, after all, managed exactly three words in Cleo’s presence the day they met. He watched her float down the aisle toward him in her Versace wedding dress and forgot every word in the English language. After that day, it felt like nothing more on planet earth could surprise him. He had already come face to face with the world’s very best; its most enchanting sights and wonders.

Then Harry Styles came stumbling onto the stage at TD Garden in pink metallic pants. 

More specifically, pink metallic pants held up by a bedazzled pink belt. A matching jacket covered by a massive, feathery, baby pink overcoat. No shirt. Two jackets and no shirt. 

Ba! Ba-ba! Ba-ba!

Were those … was that a saxophone? 

It’s cause I love you, babe.  

Harry Styles - real-life person - grinned. The yellow ambience of light painted him as the promises of summer; joy, free, youthful. Pink. “I love you, Boston!” 

That accent. 

Was this a religious experience? Louis was most definitely having a religious experience. The echo of instruments and vocals and that damn smile sank straight through the floor and then panned out, taking a direct detour to Louis’ heart. It took him four songs to remember to breathe.  

Once upon a time, Louis thought he knew what it meant to be awestruck. All it took was seeing Harry Styles in person to realize that maybe he actually knew nothing at all. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“Oh my god, Lou, it’s Harry’s backup guitarist ,” Lottie hissed, gripping his arm like she was trying to tattoo the pads of her fingers into his skin. Louis turned to look, but the woman had already disappeared into the clutter of backstage. All that remained visible were distant glistenings off her black, sequined jacket. 

“She’s so cool,” Daisy whispered, staring around like she still couldn’t believe they were here. Louis was half-waiting for her head to do a 360 degree turn on her neck. 

Phoebe and Fizzy had their phones out and were filming everything they could see, as they had been doing since Harry’s personal head of security picked them up at the front gates five “life-changing” hours ago (the girls’ words, not his) , and Louis couldn’t help but smile as he watched them giggle their way through the hallways, giddy with all the little details they were immortalizing in their minds and in their pictures.

If nothing else, seeing them this happy made Louis feel like maybe his life didn’t have to be over.  

Louis had been to many concerts in his time, but they tended to lean more towards rock and alternative music with a lot of heavy guitar and drums that made his body thrum from the inside out while doing undeniable damage to his hearing. Pop music wasn’t necessarily his thing - it had always been more Cleo’s. But tonight, he vehemently refused to think of this show in connection to her. It was his. It belonged to him and his sisters. And Harry Styles, of course. The man of the hour. 

The man who had orchestrated all of this - free tickets to his show, a stay in a 5-star hotel, and five Amtrak tickets from New York to Boston and back - for five people he had never met. It was a kindness that took Louis’ breath away. It was a story he wanted to sell the papers, despite none of them yet seeming to have any idea that it transpired. 

For two days after that first message, Louis expected the fallout from this genius PR move to explode at any moment. There were nine days between Harry’s invitation and the show, which gave the papers nine days to draft their stories. Louis waited for it. The articles, the request for interviews, maybe even Harry agreeing to an interview. The inevitable public commentary. Fans fawning over Harry. Cleo fans calling Louis a gold-digger. There was going to be a storm, and so Louis took shelter (aka: remaining hidden in his mom’s house while scrolling through his phone with one eye shut). 

But it all remained quiet. 

No new headlines crossed his phone. No interview DMs came through asking for his statement on Harry’s grand gesture. In fact, the only thing he did receive, which was quite possibly more shocking than any of that would have been, was another message from Harry.

Real-life popstar, Harry Styles.

Harry_Styles: Do you like coffee?

Louis, who was sitting at the breakfast table with his entire family at the time, choked on his tea and sprayed it everywhere, soaking his mom’s favorite tablecloth and Fizzy’s french toast. 

After insisting that he was fine and cleaning up his mess, Louis excused himself and fled to the solace of the back porch. (It was a baby step, feeling comfortable out there. Next step would be the front yard). A small lifetime passed as he stared blankly at the message. Harry’s very first message to him had prompted loads of speculation and doubt, but this one only brought pure confusion. Why did Harry reach out again, about something so inconsequential? Why did he want to know? Why did he care? Surely it didn’t matter. Louis was no one to him. 

But he had to admit, he was curious. It wasn’t every day a pop star asked about your drink preferences, and Louis could definitely use conversation to keep his mind from spiralling out of control. It was a distraction, albeit an odd one. 

louinblue: Umm …yes?

louinblue: I like tea better, though.

Harry’s response was almost immediate, like he’d been waiting for Louis to message back. For whatever reason, it made Louis’ stomach flip pleasantly. 

Harry_Styles: Oh, thank god. I was worried I’d have to have to send someone to get coffee in Boston. 

Harry_Styles: I drink so much tea. I have all the tea.

Harry_Styles: I just wanted to make sure I had something to make you, after the show. Didn’t want you to be thirsty. Hydration at concerts is key.

Harry_Styles: What about the girls? 

Harry_Styles: Apparently Boston is the home of Dunkin Donuts. Bostonians are crazy about the stuff. I’m sure there will be some nearby if they don’t like tea. It wouldn’t be a big deal at all

louinblue: Harry, they’re going to meet you. They will not give a fuck about coffee versus tea 

louinblue: Besides, Daisy already told me about the Dunkin thing :/ they’ve found out there’s one at the train station, so they’ll be hyped up on sugar drinks before we ever even get to the hotel. It’s basically already over for me   

louinblue: But thank you so much, for thinking of them too. And I promise they aren’t ACTUALLY dangerous. Just excited. The only threat is potential hearing loss when all four are talking over each other at once  

Harry_Styles: I can’t wait. I’ve been going to concerts since I was 7, so my hearing’s fucked anyway. I’m excited to meet them!! And you! 

louinblue: That’s very kind of you.

louinblue: I have to admit … I didn’t expect to hear from you again. At least not about something this … casual?

Harry_Styles: Oh, god. I’m sorry. Did I overstep?  Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything and just had everything prepared for you to choose from.

Harry_Styles: I won’t bother you again, I promise.

Louis felt the fuzzy feeling from before sink like a stone. No, he didn’t want that. It was actually the very opposite of what he wanted. His stupid, stubby fingers couldn’t type fast enough. 

louinblue: No, no, it’s okay. I’m not upset or anything. It was a GOOD sort of surprise. It’s just …

louinblue: You’re YOU, you know? And I’m just me. I figured you’d have much more important things to do than, like, ask me about coffee.

Louis waited ages - years, maybe. Probably decades - for Harry’s response, and in those endless stretches of eternity, he started to panic, thinking maybe he insulted Harry or said something wrong. Did he ruin the easy nature of the conversation by pointing out how strange it was? Did he make Harry realize that it was strange? Did Harry no longer want to talk about him?  

But then a string of messages came through in a flurry and the words left him smiling from ear to ear, something he hadn’t done since the moment he’d first seen the video that had ruined everything.

Harry_Styles: Oh! You flatter me, Louis. My life is NOT actually that exciting. Other than the shows themselves, I kinda live for conversations like this one. The coffee thing was … well, it was an excuse to talk to you again, if I’m being honest. You seemed nice, and I … I enjoyed talking to you.

Harry_Styles: Even if it was just that one conversation. And I spent most of it apologizing and talking about your ex.

Harry_Styles: And now I’m doing it again. Right. Sorry. I’ll stop now.

Harry_Styles: How are you, by the way? With … everything?

Louis sat back in his chair, chuckling to himself. Oh, if Cleo could see him now, exchanging casual messages with her favorite pop star. The vague idea of her jealousy was enough to keep him going for several lifetimes. 

louinblue: Better now that I’m talking to you.

louinblue: Oh that sounded like a line. It wasn’t supposed to be a line. I’m so sorry 

louinblue: I meant it, though. You’ve made me smile for the first time in a week.

louinblue: Thank you.

louinblue: (Also confession time … I totally thought your PR team was the one messaging me this entire time but now I’m secretly convinced it’s actually you) 

Harry_Styles: HA. It’s me, for real. My team handles my promo tweets and all that, but not this 

Harry_Styles: (Confession time: They offered to contact you, but I wanted to be the one to directly handle this)

And on like that it went. One confession parentheses at a time. 

Every single day, without fail, a new message from Harry would flash across Louis’ screen. It was usually in the early afternoon, after the real-life popstar woke after a late night of real-life concerts. From there, the conversations didn’t seem to have an end. The two never ran out of things to discuss. They talked about the most random shit, ranging from their favorite musical artist to the best movies released this decade and even, on one occasion, their favorite brand of underwear (Harry swore by Calvin Klein, but Louis was more of a Fruit of the Loom guy. The debate was heated ). 

Truthfully, Louis began looking forward to their messages. He liked talking to Harry. It was almost like … they were friends? Like the enigma that was Harry Styles wasn’t an enigma at all, but a genuine, funny, very goofy human. The goofiest human, under that real-life popstar persona. And of all people to show that side of himself to, he’d picked Louis? 

It didn’t make sense. Louis had never been more grateful. 

It felt nice to have this … something that was just his, that wasn’t being used for some larger purpose. In DMs they weren’t Louis Tomlinson, Influencer Husband Whose Life Imploded a Week Ago or Harry Styles, International Pop Sensation. They were just Louis and Harry. Having that, however insignificant it was in the grand scheme of things, felt like small parts of the gaping hole Cleo left in her wake were being filled. Louis was starting to feel less like shattered pottery and more like an unfinished puzzle whose edges had finally been pieced together. There was promise of a larger picture, but with so much freedom still left to explore and create and make mistakes and fall apart and come together. 

Louis could be excited for the future. He could. 

The more Louis talked to Harry over the span of nine short days, the more his excitement or the show grew. His sisters were over the moon and had spoken of nothing but their outfits and the setlist and how much was too much to pack for one night in Boston. If nothing else, Louis would get to thank Harry for making them happy. 

And maybe for making him happy, too. 

Because somewhere along the way - maybe in the unending messages or the train to Boston or in the ninety minutes Louis lost himself in Harry’s music, dancing his heart out with his sisters - Louis found his smile was in no rush to leave. The entire show was incredible. He’d been pulled in for the entire set, watching from the seats Harry secured for them. They hadn’t been in the pit or close to the stage or anything fancy, but it was perfect. It was a community of love and acceptance that Harry fostered. Louis admired that endlessly; everyone deserved a safe place where they got to be their truest self. The good, the great, the weird, the wonderful. 

All four girls were outfitted in feather boas and sparkles and enough kid-friendly makeup to last Louis several lifetimes. They also looked like they just had the time of their lives. 

Louis had even, against his better judgement, let Lottie and Fizzy style him for the show. The tight black jeans and indecently scooped red shirt they’d found in a box of his old things were only the basics. They’d pushed his hair back off his forehead and used a criminal amount of gel to hold it in place, and he would most definitely be scrubbing off the sparkles they’d stuck to his cheekbones with sunscreen for days . (Who knew sunscreen was the key to keeping glitter on your skin without gluing it? His sisters were actual geniuses.) 

All in all, he thought he looked pretty good, and so did the hundreds of fans that came up to them, trading bracelets and handing out little pride flags and colored confetti for fan projects. Louis was grateful that, even if anyone did recognize him, they didn’t say so. They didn’t treat him any differently. They just acted like he was another fan, and after seeing the show Harry had just put on, he could definitely place himself in that category. 

(It was a mini victory, too. Being in public and feeling so safe. Louis would like to claim he was healing, but he nearly had two separate panic attacks on the train, so. Being this comfortable in a crowd likely had everything to do with Harry Styles and the kindness of his fans). 

((He didn’t even flinch when Harry made his are you actually together? joke during the jumbotron portion of the show. Last week, Harry asked Louis if he minded the teasing. Louis didn’t in the slightest)). 

(((Anyway))). 

“Girls, come on, we’re due in the green room in five minutes,” Louis said then, corralling his sisters and smiling at the security nearby. The burly man took a few steps forward and beckoned them along. They headed down a hallway packed with crew members. Several shot them odd looks, but said nothing as they passed. On the green walls, photos from various basketball seasons hang beside championship banners won by the Celtics. There are pictures of the Bruins, too, and various photos from concerts hosted in the arena. 

In the future, there will be one from this night. Harry fucking Styles and his metallic pink pants. 

“Lou, I can’t believe we’re meeting the Harry Styles!” Fizzy squealed, stuffing her phone in the pocket of her pink floral pants. “Like … he’s down here somewhere and he invited us !”

“Correction, he invited me ,” Louis joked, wrapping an arm around her. He kissed her head. “So you have to be on your best behavior, or he might regret letting me bring you.”

“Oh, please. We’re adorable. No one can resist twins,” Daisy said with a flip of her perfectly curled hair.

“And he definitely invited you because he thinks you’re cute,” Lottie piped up. Louis felt his cheeks flush. 

He stepped away from Fizzy and looked pointedly at the ground. “I doubt that, Lots. He just felt bad.”

“I don’t know … I mean, you’re not terrible looking, I guess,” Phoebe said, sizing him up with her big blue eyes. She was walking backwards as she did so. A blatant safety hazard. The menace nodded in satisfaction. “At least, your outfit today doesn’t scream couch rotter, so it’s possible.”

“God, Phoebe,” Louis said with a snort, and all of them laughed. The sound settled Louis’ erratic heart, but only by a little. 

Soon enough, they reached the end of the hallway. A large black door loomed ominously in front of them. Instinctively, it seemed, Daisy stepped closer to Louis. 

The security guard turned to face them with a kind smile. “Mr. Styles is inside and waiting for you. Please be careful of any cords and enjoy. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”

He reached for the door handle and, in that moment - despite all they’d already done and witnessed today - the weight of what was about to happen slammed into Louis’ chest. His lungs collapsed. Harry Styles, the man who had just stepped off stage less than an hour ago, was in there. In that room. Louis was going to meet the incredibly sweet man he’d been talking to non-stop for a week. Nine days. A small lifetime. His heart was back to racing as they stepped over the threshold and into a dimly lit room that smelled distinctly of fresh flowers. 

The first thing Louis noticed were the candles. Dozens of them littered every surface, crammed on shelves and countertops and even - for some reason - balanced on a green microwave. Rather than turning on the blinding overhead fluorescent lights, Harry opted to turn on the fairy lights around the edges of the room, aiding in the orange hue brought on by the flickering candlelight. There were four books stacked on a side table and throw pillows in every color and design. The puffy pink jacket he’d worn for the first few songs was thrown over the back of a chair. A pile of hair ties rested on the vanity beside an uncapped bottle of Gucci cologne. 

It all felt strangely homey.

When Louis’ eyes finally fell on Harry, he was immediately glad that he had his four sisters as a buffer. While they were squealing and freaking out amongst themselves, Louis was afforded a few seconds to just … marvel. 

Because, god, he never should have doubted the universe’s ability to surprise him with stunning wonders. No photos or videos or big screens did Harry Styles justice. 

The smile and the bright green eyes and the mop of curls he’d seen many times over the last few years were right in front of him. The smile? Wider. The eyes? Brighter. The hair? Currently tied back in a half top knot and damp from the shower he must have just taken. It was overwhelming in a new way. Because while the star on stage was blinding, this post-show Harry was soft. He looked tired. He looked so normal and it felt like a privilege, all the sudden, to see him like this. 

On top of his general (and obvious) attractiveness, Louis had the added bonus of knowing Harry just a little more than most people might. He’d giggled at jokes Harry had made only to him and flushed his way through conversations about underwear with this man. And putting that knowledge to a face in person was making him very warm all of a sudden. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Or maybe ever. 

And then Harry’s gaze met his, and every emotion in his body intensified tenfold. His heart went up in flames, hands shaking at his side. 

Those green eyes had gone slightly wide, and he looked almost … stunned by Louis’ presence. Louis could most definitely relate. He swallowed hard, wiping his wet palms on his jeans. Harry’s pale pink lips were parted, though no sound escaped him, and it was … it felt, almost, like they were having an entire conversation in the silence. The girls’ squeals faded ever so slightly, as if they were trying to gain a handle on themselves. Louis smiled and summoned the last of his courage. 

“Umm … hi,” he offered, taking a few steps closer and holding out his still-sweating hand. “I’m Louis, though … I guess you kind of figured that.”

Harry’s cheeks went pink. He smiled, dimples poking out to say hi. 

Of course the mother-fucker had dimples. 

“I’m Harry.” And of course the mother-fucker had a British accent. Yes, Louis knew that. In theory. No, he was not all prepared. “And I’m sorry to inform you that I’m a hugger, so … if that’s okay with you?”

And who was Louis to say no to that?

Harry’s embrace was warm, comforting, all-encompassing. He had a few inches on Louis, which meant that Louis’ head fit almost perfectly into the junction of Harry’s shoulder and his neck. He smelled like soap and vanilla and baby powder, and Louis felt so much of the tension he’d been carrying with him since he’d been kicked out of his home leave him as he sank into the hug. 

Would it be alright if this never ended? Louis never wanted this to end. 

When Harry let him go (after a borderline inappropriately long hug that still felt too short), it was with a soft smile and a soft, content sigh. “You look … very on theme,” he said, his eyes moving up and down Louis’ body. Louis felt a spark zip up his spine. His toes curled inward. “For a rookie.” 

What were words? Louis once knew words. “Yeah, I … my sister, she …”

“We dressed him,” Fizzy piped up.

“Yeah. Didn’t want him to stick out like a sore thumb,” Lottie added. “The glitter was my idea.”

“Well, I think he looks amazing, so I’d say a job well done,” Harry said with a smile, his eyes still lingering on Louis. 

“Do we get hugs too?” Phoebe asked then, and Louis groaned quietly. Had he not been clear about the whole being nice and polite and not absolute heathens thing?

“If you want one, absolutely.” Harry opened his arms, and all four girls rushed at him, creating a tangle of limbs and an echo of mingling laughter. Louis let out a deep breath, feeling a smile start to creep onto his face. Hot, sweet, and good with kids. All great qualities. All things he should absolutely not care about right now. 

He did not care. He just appreciated this lovely, stunning person for also being lovely to his little sisters. He listened intently as they each introduced themselves and babbled about their favorite moments in the show. Harry Styles - real-life popstar, maybe even real-life human - was the picture of patience. He seemed so genuinely excited to listen. Louis’ stomach was a mess. 

Eventually, Harry stepped back and gestured toward the back of the room. His feet curved inwards as he addressed the room, eyes flickering back to Louis. “Well, I’m sorry this couldn’t happen under better circumstances, but I’m so glad to meet you all. Please, help yourselves to any snacks and drinks. Lou … Louis, I had your tea made up while I was in the shower.”

