The awards last forever. There's so many people and they're all so happy to be winning, and Liam's genuinely delighted for every one of them, but it's been going for hours. Also, Louis is getting increasingly wired, rubbing his palms against his thighs with a troubling frequency.
"Lou," Liam whispers.
"I'm okay," Louis lies, badly.
"Come on, calm down," Liams says. "Louis," he says, when Louis decides that what he needs is to twist his hands more frantically, "stop." Liam grabs his wrist, and then laces their fingers together. "Come on," he says again.
Lou closes his eyes, settling like sand in a hourglass. He takes a breath, and then another, and then he's nodding, back with the rest of them.
"Thanks," he says softly.
"Yeah," Liam says. "I don't know why you're freaking out," he smiles. "You've got this. You're gonna win."
"Li," Louis hisses, "you cannot just say that! You'll jinx it!"
"That's not how jinxes work," Liam assures him.
"That's exactly how jinxes work!"
"Not for me," Liam says. "It's not," he explains, when Louis just gives him the Death Scowl, "my sisters make fun of me for it, but, like, I can't jinx stuff. I just -- predict, I guess. They used to make me tell them how they'd do in their games and stuff, before they went, because I was always right." He shrugs. "You're gonna win."
"Well, until then, I'm just going to sit here and try not to be sick," Louis says, clenching Liam's hand even tighter.
"Just put that face on," Liam suggests, "the one where you smile and kind of go someplace else when you're really, really terrified." Louis frowns.
"I don't do that," he protests, as if Liam didn't know better.
"Lou," he says, patting their twined hands, "I was at the wedding."
"Shut up," Louis mutters.