Three days after Maiden’s Party…
Harry sighed when Louis jumped off the sofa and dropped the X Box controller to the coffee table with a clatter. He did the same. “We gonna talk to them, then?” He asked, knowing this had been coming for days.
Louis nodded grimly, “Yeah, I can’t stand it any longer, which one do you want to take?”
“I guess I’ll be better off with Niall,” said Harry, “Liam’s not so likely to take me seriously.”
“Fair dos.” Louis nodded, biting his lip, “Rendezvous in twenty minutes?”
“Yeah,” they slapped palms and headed up the stairs - before splitting separate ways at the top.
“Good luck,” Louis called over his shoulder and Harry smiled.
Niall’s room was at the end of the hallway and had a big picture of Michael Buble on the door with a hand drawn sign underneath saying ‘Niall’s Room’. He fidgeted nervously outside the door for a few moments as he wasn’t entirely comfortable with this role as mediator. Liam was always the best at the consoling thing but seeing as Liam was one of the needy parties... it was unfortunately up to him to try his hand and smoothing things over. Plus, Louis was counting on him and Harry never could stand to let Louis down – sap that he was. Moreover, this was Niall. Harry had never seen Niall so upset before – at least not at someone in the band. At least with Liam, Harry had had his own experiences at being at odds with him so he knew what to expect. Niall had never been at odds with anyone, not like this, and, considering the nature of the problem… this was probably going to be a really awkward talk.
He was also curious about the awkwardness though; yeah, he’d expected them both to be embarrassed… but the way they were acting you’d think they’d done something more serious than just play a stupid game of drunken gay chicken. ]
The next morning Niall had fled the kitchen as soon as Liam had stepped inside and Liam, upon seeing Niall, had looked like a deer caught in the headlights before fleeing too - in the opposite direction. From there, both had found their own way home and shut themselves in their respective rooms, refusing to speak to anyone. This silence had now been going on for several days and they were all tired of the uncomfortable atmosphere in the house. They had had gigs these last two nights too and even the fans had been commenting on the awkward air between them all.
Tonight, Zayn had attempted to try to talk to Liam several times but to no avail. Harry had no idea what happened the last time he tried but Zayn went storming out of the house in a towering rage. Liam and Zayn never argued; they were as close as Harry was to Louis, so the anger was all way too unsettling for Harry to stomach.
Taking a deep breath, he chapped on the door and then slowly pushed it open. Niall was sitting slumped at his desk; Ipod phones in, head resting wearily in his hand and was glumly plodding away at his keyboard. Stepping inside, Harry closed the door firmly behind him and walked towards the desk.
Niall caught Harry’s movements out the corner of his eye and pulled out his earphones, “Harry?” he asked warily, a flush creeping up his neck. He couldn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes.
“Hey Niall, I…” Harry struggled to think of something clever to say, “uh… think we should have a chat.” Yeah, that was so lame; Harry was embarrassed for himself.
Niall’s face went redder and he scratched idly at some random mark on his desk, “If it’s about what I think it is then, no. God no. I just want to forget that it ever happened.” He squeezed his eyes closed, “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, banging his head down onto the wood, “I am soooo humiliated, how the hell am I meant to look Liam in the eye now?”
Harry smiled, finding it vaguely amusing that, although his friend didn’t want to talk about it, he had already started talking about it anyway. He took a seat on the edge of Niall’s bed, silently approving of the Power Rangers duvet set. “I don’t think it’s a big deal, mate. It was only a game of gay chicken. Lots of guys do it. I used to do it with my school friends all the time.”
Niall’s head raised a little, to look back at him, “Are you kidding me? Harry, if it was just a stupid kiss I wouldn’t care! But… I put my hand down his pants. My hand down his pants. Liam’s pants.” He groaned in mortal pain and burrowed his bright red face back into the table.
Harry tried not to grimace at the image of Niall with his hand down Liam’s pants and was proud he found the balls to say, “Liam didn’t seem to mind.”