Louis felt his face heat up instantly, and Lottie turned to him, raising her eyebrows suggestively. He cleared his throat. “Right. Thanks, I’ll just …”

“Come sit,” Harry beckoned, and Louis took a spot next to him on the soft leather couch. It was nestled along the back wall, right beside the food table that he’d only just noticed. 

The couch was massive - it could fit all six of them easily and still have cushions to spare - but Harry sat beside him and Louis’ mind promptly stopped working. 

He watched his sisters pick over the food table, knowing his mom would actually murder him when she called them later and found four sugar-crashed little humans, but he was finding it really hard to care when Harry was right next to him, their knees touching whenever he moved. 

He was so totally fine. 

“Here you go,” Harry said then, and Louis’ eyes snapped onto him and the steaming mug of tea he was holding in his ridiculously big hands. “I chose earl grey, I hope that’s okay.”

He was so not fine. 

Louis took a cautious sip. His eyes slid closed as the flavor exploded on his tongue; bitter with just a hint of sweet. How did Harry know exactly how he took his tea? “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Harry took a drink out of a large water bottle. “God, I just … I’m so happy you’re here. It’s nice to actually hear your voice. You sound just like I thought you would.”

Louis frowned slightly. “You … my voice is all over the internet, with the vlog and everything. You didn’t … look me up? After the whole …”

Harry shrugged. “I did, but only to contact you. I kind of felt like … the stuff you posted was a different Louis, right? The before Louis. And I was more interested in getting to know the after. Is that weird? It’s probably weird, sorry.”

Louis shook his head. “No, it’s …”

He wasn’t quite sure how to continue that sentence. Louis hadn’t really thought about it, but what Harry said was both true and so very … insightful? Thoughtful? Kind? Louis wasn’t the same person he’d been when he was posting consistently. In so many ways, he felt like he didn’t even know that person anymore. He didn’t know if he wanted to. 

Cleo’s affair had changed him in the worst kind of way, and Harry wanting to know the broken version instead of the polished one? Louis had never known someone quite like him. 

But it was nice to think that someone was still interested in knowing him when he was on his own, as alone as he’d ever been. 

Harry was looking a bit embarrassed, so Louis hurried to find his words. “It’s not weird. I promise. I just … I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Have kind of been trying not to think about it at all, really. I’ve just been sitting on my mom’s couch and trying to forget it’s all real and … and … I don’t know why I just told you that.” Louis huffed out a laugh into his tea, trying to hide his blush. Harry immediately shook his head

“No, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. Not if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that I’m so sorry. I know it wasn’t technically my fault but it kind of was? And I just … I feel horrible about it and I know you said you’re okay with me asking every couple I get on the camera whether or not they’re actually together, but I …I still feel shitty about it all. I’m so sorry and I just wanted to give you something you could enjoy for a few hours without having to be bombarded with questions …” Harry trailed off, biting his lip nervously. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous?”

“You’re nervous?”

Louis didn’t know where the boldness came from, but there it was. Harry’s cheeks flooded with even more color. It made him, if possible, even more beautiful.

Before Harry could offer an answer, however, the girls made their way into the space, sitting on the table and the floor and the armrest of the couch. Daisy immediately launched into a very detailed critique of the setlist, and Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees, listening intently. Though Louis could only see his side profile, he couldn’t help but notice just how adorable Harry’s concentrating face was. The scrunch of his nose. The creases on his forehead. 

He’d get into the implications of that later.

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Two hours in that tiny, homey, cozy room passed in minutes.  

Louis looked at the time with a jolt, wondering where the time had gone. It was just so easy with Harry. He was attentive and expressive and had something to offer for every word the girls threw at him. He even indulged Lottie and let her pick out his next manicure color, which warmed Louis’ heart to the point that he was actually sweating. Or maybe that was the gentle nerves that kept running through his body with every glance he got, with every time Harry’s boisterous laugh filled the room, with every brush of their knees or elbows or hands. 

“We should probably be going,” Louis said reluctantly, looking down at his phone for the tenth time. It was nearly one in the morning, and Louis could feel the guilt settling in amongst the happiness. The poor people working here had to stick around until everyone was gone, he knew that. He also knew the crew must have finished breaking down the stage and equipment an hour ago, by his brief look at the set up. 

There was a chorus of boos and groans, with Harry being the loudest. Louis refused to find that endearing.

“It was so lovely to meet you all,” Harry said, opening his arms for another group hug. His gaze, however, remained on Louis, those green eyes burning into his own blue. Despite the invite being initially for Louis, they hadn’t really talked as much as Louis would have liked. But it was never meant to be anything other than an apology in the first place. The fact that they’d gotten all this time, when Harry could have been out with his band or sleeping soundly in his hotel, was enough. It was.

As security ushered the girls into the hall, a hand landed on Louis’ arm. He turned to see Harry’s smiling face much closer to his own than he’d expected, and he swallowed, his eyes absolutely not darting down to his lips for the smallest of seconds. 

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize again for everything. I hope this brightened your week, at the very least,” Harry said softly, his eyes wide and earnest. 

Louis smiled. “It really did. You’re … quite something, Harry Styles.”

Harry’s blush made his night even better. 

“Oh, and I wanted to give you this,” Harry hurried to add, reaching for the pocket of his sweatpants. 

“You don’t have to … everything here tonight was enough,” Louis insisted, but Harry just chuckled and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Here.” He handed it over, folding Louis’ fingers over it. “My number. My actual number. So you don’t have to keep facing the internet to talk to me. If you want to keep talking to me, of course.”

Now Louis was blushing. “I …”

“Come on, Lou, Mom’s texting wondering why we aren’t at our hotel yet!” came Daisy’s voice from outside the door. Harry smiled fondly after them, and Louis pocketed the paper. It might be the most sacred piece of paper he’d ever touched. It felt holy. 

“Thank you. I’ll … you’ll hear from me, I promise,” Louis said, touching the back of Harry’s hand lightly. 

“I look forward to it.” 

Louis wanted to stay right here. He wanted to call an Uber for his sisters and sit in this room all night with Harry, talking about anything and nothing. He wanted to keep staring at that smile, hearing that laugh, basking in his presence. But he had to turn away. 

As they headed down the hall with security, Phoebe turned to him, a mischievous grin on her face. 

“He likes you, Lou.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “He barely knows me.”

“Did he or did he not just give you his number?” Fizzy added, and Louis gasped.

“You were listening ?”

“Come on, you know us by now,” Lottie said. “And Phoebe’s right. The way he was looking at you? Definitely something more going on there.”

“How would you know, you’ve never dated anyone,” Louis shot back. Lottie just raised her eyebrows and kept walking, and Louis felt the color drain from his face. “Wait … have you? Are you? Charlotte Tomlinson, get back here right now!”

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

POPSTAR MISSING IN ACTION! BAND AND CREW CELEBRATE LOVE ON TOUR WITHOUT LEADING MAN

Last night, 19 thousand fans came together in Boston, Massachusetts to cheer on the final U.S. show of Harry Styles’ wildly successful Love on Tour. 

It was the culmination of 41 shows in 38 cities. Thousands of fans. So many sparkly outfits. Styles and Co. will have three weeks off before the show continues in Europe. 

But, as was well-documented by guitarist Niall Horan, last night was the night to celebrate a job well done. The band and several personnel (including JADE, the opening act) went out to enjoy a night on the town. Horan downed five consecutive shots. Tech specialist Liam Payne and tour manager Zayn Malik did karaoke to Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. It looked like everything a celebration of Harry Styles should be: loud, joyful, eccentric. 

Only one question remains: where was Mr. Harry Styles?  

The pop star seems to have skipped out on the traditional after party. He appeared in no photos or videos and, according to reports, left the venue (TD Garden) at nearly 3 in the morning. 

This can only mean one thing. Or, actually, it could mean several things. Did Styles fall ill? Was there a backstage argument? Did he simply need a nap? 

DidHeMeetaGirl? 

(Our sources do tell us he was NOT alone for at least 2 of those hours!). 

No matter the reason for the estrangement, the Love on Tour U.S. leg was indeed legendary and worth a good party. Let’s just hope the European leg leads to fewer divorces!

Current U.S. Leg Divorce Counter: 1.5 (Tomlinson and Lancaster are unconfirmed, though likely. Johnson and Cyrus are confirmed). 

See you then! 

Jude Peterson 

Yahoo

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Louis would like it to be public record that he didn’t spend his time actively looking up articles about Harry Styles. 

No matter what Harry Styles, real-life pain in the ass, seemed to think. 

In truth, he would be quite happy never reading a gossip article again in his life. But his little sisters are in fact fans of Harry and, after spending two hours in his presence, they talk of little else. Louis didn’t mind. 

(Their mom did, but she was horribly outnumbered. Plus the girls still had a month left of summer. That was weeks left still to find new angles to dissect the show). 

Anyway. The next day - after they’ve returned to New York and Louis’ hair is at least 73 percent free from its gel constraints - cackling from Phoebe and Daisy’s room immediately put Louis on edge. Seconds later, he received a text with a link to an article that was speculating that Harry missed the Love on Tour after party because he was with a girl. 

And Louis couldn’t not. 

Louis: I thought what we had was special 

Louis: [Link Attachment] 

Besides, Lottie had already asked if he’d texted Harry yet six times while on the train. Eight times now that they were home. 

Louis: This is Louis, by the way 

Besides, Louis missed talking to him. And it had only been fifteen hours. 

Harry answered immediately. 

Maybe: Harry Styles: I’m sorry :( her name is Louise and I fell for her because she’s not like other girls. She HATES my music and said she would rather walk over hot coals barefoot than attend my concert for free 

Louis wasn’t smiling. He absolutely didn’t have a shit-eating grin on his face.

Louis: She sounds amazing 

Real-Life Popstar: She is :) also … reading articles about me, huh … got my name set up to google alerts? 

Louis: Yep, just in case you expose my other wife’s affair to the masses 

Harry sent a raised eyebrow emoji. Louis giggled. 

Louis: But actually, the twins sent me that article. I swear I’m not stalking you- though I may be tuning into the Love On Tour divorce counter. Riveting stuff 

Real-Life Popstar: :/ 

Real-Life Popstar: Those girls are so lovely, Lou. Don’t blame them!! 

Real-Life Popstar: My sister, Gemma, on the other hand…… she’s a menace 

Real-Life Popstar: I’ve been home for five hours to find out her cat ate my goldfish 

Louis: WHAT 

Real-Life Popstar: I KNOW 

Real-Life Popstar: Granted this was 20 years ago, but the truth came out at family dinner, as I knew it would 

Oh my god. 

Louis: 20 years? Baby, Goldie’s already been reincarnated three times. MOVE ON 

Oh god. Oh god. 

Abort mission. Abort mission. 

Louis: You’re home!! In Holmes Chapel? 

Real-Life Popstar: Yep! For three weeks :) I’m so happy. Only work imma do is maybe pick up my song book if inspiration strikes, but other than that I’m being lazy as fuck 

Louis: You deserve to be lazy 

Louis: I don’t think I told you this yet, but you’re amazing, Harry. That show was incredible. I can’t wait to hear your new music! Consider me graduated from rookie status 

Real-Life Popstar: Thank you so much, Lou. For saying that, and for coming 

Louis: Thank you for having us. And being so good with the girls. You made their entire lives. It’s all they’re ever going to talk about :) 

Real-Life Popstar: That reminds me! Tell Lottie I’m getting the yellow nails on Friday!!! 

Louis would absolutely tell Lottie that. In the middle of dinner. For peak chaotic reactions. He couldn’t wait. 

He curled back on the couch, tucking his legs beneath him. His heart was so full. 

Louis: I will :) she’ll be so excited 

Real-Life Popstar: What about you? What are your plans for the next few weeks? 

His smile slipped just a little. 

Louis: Unfortunately… I think it’s time for me to figure out what’s next. Contacting a divorce lawyer. Looking for a place to live. Figuring out if I still want to be a vlogger and, if not, where to go from there 

Louis: So a lot of crises and a lot of downtime. Fun things 

Real-Life Popstar: We can keep each other company :) 

Real-Life Popstar: And Lou, I am so sorry. If you ever need someone to talk to about any of that, I’m here 

Louis: I know. Thank you so much 

Real-Life Popstar: Also! If you ever wanna facetime just let me know!! I swear I did love meeting the girls, but I also would have loved to talk to just you a little more 

Something swelled in Louis’ chest; all warm and fuzzy and new. His mind was a jumbled mix of oh this boy is so lovely and oh I am so fucked. 

Except he wasn’t allowed to be. He wasn’t even divorced yet. 

(And, god. He was going to have to talk to Cleo on at least a few more occasions. Maybe for the last time ever. How was he meant to handle that?). 

He shook his head. That was a later problem. Today, he was going to let himself be happy. 

Louis: I feel the same way. I would love that 

Real-Life Popstar: :) 

So, so happy. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Harry didn’t let Louis wonder if he meant the whole we can keep each other company thing for even a moment. 

And Harry, as it turned out, was wonderful company. 

Louis having a panic attack after getting off the phone with his lawyer for the first time? Harry was armed with a dictionary’s worth of terrible, terrible puns. (Including what did the horse say after he tripped? Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t giddy-up!). 

Louis missing Dakota and vaguely saying he wished he had a pet to cuddle? Harry had approximately 50 million pictures of his mom’s beloved cat. 

Louis having a good day? He wanted to share it with Harry.

Louis was bored? Harry was willing to send a twenty minute audio message describing, in detail, his song writing process, just because Louis asked if he wrote lyrics first or if he needed a melody. 

And Louis would treasure that message forever. He saved it three times to his phone, in case the file corroded. 

What if all three corroded? He saved it a fourth just in case. Then a fifth, because five is a better number. 

He learned that Harry’s favorite color was yellow, that he was born February 1st and very much owned the label of Aquarius (whatever that meant). It was his dearest ambition to somehow - some way - hire a trumpet player for his next tour. He’d always wanted a trumpet on stage with him, but it had yet to work out and he thought about it constantly. Louis kept those little details tucked away like little hidden treasures. The details only he got to know.  

And he also soon found himself going out of his way to brighten Harry’s day. He spent what felt like hours researching bad jokes in case Harry seemed down. He sent Harry recipes he made with his mom because he knew Harry loved deserts. He found himself, on more than one occasion, wanting to say something insane like, what if I come see you? 

Louis wasn’t going to Holmes Chapel, England, but he did always want to talk to Harry. He wanted to hear about his day and he wanted to laugh through sunsets together and he wanted so desperately to know him. Because, god, Louis was married to someone else and he still had never once felt anything fall into place the way it did with Harry. No one else had ever been this easy to talk to. 

Which was why - ten days after the concert -  when Louis’ phone rang as he sat under a cloudless sky, alone on the back porch with an afternoon of solitude planned, and he looked and saw Harry’s name, he didn’t hesitate before picking up. 

It didn’t occur to him to feel nervous. Not with Harry. 

Immediately, Harry’s unruly curls and dimpled smile filled his screen and Louis had to try extremely hard not to gasp. Not because he wasn’t fully expecting it, but because Harry was simply just stunning and other worldly, even in a worn t-shirt. And Louis didn’t stand a chance. By trying to stop said gasp, he choked on air and immediately began hacking.

“What an enthusiastic greeting,” Harry said with a quiet laugh that had Louis’ stomach doing somersaults even as he tried to regain his ability to breathe like a normal human. He couldn’t even breathe around this ridiculous human. It was all Harry’s fault for being so … Harry. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered. “Water, wrong pipe, you know.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those ‘breathe while you’re drinking’ people? Oh, Lou, I don’t know if we can be friends anymore,” Harry said, his face growing grave. Unfortunately for him, his dimples gave him away. 

“Shut up,” Louis grumbled, swallowing past the embarrassment and the endearment all at once. He sat back in his chair and propped his elbow on the arm to hold Harry up to face level. “So … what’s up?”

God, could you be more lame, Tomlinson ? Louis thought to himself, feeling his cheeks warm through no fault of the sun. Why did he have to be so fucking awkward ?

“There’s a pun to be made there, but I can see that I’ve embarrassed you enough,” Harry said, and then he winked. He fucking winked . At Louis. His lashes kissed the soft skin beneath his eyes and it ruined Louis’ life. 

Who even was this man and why was Louis obsessed with the way his eyelids moved?

“Your popstar charm isn’t going to work on me, Harry,” Louis teased back, somehow managing to say real, actual words. He felt himself falling back into rhythm. Maybe in the future, he needed a five minute warning before seeing Harry’s face. An unannounced Harry Styles sighting was probably a cardiac nightmare. “But seriously … is something wrong? You just … you don’t usually call.”

Harry shook his head, his smile widening. “No, nothing like that. I just … ” It was his turn to flush. “I kinda missed seeing you, you know? My imagination can only take me so far when I’m listening to your voice messages. Just wanted to see you. Check on you. Normal friend stuff.”

Friend.

The word felt strange, even if probably shouldn’t. 

No, it definitely shouldn’t. 

Even still, it left Louis both elated and slightly … disappointed? Off-put? In desperate need of getting a grip? Being friends with someone like Harry was everything . He was sweet and funny and witty and he was one of the few people who loved music in the way Louis did (maybe even more so, seeing as he had managed to turn the childhood dream into his real life). 

It was such a privilege to simply know Harry, to call him a friend, and still … every conversation they shared only made him Harry more , which could very easily be classified as a problem . Because Louis was going through a divorce. He couldn’t have more . And besides Harry probably didn’t even want more . Louis barely knew him enough to know what more would entail, and yet, still, he wanted it.

Even still … Harry had missed seeing his face? That was … well, it was something that normally wouldn’t make Louis even think twice, but because it was Harry, his heart was now beating twice as fast. He really needed to get a handle on that. 

Harry Styles was bad for cardiac health.

“Right. Yes. Of course. I’m … yeah,” Louis said, searching for something clever to say and finding nothing but stumbling half sentences. Harry didn’t seem to mind, though. 

“Yeah, so … what are you up to?”

“Just hanging out on the back porch, taking in some sun.” Louis turned his phone all the way around to show Harry his mother’s backyard. “I love being out here. It’s quiet and peaceful. It’s the perfect place to think.”

“Those places are hard to come by. I’m actually headed to one of mine right now,” Harry said, his words coming out a little labored. It was only then that Louis recognized the blue sky behind Harry’s head.

