Letters to London

Chapter 3

Louis gulps down the nervousness in his throat and climbs over the console, popping out of the car on the same side Harry did. He shuts the door behind him and presses into Harry's arm.

Harry catches one of the guard's eyes. "No cameras," he mouths to him. He guesses the security guard understood, because in a matter of seconds he's told the others and the fans are putting their phones away with worried expressions.

Harry takes in a breath and finds Louis' hand, winding his fingers between his. He squeezes it gently before dropping his head down and walking towards the mob.

Screams and shouts are all the pair hear when the fans finally see the hand-holding going on between the two. "Look!" is being yelled first, before their hearts are either sabotaged with supportive cries or cold questions.

"We've been supporting Larry since 2010, we love you, we're so proud of you!"

"We knew it all along!"

"LARRY STYLINSON!"

Louis smiles at these, knowing he's done the right thing. He loves the fact these fans are so caring and loving, how they're supporting them. Yes. The fans don't care. Harry was right; they don't have to hide.

There's two things that are pissing him off, though. Louis keeps his head down, but he can catch a few smaller girls being led off by their parents.  They're shooting looks of disgust at them, their children looking back in tears.

And then there's the fans who fell for Louis and Eleanor.

"What about Eleanor?!"

"LOUIS! NO!"

"LOUIS LOVES ELEANOR THOUGH!"

"Fuck off Harry, Louis is straight!"

Louis can't even get to the door without losing it. He looks up at the fans on both sides of him, pulling Harry to a stop. He looks over at Louis, with fear scratched through his eyes. "Don't, the fans have cameras."

And it's true, the fans have pulled their phones back out of their pockets. It's no use now; they already see. The whole fanbase will see.

Louis' facial features are scrunched up in anger. "Fuck off," he spits. The crowd looses a little bit of its volume before the fans aren't even directing their words to them anymore. The fans have grown angry at each other. They're screaming their fucking heads off at each other.

No. What have they done?

Harry shakes his head and tugs on Louis' hand, pulling him into the privacy of the studio.

~

Only a few seconds alone, walking through the halls of the building holding hands, are granted to them before they round the corner into a people-filled room.

Zayn and Niall are play-fighting on the couch, and Liam is buried in a mass of blankets on a bean bag chair, looking down at his phone and singing under his breath. When Louis and Harry walk into the room, he looks up.

"Took you long enough," he grumbles. Louis feels cornered and drops Harry's hand. "I'm s-"

"What is this?!" Liam cries suddenly, brandishing his phone out to them. Zayn and Niall look up from the position they're in. Liam stands up, stomping over to Louis and Harry.

Liam's phone is modeling a fan's tweet, with three words in bold- "Harry", "Louis" and "studio." Harry takes the phone from Liam's trembling hands, letting Louis read the tweet next to him. Liam was searching for any news about the arrival of the two to the studio; he's found it.