The noise Niall made at that sounded painful.
“Seriously mate,” said Harry, as soothingly as he could, “you were both drunk. It was just a bit of fun. If you’re really that worried about what Liam thinks, why don’t you just go and talk to him? I’m sure he’ll laugh and just tell you to forget about it.”
Niall sat up looking horrified, “There’s no way,” he shrank backwards, eyes wide, shaking his head, “I am talking to Liam. No way in hell! Never.”
“Why?” asked Harry, rather bewildered. Jesus, it was only a drunken game, why was Niall being so ridiculous!
“Because I can’t,” Niall wailed, covering his face.
“Seriously, it was just a game of gay chicken, Niall!” Harry cried, wondering how many times he was going to have to say it in order to get the message through to his friend. “You both got a little carried away, sure, but it was totally harmless. It was funny and we stopped you before you took it too far!”
“No you didn’t…” Niall’s voice was so quiet Harry nearly didn’t hear him and Niall suddenly looked horrified – as though he hadn’t meant to say that at all. Harry frowned and stared hard at his Irish friend, who was now hiding his whole face in his hands. His shoulders had slumped and he curled inwards, the embarrassment morphing into genuine upset.
“What do you mean no we didn’t?” Harry asked carefully, reigning in his mind before it started making dangerous conclusions.
Niall didn’t reply and his shoulders started to shake. Alarmed to see Niall getting so upset; Harry jumped to his feet and walked over to his friend. He then knelt down and touched Niall’s knees gently. “Niall?” He entreated. “What’s going on?” He squeezed Niall’s thigh gently and bit his lip when Niall sniffed. “Come on, you can tell me,” he soothed.
It took a few moments but then Niall whispered, still hiding his face, “You didn’t stop us.”
Harry’s mind let loose and whirled furiously; what was Niall trying to say? Was he suggesting that they didn’t stop them early enough? Should they have stepped in after the first mouth-to-mouth contact? That was probably fair, maybe they should have done – he and Louis had been perfectly sober and should have known better. Niall and Liam had been absolutely plastered and were at the mercy of a suggestive crowd – a crowd that didn’t know them very well.
“Where…” Harry began, about to ask where they should have drawn the line but Niall cut across him with,
“In the music room.”
It took a few moments for Harry’s head to work out how that had anything to do with his question and, when it finally dawned on him - what Niall was trying to say - his mind whited out.
“No way…” he whispered, hands flying to his mouth, utterly floored.
~*~
Counting to three in his head first, Louis knocked on Liam’s door. As expected, there was no reply. He pushed the door open and immediately saw that the curtains were closed and that Liam was in his bed with the duvet over his head. The bedside lamp was on though and, knowing Liam couldn’t sleep with a light on, Louis knew his friend was awake and hiding.
“Liam?”
“Go away,” came the muffled reply.
Rolling his eyes, Louis pushed the door backwards behind him and it fell just short of closing. Ignoring it, he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, patting the big lump.
“You can’t stay under there forever.”
“Watch me,” Liam muttered.
“You’re being ridiculous,” said Louis, with a smile, “it was only a game of gay chicken. Everyone thought it was hilarious – nothing to be embarrassed about. It was actually quite impressive actually; I didn’t think you had it in you mate!”
“Louis,” Liam whined, “will you please just go away!”
“Not until you stop being so silly,” he chuckled, grabbing the duvet and yanking it hard. He grinned down as Liam’s annoyed face came into view. Then something caught his eye. He stared down at Liam’s neck and his eyes widened, “Jesus, Payne, is that a hickey?” There was a (slightly fading) large purple bruise mottling the skin, roughly the size of a 50p coin.
Liam’s face went white and he grabbed at his throat, trying to hide it. Louis laughed in disbelief, “who gave you that?”
For a moment, Liam looked frozen in horror but then his face went completely blank and he replied, evenly, “No one.”
Something about the way he said it made Louis’s hackles rise, “Liam,” he said seriously, “who gave you that hickey?”