“Are you seriously calling me while on a walk?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I was bored. And I wanted to show you something. Thought it would be better than a picture.” He pushed his hair out of his face. Louis longed to do it for him. To feel how soft Harry’s curls were even when they were damp with sweat. To be near him at all. “Is everything going okay? I know you met with a divorce lawyer a week or so ago, and I know you didn’t want to talk about it then, and that’s okay, but I thought maybe you’d want to talk about it now. Now that you’ve had time to sit with it, I mean. But only if you want to. I know it had to be hard.”

“Aha, I knew this wasn’t a social call,” Louis joked. Harry’s pout might have been even more adorable than his smile. “I appreciate you asking. It was … really horrible, actually.” He cleared his throat, trying not to let the memory of how he’d felt that day rise up and take him over. “Everything was just so clinical. The paperwork. The setting up of meetings. Knowing that I’ll have to see her again, after everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. Especially when both of your careers are so public.”

“Be glad you didn’t marry a fraud,” Louis grumbled, fiddling with the end of his shirt to keep his mind occupied. “But even after all that, it’s like none of it actually matters. We have a prenup. It should be easy enough after the first meeting. I just need to not let her get to me.”

“I’m fully rooting for you. You’ve got this. Oh, hi little one!” Harry’s eyes were no longer on him, but on something to his right. Louis watched as he crouched down, and an orange cat came sliding into view, purring loud enough for Louis to hear it. “Look who I found by the river. So pretty, aren’t you?”

“He’s beautiful,” Louis murmured, watching Harry’s expressions morph as he sweet talked the cat. It made his heart ache for Dakota, for her smelly breath and curly fur and big brown eyes, and to his horror, he felt his vision blurring as Harry scratched the cat’s chin. He sat up a little straighter and wiped at his eyes, trying to go unnoticed. 

But Harry was one of those people that noticed everything . He actually paid attention to his surroundings and the people he spent time with. It was one of the things Louis liked most about him. Except right now, of course, when he was trying to hide his emotions from those bright, searching green eyes. 

“Hey, I … I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Louis nodded, pressing his lips together. “Mhmm. Yeah, I’m just …”

“You can tell me, Lou. It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.”

“I miss my dog,” Louis said finally, his voice cracking. Fuck, he hadn’t even really thought about Dakota that much since he’d been on Long Island. He’d been so caught up in his own shit, in meeting Harry, in everything that he now had to fix because his wife wanted to cheat on him. That made him a bad pet parent, it absolutely did. 

“You have a dog?”

Louis sniffed. He was fine. It was fine .“ We have a dog. Dakota. She’s a white labradoodle and the most ridiculous dog I’ve ever owned, and Cleo just … refused to let her come with me when she kicked me out. Said I had to take that up with her lawyer on top of everything else.” Louis scoffed, feeling that anger that he’d managed to hide from for the last several weeks bubbling back up. “Dakota doesn’t even really like Cleo. She’s always been more mine. And I had to just leave her behind with everything else I owned and … sorry. You don’t want to hear any of this.”

Harry shook his head. More curls fell over his forehead and into his eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. I’m sorry about your dog. I hope you can get her back. I’d love to meet her.”

Louis’ heart, which had been reminded of just how broken it was, seemed to warm at Harry’s words. “You … you want to meet her? As in you’d come back to the States?”

“Yeah, of course. You think I’m just going to abandon you to your country and your divorce and not fly in at least once to give you a hug? It might have to wait until after the tour is over, but I will be there. And until then, I’ll be right here. If you want me.”

“I do. Want you … your support,” Louis adjusted frantically, not wanting to give away his very obvious, ever growing feelings with a throwaway line that wasn’t even supposed to be a line. He was very good at those, apparently. Harry’s answering smirk was enough to get his heart pumping again in a very different way. 

“Good to know. Oof, almost there, are you ready for this?” 

Louis nodded. “You know how I hate suspense.”

Harry’s camera turned around to face an old brick wall. Every inch of the brick was covered in writing - marker and paint and literal scratches in the bricks. Next to the wall were black electronic screens, all of which filtered through a plethora of messages Louis couldn’t quite make out.

“It’s … what is it, exactly?” Louis asked. Harry cackled, the sound echoing wherever he was. 

“Oh, this old place? I used to come here when I was younger. To read a book or just get away from it all. It’s pretty secluded. Only two ways to get to it, really. And I mentioned it in my documentary-”

“I saw that!” Louis said enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. The camera turned back to show Harry’s very amused expression. 

“I thought you weren’t a fan before two weeks ago, Louis. Have you been holding out on me?”

Louis flushed again. “My sisters … they had it on a loop when it came out. I may or may not have watched it a few times.”

“Oh, sure, using your sisters as an excuse, I see how it is,” Harry sing-songed. “But yes, this is the very same wall you see me writing my name on. My fans, they kind of took it over after that. They can come here and leave a message for me, and it’s kind of like our place now, you know?”

“You really love them, don’t you?”

Harry’s smile became almost nostalgic. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They made all of this possible. I’d be nowhere without them. I just want them to know that they are loved and safe with me and that they can always come as they are when they’re at my shows. Or anywhere I am, really. It’s a blessing to have something like this. So I still come out here, read through the messages, write songs sometimes. It makes me feel connected to them.”

Louis nodded. He marveled at Harry’s relationship with fame. He seemed to take to it so easily without losing the core of who he was. It was like he was made for this job, like he thrived under the attention and always craved that connection. Louis had never been made for that. No matter how hard he tried, there was always a level of imposter syndrome when he posted a video or did a brand deal. It never really felt like it - having fans, making money with TikTok, all of it - was his. It was like there was another Louis who had the confidence and the swagger and the pull to get people to pay attention to him, and then there was the real Louis, who was shy and didn’t like social media and had bigger dreams that no one ever asked about. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Harry said gently, making Louis jolt out of his own head. 

“Sorry,” Louis mumbled. “Got stuck in my own head for a second. I haven’t asked how you are, have I? I’m the worst, sorry.”

Harry shook his head, laughing. “You’re alright, Lou. I know you have a lot more on your plate than I do. I just like talking to you, whatever the subject.” He was moving again, the sky bouncing behind him with every step he took. Then bricks appeared behind him, and Louis found himself propped against something, able to see Harry’s entire body as he sat crosslegged on the overgrown grass. His thighs were sinful . “I’ve just been enjoying my break, I guess. I start rehearsals next week for the European leg, but I still have a few days where I get to sleep in. Not that I actually do that, but I have the option. And before you say anything, yes, there is a difference and yes, it matters.”

Louis laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. Any songwriting?”

“A little. I’ve just been trying to enjoy my time with my mum, but I’ve had a few moments of inspiration.” Harry’s cheeks were pink now, making the color of his lips stand out more than usual. Louis was very glad, in this moment alone, that they were thousands of miles apart. If they’d been sitting next to each other, been breathing the same air and flattening the same grass, Louis wouldn’t have been totally confident that he’d have the strength not to kiss him. “Sometimes the melody just comes to me in times like this, where I’m sitting in nature, and sometimes it hits when I’m in the shower. But even if I never use it, it’s something that I created, that’s just mine, and I keep it. I must have a dozen flash drives with snippets of melodies that have never seen the light of day. And twice as many notebooks with lyrics and things I heard someone say at the coffee shop.”

Harry babbled on for the next ten minutes or so about writing, and Louis just sat back, curling an arm around his bent knee as he listened. Harry had this way of making you want to listen. Maybe it was his voice, or his story, or some combination of both, but Louis could have and would have sat there for hours. 

“I know you didn’t really need to know all that about the intricacies of lyrics, but … there you have it,” Harry finished, his long fingers fiddling with a few long pieces of grass by his hip. “Now you go. I want to hear all about your job.”

“You … want to know about influencing?” Louis asked, shocked. “It’s not really that interesting. I promise you’re not missing out on much.”

Harry shook his head, his curls flying. “Not influencing , Lou. You must have done something else before that. You must have had a dream career. So tell me about it.”

“I … no one’s ever asked me about that before,” Louis admitted, scratching the back of his neck. Was he seriously close to tears again? From something as basic as being asked a question about his life?

But then he thought about Cleo, about the things he’d realized during their break up. About how she never asked him anything, how he was trained to expect that treatment from other people too. This moment, Harry asking him with genuine interest, was how it was always meant to be with anyone you interacted with. It felt … good. 

“Then they clearly didn’t care to know you,” Harry said simply. “But I do. Tell me everything.”

Louis took a deep breath. He hadn’t talked about this since he was in high school. And yet, even as he thought about where to start, he could feel that old excitement coming back, filling every part of him until he was nearly giddy with it. He’d missed this. 

“When I was younger, I always had an interest in concerts. You should see the walls of my office at … well, they’re covered in posters and signed things and lanyards from all the shows I’ve been to.”

“And I was your first pop show? I’m honored,” Harry said with an exaggerated flip of his hair. Louis giggled softly. 

“Yes, yes, you’re special. But I never wanted to perform … I wanted to do the behind the scenes stuff. Building the stages, planning the tour, that’s what I loved. I used to sit in the back of class and make up fake setlists and city stops that made fun shapes if you put them all together with one line. I used to doodle stage set ups on my tests. When I wasn’t doing that, I was listening to albums, dissecting them, figuring out how I would design a tour poster or come up with a tour name. I just wanted to create the vision and watch someone else bring it to life in their own way. I wanted to sit back and watch a show and know that I had a part in the memories people took home.”

“You wanted to be in marketing, then? Or tour management?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded. 

“Probably tour management, yeah. But if I was close with the artist, I would hope that they might take suggestions if I offered them. But … yeah. I was going to go to school for whatever was useful for that. And then …”

“Cleo?”

“Yeah.” Louis looked down, away from Harry. He felt the shame that he’d been holding back for years. “She … she convinced me that I didn’t need it. That I only wanted it because of the money it would make me, and that she made enough for us both. And I believed her.”

“Oh, Lou …”

Louis sniffed again, this time unable to stop the tears that traced his cheeks. “It was so dumb, all of it. The social media and the money and just everything. It’s not even worth it if you don’t love it, and I never did. Not like I loved that dream.” He looked back at his phone screen and saw Harry studying him with a contemplative look. “What?”

“Nothing … just thinking.” Harry smiled. “I can tell how much it means to you. Tour management is not for the faint of heart, but you have the heart for it. And it’s never too late to try again. You could go back to school. Or find a new dream, if you wanted.”

“Yeah, I know.” Louis cleared his throat. “It’s just hard to think of what life could have been if I hadn’t … you know.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You’ll just get stuck in the what ifs until you drive yourself crazy,” Harry said firmly. “You did what was right for you in the moment, and if that changes over time, that’s okay. The people who love you will understand and support you, no matter what.”

Louis couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, even though he could taste his own salty tears on his lips. “You’re right. I just … need to find that golden opportunity. I’m sure it’s out there.”

“Me too.” Harry picked up his phone, standing until Louis could only see his face. “Hey, I should probably let you go. I’m sure you have things to do, and I need to send about a million texts for rehearsal questions, so … I’ll talk to you later?”

“Oh … yeah, of course.” Louis paused, unsure if he should say what he was thinking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “Thank you for calling. I missed seeing you face to face … ish.”

Harry’s smile was brighter than the setting sun behind him. “I’m glad I could help. Bye, Lou!”

“Bye, Harry,” Louis whispered as the call disconnected.

“He’s about three more texts away from asking you to marry him,” said a voice from the window next to his head, and he jumped, turning to find Phoebe and Daisy sitting right by the screen, grinning identically.

“Seriously, do I ever have privacy around here?” Louis said in mock outrage, and the twins giggled and hurried away from the window. Louis let out a breath, feeling much lighter than he had an hour ago. Maybe it was time to try the front yard today.

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Unsurprisingly to Louis and everyone around him, his facetime calls with Harry quickly became the singular thing he looked forward to as the days crept by. He’d finally made it to the front porch (after a lot of rambling to Harry about the mess in his brain), but it still didn’t quite feel like a win. Maybe it had something to do with the looming first divorce meeting that he had been doing everything in his power not to think about.

This, of course, meant that he’d done nothing but think about it.

He’d retained a great lawyer, if he was being honest. Michael was calm and collected and had talked Louis through everything twice - once while he tried very hard not to panic with every word that came out of the man’s mouth, and a second time when he was only slightly calmer. He then spent ten minutes apologizing and thanking him profusely, and promising to be a bit more put together when their next meeting - which would be with everyone involved - arrived.

Now it was just over 24 hours before that meeting, and Louis felt physically ill. He barely ate two pieces of bacon at breakfast. He turned down each of his sisters when they asked him to take them somewhere, even though he loved going on adventures with them. He even lied to his mom when she asked if he wanted some company. He did want company, and he was sure that she would let him talk and rant and cry as much as he wanted, and she would have great advice, but in his heart, he knew she wasn’t the one he wanted to talk to about this. 

He knew Harry was busy with rehearsals because they’d talked at length about that the last time they’d called each other. He would be bouncing from music rehearsals to interviews and then to the first venue of the next leg of the tour to see the set up and everything that entailed. He probably wouldn’t be on his phone for most of that, and with the time difference, that meant that most texts would go unanswered. Louis knew all of this, and he was perfectly okay with it. 

That didn’t stop him from opening their texts approximately ten times in the last few hours, typing out a message that was way too long and way too loaded for a friend he’d just met a month ago, erasing it, and slumping further into his cocoon of anxiety and anger and heartbreak. 

It was just around five in the evening when his phone dinged, and upon seeing Harry’s name, Louis felt like he could breathe for the first time all day. 

Real-Life Popstar: I have a surprise for you …

Real-Life Popstar: but i know your first divorce meeting is tomorrow

Real-Life Popstar: and since you have yet to text me a few paragraphs about your day and your advancements into different areas of your mum’s property, I can only assume that you’re not exactly excited about it

Real-Life Popstar: I’m free from my grueling day of rehearsals, if you want to call :) 

Louis’ thumb had pressed the facetime button before he’d finished reading the last text. 

Harry picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry greeted, his voice a little hoarse and deeper than usual. Something like contentment settled in Louis’ chest, right where the knot of anxiety had taken root for a majority of his day. He let the feelings mingle for a moment before speaking. 

“Harry, I’m really fucking scared.”

Harry’s mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes widening just a little. “This should be … well, not a happy occasion, obviously, but like … you’re starting the process of no longer having to give this woman a second thought. You sure there’s not a little excitement under all that worry?”

Louis would have laughed if he didn’t feel like he was going to be sick. “I know, I know. But even after everything, I just … it’s hard to imagine a life without her in it. One where I don’t walk into our house and greet our dog and talk about my day with her. One where I’m not filming every day or doing every little thing she asks of me. One where I …” Louis swallowed. “Where I don’t have to worry that she’s going to realize I’m not worth it.”

“Lou …” Harry’s eyes were bright. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it better. But, I guess, if you think about it, you’ve been doing a pretty good job of it so far. You haven’t posted anything since it happened and it’s been alright. You’ve spent significant time with your family for the first time since you got married.”

“Yeah, but-”

“And,” Harry continued, a little louder, cutting Louis’ excuses off. “You were always worth it. She never gave you a real chance, and you have always deserved better.”

Louis exhaled shakily. “I know you’re right. Sometimes she just gets in my head. And I’m not even speaking to her. It’s like she trained me and I hate thinking that I don’t have any original thoughts. And then I get angry at her for treating me like shit, and then I feel guilty about being angry because what if she’s-”

“Louis, listen to me.” Harry’s gaze was piercing, even through a phone screen. Louis pressed his lips together, trying to turn off the yapping part of his brain. “You are a far better person than most humans in this world. You could have made video after video on her shittiness, on all the things she did to you that you now see were issues. You could have turned this into an internet spectacle. But you didn’t. You’re a good person. You’re worthy of love and kindness. And Cleo doesn’t get to dictate any of that, not now and not ever.”

“Thanks, H,” Louis sniffed. “Putting that “best lyricist” award to good use, I see.”

“Shut up, I mean it. And I’ll keep telling you until you believe it,” Harry insisted. “You know how stubborn I can be.”

“That I do,” Louis said with a soft laugh. “So … about my surprise?”

Harry gave an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, I see how it is. No hello, Harry, how was your day, tell me all about the wardrobe meeting, just straight to it, huh?”

Louis shrugged. “I have a one track mind when it comes to surprises. I’m-”

“Nosy?”

“I was going to go with inquisitive, but fine,” Louis huffed. “Just tell me, I’m already anxious as it is.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry cleared his throat dramatically. “What do you have planned for the next … six ish weeks?”

Louis blinked, taken aback. If he was honest, he hadn’t thought much past breakfast the next day, since he was actively trying not to think about what came after. “I … nothing? I haven’t really thought about it that much.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry, who looked like he might explode with excitement. “Why?”

“Okay … and don’t say anything till I’m done explaining, right?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded slowly. “So, remember when we talked about you wanting to do tour management when you were younger and how you were … persuaded away from that career path?”

“Vividly,” Louis muttered, cringing when Harry leveled him with a look. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“Well, I talked to my tour manager, Zayn, and as it turns out, he’s in the market for a shadow. And I know it’s super last minute and I can cover whatever costs I need to, but I thought maybe you’d be interested in shadowing him on the next leg of my tour? He’s the best in the business and it would look really good on your resume, which he can also help with, if you want, and just … yeah, what do you think?”

Louis hadn’t heard much past “shadowing him on the next leg of my tour”. He was staring at his phone, at Harry’s anticipatory face, every other emotion other than shock abandoning his body in one swift motion, leaving him in a strange limbo. 

Because … what ?

Harry wanted him ? To shadow Zayn Malik? The most well known tour manager in the world right now? He wanted Louis to be on tour with him for six weeks? He wanted to offer Louis a chance at starting his life over?

“I …” Louis said, the word barely more than a whisper as his mind started spinning again, as the feelings that had given him a momentary reprieve all came crashing back down upon him like the world’s most poorly timed tsunami wave. “You want … me?”

Harry’s smile was so, so bright. “Yeah, Lou. I mean, I wanted to spend more time with you face to face anyway, you know that. And I felt like maybe you wouldn’t accept if I just offered for you to tag along, so I thought getting to do the thing you love in a professional capacity for the first time might be a good incentive. Not that that’s all this is, because it’s not. I want you to come and have a good time, but I also know how much you love this.”

“I don’t … I don’t even know what to say,” Louis managed, the words nearly choking him. It was … a lot. Almost too much. It would be amazing. Perfect. Wonderful in every way, but … he wasn’t sure he could even consider it as a viable option. Because what had Louis ever done to deserve this? 

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a big thing to consider, especially with everything you have on your plate with the divorce, but … I had to offer.” Harry licked his lips nervously. “Just … let me know before Friday, okay?”

Louis merely nodded, grateful that Harry could see his face and he was exempt from trying to come up with something to say. He wanted to say yes. He did. Everything Harry had described sounded like a dream. And that was also the problem. Because every one of Louis’ hopes and dreams of his life had crashed and burned. 

“I, uh, I’ll think about it,” he said eventually. Harry nodded, giving him that beautiful, dimpled half smile that made Louis’ heart skip a beat every time. 

“No worries … ah fuck, Niall’s calling. Probably having another broken string crisis,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you go. Sounds serious,” Louis said, attempting his usual joking tone. It fell only a little (a lot) flat.

“Okay … hey, good luck tomorrow. You’ll be okay, Lou. I promise.”

Louis knew that Harry couldn’t guarantee that, but he let him have it, not wanting to make this conversation any more of a disaster than he already had. “Yeah. Thanks … for everything.”

“Anytime,” Harry said, smiling. And then he was gone, and Louis missed him instantly. He slumped back on his pillows, curling his arms around one as he thought about everything. It was almost too much to fit in his brain. He wished he could reach in and take it all out and reconfigure it into something that made him more confident and less tangled. 

“Dinner!”

His mom’s voice echoed throughout the house, and Louis could hear the pounding of his sister’s feet from random areas of the house. He dragged himself out of his bed, brushing down the front of his wrinkled t-shirt. He’d worn this three times this week, not having had the wherewithal to go buy himself new clothes. He’d left everything behind and had been surviving on old outfits from high school for the last several weeks. 

He’d just add that to the list of things he was incapable of making a decision on.

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“I understand, Mr. Tomlinson, that you and Miss Lancaster signed a prenuptial agreement prior to your marriage two years ago.”

The squeaky, grating voice of Cleo’s lawyer rang in Louis’ ears, making him want to cringe as far away from it, and her, and the entire situation, as possible.

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis answered, keeping the tremble in his voice to a minimum. Cleo sat stoically across the glossy wood table, not looking at him but still managing to make him feel like he was under a microscope.

“Then I would be confident in assuming that you know what is owed to you and what is not,” she continued. 

Louis glanced at Michael, who nodded in agreement. “Yes, I’m fully aware.”

Michael stood, leaning against the table. “Janie, are we getting to a point, or can we just sign the paperwork and be done with this?”

Louis almost let out a surprised laugh at Michael’s directness. Janie, however, merely pursed her lips. “While your client may not have any issues he wishes to bring up, my client does.”

“The prenup is ironclad. Your client can’t just change things as she sees fit, not for any reason she might have given you,” Michael countered. 

Janie merely smiled blandly, holding out her hand to Cleo, who handed over a sheet of paper with a perfectly manicured hand. Her hair was glossy and tied in a neat ponytail, which cascaded over the shoulder of her pink Chanel suit jacket. She didn’t look scared or angry or affected by this in any way. In fact, she looked almost haughty, like this entire procedure was beneath her. Was this new, or was it something else that Louis had missed or ignored? 

Either way, her life hadn’t been changed at all by what she’d done, regardless of whatever pandering she was doing to her fanbase or the public at large. It was only Louis’ life that had been upended. Because that’s just the kind of luck Louis had. 

“My client has no wish to change the prenup, Michael. She does, however, have concerns over things that were not included in that agreement. Things acquired post marriage, I mean.”

Michael spared Louis a single glance, revealing nothing of his true feelings on his face. He sat back down, waving his hand vaguely in Janie’s direction. She cleared her throat unnecessarily.

“Cleo Lancaster, hereafter known as the client, has requested that she retain possession of anything inside the house, including all of Louis’ personal possessions, since he left voluntarily and refused to have further discussion after asking for a divorce.”

“That’s not … I didn’t … she’s lying ,” Louis stuttered, unable to find the righteous anger that had been simmering in him these last several weeks. It had abandoned him the moment he stepped through the front door. The moment he’d seen the back of Cleo’s head.

“It is my understanding that my client was kicked out of their shared home by Miss Lancaster and was threatened with police involvement. He was given no time to take anything that he owned, including the dog that they adopted three months after they were married,” Michael said evenly. Louis could have kissed him. How he would be surviving this without him in the room and on his side, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even convinced that he was surviving it. This felt like the deepest level of hell. 

“I don’t think it really matters-” Janie began, but Michael cut her off.

“It matters a great deal. Mr. Tomlinson choosing to leave means he would forfeit his right to his things, but if he was forced to leave, then he still retains his right to everything in that house that is rightfully his. Don’t try to play games with me, Janie. I know you.”

Janie rolled her eyes, but relented. “Fine. We can discuss that at a future meeting. As for the dog you so graciously mentioned, my client has also requested full custody of the animal, stating that she was the one who signed the adoption papers at the shelter.”

Ah, there it was. The anger. He’d found it at last. 

“Now you know we both signed those papers, Cleo. Whatever sham you’re trying to pull isn’t going to work. You will not keep Dakota from me,” Louis growled, his hands balling into fists. His clothes, his laptop, all of his things, he could lose and he’d find a way to get new ones. But his dog? Not a chance. 

“Janie, do you have a copy of those papers?” Michael asked, a calming hand on Louis’ arm. 

“I’m sure Cleo can provide me with them.”

“Which she should have done before making the request,” Michael said. “Louis, do you have a copy of them?”

“There’s one in my safe at the house,” Louis admitted. 

“You mean our safe,” Cleo said triumphantly, and Louis felt his mouth twitch up.

“No. I mean mine. I had a separate smaller one where I kept all the things I felt were important. My documents. My memories that you didn’t want kept around the house. And the adoption paperwork for Dakota. All of which I would have taken with me if you hadn’t kicked me out in the first place.”

“You don’t even have a job, Louis. How will you provide for her if you aren’t making any money?”

Cleo wore a triumphant smile as she sat back, her words hanging in the air between them.

“I do have a job. I have the same job as you,” Louis insisted. “Just because you make more money off of that job doesn’t discredit the work I’ve done.”

“Then why haven’t you posted in weeks? You can’t make money if you’re not making content, and I think that alone should qualify me over you to keep the dog.”

“She has a fucking name, Cleo,” Louis hissed. “You don’t care about her. You’re just doing this to hurt me and I’m not gonna stand here and let that happen.”

“You lying piece of-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Michael said loudly. “Miss Lancaster, you are out of line. I believe my client when he says he has them. If you try to appear in my presence with doctored papers, I will have no choice but to involve the authorities. Now …” Michael shuffled his paperwork. “If the only true document is in Mr. Tomlinson’s safe, and Mr. Tomlinson still retains ownership of his things as discussed previously, then it is Miss Lancaster’s job to allow him to retrieve it all, including this paperwork. Only then will this be resolved.”

“He’s not stepping a foot inside my house!” Cleo yelled, her face turning blotchily red as her eyes filled with false tears. “He’s the one who ended things!”

“And you’re the one who cheated on me in the first place!” Louis yelled back, tired of trying to play the diplomat in a situation that was anything but diplomatic. She wanted a fight? He’d give her one. She was not going to throw around her money and her carefully crafted half truths and win, not this time. 

Janie clapped her hands three times, the sound cracking through the room and startling them all. “My client is not budging on these requests, Michael. And if your client insists on being in his own way, then I guess we are at a standstill until this can be resolved.”

Michael’s jaw twitched, and Louis could tell he was angry, but when he spoke next, his voice didn’t betray any of that. “If that is where we stand, then I say we adjourn. I think we both have much to discuss with our clients before we meet again.”

“Agreed. I will reach out when my client is prepared.”

“I will do the same. Have a good day, Janie. Miss Lancaster.”

Louis stood with everyone else, watching as the handshake Michael offered Janie was dismissed. Louis made eye contact with Cleo, even though he really didn’t want to. He needed to see the truth of this mess in her eyes. He needed to know that she was doing this to hurt him, to drag this out long enough that maybe he’d change his mind, or at least long enough that she could avoid telling her fanbase the truth of it all. 

And it was all there, in the defiant sparkle of her eyes, in the slight quirking of her lip, in the way she held her head higher than necessary, so as to feel above him and above the whole situation. She knew what she’d done, and she was proud of it. She was proud of the suffering she had caused and was continuing to cause. And there was nothing Louis could say or do to change it.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, turning to him with a sympathetic smile. “It can get very heated in these kinds of meetings.”

“I can see that,” Louis mumbled. “I just don’t know why she’s doing this. She already won. She cheated on me in front of the entire world and people still like her. People still follow her. She gets the house and the continued fame and the rich boyfriend. What more could she want?”

“In my experience, it’s best not to wonder about the what ifs, and better to focus on the solid facts.” The click of Michael’s briefcase echoed in the now empty room. “My suggestion to you is to see what you can do about obtaining a copy of the adoption paper from the agency you got the dog from. They should still have records. If we can avoid all of this back and forth, we might just be able to end this once and for all.”

Louis nodded, following Michael to the elevator. “Yeah, I’ll … I’ll do that. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Louis.” Michael looked up at the mirrored ceiling as the elevator descended four floors to the ground level. As the door opened, he spoke again. “While we wait, maybe do something for you. Something that makes you feel like you’re forging a new path. It will help us when we have to get down to the nitty gritty.”

Louis watched him walk away, surprisingly exhausted from the meeting. He felt heavy, like an elephant was sitting on his shoulders, and he was sinking slowly into the ground with no way out. But … maybe Michael was right. 

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a most familiar contact. His finger hovered over the facetime button for only two seconds before he pressed it.

It took three rings this time.

“Hey, Lou! You caught me on my bathroom break, lucky you! How was the meeting?”

Louis looked at Harry’s face, the happiness mixed with concern. He took in the sweat beading on his forehead and the faint smile lines by his eyes and knew that, no matter what happened next, he was making the right decision. Even if it was crazy. Even if it scared him. Even if he’d never even left the state of New York, much less the country. Because he was Louis Tomlinson, and it was high time he did something that was just for him.

He needed to forge a new path.

“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “I’ll come with you on tour and shadow Zayn. For the entire six weeks. I’m in. I’ll do it.”

The surge of confidence in his chest receded. Louis faltered. “If you still want me, of course.”

Harry beamed. His dimples formed craters in his cheeks. “Really? Oh my god, this is … wow, okay, yes. I’ll let Zayn know in just a minute. And I’ll get your flights booked and everything, so you don’t have to worry.” Harry let out a breathy laugh. “I’m so happy you said yes. I can’t wait to see you in your element.”

Louis found himself smiling at Harry’s enthusiasm. Or maybe it was because he’d finally made a decision, a real one, for the first time since asking Cleo for a divorce. He walked out into the summer sunshine, a breeze lifting his hair. He breathed in the smells of a bustling city, and for the first time, they didn’t scream home to him. It was a welcome relief. 

Perhaps home was simply an ocean away. Maybe he’d touch down on European soil and feel more like who he used to be, the person who used to dream and want and chase things for himself. Maybe he was ready to be that version of Louis again. Maybe this was the first step. 

He hoped so.

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

@UpdateSDN: We are FIVE DAYS AWAY from the kickoff of the European Leg of Love on Tour! Us here at Styles Daily News are very excited for nearly two months of sparkles, boas, and sleuthing. Here’s to more magic! 

Oslo, you’re up first!! 

@sunflouwerhabit: we see harry on stage again in 5 days WAR IS OVER 

@rogueskimo: Someone stop me from flying to London just to see Harry. It would be a crippling financial decision but also the best decision of my life 

@dont_stop_larry: @rogueskimo Anything is possible if you have a credit card 

@rogueskimo: @dont_stop_larry: I don’t think that’s true 

@HSLOT_DivorceCounter: We can’t wait for a new leg of tour, personally 

@AdoretheBrave28: @HSLOT_DivorceCounter OH MY GOD HAHAHAHA 

@untilthenextcup: @HSLOT_DivorceCounter This account is disgusting. Making fun of the worst moment of someone’s life? As if Cleo needed more people hating on her this is literally gaslighting 

@HSLOT_DivorceCounter: @untilthenextcup Yeah it’s literally not 

@m3louandthemoon: @untilthenextcup @HSLOT_DivorceCounter Oh my god SHUT UP!!!!!!!! 

@dntcallmecarrie: CEO-gate has actually been really beautiful if you think about it. At long last, the gayrries and the hetwards have put aside our differences to unite against a far worse, more annoying and more stupid enemy: Cleo Lancaster stans 

@honeyhabit03: @dntcallmecarrie I just know Harry is so proud of us. We’re united in hate, as all good fandom communities should be 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Everything happened impossibly fast after that phone call. Louis attributed it to Harry being rich, famous, and persuasive. 

Dimples and curls? No one in the history of the world ever stood a chance. 

Anyway. 

In what felt like seconds, there was a flight to Oslo, Norway waiting in his inbox. First class. Zayn Malik - who Louis now knew was Harry’s long term stage manager - forwarded him a 200 page PDF file of information about the next six weeks. Their schedule. Transportation information. Hotel accommodations in well over twenty cities. They would begin in Norway and travel through the Nordic countries - with shows in Helsinki, Stockholm, and Copenhagen as well - before traveling down into Central Europe. To Amsterdam, Brussels, Antwerp. Berlin. Actual, real places Louis had never let himself even dream of visiting someday. 

He was spending six weeks in Europe. 

In his best attempt to not throw up, Louis went through and circled the places he was most excited to visit. Rome, Venice. Budapest. Athens. London. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was planning for someone else’s life - that he was watching this from the crowd, dreams coming true on stage - and he couldn’t help but wonder if he would always feel that way; if he’d be standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and still not fully process that this little twist of fate was happening to him. He wondered if this adventure would feel like his. 

He wondered if Harry ever felt this way. 

Harry. Despite himself, Louis’ lips quirked into a smile. He felt warm. 

Harry. Ridiculous, kind, generous Harry who had offered Louis the opportunity of a lifetime without any prompting. Harry, who seemed to think in song lyrics and breathe melodies like he was born solely to create. Harry, who seemed quite content in wasting hours chatting with Louis and listening to him and laughing even when the jokes fell flat. 

Lovely, lovely, lovely Harry, who was both an internationally famous popstar and also quickly becoming Louis’ closest friend. 

They were going to spend six weeks in Europe together. 

(Or, rather, Louis was spending six weeks with Harry’s team. It would make sense if he didn’t actually see much of Harry once the tour began. Most popstars operated in such a way. Harry would be busy performing and working. So would Louis. This wasn’t a leisurely trip and he wouldn’t let himself be disappointed if he only saw Harry in passing). 

((Those semantics didn’t matter much to his sisters. Phoebe and Daisy’s squeals when Louis told them the news will ring in his ears forever. Lottie begged him to let her come, too. Fizzy asked if that meant he’d be returning to the states with a popstar fiance in October and Louis pulled a face, his cheeks warming. He told her it wasn’t like that and all four girls rolled their eyes in unison). 

((When he looked at his mom, her eyes were watering. Her smile calmed the wave of anxiety in his chest)). 

Still, despite it all, Louis was trying his very best to feel excited. This was a big deal for him. Whether he saw Harry or not on a regular basis didn’t matter. He was there for work. He was gaining invaluable experience and tiptoeing in the water of the career he’d wanted when he was younger. It was possible this was the answer to the now what? he’d been asking since Cleo kicked him out. He was going to be in Europe, crossing the ocean for the very first time. Bar the trip to the Bahamas for his honeymoon, Louis had never even left the country before. His vacations had always been limited to nearby North East states, Florida, and one week-long trip to California for Cleo’s birthday. And now … now he would be in Europe. This was exciting. All good things. 

Still, on the drive to LaGuardia, those little self-assurances were drowned out by the newfound assertions that he was driving straight to his doom. Louis pulled his legs onto the passenger seat, hugging them to his chest. Neighborhoods on either side passed them by. He saw nothing at all. 

It was only his mother and him in the car. The radio hummed out, mixing with the reverberating echoes of his sisters’ tear-filled goodbyes that followed him out from the front porch. Johannah insisted on them staying behind, arguing that their old Honda Civic was simply not big enough for all eight of them. Privately, though, Louis knew they could have made it work. His mom was looking out for him, sparing him from a loud, over-stimulating car ride when he was already nervous and stressed and so not ready. 

She always protected Louis. Like the time his best friend in kindergarten told Louis he didn’t want to be friends anymore and Louis came home crying, running straight into his mom’s arms. Like the time he came out as bisexual to her (while he sobbed) and she made him every one of his favorite foods and said there was nothing he could be that would make her not love him. Like every single time she bit her tongue when Louis talked about Cleo, even when Louis could tell she didn’t approve. 

Quietly, over the memories of Phoebe requesting a bracelet from every country and Lottie insisting - again - that she could fit in Louis’ suitcase if just given a chance, an increasingly familiar beat plays through the stereo. 

Golden as I open my eyes,

Hold it, focus, hoping, take me back to the light,

I know you were way too bright for me.

I'm hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky.

Louis’ tightly wound shoulders fell. He hugged his knees to his chest, smiling into them as Harry sang a chorus synonymous with summertime. 

“Louis William, what have I told you about sitting like that in a moving car?” His mother demanded. 

Louis sighed. He looked up, resting his chin on his knees. Regressing back to a pouty teenager, he grumbled, “You told me it’s stupid to sit like this in a moving car in case we get in an accident. My legs will be fucked.”

“Oh, so you do listen to me. I was beginning to wonder …” 

“Mom, do we really want to waste what precious time we have left together fighting?” Louis asked, even as he heaved another dramatic sigh and pointedly unwrapped his arms. He stomped his feet back onto the floor. His mother’s smile softened. She glanced over with that same, soft look she had sent him a week before, when he told her about Europe. Louis tilted his head. “What?” 

“Nothing, lovely.” She switched on the turning signal, slowing at a red light. Her fingers drummed over the steering wheel. “I just love when you get all dramatic. That’s just the most you’ve sounded like you in … a very long time. I’ve missed you.” 

Louis nodded, though he didn’t really know what to say. “The divorce has been hard. It’s- ”

“I don’t just mean the divorce, baby,” Johannah said. “It’s been years.” 

And there it was. A loud, loud, loud omission, more open and undeniable than ever before. It hung in the air between them - making home in the center console, beside his mom’s favorite, massive orange purse and Louis’ water bottle - and Harry continued singing in the background while Louis nodded slowly, considering her words. Outside their car, the lights changed. Cars moved onwards to their destinations. For just a moment, Louis was frozen in time. 