“No one,” Liam replied, coldly.
Louis did not like Liam’s tone one bit; there was something off here.
“Liam,” he ground out, “tell me.”
“No.”
“Liam.”
“I said no!” Liam glared furiously at him, which would have been intimidating if he hadn’t looked like a cornered rabbit.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” said Louis softly, reaching out to brush Liam’s fringe back.
“You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Liam retorted harshly, moving away, “so just drop it and leave me alone.”
“No,” Louis was a stubborn bugger if he was anything, “why won’t you tell me?”
Liam didn’t answer so Louis answered for him, “Well, I can only think of two reasons why you won’t tell me. One, it might hurt me or, two, you think I might take the mick.” He paused to gauge Liam’s reaction and saw his friend’s teeth clench. Yes, he was right. “Considering it’s been ages,” he continued, thinking aloud, “since I last had a girlfriend and none of them were at the party last night, I think we can rule out the first reason. That means you think I might take the mick... Oh God, it wasn’t Cher was it?”
Liam rolled his eyes and Louis breathed a sigh of relief. If it had been Cher then they would probably have to seek out psychiatric help for their Wolverhampton friend – and possibly a trip down to the GUM clinic as well… Louis shuddered.
So, if it wasn’t Cher, who else could it be? For some reason, Louis felt he was missing something… something that was staring him blatantly in the face… Thinking hard, he tried to join the dots; Niall and Liam were avoiding each other like the plague, Liam was now sporting a hickey, which didn’t correspond to anything that happened in the game, the person who gave it to him was someone Liam was afraid to name and… Then it dawned on Louis…. how everything could potentially join up… Holy shit… but there was no way… absolutely no way… that was too… absurd… He let out a long shaky breath, “Liam,” he said, slowly and carefully, feeling himself trembling, but deliberately not taking his eyes from his friend’s face. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest.” He watched as all the colour drained from Liam’s cheeks, they both knew what was coming next, “did… did something happen between you and Niall after the game?”
Liam didn’t need to say anything, his expression of excruciating pain said it all.
“Oh… my… God,” Louis breathed out, “oh my god… I… I…” he swallowed thickly and pinched his nose, feeling suddenly dizzy, “I… oh God…how… how bad are we talking?”
“Pretty bad,” Liam whispered.
Louis screwed his eyes closed; oh, this was so much worse than he’d expected – this wasn’t going to be a quick fix-up. “Are we talking full on, half on or some over-friendly petting?”
“Half on, I guess,” said Liam, finding his duvet very fascinating, “We didn’t… you know… go all the way. Thank God.”
Louis let out a long shaky breath, unable to believe what he was hearing, “How on earth did it even happen?”
Liam’s face grew steadily redder and he started to play with a stray thread, “Um… the details are a little hazy… the alcohol and all that…”
“But you remember some things?” Louis pressed.
Liam nodded, “I remember… we went to the toilet and on the way back we started to debate about who had won the game - since we’d been wrenched apart instead of one of us pulling away. God, it’s so cliché… I think… I think Niall said something along the lines of ‘well the only way to settle this is a rematch’… we somehow ended up in Matt’s music room. Unghhhh…” Liam groaned, burrowing his head in his hands, “God, I was so drunk. What the hell was I thinking?”
“So you had a rematch?” said Louis slowly, “How did that end in…” he couldn’t say it but he knew Liam understood anyway.
“I don’t know,” Liam whispered, “one minute we were just kissing and Niall was giggling, the next thing I know I had pushed him up against the door and we were…”
Liam whined pitifully and buried his head into his duvet again.
“You were…?” Louis repeated, quietly.
“Gessin eet ozer ff,” Liam wailed, his voice muffled.
“What?” Louis yanked away the covers and stared down at his friend in shock.
Liam stared back up at him, truly miserable. And suddenly, Louis didn’t know where to put his eyes, “Oh my God,” he muttered, yet again, “How… how did that happen Liam? I mean, you and Niall? I just… I can’t believe you two… you know… out of all of us I would never have guessed…”
“I can’t believe it either… it’s like some nightmare I can’t wake up from,” said Liam forlornly, wrapping his arms around his chest.
“A nightmare?” Louis raised an eyebrow, “was it that bad? With Niall I mean?”
Liam bit his lip and curled up into himself further, “No…”
Louis sighed and slid further up the bed, closer to his friend, “Come on Liam, you can talk to me.”
“It was okay! Alright!” Liam spat, “It was… okay.”
Louis nodded, mostly to himself; now they were getting somewhere. “So, you enjoyed it?”
“It’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Liam muttered.
“Huh…” Louis nodded, “so… does that mean you’re gay?”
“NO!” Liam shouted, “No! I… at least I don’t think so. I’ve never looked at another guy before… No, I can’t be gay. I like girls.” He said the last bit more like he was trying to convince himself than Louis.
“Is it possible you could like both?” asked Louis, carefully.
Liam looked doubtful.
“But,” Louis continued, “you enjoyed being with Niall?”
Liam hesitated before nodding, “It was… nice.”
“Would you do it again if the opportunity arose?” Louis had to force himself to keep looking at his friend; the discomfit he was feeling was unbelievable.
“Uh…” Liam looked torn, “I… I don’t know.”
“What about another guy?”
“Huh?” Liam squinted at him.
“What if another guy were to come on to you? Would you try it?” Louis asked.
“I… I don’t know.”
“Have you ever kissed another guy before?” Louis pressed.
“No…”
“Then how do you know you’re not gay?” said Louis, waving his arms around in wild gesture.
“I…”
“Kiss me.”
“What,” Liam looked staggered, his eyes wide and mouth open.
“Kiss me,” Louis repeated, having no idea what he was doing but going with the flow anyway. “I’m a guy. Kiss me. See if you like it.”
“I can’t just…”
Louis grabbed Liam’s jaw in his hands and pulled him forward, smashing their lips together. It was beyond weird. Liam’s lips were dry but kind of pouty – slightly firmer than a girl’s. Louis didn’t feel any sort of ‘wow’ spark but that didn’t stop him. He changed the angle and licked firmly, encouraging Liam to open his mouth. Liam flailed but Louis was persistent. He kept a firm hold of his friend’s head, not allowing him to back away. Liam had no choice but to give in and open his mouth. Without letting himself think about what he was doing, Louis slipped his tongue inside and rubbed it against Liam’s. It wasn’t bad exactly. Liam was quite shy and his movements tentative. Desperately trying not to think about how he was sharing spit with his male band mate, Louis tried to find the positives of the kiss. Liam’s tongue was a little rough, which was… different… and he tasted of sherbet, which was somewhat weird but kind of pleasant too. To be honest, it wasn’t completely different from kissing a girl, although the feel of stubble under his palms was definitely strange. There was also no butterflies and… he was a little bored. He pulled back, managing not to make a face at the small string of saliva that float between their parted lips.
“Anything?” He asked.
Liam looked a little shell shocked but he shook his head, “No… that was… weird.”
“Tell me about it,” Louis muttered, thinking he deserved a drink after this, “so Niall felt different? Better?”
Liam blushed and nodded with a wince. Louis sighed, “I won’t take that as a slight on my kissing skills.”
Liam opened his mouth to say something but Louis held up his hand to quiet him. “Okay, so although one little experiment doesn’t tell us much about your place on the Kinsey Scale, we can at least draw one conclusion.”
“Which is?” asked Liam morosely.
Louis just smiled.
~*~
Harry came down the stairs, feeling a little unsteady. He had not been prepared in the slightest for what Niall revealed to him. Stumbling into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Louis throwing back a glass of… whiskey? He didn’t even know they had that stuff in the house.
“Should you be drinking that?” He asked, a little concerned. Louis’ kidneys were still healing.
“Trust me,” said Louis grimly, looking up at him, “I’ve earned this thrice over.”