“We never really talked about it,” he said, wondering how different life might have been if he’d been brave enough to have this conversation four years ago. “About how you felt about Cleo.” 

His mom shrugged. “Cleo is fine,” she said. It was the rudest thing Louis had ever heard her say about anyone. “I was more so worried about who you were when you were with her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I think you forgot how to dream for yourself, baby,” she said, the words quick and fast, like they’d been on the tip of her tongue for half a decade. “Your relationship always felt like it revolved around what Cleo wanted and that bothered me. It felt like you became less like yourself everyday that you were with her.” 

Louis frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Maybe I should have, and I’m sorry,” Johannah allowed, “but Lou, you knew I didn’t like her already and it didn’t change anything. I think I told myself that it didn’t matter, because you liked her.” 

“So you didn’t like her!” Louis snorted when she mimed the locking of her lips. He shook his head. “For the record, I always want you to tell me these things. Like … if I’m with someone and you see those signs. I want you to be honest with me.” 

“Oh, well that’s easy. I really like Harry.” 

An odd jolt passed through Louis. That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant … 

“You’ve never even met Harry.” 

Again, she shrugged. “I don’t think that matters. All I know is that he’s the reason you’re jetting off to Europe to chase a life-long dream I thought you’d let stay buried forever. He’s helping you fight for something you want. I love him for that.” She grinned. “Plus, the girls said he was smitten with you.” 

“No way in hell the twins used the word smitten.” 

“Okay, I may have made that up.” 

Louis laughed and shook his head. Rather than harp on what she said - and their implications, because absolutely not - he leaned back against the headrest, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “This is insane, isn’t it?” 

Johannah cut sharply into the left lane, sliding in smoothly between a red pickup truck and a chevy. “What is?” 

“Going to Europe right now,” Louis said. The laugh he let out was incredulous. “I had to buy a whole new wardrobe because my ex-wife has all my possessions on lockdown. I’ll be attending divorce court via Zoom. I haven’t seen my dog in weeks and I don’t even have a place to live that isn’t my mom’s couch and now I’m just … going to Europe? To work for a man I have met exactly one time in my life? What am I even doing?” 

“You’re choosing yourself,” Johannah said, “and I think it feels strange because you haven’t done that in a very long time.” 

“But the timing is so bad.” 

“Maybe so.” She smiled, though her tone remained firm. “But I think that if you spent your life waiting for the right time, you’ll end up wasting years caught in limbo. I don’t think it’s a matter of when it’s right, I think it’s a matter of having enough faith in yourself and your instincts to take the leap.” 

Louis side-eyed her. She looked pleased. “That was a thinly veiled Wicked reference, Johannah.” 

“Was it?” 

“Mom.” 

“You know, you’ll be spending the next thirteen hours in the sky, crossing an ocean. Talk about Defying Gravity.” 

“I think I can walk the rest of the way to the airport.” 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Before Louis went through security at LaGuardia, his mom pulled him in for one last hug. “Have the time of your life, baby,” she said, “and tell Harry he has my stamp of approval.”

“I won’t be telling him that.” Louis squeezed her tight. 

She pulled back with raised brows and a watery gaze. “I mean it, Lou. I like this one.” 

Louis made it through security and customs relatively seamlessly. While waiting to board, he checked his email again to confirm the details of his pickup in Oslo. 

A member of Styles’ team will pick you upon arrival. You will be driven to the hotel and have a day scheduled to adjust to the time zone and explore the city. 

Louis smiled, his heart thumping oddly in his chest. A day in Oslo? He was keeping a travel journal filled with the sights in each city he most wanted to see. Maybe he’d spend the flight planning out his time in Norway. 

Norway. 

Vaguely, Louis wondered if he’d see Harry at all during his free day. It was okay if not, but he’d really, really like to. 

Just as the flight attendants announced that pre-boarding was beginning in five minutes, Louis’ phone buzzed. 

Real-Life Popstar: Have a safe flight, Lou! In 13 hours and 53 minutes we will be in the same city again! 

God. Louis couldn’t help but smile.

Louis: 13 hours and 46 minutes? Do you have my flight memorized? 

Real-Life Popstar: Of course I do. Enjoy your stops in Boston and Amsterdam too!!! 

Louis’ cheeks warmed. He didn’t know if it was a problem or not - the way he suddenly felt tempted to ring his mom and tell her that he maybe, sorta really liked this one, too. 

Instead, he boarded the flight and settled into first class - complete with a chair that folded down into a bed. Complimentary toiletries, eye masks, headphones, champagne, and an open bar - and it didn’t feel like a problem. Or, at the very least, it was simply inevitable. Liking Harry Styles was inevitable. Louis was entirely at his mercy. 

Was that a problem? Maybe. Probably. Definitely. But he wouldn’t let it be a problem for the next thirteen hours and forty-six minutes. Instead, he twisted his chair towards the window and watched the airplane carry him away from New York - from his family, from Dakota, from Cleo and the divorce and Madison Square Garden - and he took a long, deep breath that eased the weight on his shoulders, leaving it on the ground. 

Here goes nothing, he thought. Then he flew across the ocean and did his very best to let go. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Louis spent the first four hours of his flight (including the layover in Boston) playing the role of Consummate Professional.

He read over the PDF file, memorizing the itinerary for every stop in Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Denmark. With bleary vision, he highlighted role-specific responsibilities that he had questions about and giggled his way through the requests Harry had made for every single one of his green rooms on tour. He was being professional - he was - but he also drew smiley faces around the requests that coaxed a particularly warm smile out of him. 

Seven flavors of tea: Including Yorkshire, chamomile, earl grey, honey lavender, mint, green, and hibiscus. 

Fresh fruit bar: kiwis, grapes, cherries, blueberries, strawberries, pineapples, cantaloupes, watermelon, and dragonfruit. 

Guacamole, paired with guacamole flavored chips. 

(Guacamole? Seriously? Louis hated it. They pissed him off. Fucking avocados). 

There were far more specific items and requests on the list - including having a warmed white downy robe waiting for him after his post-show showers - and, though a part of Louis wanted to tease him for being a bit of a diva, he couldn’t really bring himself to feel anything but fond of this very particular, kind human he was only just getting to know. 

Two hours (and three champagne flutes later), Louis turned instead to planning out specific sights for his days off in the city. As far as he could see, most considered Oslo, Stockholm, and Helsinki to be relatively walkable, with a plethora of activities for solo travelers to enjoy. A part of him wondered - just for a moment - if he should film his free days in each city, for his Tiktok. A classic spend the day with me in [insert new city here]!. The idea was scratched almost immediately, though. 

This trip was for him. It was his.  

By the time the plane left Amsterdam and touched down in Oslo, Louis had drunk his body weight in champagne, slept off any risk of a hangover, and indulged himself in the luxuries of first class dining. He felt proper fancy and - dare he say - important ? His next week was planned and his feet were ready to be back on solid ground and this may be the first and only time that he flew first class across the ocean but damn it, it was nice. And now he was in Oslo, Norway. Where Harry was. 

The thought made him smile - giddy, anticipatory, nervous - all the way through customs. A gate agent welcomed him to Oslo with a friendly smile and the second stamp ever on his passport. Signs written in English as well as Norwegian (which thank god. Harry didn’t give Louis nearly enough time to learn every single language for every single country they were visiting, though he was fairly sure hi and hello were close enough to Norwegian that he could get away with it) led Louis through security and to baggage claim. He spotted his suitcase fairly easily, mainly because it was Lottie’s bright lilac roller, and then strolled across the white floors. The beige, tiled ceilings were low, but the floor to roof windows offered a glimpse of the cloudy skies outside, as well as the bustling parking lot. Louis gripped the handle of his suitcase harder and followed the masses towards arrivals, where he would be looking for a sign with his name. 

Fuck, after a near fourteen hour flight, he almost hoped the security guard picking him up would be quiet on the drive to their hotel. Traveling across an ocean was exhausting. 

Vaguely, he wondered if Harry was awake. He doubted it. It was five in the morning in Norway. Eleven at night back home. He’d have to call his mom as soon as he got in the car. Or text her, maybe. Not talking to anyone for the next few hours sounded ideal. 

Maybe he would cancel all city plans today and just sleep. He needed to sleep on an actual bed in an actual room that wasn’t hurtling him through the air at however-fucking-fast airplanes fly across the Atlantic. 

Yes, okay. New plan: find scary security people assigned to pick him up from the airport. Get back to the hotel. Sleep, sleep, sleep. Wake up. Seize the day. Start day one of his dream career. 

Easy. simple. He could do this. 

Except. 

When Louis - along with the few hundred people who had also touched down in Oslo in the early morning - finally reached the arrival gate, he immediately spotted the sign with his name. It was directly across from him, written on a pink poster board. In a darker pink ink it read, OSLO, NORWAY WELCOMES LOUIS TOMLINSON! :-) 

Yellow balloons floated on either side and between them, holding the sign with a wide smile, was a stupidly tall, stupidly beautiful, wonderfully ridiculous, very much awake Harry Styles. 

Harry Styles. Harry. 

What the fuck? 

Harry Styles was a mere room away, holding a sign that welcomed Louis to Oslo. 

And Louis … Louis stared and stared for one, two, three seconds before his mind caught up with his body and he found himself sprinting across the room, followed closely by the wheels of his suitcase. 

“Harry!” He nearly shouted, then he remembered that his friend was in fact a real, world famous popstar and he immediately lowered his voice. “Hi! Oh my god. What are you doing here?” 

Harry laughed and tossed the sign to the side, holding his arms in welcome. This time, he didn’t ask for permission before pulling Louis into a hug. The familiar embrace, one Louis had missed desperately despite only knowing it once before, was more grounded than any landing could ever be. Louis rested his chin on the point between Harry’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the smell of vanilla and traces of shampoo. Harry held him around the waist. They rocked back and forth. Over his shoulder, Louisy watched a man in all black emerge from the shadows and pick up the sign. He was smiling, even as he shook his head. 

“Picking you up, of course,” said Harry and fuck Louis had missed his voice. Facetime did him no justice. Harry pulled back, still smiling. He kept either hand on Louis’ forearms and squeezed, blinking slowly. “Fuck. Hi. You’re really here.”  

Harry’s pink sweatpants were tied around his hips, the bottoms stuffed into butter yellow sneakers. A white crop top with pink floral designs across the center hung a few inches above the waist band, exposing the underwing of his butterfly tattoo against tanned skin. His yellow zip up hoodie was undone. The entire look was hopelessly casual - his curls were tied back with a little clip on the top of his head - and still, the sight of him left Louis’ stomach in knots. 

He would forever be so stupidly tongue tied, which was funny because - once upon a time - Louis made a living out of words. “I’m here,” he repeated softly, “And you’re here. At the airport.” 

A bright pink flush on Harry’s cheeks matched the flowers on his shirt. “Couldn’t sleep. Was too excited, so I begged Paul to let me come, too.” 

Louis looked at the man now holding the sign. He had at least a foot on Louis. Toned muscles were visible beneath his black shirt. Despite one of his hands likely being strong enough to snap Louis’ neck with minimal effort, though, his brown eyes were kind. “It’s true. Harry’s a pain in the ass. Took away my me time. ‘M Paul, by the way.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Louis.” He held out his hand, but Paul merely snorted and pulled Louis into a bone-crushing hug. 

“No formalities ‘round here, Louis, we’re a tour family now.” He pulled back and stepped around Louis, reaching for his bags. “You boys ready?” 

Louis frowned. “Paul, I can get my own -” 

“Nonsense. C’mon, do you want coffee before we hit the road?” 

“Lou prefers tea.” 

“Thank god. I saw a cafe on our way in.” 

Paul gestured for them to go ahead and Louis frowned, looking over his shoulder. Harry immediately smiled as he fell into step beside him. “Paul wouldn’t let you carry your own luggage even if he had two broken arms,” he said, very matter of fact. “Don’t feel bad. He’s a pain in the ass like that.” 

“Oi!” 

Louis laughed. What was it he was thinking just a few moments ago, about craving the quiet? Past him was so wrong. This was exactly what he needed. “Is it normally you two doing these airport pickups?” He teased. “You’ve got the routine down to a science.” 

“Oh please, normally this one avoids airports at all costs,” Paul grumbled behind them. “This was a special occasion.” 

Oh? Louis looked at Harry, whose flush had only deepened. 

“Uhhh.” Harry squeaked. “Yeah. So how was your flight, Lou?”

Oh? “It was actually so nice,” he admitted, mostly to spare Harry. “Thank you for booking it. I’ve never flown first class before. I felt proper fancy. Look at this.” 

Grinning, Louis showed Harry some of the selfies he took. Him in the first class bathroom, wearing a facemask. Him with a champagne flute. A picture he took of his chair bed, with the caption, what the fuck???

Harry’s laugh parted the clouds in the Oslo sky. 

They made it to the inconspicuous, unmarked Range Rover within minutes. While Paul placed Louis’ luggage in the trunk - and Louis held the sign Harry had made, desperate to be helpful in some way -  Harry opened the back door and slid in. Paul froze just as he took the sign. 

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head. “The kid spends five years begging to sit up front with me. Now you're here and I’m chopped liver.” 

Louis laughed, in part because he didn’t know what else to do. 

Louis slid in the back as well once everything was situated. As Paul began the menial task of getting them out of a crowded airport in a foreign country, Louis reached for his phone. 

Louis: Landed safely and am in the car headed to the hotel now :) you can sleep now 

He locked his phone and leaned back, hiding a yawn behind his wrist. “I’m exhausted,” he told Harry, lolling his head to look at him. “Had all of these touristy plans for the day, but past me was simply too young and naive. Now my only plan is to get to the hotel and sleep for a million years.” 

“Sorry. No can do.” 

Louis blinked. His eyebrows furrowed, lips caught in a half-smile, as if expecting a laugh. Harry, though, remained serious. “What do you mean?”

“Lou, if you go to bed at eight in the morning, you are never gonna get used to the time zone! I know it sucks, but the best way to defeat the evils of jet lag is to power through the first day. If you can stay up until nine tonight, you’ll feel a lot better come morning. Your body will reset to Oslo time. Trust me.” 

“It’s true,” Paul called. "Don't worry, we’ll get you lots of caffeine.”

A pout tugged Louis’ lips down. Harry and Paul were very probably right. It made too much sense to not be true. If Louis went to sleep now, he’d be going to sleep at his usual New York time. He’d never adjust. 

And still … “You mean I have to stay awake for the next thirteen hours?” Louis sighed. “What am I supposed to do for thirteen hours? I wanna sleep now.”

“You are more than welcome to tour the Oslo Mini Bottle Gallery with Sara and I!” Paul offered, voice brightening. “Three floors filled with over 12,000 tiny bottles. Beers and fizzy drinks and spirits. It’ll be somethin’, for sure. I know it’ll keep you awake.”

Louis couldn't tell if that sounded like the coolest thing ever because he was mind-numbingly exhausted or because it actually was the coolest thing ever. 

A quiet laugh sounded. “ Or,” Harry said, gentle, "you're more than welcome to join me, Zayn, and the rest of the band that isn’t Sara on a yacht.”

“A yacht?”

“Far less culture,” said Paul, “But yeah …sure. A yacht.” 

Harry snorted. “Paul hates boats,” he explained, eyes twinkling. “But we were planning it as a sorta pre-tour celebration. The coastline of Oslo is gorgeous. It’s a mountain city, really, and you can really see that on the Oslofjord. Our cruise is gonna explore the entire coastline, then park us in the harbor for dinner and a swim. It’ll be hard to sleep with Niall on board and you can meet Zayn and I’ll be there and … um. Please? Maybe? If you want to?” 

And Louis smiled. At the earnesty in Harry’s tone. His pink cheeks and his rambles and shaking hands. “That sounds perfect,” he said. Harry beamed. 

“Better than the Mini Bottle Museum?” Paul asked. 

“Just barely, honestly.”

“Damn it.” 

By the time Paul stopped at the cafe he mentioned seeing, Louis was already quite convinced that this might be the best six months of his life. His phone buzzed. 

Mama: Oh, thank goodness! x Have a wonderful day, baby. We miss you. Don’t go to sleep ‘til it’s nighttime there 

Louis: Does everyone know the laws of jet lag but me?! 

Mama: Haaaaa x it is midnight here, love. Late for you and me 

Mama: I’m glad someone else is giving you good jet lag advice though! 

Louis: It was Harry :) he came to pick me up from the airport 

Mama: How lovely!!! I think I like him even more now 

Louis: Go to sleep, mom 

Mama: Yeah, yeah. Love you x 

Louis looked at Harry, who was watching him from beneath tired, fluttering lashes. “Everything okay?” He asked. Louis smiled. 

My mom likes you more than she ever liked my wife of three years. But that’s not allowed to mean anything. 

“It’s perfect.” 

Harry beamed. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

@avocadoh8r: look i don’t wanna be that guy, but I swear this is Harry walking out of the airport with that Louis guy … the one whose wife got caught cheating on the love cam? [Image Attachment]

@blueeyes28: @avocadoh8r i think you’re right … I’d recognize those cheekbones anywhere.

@babyhoneyyyyy: @blueeyes28 @avocadoh8r how can you even tell? This picture was taken with a potato. But also … I kinda want it to be him ngl.

@untilthenextcup: @avocadoh8r what the fuck is wrong with you? Louis would never step out on Cleo when she’s trying to repair their relationship.

@live_laugh_cleo: @untilthenextcup @avocadoh8r idk maybe Louis and Harry are running a smear campaign on Cleo to get everyone to hate her. 

@coffeelovers: @live_laugh_cleo @untilthenextcup @avocadoh8r no, I was thinking the same thing. Besides, Louis is totally the type of person to get back at Cleo by fucking the popstar who ruined her life.

@avocadoh8r: @coffeelovers @live_laugh_cleo @untilthenextcup yall need therapy. Like … a LOT of therapy. 

@sunflouwerhabit: guys, that picture is totally Harry and Louis. Just sayin’ … I wonder if they’re like … you know … 😏

@rogueskimo: @sunflouwerhabit ok but that would actually be the sweetest thing ever. 

@sunflouwerhabit: @rogueskimo RIGHT??? They’d need a ship name, tho …

@rogueskimo: @sunflouwerhabit not to state the obvious … but what about Larry?

@sunflouwerhabit: @rogueskimo wait that’s actually perfect??

@larrysparrows: @sunflouwerhabit @rogueskimo THE PROPHECY HAS COME TO PASS, MY HANDLE HAS MEANING 🤩

@larrysparrows: @sunflouwerhabit @rogueskimo for real, my name was supposed to be harrysparrows … you know … for harry and his little sparrow tattoos, but that was taken, so I just picked the letter L instead and look at me now 😌😌

@rogueskimo: @larrysparrows @sunflouwerhabit that’s settled. Larry it is. Now we just need more than one potato picture to confirm …

@dont_stop_larry: @larrysparrows @rogueskimo @sunflouwerhabit am I invited to the convenient handle party?

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Paul wasn’t the only member of Harry’s team who was a hugger. 

Louis stepped onto the yacht a few hours later and was greeted immediately with outstretched arms and loud laughter. He hugged Niall Horan, a boisterous Irishman with eyes the color of the sky and dyed, icy blond tips to brighten his brown hair. The guitarist wore only black swim trucks with embroidered cherries in the fabric. His smile made Louis feel like they’d been friends their entire lives. “Good to meet ya!” He enthused, breath smelling vaguely of beer. “Harry has not stopped talking about you! Not even for a -”

“Lou, this is Liam!” Harry grabbed Louis’ arm and tugged him further onto the boat. Near the stairs that led to the upper level, a man with kind brown eyes and short brown hair waved. Like Harry, tattoos covered his arms. “He’s my light and sound technician and also one of my oldest friends. Fun fact: he also has perfect pitch.” 

Liam flushed. The yellow bucket hat on his head flopped with the movement. “It’s true,” he said, giving Louis a hug. “Hi!” 

And on it went. Louis met Nova, Harry’s backup guitarist and vocalist. Mitch the bassist. Pauli, musical director and percussionist. Everyone Louis met greeted him with wide smiles and hugs and, long before the yacht left the docks, Louis forgot that he was maybe supposed to feel nervous. 

“And Sara is my drummer,” explained Harry, offering Louis the pineapple mixed drink he’d requested. “But she’s at the museum.” 

Pauli heaved a dramatic side. “I can't believe she actually went on that damn tour.”  

“I can,” Mitch sighed. Louis looked at Harry, who winked. 

To Pauli’s credit, once Louis actually got to see Oslo, he couldn’t believe that anyone would pass this up for any reason. Not even 12,000 mini bottles. Oslo looked, almost, like any coastal, quaint city. Skyscrapers shot up to meet the cloudy skies, standing proud as the central focus of the skyline. Even so, the city also had a mountainous terrain that looked breathtaking from the water. It was almost like Oslo couldn’t make up its mind; from its beaches to the forests creeping up the mountainside, punctuated by houses that sat on the rare flatlands on the hillside. It was the most bizarre city Louis had ever seen because it wasn’t cohesive and yet it just made sense. 

He smiled, standing at the bow of the ship to snap yet another picture. Inside the yacht’s air conditioned room, music from Harry’s Oslo Site Seeing playlist blared. He heard Niall’s laughter and saw Pauli dancing through the window. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Louis startled ever so slightly. A raven haired man joined him near the bow, his smile apologetic. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Zayn.”

Zayn. Right. Louis’ boss, technically. “Hi. I’m -”

“Louis.” Zayn’s eyes sparkled with something close to mirth. He stepped closer, giving Louis a side-armed hug. “Believe me, I’ve heard.” 

The smile on Louis’ face was genuine, albeit slightly confused. Before he could inquire further, though, Zayn changed the subject. “I’m sorry I missed the introductions. I was in the study. Our opening act for Australia and Asia just backed out on us for personal reasons, which fucking sucks. I have no idea who’s gonna replace them. And I also had to work out the logistics for the fruit delivery tomorrow. It’s been a nightmare.” 

Louis laughed. “I saw Harry has a very specific fruit bar in his green room,” he said. “Is it always difficult to accommodate?” 

“Eh, depends on the venue. I think the first shows of any leg are always the most difficult to figure out logistically, but it’s never anything I have to do alone. The locals and workers at the venues are the biggest help, which you’ll learn, too.” Zayn smiled. “This job can be tedious and a lot of paperwork, but it’s also the best. I love getting to travel and be with my friends and play a role in the celebration of live music. Seeing the show come together every night makes any short lived stress absolutely worth it.” 

“I can imagine,” Louis said, almost dreamily. “I always wanted this exact job when I was younger.” 

“You’re in the best place to learn,” Zayn assured him, turning his back on the skyline. He leaned against the railing, folding his arms over his chest. “Between you and me, we couldn’t work for a better world famous pop star.” 

Inside the room, Harry and Pauli linked arms, skipping in a circle to the beat of the music. Then Harry kicked something and immediately tripped, pulling his friend down with him. Both Louis and Zayn muffled a snort as Niall cackled and Liam immediately pulled out his phone. 

“I mean it,” Zayn said, “I’ve heard horror stories about artists who aren’t nearly as famous as Harry, but are a million times more horrible. There are plenty who are condescending or difficult for the sake of being difficult or even, just, cruel. And Harry’s the very opposite. He treats everyone here like family. He’s just one of us. And he’s so down to earth, especially for someone who’s been famous since they were sixteen.” 

Not for the first time, Louis felt only warmth at the thought of Harry Styles. “I get it,” he told Zayn, “I’ve met him exactly twice and I know he’s incredible.” 

Zayn winked. Gold reflected in his brown eyes. “And don’t you forget it, Tomlinson. You’re a part of a wonderful team now. We’re excited to have you here.” 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

If Louis could choose any memory of Oslo to keep forever, it would be the feeling of his body slicing through the surface of the frigid Oslofjord, the sun setting behind him and his fingers entangled with Harry’s. 

Harry, who successfully coaxed him into taking the leap. Who held his hand to make the plunge easier to brave. Who sat with Louis at dinner and told him all the odd facts about Oslo he’d found over the years. 

Harry, Harry, Harry. 

It was Harry who made sure he got to his hotel room safely (a very welcome gesture, seeing as Louis was nearly delirious after no sleep and a day filled with alcohol and the sun). And it was also Harry who invited him and the rest of the group on an early morning hike to the Vettakollen Viewpoint the next day, so they could all watch the sunrise over the city. In New York, Louis would have vetoed such an invitation, but he was in Norway. So he sighed through the early alarm and - two hours later - he watched the sunrise reflected in Harry’s eyes as Oslo woke beneath them. 

Then they got to work. Zayn walked Louis through the very basics of the job (he called it “Tour Managing 101”) and explained that the plan was for Louis to watch for the first few weeks, then they would work together (including while in Italy) before Louis would be given his own shows to handle. It was slightly intimidating, but it was exciting and - that night - Louis got to watch from backstage as the supernova that was Harry Styles took the stage in a glittery, silver suit and stunned his way through a show that Louis could easily watch a million times over. 

He loved watching Harry on stage. The way he smiled and interacted with the crowd and managed to center everyone - the collective community - in a show that technically starred him. It was a rare talent.

Harry was a rare talent. 

At the end of the night, Louis offered Harry a hug and a simple, “you looked like a disco ball and that was the best show I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

And Harry laughed, then pouted. “Better than Boston?” 

“I think every time is just going to get better. It’s the Harry Styles Effect.” 

The smile on Harry’s face kept Louis warm long after the lights in the venue flickered off. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

WELCOME BACK, LOVE ON TOUR! HARRY STYLES SHINES IN OSLO, DOESN’T ACCIDENTALLY RUIN ANY MARRIAGES DURING RETURN TO STAGE

…

LOVE ON TOUR DIVORCE COUNTER REMAINS LOCKED AT TWO

…

“ARE YOU GUYS ACTUALLY TOGETHER?” HARRY STYLES TEASES FANS IN OSLO, REFERENCING THE NOW INFAMOUS CEO-GATE VIDEO

…

“DOES THAT POSTER SAY LOUIS? WE ARE HERE TO PROVE IT!” CONSPIRACIST FANS ARE DETERMINED TO PROVE THAT HARRY STYLES INVITED EX-HUSBAND OF WOMAN CAUGHT CHEATING AT HIS SHOW TO JOIN HIM IN EUROPE

Impassioned fan accounts are working to decipher what was written on a poster Styles was holding when picking up a mysterious brunette from the airport in Oslo. We reached out to Styles’ team for comment, but received no response

…

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, THE LOVE ON TOUR CHEATING SCANDAL REMAINS THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

See the week’s best infidelity-related memes here!

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

On their flight to Stockholm, Louis repurposed one of the many notebooks he once used for content creation and instead labeled it, European Cities in a Sentence. 

For Oslo, he went with, mountain hikes in the early morning, coastline cruises by night. It was his very best attempt at remembering a city he felt like he was leaving a piece of himself in. 

For Stockholm, he wrote private tours of the Abba museum. Harry couldn’t stop singing Mamma Mia for the next two days. 

(Technically more than one sentence, but he needed to include the Mamma Mia. He needed future Louis to remember the inherent silliness of this team, of this time in Europe, of Harry - who somehow managed to stay in perfect pitch even when using a pink cowboy boot as a microphone). 

Louis fell in love with Copenhagen’s explosion of color along the river - the blue and red and orange home - and the Little Mermaid statue Harry made Niall and Louis hunt down with him because it matched the tattoo on his upper thigh.

Also: why were most Europeans so anti-ice water? I would kill for ice in my water right about now. 

The most important memories. 

In what felt like no time at all, they were on day six of forty-two (a seventh of the way done? Louis hated it. He wanted time to stop. He also couldn’t wait for the rest of tour) and leaving the Nordic countries behind to fly to Amsterdam. 

“What do you have on your list for Amsterdam?” Harry asked Louis just as the plane began its descent into the Netherlands. He shifted in his seat, knees knocking into Louis’ with a careless brush. Louis sucked in a breath, fighting to convince his heart that they weren’t just actively struck by a bolt of lightning. “Fancy a stroll through the Red Light District?”

This damn lightning. 

Louis snorted. “How scandalous your thinking is, Styles. Actually, I just want to go on a bike ride around the canals. Explore the architecture. Drink good coffee. Maybe have a picnic.” 

Harry nodded. “We can do all of that.” 

More than anything, it was the we that made Louis’ still-steadying heart do a bit of a somersault. 

Because that was something he learned in his first week with this eclectic team - he didn’t need to ever count on doing any of it alone (lest he wanted to). There was always someone willing to play tourist with him. Niall and he had very similar tastes in food, which meant the pair devoted hours to exploring the culinary scene in each city. Louis was partial to Copenhagen. Niall didn’t want to leave Stockholm. 

Liam was always good for an adventure and Zayn usually tagged along as their voice of reason, grumbling about how it was his second job just to keep them alive. Louis loved talking music with Pauli and Sara. Paul still had dozens of pictures from the mini bottle museum he was (very patiently) waiting to show Louis. Mitch was rather quiet - and a little intimidating - but he did laugh their first morning in Copenhagen when Louis jokingly told Harry he looked like a disgruntled baby kitten, so. He had reason to believe Mitch didn’t hate him. 

And then, of course, there was Harry. 

Like everyone else, Louis seemed to exist in orbit around that sequined, curly enigma. Harry was quite obviously the glue holding them together (which made sense, it was his show), but it wasn’t like he actively tried. He was just himself every single day - excited, enthusiastic, genuine - and it pulled them in. It pulled thousands of fans in every night and, though Louis knew Harry loved playing tourist, the Real-Life Popstar was always most looking forward to getting back on that stage. He lived for it. 

Louis did, too. The shows were his favorite part of every day. By the time they were playing in Amsterdam, his heartbeat was in sync with the melody of the setlist. 

He was living for it. He hoped it would never end. 

Sometimes, Harry would catch his eye from the stage and the light in his expression seemed to scream, it never will. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Amsterdam: The puff of the cloud escaping Harry’s lips and rising high above the Red Light District was art. Stars must have down from the sky to say hello,  finding themselves in the sweat still glistening on Harry’s skin from his set. Harry plucked one from the group and placed it in his pocket. It will be an accessory for the next show. 

Antwerp: Hour long divorce meetings are actually far less horrible when sitting on a balcony overlooking a gothic port city. Might I have cracked the code? 

Brussels: Harry bought the team matching hand woven bracelets from the Place du Jeu da Balle flea market. Mine is blue, his is green. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“I think I expected Berlin to feel more …” 

Louis paused, glancing around at the skyscrapers and the traffic lights and the bustle of traffic during the city’s rush hour. 

Harry stepped closer. “Historical, maybe?” 

“Yeah.” Yes. “It feels more like an American city, in a sense, because it’s not as … antiquated? Like less cobblestone, more asphalt?” 

“Ha. Ass- fault,” Niall snorted. 

“Nialler, are we twelve?”

“I think it’s because so much of it was destroyed in the 1940s, during the war,” said Harry thoughtfully, ignoring Niall and Zayn’s squabble. “They had to rebuild so much and, with that, came the more modern feel. Except for the Brandenburg Gate and what not. It doesn’t feel as old as, like, a city such as Prague.” 

Louis smiled. Ahead of them, Liam and Pauli were leading them with gusto towards the remnants from the Berlin Wall. “What’s Prague like?” 

“Oh my god, Lou, it’s one of my favorite cities. One of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. You’ll love it.” 

“I can’t wait.” 

“We have an extra free day there. I requested it,” said Harry, “I’m going to show you around and make you fall in love with it, too.” 

“That sounds like a threat.” 

Harry yanked Louis out of the bike lane when a cyclist rang their bell from behind them, huffing out a yell in angry German. “Es tut mir leid!” Harry called to them, keeping a hand on Louis’ arm. “Germans take their bike lanes very seriously. They will run you over and then yell at you for it.” 

“Noted. Thank you for saving my life.” Louis could very easily step out of Harry’s grasp now that the danger had passed. He stayed put. 

“Anytime.” Harry ran a hand over his arm, letting his finger drag around the tanned skin of Louis’ elbow. Several days spent on yachts and exploring historical cities had worked wonders for Louis’ tan, despite it almost being September. “Hey, you like old things, then? Old cities.” 

Louis laughed. “I do. That’s something I actually found out on this trip. The U.S. doesn’t really have as many of these 1600s cities. We destroyed or built over our ancient history, because it was indigenous.” 

Harry’s expression was thoughtful. “I think I have a place you’ll love. I planned a solo trip before we leave for Cologne on Tuesday, but you should come with me.” 

“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?” It didn’t matter. All Louis heard was you should come with me and his schedule was cleared. 

“Hmmm, not yet.” Harry’s smile was playful. He pulled his hand away. Louis felt its imprint anyway, like a tattoo or a kiss from the sun. 

Eventually, they made it to the park where large sections of the Berlin Wall still stood. The green area of the city was divided by the wall, much like it had been during the Cold War. Unlike then, though, there were breaks in the wall and easy access to either side. Most of the cement slabs were covered in graffiti (when Berlin was divided, the Western side was often covered in extensive artwork). Portraits and abstract artwork. Calls to action and calls for peace and calls for a better world. Louis snapped a photo. 

The group wandered through the park, marveling at the artwork and the sense of peace that existed, despite the long, complicated, divisive history in Berlin. 

One cement slab was dedicated entirely to Pride. Rainbow flags and symbols for the different groups within the community - the trans flag, purple, grey, and black for asexuality, two women holding hands - decorated the space. Louis took several pictures, zooming in specifically on the bisexual flag. 

When he glanced to the right, Harry was also taking pictures. His smile was easy, if not just a touch wistful. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Zayn Malik: Hey Lou! A bunch of us are going to spend our last day in Berlin drinking on a boat. You in? 

Louis: That sounds amazing! But I’m actually going out with Harry tomorrow on his little day trip. Fucker don’t tell us where we’re going, tho 

Zayn Malik: You’re …… going with Harry on his solo trip? 

Louis: Yes?!

Zayn Malik: Well well wellington what an exclusive offer 

Louis: ??? 

Zayn Malik: God the tea in Germany is so damn good

Louis: I thought they were mostly known for their beer 

Zayn Malik: :) 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

At ten the next morning, Harry and Louis boarded a train to Potsdam, Germany. 

Harry told Louis that he’d never been there before but - when planning this leg of the tour - he wanted to go somewhere new. “I looked it up, and it’s basically just a city full of palaces!” he enthused, dimples deep. “Like we’re going to explore all of these estates all day and it’s old and historical and peaceful. The ideal day.” 

Louis’ heart clenched as he pretended to study the German countryside as it flew by. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from this boy. Real-life popstar. Even more stunning person, in the ways that mattered the most. 

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Thank you for letting me come with you.” 

Harry only ever looked so beautifully genuine. “Please, having you with me will make the ideal day even better.” 

It was the very sweetest of sentences. Louis didn’t quite know what to do with it. He just knew the feeling was so very mutual. 

And Potsdam was beautiful. It was the sort of place that took Louis’ breath away from the moment he stepped off the train in front of Harry. They were two of only eight people making this particular stop. Three were an older group who paid them no mind. One was a solo traveler, a young man in his twenties. He nodded at them and continued on his way. The last two - a man and woman - gave Harry a sort of questioning look, but didn’t seem to really recognize him before they set off towards the first salmon-colored estate in Potsdam. 

Harry’s shoulders relaxed. Louis knew the feeling. He imagined it was even worse when you released three consecutive number one albums and had been in the public eye for over seven years. 

Which reminded Louis … “How are we here without Paul?”

“Oh, we’re not. He’s coming in the train behind us, but he promised to always stay an estate behind us.” Harry grinned and shook his head as their shoes crunched over the cobblestone. They continued across the massive, empty parking lot and towards the pink building, where an opening would undoubtedly lead them further into the city. It was very flat and very quiet. Louis stepped closer to Harry. “I request this at least once a trip, a day to feel normal, like I don’t have a shadow. I love Paul, but … but sometimes I just want to be Harry, you know? I want a chance to just be. I actually went to Erie, Pennsylvania while in the States and stayed overnight in a cabin. It was amazing.” 

For a moment, Louis couldn’t help but feel guilty for being here. “I get it,” he said softly, “I’m sorry if I -” 

“No apologizing,” Harry said firmly, “I invited you, remember? Because I wanted you to come. I feel the most normal when I’m with you.” 

Louis bit his lip. “You do?” 

“Yeah, Lou.” Harry glanced over, pulling his big yellow sunglasses over his eyes. The lines on his forehead smoothed over. “I can’t explain it, but … but I like how I feel, when you’re with me. I’m so happy you joined us in Europe, it’s been the best tour leg of my life.”

“Hey, it’s been the best tour leg of my life, too!” 

Harry laughed - his obnoxious, honking, perfect laugh - and the sound echoed, bouncing down from the steps they just reached and thudding out over the massive, sandstone estate sprawling before them. 