“Yeah,” said Harry nodding and taking the glass from him, “so have I.” He poured another measure into it and tossed it back in a one go. It burned hotly and it took all his will power not to cough it back up. However, it also had a nice numbing effect, which gave him some relief from the shock. His voice was hoarse when he spoke next, “So we’ve got a problem.”
“Yep, a major problem,” Louis agreed, eyeing the bottle again.
“Liam told you what happened afterward?”
Louis nodded grimly, “In a roundabout way. Niall told you I gather?”
“Yeah.”
“So,” Louis slumped into a seat at the table with a sigh, “how did Niall feel about it?”
“Confused,” replied Harry, taking a seat opposite him.
“Confused as in, he enjoyed it but is freaked out about the fact it was Liam and he’s not gay?”
Harry nodded, “Yep.”
“Liam’s the exact same.”
“So what do we do?”
Louis sighed again, “There’s only one thing we can do - in everyone’s interest. We leave them to find their way back to each other.” When Harry looked at him surprised, Louis added, “Something this big? They need to work it out for themselves, at their own pace.”
“Agreed,” said Harry in relief.
~*~
It was a week before Christmas and One Direction were at the London Palladium, having just took part in the Festive Variety Show. The show had premiered last Christmas to massive success. It was similar to the Royal Variety show except it was Christmas themed and all the proceeds went to GreatOrmondStreetHospital. It had been a stellar night with big names such as Take That, Leona Lewis, Andre Rieu, Kevin Bridges, Rhianna, Justin Bieber, Ed Byrne, JLS, Flawless, Usher, the Royal Ballet and many more. Ant and Dec, with help from Jedward, had been the hosts and One Direction had had such a laugh on stage and behind the scenes. They’d sang two of their own songs during the night, ‘The Mortal Cause’ and ‘Life of Liars’.
The production on ‘The Mortal Cause’ had been utterly spectacular – on par with the incredible performance Take That had given with ‘The Flood’ at the Royal Variety Show a few years back. Harry was still vibrating with the rush. The Mortal Cause had been one of those rare gems that had just lifted One Direction from cute boy band status to almost cult standing. It was an amazing song, full of meaning and relativity to today’s society. The pulsing bass thudding right into your bones and the electric melody was enough to give you a high. It also showed off Harry’s gravely tone, Liam’s range, Zayn’s pure high notes and Louis’s sexy low notes. Even Niall’s steady ‘Free, free, free’ through the chorus put your heart in your throat. The audience had literally screamed at the end and Harry had wanted to scream along with them. The adrenaline shooting through his veins had been incredible.
Then the music had lamented into the haunting melody of ‘Life of Liars’. Since Niall was suffering from a bad cold, Liam had somehow convinced Louis to sing the Irish boy’s verse at the end instead. Niall had been very grateful because his throat was red raw. In a way, Harry had wished it had been Liam that had sung the part; maybe then he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself on stage by bursting into tears – and Jesus, he was going to get called a cry-baby at this rate. But Louis… dressed in that stupidly gorgeous grey button neck jumper and charcoal jeans - his ridiculously feathered hair flicking out over the collar and beautiful blue eyes peeking out from under his fringe – singing so emotionally… Harry had stood no chance. It had been a last minute change so he hadn’t even had the sound check to prepare himself with. Life of Liars was such an emotional song as well and, with the wintry production blowing wind into their faces, and the Jesus Light, which lit up Louis on his plinth as he sang,
“My dreams lay in pieces on the floor, cut up with the china and the glass, photos savaged by hate, furious reflections of your class. I am beyond any tears for you, I am destroyed from the inside out, cold and distant – numb and wasted, your victory is no doubt.”
Harry couldn’t keep himself together. Louis sang it with such bittersweet passion, his voice rough and strained, and the amazing set just got the better of Harry. He couldn’t stop the flashbacks of his friend lying in a coma, so fragile and lifeless… and… Now, he was standing up there, so strong, so beautiful, totally singing his heart out to the world. Harry’s heart wanted to just burst out of his chest with love and pride and he finished the final chorus with tears rolling down his cheeks. Luckily, Louis hadn’t seen, too busy descending from the platform, but Liam had and he drew him into a hug at the end so he could stealthily sort himself out. The audience were on their feet and the noise thundered in their eardrums.