Louis froze, looking up. An entire new world was at their feet. 

The estate seemed to stretch out forever, with various buildings of the palace hovering along the perimeter of the public gardens. A fountain splashed out in the center, the running water only adding to the lull of the day. Plant beds, too, created a sort of maze, adding a pop of color to the tan exterior. It felt untouchable, almost, like a tiny city lost in time. Louis couldn’t help but hate himself a little for adding his footprint, for disturbing something that felt like it belonged to an hourglass that ran out in a different lifetime. 

“Oh my god,” he breathed. 

“I know,” Harry said. He squeezed his arm. “Ready to get lost in history?” 

Louis nodded, not bothering to call out the slightly cheesy proposition. It didn’t really matter. He found he would be quite willing to follow Harry to any century. 

“Lead the way.” 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Four hours later, Louis’ feet ached and his nose was most definitely sunburned and he was starving .

He had also never felt more at peace in his life. 

They’d spent four hours exploring actual, real-life palaces. Their gardens. Ancient homes, the kinds he’d only ever seen in shows like Bridgerton (though these, of course, were far more German-styled than Regency Era London). He’d taken a million pictures of the grounds and of Harry and himself. Photos that were only meant for him. His memories, his collections. Bar one selfie with Harry he sent in the family group chat, Louis didn’t need to worry if every picture was clear and clearly composed and matched well-enough with his Instagram aesthetic to be shared. It didn’t matter, because the day was his. It was Harry’s. 

Harry, who Louis found he liked even more with every minute they spent together. He loved Harry’s endless sense of wonder, how he matched Louis’ drive to explore. An additional 5,000 steps just to continue on was an easy decision between them because they both knew - on some level - that they might not get the chance to be here again, so they wanted to know Potsdam for this little bit of time they were promised. Louis loved how Harry would bend his long, bambi legs into a crouch just to get a good picture. He said hi to butterflies and bees buzzing around flowers, and he apologized to a bird he spooked. It was Harry who took the first leap and sprinted down the corridors of the palace with his arms outstretched, carefree and easy and happy.  

At one point, Louis watched him skip down a path carved out by two rose beds - his hair blowing behind him, his loose, cotton t-shirt bouncing with every movement - and he thought, this boy is something straight out of a fairytale. 

Some people were pure magic. Trust Louis to find a Real-Life Popstar who might have just been handcrafted by the stars and the sun and the flowers that bloomed brighter once they crossed paths with Harry Styles. 

(Were those normal thoughts to have? No. But Louis was exploring a city of palaces with Harry Styles, so. He could probably get away with it for today). 

Eventually, though, when the pair were finally willing to admit that they maybe needed a break, they stumbled upon a stone building cast off to the side of the estate. It was small, as far as fancy palace buildings go, and the area around it was empty. Harry and Louis found a little patio surrounded by trees and a tiny pond. A stone bench carved into the wall separating the water and the patio proved to be the perfect place for them to eat the fruit salad and sandwiches Harry packed them. 

“Stole these from the green room last night,” Harry admitted with a grin, handing Louis his lunch. “You like turkey, right?” 

Turkey was Louis’ favorite. For no reason at all, his cheeks flushed. “To be fair, I don't think it’s stealing if it’s from your green room.” 

Harry winked. 

The two settled into a peaceful quiet, one that could only be brought on by the tired left in the wake of unbridled exploration. Birds around the pond chirped, forming a harmony with the crickets. Frogs were languishing on lily pads. Louis could see a large orange fish in the water below them. 

It was an oasis, nature thriving in the very midst of what was once humanity’s greatest accomplishment. 

Truthfully, even with the skyscrapers and the airplanes and the cars in modern day, Louis might still be partial to this. 

“Hey Lou?” 

When Louis looked away from the greenery around the pond, it was to find Harry’s eyes on him. He fidgeted, almost subconsciously, and balled his plastic bag up, swallowing the last of the sandwich he’d inhaled. “Yeah?” 

Harry, too, cleaned the minimal trash in front of him. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to influencing? Like at all?” 

Louis blinked. “I dunno,” he said slowly, “I don’t think so … at least, I don’t think I will at the same rate that I used to. Like the daily posting and the brand deals and the need to monetize every minute of my life? I don’t miss that.” 

“I get it. That part sounds miserable.” Harr sounded hesitant. 

“That was always Cleo’s dream,” Louis admitted, “The whole full-time thing. I think if I went back, I would make sure I was only posting about the things that mattered to me. Like I’m not going to record myself shopping at Costco anymore, but … but … having an open conversation about bisexuality on my channel? I would absolutely do that again. I always felt like that was my most important message, anyway. Especially with all the thinly veiled biphobia that’s popped up after Cleo did what she did.” 

Harry smiled at that, looking down at his food. He hesitated before saying, “I think you’re amazing to use your platform in that way,” he said, voice soft. “My sister told me about your channel last year and I never watched, but … but you being in a straight passing marriage and still being so open about being bisexual? I always wished I could be that brave. I’ve spent my entire life trying to be open and honest and vulnerable, but I’m not. Not in the way that matters most.” 

“But you are,” Louis said immediately. “H, you don’t owe anyone a formal announcement or a ten minute Tiktok vlog. You get on stage every night and you wave the flag and you encourage your fans to be exactly who they are and … and that safe place you’re giving them? That is everything. You’re giving thousands of people a place to exist as their authentic self, even if just for a few hours. And I’ve … I know that the online communities you and the fans have made together are safe places for them, too. You’re saving lives every day through the fandom you’ve created.” 

“I’ve written songs that use he pronouns.” Harry picked at the crust of his sandwich, shaking his head. “I’ve fought for years to release them and my manager has finally given me the green light and now I don’t know if I can do it. It’s part of the reason I haven’t been recording on the road like I normally do.” 

“You want to come out?” Louis asked. He wasn’t exactly surprised. Even before that concert - before Louis went to a show, before Louis knew Harry - he was chronically online enough to know that Harry Styles lived in a glass closet. His concerts were pride events. He had a male love interest in a music video last year. At twenty years old, he said - in a live interview - that a partner being a woman was not that important to him. 

Of course, he had never publicly been with anyone but a woman and he never said the words I’m queer but Louis, of all people, knew that didn’t matter. Harry could never be in a relationship with a man and that wouldn’t mean he wasn’t queer. 

“I’ve wanted to come out since I was sixteen,” Harry said, “I always knew, you know? And everyone I love knows too. The band and Zayn and Li all know. But it’s like … it didn’t seem like as big of a deal back then. I think I was braver and more bold before I signed with a different label and coming out became a real possibility. Now I know what I stand to lose.” 

Louis frowned. “To be fair, you might lose some fans, but the real ones already know, H. I don’t think the thought of losing a few thousand homophobes should stop you from being yourself.” 

“I know, but I like having number one albums. I like winning Grammys. I like the sold-out shows and the world tours and traveling across different countries with my friends. I love my career. I’ve given everything for this.” Harry pulled one leg onto the bench, hugging it to his chest. The frayed edges of his purple shorts blew in the slight breeze. “And it’s not even just my career. I worry about my future partner too.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m … my label is that I’m unlabeled,” Harry told him, drumming his manicured nails over his leg. “I’ve never found a label that feels like me, and I know some people find specific labels to be validating, but I’ve always just felt trapped by them. Boxed in, you know? For me they’re too black and white.”

Louis squeezed his knee. “That’s okay, H. However you feel or understand yourself is the only correct answer.” 

“But society hates uncertainty. Try getting the masses on social media to understand that most things in life are nuanced. It’s impossible.” Harry closed his eyes. His bottom lip trembled. “And I’m already going to be asking so much of a future partner. They’re gonna have to put up with my career, the obsessive fans, the endless speculation and trolls and the fact that I need to plan out days away from my bodyguard weeks in advance. I’m always traveling. My name is dragged through the mud every other week in the papers and I don’t mind because this life is what I’ve always wanted. It’s still what I want. But it’s not necessarily what my partner wants, and I’ll ask them to grin and bear it and also have to deal with me having a sexuality that no one understands. If they’re a woman? Those who want me to be with a man will claim I’m no longer queer. If they’re a man? We get to deal with good old homophobia and constant speculation. And god forbid they’re nonbinary or trans. The media will have a field day. It’s so much to ask of someone to deal with just to be with me.” 

In between heart-splintering beats, Louis couldn’t help but wonder if Harry had ever said this much in one sitting ever. It was certainly the fastest he had ever heard him talk, and the panicked edge to his tone broke Louis in ways he never believed possible. 

He reached forward again, this time taking Harry’s hand. “I think you’re forgetting something.” 

“Hmm?” A quiet sniffle escaped Harry. Louis hated it. He hated this. 

“Harry, the people in your life who love you love you because of who you are, not in spite of it,” he said, entwining their fingers. “Your career? Your sexuality? Those are pieces of you. They are you and they’ve made you the incredible person you are. You’re not making anyone put up with anything. We’re all in your life because we love you. The right person will embrace every part of your life and they’ll also know what they’re signing up for, but. It’s not exactly a tall ask, adoring you.” 

“But I can’t give someone peace or a normal life or -” 

“They won’t want a normal life. They’ll want you, Harry. They’ll want you and all that entails.” Again, Louis squeezed his hand. “And I speak from experience when I say that all that you are is amazing. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re … you’re you, and that’s worth everything.” 

Harry’s bottom lip trembled again, his green eyes glassy, and that was the exact moment Louis couldn’t do this anymore. Without thinking, without hesitation, without even taking a breath, he stood immediately and crossed to the other side of the bench. He let go of Harry’s hand just long enough to sit on his other side. 

A quiet squeak escaped Harry when Louis wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him to his chest. Harry turned on his hip immediately, twisting to bury his head in Louis’ shoulder. It was the mirror of how they always usually hugged - Harry, this time, finding solace against Louis while Louis held him tight - and Louis squeezed his eyes shut, arms full of Harry’s shudders, heart desperate to match the beat of Harry’s, senses entirely overwhelmed. His skin was hot from the sun and sticky with sweat. He smelled of sunscreen, with vague traces of cologne. His hair tickled Louis’ cheek. Louis held him and he held him and held him and he never, ever planned to let go. 

It was Harry who shifted back eventually, lifting his head, though he kept his hands bunched in the sky blue fabric of Louis’ shirt. His eyes were red, skin blotchy. 

His gaze slipped down to Louis’ lips. 

Louis’ breath hitched. On his tongue sat a promise, an assurance, a very confident, I want to be that person for you. The one I just described. 

Louis didn’t know what his expression said. He hoped it gave permission. 

With another stuttered breath, Harry leaned closer once more. Their noses brushed as he tilted his head and he was right there, the phantom warmth of his lips waiting to press themselves to Louis’, and all Louis had to do was lean forward, to say yes, to … 

“Oh my god!” The squeal that rang out across the stone was a gun shot. 

Louis jumped back like he’d been burned. Harry did too, rising to his feet. All at once, his skin was lonely and cold and there were two feet of distance between Harry and him that felt like an ocean and there - at the foot of the patio - were too young girls gaping at them, which was interesting because Louis had just been convinced that the whole of Potsdam belonged only to Harry and him. 

How dare someone else be here? 

Oh fuck, someone else was here. 

“Oh my god!” The girl said again, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her turquoise bubble braids bounced with her as she jumped forward. The friend beside her followed suit. “ Harry! I was just at the show last night! We’re traveling to Cologne too!” 

Oh fuck. The friend had their phone out, raised at chest level. Their hand wasn’t currently on the camera button, but Louis still felt himself instinctively shrinking. Would jumping in the pond be too much? It didn’t feel like too much. He didn’t … 

Not so subtly, Harry stepped to the left, standing directly in front of Louis. “Hi!” He said, voice an octave too high. “Hello it’s so nice to meet you both.” Pause. “You’re from England?” 

“Manchester,” the girl confirmed. Harry laughed, all at once slipping back into his Real-Life Popstar persona. The friend lowered their phone and Louis’ shoulders relaxed. “I’m Lucy.” 

“Thought I recognized the northern accent,” he said, “have you moved to Germany, then? Or was this a vacation?” 

Immediately, the girls began rambling about the trip they had taken - “We’re Londoners now, actually! Well, I live in London full time, Lindy lives an hour outside the city! We decided to travel Central Europe for your tour. I’ve just graduated university.” - and Harry was patient, inquisitive. He asked about their studies and their favorite parts of London and he didn’t sound at all annoyed that he would have been kissing Louis had these girls not materialized out of thin air. 

Oh god. They were going to kiss . Actually. Out in public. The girls almost caught them kissing. Did they notice? Or did it look enough like a hug? Oh god. 

“And you’re Louis, right?” The one girl, Lindy, asked, looking past Harry’s shoulder. “The influencer!” 

One day, influencer wouldn’t be the title Louis was most known for. He couldn’t wait. He tried to smile. “I am, yeah.” He suddenly felt so painfully American in the face of all these Brits. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you both.” 

He hoped it didn’t sound like a lie. 

“I can’t believe we were right! You actually joined Harry on tour!” 

We were right? Had they guessed Louis was here? Had others? 

Louis had gotten so used to spending no time at all online. He had no idea. What if … 

Oh god. 

“He’s shadowing my tour manager,” Harry supplied. The girls didn’t even seem to hear them. 

“-Cleo is the fucking worst. I’m so sorry she sucks.” 

“But that Randy is ugly. And who names their kid Randy anyway?” 

Harry snorted. “Tell me about it.” 

And, all at once, Louis felt like he was back home, in Long Island with his sisters. He felt his shoulders relax. Operation Lake Heist was officially dead in … the water. 

“We won’t bother you any longer,” Lindy said, “but might we get a picture?” 

“With both of you?” Lucy asked. 

Harry hesitated. “ I will absolutely take one with you.” 

“So will I,” Louis agreed, before he even really realized what he was agreeing to. When Harry turned around though, with raised eyebrows and parted lips and a surprised smile, Louis knew he made the right decision. 

He might just agree to anything, when it came to this one. 

Lindy and Lucy took one picture with Harry and one with Louis, then each took a picture with both of the boys together. Harry insisted on a group selfie before they sent the girls on their way, the pair giggling together. The sound echoed long after their footsteps faded. 

“Lou.” Harry’s words were a whisper. Louis looked up and realized immediately that they were too close again . 

“They, um … they seemed nice.” Louis was acutely aware that his eyes were on Harry’s lips. 

“Yeah.” 

“You were so good with them.” 

Harry smiled. Louis could almost feel the movement. He wanted to close his eyes, to lean in, to … 

“Lou?” He looked back up, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry took a pointed step back and cleared his throat, rubbing his hands over his still-blotchy face. “I, um … you called me H.” 

Oh? Louis blinked. He feared he would always be staring at Harry’s lips. “Yeah. I did.” 

“I liked it.” 

God. Louis’ hands were shaking. They needed to get out of Potsdam. “I …” 

God. God. God. 

“We should go,” Harry said. A half-smile formed on his face. His dimples remained invisible. “It’s, like, 15 million steps back to the bus station.” 

“Hey, what’s 15 million steps between friends?” 

Harry’s smile slipped. Louis cringed inwardly. 

They were quiet as they packed up their uneaten food. The air, though still quiet, felt wrong. Uneasy. The crickets had even fallen silent. 

Louis grabbed their bag of fruit and strolled back to the edge of the patio, where Lucy and Lindy had gathered before stopping Louis from either making the biggest mistake of his life or changing everything with the perfect kiss. It was one or the other. No in between. 

“Lou?” He turned back, Harry was still standing frozen in place. His hair was a mess. The dark water was quiet behind him. Ivy grew on the stone building. Louis wanted to take a million pictures. None would ever do him justice. “Thank you.” 

Thank you? Louis’ eyebrows furrowed. For taking the fruit? For not kissing him? For … 

“For everything you said,” he whispered, eyes darting down to those ridiculous yellow shoes. “And for coming with me today.” 

Louis’ heart stuttered. His smile came easier. “Thank you for having me,” he whispered back, “And I meant everything I said. There’s no right way to exist as a queer person, H. You have to live for you and the right person …” 

The right person probably won’t consider diving into a lake when two girls spot you together. 

Harry smiled and joined him at the patio’s edge, offering a quick hug before they began step one of fifteen million. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

@lindysdaydream: IT’S HIM IT’S LOUIS AIRPORT GUY IS LOUIS HE HAS JOINED HARRY ON TOUR OH MY GOD GUYS OH MY  GO D !!!!!!! [Image Attachment] 

@loveonlucy: LIN AND I LIVING IT UP IN GERMANY AND CASUALLY RUNNING INTO HARRY STYLES AND LOUIS TOMLINSON HELLO???????? [Image Attachment] 

@foolstoowell: @loveonlucy WHAT WHERE WERE YOU GUYS WHAT WERE YOU DOING WAS IT JUST HARRY AND LOUIS DID THEY SEEM CLOSE ARE THEY FRIENDS WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK

@larryssparrows: @lindysdaydream OH MY GOD WE WERE RIGHT OH MY GOD IT’S ACTUALLY THEM OH MY GOD WE JUST GOT OUR FIRST LARRY PICTURE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GODDDD

@live_laugh_cleo: “larryssparrows”?????? get a life you psycho freak louis is literally just harry’s charity case. he wasn’t good enough for cleo so he’s definitely not good enough for harry styles 

@larryssparrows: @live_laugh_cleo you’re the one who literally stans an influencer famous for drinking shitty keurig coffee be so fr. also i love that you highkey insulted your beloved cheater in that tweet and don’t even realize it lmao! but you’re so right harry IS better than cleo in every conceivable way. good for louis with the upgrade <3 

@rogueskimo: @loveonlucy AINT NO FUCKING WAY WHAAAAAAAAAAT OH MY GOD

@dont_stop_larry: @rogueskimo @loveonlucy LARRY LARRY LARRY LARRY LARRY 

@loveonlucy: OKAY FRIENDS! Just to clear up the situation a little: Lin and I ran into them completely by accident! We won’t say where we were out of respect for l&h, but it was just the two of them and they seem so comfortable with each other! Louis is shadowing Zayn on this leg of tour! 

@lindysdaydream: @loveonlucy Both boys were SO SWEET. Harry is intimidating because he gives you alllll his attention when you’re speaking, but he asked us about school and was SO NICE. Louis was quieter, but just as kind! We walked away from the encounter adoring them both!! 

@loueh_oioi_: one minute you are obsessing over a super niche influencer that no one else has ever heard of, then all the sudden that same influencer is on tour with harry styles. so proud of my best friend! the parasocial relationship is parasocialing! 