Poor Niall had probably just lost that verse forever.
Now Harry was standing on the balcony, staring down at the auditorium below. The theatre was decked to the rafters with festive decorations and looked like some kind of glittery fairytale land with all the lights, tinsel and fake snow. Right next to the stage was a twenty-foot Christmas tree – shining purple, pink and silver.
It was close to midnight now and all the audience and most of the acts had left. One Direction were still waiting for their car to arrive – there had been some huge mix up at the agency and their car was coming all the way from Oxford.
Liam, Zayn, Louis and Niall were standing chatting in the hallway. The air between Niall and Liam was a lot less awkward now, thankfully. At some point one of them must have broken the ice, although Harry, Louis and Zayn had no idea of when or how. All Harry cared was that things were getting back to normal.
“Hey.”
Harry closed his eyes as the soft, husky voice in his ear made his stomach flip. Louis’s presence was warm behind him for a moment before he came to stand next to him at the railing, peering down as well. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, quietly, “It’s quite amazing isn’t it.” He sighed and smiled, turning to look at his friend, “You were good tonight,” he said softly.
Louis didn’t turn to look back at him but Harry could see his lips twitching in a smile, “thanks. So were you.”
Harry reached backwards and pushed the cushion behind him down, taking a seat. After a moment, Louis did the same, throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulders like he always did. Content, Harry leant into him. “So have you decided what you want to do for your 21st yet?”
Louis sighed and absently played with the bracelets on Harry’s wrist, “No fuss, I just want to have dinner you guys and the family.”
Harry chuckled lowly, breathing in the sweet scent of Louis’s aftershave – it was so achingly familiar. “That’s pretty boring for a twenty-first, mate. We should be talking about booze and crazy parties.”
“Spending time with all of you is pretty special to me,” said Louis softly, covering Harry’s hand with his, “having dinner together would mean so much more than just getting drunk at some nameless club.”
Harry slowly turned to meet his gaze and was surprised at just how close their heads were. Louis’s diamond blue eyes sparkled straight back at him, reflecting the theatre’s glittering lights.
“You’re very special to us to,” he whispered and watched, mesmerised, as Louis’s eyes softened. Without thinking, Harry’s gaze dropped to Louis’s mouth. Louis’s breathing hitched and Harry felt the hand resting over his shoulder slide into his curls. A shiver ran down his spine. His eyes darted up to Louis’s again and saw they were still staring right back at him. Harry’s chest tightened and, without blinking, he slowly leant forwards. Louis tentatively leaned forward too until their warm breaths mingled and Harry could practically taste the mint from Louis’s chewing gum. Not daring to breathe, Harry leant in the rest of the way.
“Harry! Louis! The car’s here!” Zayn shouted from the doorway.
Harry and Louis sprang apart, their eyes wide. Louis slumped back in the chair, blushing furiously, and Harry jumped to his feet, looking everywhere but at the seat next to him. His heart was pounding, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…
“Come on guys,” Zayn shouted again, “hurry up!”
~*~
10 am the following morning
Louis sat at the breakfast table biting his fingernails. He had never felt so jittery in his life. With a sigh of determination, he snatched up his phone and scrolled through his contacts list until he hit the right name. For a few seconds, his finger hovered over it before he finally steeled himself and pressed call.
It rang six times before someone answered, “Hello?”
“Um… hi. Sorry to bother you… uh… this is Louis Tomlinson from One Direction. I don’t know whether you remember me…”
“Of course, hi Louis, you doing okay, yeah?”
“Um… actually… no… uh,” he scratched the back of his head nervously, “would it be possible to meet up with you later, for coffee or something… it’s just… I could really do with your advice.”
“Of course.”