@AdoretheBrave28: Louis very publically getting cheated on and then going on tour with the popstar who exposed his wife’s affair …. ITS SO GOOD 

@rarelyagoodfit: And said wife LOVES Harry Styles. It’s literally too good. TOO PERFECT. The only thing that would make this better is Louis falling in love with Harry lol chess not checkers man 

@ivyscofffee: I’m sorry this is so fucking disgusting of Louis. Leaving your wife at home while she’s trying to fix ur marriage while you jet off with her favorite popstar??? If I was Cleo I would never speak to that asshole again 

@coffeeholics: ain’t no way that man is not using harry styles 

@heartsgetbroken: FUCK ME. they’re both so hot 

@oscosaus: larry? 

@oceanic_blue_: @oscosaus LARRY!!!

@UpdateSDN: CONFIRMED! According to @lindysdaydream and @loveonlucy Harry DID invite Louis Tomlinson (ex-husband of Cleo Lancaster) to shadow Zayn on tour and learn the ropes as a tour manager :) 

@harrysrose: we truly made the right person famous 

@Rexi_GCO: I know nothing about Harry Styles but him inviting the ex-husband of the cheater caught at his show to join his tour and giving him that life changing opportunity…. that’s a good dude 

@sunflouwerhabit: “shadowing the tour manager” is certainly a new euphemism. haven’t heard that one before. i don’t think i want the details 

@rogueskimo: @sunflouwerhabit oh i absolutely want the details 

@OnThisDay: IN HARRIE HISTORY …… “LARRY” WAS OFFICIALLY BORN !!!!! 

@reputationlyricsbot: BABY LET THE GAMES BEGIN! 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

HARRY STYLES PERSONALLY INVITED EX-HUSBAND OF WOMAN CAUGHT CHEATING AT HIS SHOW TO JOIN HIM ON TOUR, TEAM CONFIRMS

…

THE AGE OF LARRY: FANS REACT TO OUR FIRST EVER PICTURE OF HARRY STYLES AND LOUIS TOMLINSON

…

WHILE CLEO LANCASTER STAYS HOME AND FIGHTS FOR THEIR MARRIAGE, LOUIS TOMLINSON JETS OFF ACROSS EUROPE WITH BEST BUD HARRY STYLES 

…

WHO IS LOUIS TOMLINSON? HERE IS EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT HARRY STYLES’ NEW BEST FRIEND

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Berlin: An historical city with an oddly modern feel; Harry saved me from murder in the bike line. 

Potsdam: I dunno if I will ever find the words. I don’t know if I need them. 

Cologne: Harry dragged us to the Museum of Pain and Love. I think he thought it would be BDSM-themed and instead I spent the afternoon tearing up over love letters written by strangers. Humanity will always be united in both love and pain and loss, across all eras of civilization. 

Warsaw: Sat in the Royal Baths Park and called my family. We spoke for an hour. I miss them. I don’t want to go home. 

Krakow: Days 16 and 17. How is that possible?! I adore this city. The market on the town square was incredible. I bought Harry a pink anklet. I hope he’ll like it. We had dinner at a restaurant that specializes in pierogis and I had one stuffed with cheese and broccoli. Literally life-changing. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

“You know, I’m starting to think climbing a mountain just might not be in the cards today.”

A disgruntled, determined Harry huffed, then sat mid-trail. He looked pointedly down at the faded denim shorts he chose for the day. Louis laughed and handed him his water. “I fear you might be right.” He pulled a face, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “But Lou. The mini Eiffel Tower.” 

Louis almost kissed that pouty lip a week ago. He really, really wanted to kiss that pouty lip. 

“Babe, we’re going to Paris in a few weeks. We’ll see the real, life-sized Eiffel Tower then. I vote we count our losses.” 

Harry took a deep swig of water. Louis had to look away when Adam’s apple bobbed. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” 

“I left it on the ground.” 

Harry laughed and held out his hand. Louis helped him up. He looked up again, at the dirt trail leading up the side of the mountain. They had been hiking for ages (ten minutes) and still hadn’t made it a quarter of the way up. It didn’t feel worth it, especially because Harry was right. Prague was the perfect little city and Louis wanted to see it all. 

Their hotel was right off Wenceslas Square and while Louis loved the bustling cobblestone streets and the shops located all around, Harry insisted they spend their day in what was known as Lesser Prague. 

“Lesser Prague?” Louis’ nose had scrunched as they left their hotel, elbows brushing. “That’s quite rude.” 

“I know, and I actually think it’s the Moster Prague. The Mostest. It’s the oldest part of the city, and the prettiest. You’ll love it.” 

So, as the sun rose over the city, Louis walked with Harry across the Charles Bridge and into the quaint, medieval city of his dreams. Harry showed him Little Venice, which was a colorful collection of houses on either side of the Charles. Canoes sailed down the water, hardly causing ripples in the calm. 

“ Harry.” Louis was whining. Harry wrapped an arm around him and laughed. 

“I know, Lou. I told you.” 

“I might stay in Prague. You guys go on without me.” 

Harry snorted, running his finger over Louis’ arm. “But I would miss you. And just wait ‘til you see Venice.” 

From there, they visited the John Lennon wall. While Louis had never been a particularly huge fan of The Beatles, even he could appreciate the mural. All You Need is Love. Fans from all around the world had signed their names, with messages of peace, love, and hope scrawled in hundreds of languages. Louis’ throat tightened. But then he saw a stick figure of a man with a mustache called Czech Norris and he laughed so hard he stopped making any audible noise for a solid minute. Harry watched him with a small smile, then ushered him forward to take the required touristy photo. 

It was after that they discovered the mountain and the trolley. 

To be completely fair, they could take the lift up to the top, but there was a long line. Each cart was packed and while Louis wasn’t actively trying to hide from the world, jumping straight into a tourist trap felt like a move Paul - who was further down the mountain - wouldn’t approve of. 

Besides, minimizing conversation about Harry and him? That was ideal. 

So, they left their hiking dreams behind (while Harry insisted they would have made it to the top if he was properly dressed) and instead wandered further into Lesser Prague, hiking up the winding cobblestone while the pastel-colored houses lined the roads until they found the Waldstein Palace Gardens, famed for the Dripstone Wall. 

“Why are there so many famous walls in Europe?” Louis wandered. 

“You know … that’s a great question.” 

This wall, though, was almost eerie. The grey dripstone looked like skulls from further away and, as Louis stepped closer, he could almost swear there were faces. “Harry, who buried people in this wall?” 

Harry laughed. “It’s stalactite.” 

“Bless you.”

“They claimed that the wall always looked like that,” Harry told him with a snort. “The rock formations were natural, apparently. I don’t think so, though. Historians agree that the family had it made to look like this to entertain guests. Others claim theirs a secret entrance into the castle from this wall. It opens up to a maze.” 

“Really?” Louis stepped closer. Harry laughed and grabbed his arm. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“But Harry.” He looked pointedly at the wall and back, then he froze. 

“I don’t wanna bail you out of a Czech jail today.” 

“Harry.” 

“Ask me tomorrow.” 

“ Harry.” Louis looked over his shoulder. “Is that a peacock?”

Harry didn’t even need to look over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah!” 

Louis stared. At Harry Styles. At the gorgeous blue bird with its blue and green wings strolling aimlessly along the palace ground. At the peacock. 

“You knew there would be peacocks here and you didn’t tell me?” 

Harry laughed. “Everyone deserves to be surprised by the peacocks the first time they come to Waldstein, Lou. It’s a rite of passage.” His smile was soft. “You need to experience the Magic of Prague firsthand.” 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

The Magic of Prague had Louis under its spell by the day’s end. He found, almost immediately, that one sentence would never be enough to capture all that this city was. 

What could he possibly hope to highlight when it all felt so special? 

Louis always wanted to remember how it felt here. The Mexican restaurant they stopped in for a late lunch, with its large windows and open doors leading to the cobblestone streets. Finding a baseball cap with the label Czech Me Out! that Louis simply needed to buy Harry. Exploring the gothic, ancient Prague Castle (and, god, what Louis would give to spend everyday exploring castles with Harry Styles) and ending the day on the Charles River, in a canoe Harry surprised him with because he knew Louis loved being on the water? 

It all left Louis with a bit of an ache, if only because he wasn’t ready for this day to be over. The sun dipped low over the water - a stunning wonder of pinks and oranges over the colorful homes in Lesser Prague - and Louis sighed, fingers dipping lightly into the Charles River as they sailed along, approaching the bridge. “I wish we had more time before sunset,” he admitted, which was insane because their day started an hour before daybreak. “I wish we could put off nighttime for a little longer.” 

Harry’s smile was knowing. “Ah, but the sun must set to rise, my Lou,” he said, like the ridiculous little poet in a ridiculous little boat that he was. “Besides, our day isn’t over yet.” 

“No?” 

Which was how, an hour later, Harry and Louis strolled back into Upper Prague to join hundreds at a dive bar listening to local Czech music. They split appetizers and drank ridiculously strong cocktails and they danced together and with strangers, losing themselves in music they didn’t know and didn’t really understand, but the night felt every bit as unifying as Harry’s shows. 

At nearly two in the morning, they stumbled back out into the cold air. The Astronomical Clock gleamed knowingly in front of them and, despite them approaching a near twenty-four hour day, Harry and Louis shared a look that told them both the night didn’t feel over. 

“The bridge will be quiet,” Louis said, swaying a bit with the shifting ground beneath him. Harry smiled. 

“I want ice cream.” 

“We can do ice cream.” 

“I don’t wanna go home.” 

Louis laughed. “A pretentious popstar once told me the sun must set to rise, my friend. All days have to end so new ones can begin.” 

“I think I want to keep having new days with you.” Harry didn’t seem particularly drunk - his strides were confident, his voice clear - but Louis couldn’t help but wonder if he would be this forward if it wasn’t two in the morning and they hadn’t just drank for four hours straight. 

Not that it mattered. Louis felt the same way. He was happy Harry had told him as much. “Hey, H?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What’s a trdelník? I’ve seen signs for them everywhere.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, the glimmer of green brightened by the streetlights. “Louis. You are a genius.” 

Trdelník, as it turned out, was a sweet pastry coated in cinnamon and sugar. The dessert Harry and Louis bought from a street vendor was baked in the shape of a cone, its center filled with creamy gelato. Louis asked for vanilla, Harry for chocolate. 

“ Děkuji vám !” Harry told the lady. “ Dobrou noc .” 

Louis smiled at the ground as the pair set back off towards the bridge. “Do you just … know all of these languages?” he asked, half curious, half awestruck. “And all of these cities’ histories and popular desserts and destinations? Are you a walking encyclopedia?"

A cute walking encyclopedia. 

Not now, brain.  

Sorry. 

Was he apologizing to himself? He really probably needed to sleep. 

Harry’s smile softened. “I try to know enough in each language to get by,” he admitted, “I definitely know the most Italian, and some French, too. But Czech is really hard for me. My brain tries to process Slavic languages and goes blank.” 

“You sounded so confident just now.” 

“ Years of practice,” said Harry with a laugh. He licked at the gelato inside his trdelník before adding, “And I … touring wasn’t always like this, for me. I didn’t always have a band that felt like family, or a manager I loved or, well, you. When I was seventeen traveling the world kinda on my own, I didn’t really have a ton to do except sit in hotel rooms and learn about the countries I was in. My team didn’t want to deal with the pandemonium of me going out, so I just … didn’t.” 

Louis’ heart hurt. “That had to be lonely.” 

“It was,” Harry said, “but I also got to learn a fuck ton about the world. I have a lot of really random facts memorized about a lot of really random places. Did you know Ohio became a state in 1803?” 

Louis laughed. “What about New York?” 

“Please, Lou, New York isn’t nearly as important as Ohio.” Harry paused. “Also, 1776. It was an original colony, silly. Did you even listen to Hamilton?” 

“Oh my god. I love Hamilton. I saw the Original Broadway Cast in 2016.” 

“No fucking way.” 

Louis smiled, licking again at his dessert. They strolled under the gothic tower leading onto the empty bridge. Lights from both sides of the city reflected on the inky water, sparkling along with the rare lanterns cast over the bridge's stone. Off in the distance, Prague Tower sat high on the hill, still bright in the late hour. 

Harry stepped closer, his elbow brushing Louis’. “When I was younger, I always imagined that all of that information I was learning would come in handy,” he admitted, “like I would have more freedom to explore, and someone to share it all with. All the nerdy things I learned.” 

Louis smiled. “You were a romantic, even at seventeen,” he said, trying to joke despite the air suddenly seeming simultaneously more charged and more delicate. 

“I’m so glad I get to experience it all with you.”  

A stuttering heart. A sucked in breath. Louis’ mind going blank as gelato spilled out onto his hand. He hurriedly wiped it away with a napkin and licked down the smooth cream until it was no longer spilling over the edge of the pastry. 

Harry stopped, then, about halfway across the bridge. Louis looked up at him - him and his denim shorts, his floral button-up, his wind-swept curls - and he looked at the castle looming behind him and he wanted to laugh, to joke, to ease them along, but he couldn’t because … 

Because that was blatant. Because that open and honest and vulnerable and everything Harry swore he wasn’t. 

He just indirectly told Louis that Louis was what he had always dreamed of. And that …

“Harry …” Harry looked like a prince. He looked like every single one of Louis’ dreams rolled into a gorgeous bonus of dimples and curls. 

Harry shook his head, tossing the last of his dessert in the trash. “I’m so happy it’s you, Lou,” he said again, tone bordering on desperate. “I love getting to explore with you. I have loved getting to know you. I feel like … like I was always meant to know you, like we were brought together because we were always meant to be in each other’s lives and I …” 

“Harry.” Louis, too, threw away the last of his dessert. His hands were shaking, vision blurring. 

“I love that you’ve seemed so much happier over the past few weeks. I love that I feel like I get to know the real you every day.” Harry’s breath hitched. He stepped forward, hands shaking. Louis couldn’t tell if it was from fear or passion. “I love that you’ve started to really laugh, like … like you no longer laugh like you’re holding back or waiting for permission, but because you’re so … ”

Fuck it. Louis was going to cry. It was hopeless. “I no longer laugh like I’m waiting for permission?” Louis repeated. “Baby, that’s a lyric. You’re writing a song.”

“You are a song,” Harry said, with enough confidence to nullify just how cheesy that was. He stepped forward, hands still shaking, eyes glistening. His hands flickered down to Louis’ mouth, as naturally as they had for the past week. Louis’ breath hitched. He closed his eyes, palms flat against his thighs. 

He was waiting. He was terrified. 

“You have … gelato on your lips,” Harry whispered. It sounded like a question.  

Louis smiled and - more to be a dick than anything else - ran his tongue slowly along his upper lip. “Hmmm, would you look at that? I did .” 

“Lou …” 

“Just kiss me,” Louis murmured, “I don’t need the lines. I just need -” 

A pair of soft, hesitant, chocolate-stained lips pressed slowly against Louis’, interrupting the last of his sentence with a slowness that left Louis’ toes curling in. He gasped lightly - somehow surprised despite telling Harry to please kiss him - and, with that same nervous tension, brought his own hands forward, finding their new place on the curve of Harry’s waist, slipping beneath his button-up with ease. Like his fingers were returning home after far too long. 

“Lou …” Harry moaned softly, the phantom press of his lips still hesitant and Louis … Louis could do sweet, he could do nervous, he could do slow. He loved slow and sensual.  

But not tonight. Not with Harry. 

Not when they were on the Charles Bridge in the Czech Republic, in Prague, and he needed this boy. He wanted to memorize the taste of his lips, the press of their bodies together. He wanted the indents of his fingers to scar Harry’s skin, leaving an imprint he’d have for days . He wanted it all, and he had since the beginning. He had been waiting every single day since he saw Harry’s name on his phone screen. The flip of his stomach had been all-too telling. 

Maybe this had always been inevitable. 

So, he gripped Harry’s waist tighter and pressed forward, knocking him back into the side of the bridge. His lips pressed firmer against Harry’s, more urgent and more earnest, tongue slipping between the space between his parted lips. Harry tasted like chocolate and like the vague traces of alcohol and the food they ate at the bar. His lips moved against Louis’ like they had been doing so for years, like there was some sort of map only he can read and it … it sent Louis’ entire body into overdrive. Everything was too much and not enough and he could feel it in his toes, the want in his body burning like electricity. He pushed and he pushed - his grip tightening, his lips exploring - and Harry pushed back just as hard, spurred on by an intensity that Louis knew, then, they both felt. 

Louis had been kissed before. He’d had plenty of experience in high school before he met Cleo, and then a few years of kissing her. He’d always been partial to kissing. He liked the simplicity and the intimacy and always craved it from his partners, be they one night stands or long term. But it had never felt like this. It had never felt so electrifying and so settling all at once. He was alight from the inside but completely unafraid of burning alive. He didn’t know if anything else could ever feel like this. 

When he pulled back a small lifetime later - breathless and exhausted and also quite content in staying in this exact spot until the sun rose - it was to meet Harry’s glassy eyes. Swollen lips. His gasping chest. “Lou.” 

Louis kissed him again, because he could. Because he was allowed to. “I’m so glad it’s me too,” he whispered, fierce. He spoke quickly, as if terrified that someone would interrupt him, that he would never get to say exactly what he meant, that Harry would never know. “I want to be the one to hear everything you say. All of those wonderful facts that you know and you learned and you were waiting to share. You’re … I want you. All of you.”

All of it. All of us. I will give you it all. Just please keep kissing me. 

Harry shook his head slowly. He kissed Louis’ nose. “Everything I want to say right now sounds vaguely like a song lyric. I am afraid you’ll yell at me.” 

Louis snorted. “I would never.” 

“Lying this soon in a … after a first kiss is probably a bad omen,” Harry said solemnly. “I’m afraid I can no longer trust you or -” 

“Harry.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Please just kiss me.” 

“ Oh!” Harry blinked. Then he beamed. “Yes, okay. I can do that. No problem. Say no more. I-” 

“ Harry.” 

With a smirk that was borderline maddening, Harry stepped closer. “So needy, this one,” he said to no one in particular before pressing a searing, burning, soul-altering kiss to Louis’ smiling lips. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

They did wait up to watch the sunrise over the Charles Bridge. 

Then they retreated back to Wenceslas Square with swollen lips and tired eyes and the promise of more written into the curve of their matching smiles. 

~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~    *    ~

Prague: Harry tastes like chocolate and wine and everything good in this world. Sunrise is more vibrant standing next to him, even if I was half asleep against his shoulder.