Day 54: Exhaustion
As you’re aware, I’ve stayed closer than ever with the boys the past three days. I attended every concert and lounged backstage, eating complementary cheese squares and writing posts for you, and I am BEAT. I don’t know how they do it. I’m taking a break tomorrow and that means – gasp – no post. I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to skip on days where things are actually happening. I’m only human. And as a human, that means I’m going to get super trashed after the show tonight and then sleep for about fourteen hours.
“Are you done with that yet?” Aiden demands. “Stop being boring.”
“Stop being a douchebag – oh wait, you can’t.” Louis slips his phone in the pocket. He’s in the van with them, on the way to the show. Harry tried to claim the seat next to him, but Aiden pushed between them. Louis keeps shifting away and Aiden keeps scooting closer. When he puts his arm around Louis’ shoulders, Harry seems to shrink. Louis feels sorta terrible.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Louis demands.
“Just being friendly,” Aiden shrugs. He doesn’t mean it like Harry did that first night. He means it like a dirtbag.
“C’mon, A, stop,” Liam says from the other side of the car.
Exaggeratedly innocent, Aiden removes his arm. Louis gives Liam a thumbs up and smiles. Liam seems a little dazed by his smile, which is flattering beyond belief, and Louis looks out the window to hide how pleased he is.
He stays vaguely out of the way usually. The boys go one way and he hangs out with the crew. One of the bodyguards specifically is pretty cool; Paul lets him hang out and snark with him. But tonight, Harry puts a hand on his arm. “Stay with us. Please?”
“Am I allowed?” Louis says doubtfully.
“If we want you to, yeah. C’mon, please.” Harry gently starts nudging him along after the rest of the boys. “Please please please?”
“Jesus, okay, yes.” Louis shrugs off Harry’s hands.
They’re barely inside the building when a team of people ambush the boys. Lots of bluetooths – blueteeth? – and headsets and clipboards. Louis is kind of annoyed, but Harry sticks next to him as kind of a human shield. Liam and Niall are a bit oblivious. Aiden and Zayn are the ones being talked at most, and while Aiden seems annoyed, Zayn looks like he’s keeping track. He listens until the person is done and nods or answers, then takes on the next. Louis is impressed.
“What are they saying?” Louis asks in an undertone.
“Directions for tonight. Clothes and stuff. And they’re telling him what we have to do, like autographs before the show or whatever, y’know. They kinda take care of that stuff, so we don’t all have to worry about it.”
“Why do they do it, though?”
“Because our management is a little tough to deal with sometimes. So Zayn does it so us three don’t have to, and Aiden says he’s the leader of the band, so he does some stuff too, I guess.”
“Hey,” someone barks, pointing at Louis. “Who’s he?”
“He’s the reporter with us for the year,” Liam says. “He’s shadowing us.”
The lady still seems skeptical. “We’ll need to review your post about the night before it goes out,” she says.
“Sure,” Louis nods. “Fat chance,” he mutters when she turns away.
Harry giggles. “It’s okay,” he says. “They just don’t want you to write about how many dick jokes we tell. Or about how Niall has a pre-show pint. Or Zayn’s spliff. It’s really not that interesting.”
“Then why am I here?” Louis demands. “I was promised a good time.”
“You were not,” Harry frowns, slightly concerned.
Louis punches his arm. “Duh. I’m teasing, lighten up.”
“Oh.” Harry smiles. “Okay.”
There are couches in their dressing room. Louis doesn’t push Harry away this time; he sits in the corner of the couch and motions Harry down next to him. “Here,” he says firmly.
“Okay.” Harry’s happy to snuggle in, his head somewhere near Louis’ armpit. Louis doesn’t exactly cuddle him back, but he lets him as close as he wants. “So what do you do here?” he asks.
“Liam texts his girlfriend, Niall has a drink, Zayn smokes, and Aiden makes sure he looks perfect. And they do our hair and give us what we’re gonna wear or something.” Harry turns his head against Louis’ chest and closes his eyes.
“And you? What do you do.” Louis wants to run his hand through Harry’s hair.
“Try not to throw up.”
“What?” Louis frowns.
“I get really nervous. The singing, and dancing, and.”
“And?”
“Well. Y’know how it is on stage.”
“No, I don’t,” Louis says after a moment. “Until like two months ago, I did everything possible to avoid every possible mention of you guys.”
“Oh. Well. Aiden kinds makes fun of me a lot. And the other lads. I just. I dunno. I don’t like being on stage already, and I hate it when it feels like everybody’s laughing at me. So. It’s tough.”
“I won’t laugh.”
Harry keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t answer. Louis feels he’s probably busy trying not to throw up. He figures he can settle for that, especially since he gets a phone call. It’s Charlotte, his sister. He should probably talk to her.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God, you actually answered.”
Louis rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the sarcasm, Lottie. Really starts off the conversation well. What’s up?”
“How are you? Haven’t you gotten any of my texts?”
“Yeah, I got them, I just didn’t answer any of them,” Louis says evasively. Harry’s looking at him curiously, so Louis answers away from the phone, “It’s my sister, Lottie.”
“Who’re you with?” she wants to know.
“Harry. From the band. And everybody else is in here, too. I’m backstage.”
“Oh. So how are you? Do you have anything expensive to send me?”
“I’m fine, really tired. I’m going out to party tonight, and then I’m going to sleep for approximately forever, which means no time for precocious little sisters. Or present-buying. Sorry. No money for it either.”
“Right, sorry. Don’t you want to know how I am?”
“Okay. How are you?”
“I’m good! I’ve got a well fit boyfriend now, his name is Luke, and he got me a necklacewith a little heart thing on it.”
“Fantastic, love, that’s great. What about your marks, keeping them up?”
“Um. Mostly,” Lottie says uneasily.
“Mostly isn’t good enough. Does Mark know?” Louis asks sternly.
“Kind of… he’s alright with it.”
“Well. I’m not. Consider me your stern father-figure. Work a bit harder, yeah? If you want to go to uni, you’ve gotta do well. C’mon, honey.”
“Alright,” Lottie says unhappily. “Fine.”
“I’ll be checking on you.”
“Fine.”
“I love you,” Louis says sing-song.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Say it back, sweetie.”
“Love you too or whatever, God. Tell your boy band hi.”
“You want an autograph or something?”
“Nah. Unless you’ll let me sell it online. I’m really more into that other group. Little Mix. I want to be them,” she swoons. “They’re all so perfect.”
Louis chuckles. “I guess they’re alright, for girls. Talk to you later, then? Have I fulfilled my brother responsibilities, will you give me a few weeks of peace?” Louis teases her.
“Sure. Have a fun time. Shag a bunch of dudes or whatever.”
Louis lets out a surprised laugh. “Sure. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Louis hangs up. “Lottie says hi,” he tells Harry.
“Oh.” Harry is clearly thrilled and unsure how to respond. “Um. Hi.”
“She’s already gone, silly.”
“Right.” Harry blushes. He’s called away for his hair to be done and Louis feels kind of cold. “This is our stylist,” Harry calls to him from across the room. “She’s Lou, too.”
“Hi,” the other Lou smiles at Louis. He thinks he can see the same fondness in her smile that he’s starting to feel for this stupid boy. He doesn’t know why everybody doesn’t feel the same way. Well, Zayn does, judging from his secret smile in the chair next to Harry. But the other three are incomprehensibly mean.
“Hi,” Louis finally remembers to smile back. “So you’re responsible for the curls.”
Lou laughs. “I do what I can.”
Harry looks at him with crinkly-eyed happiness, a big dumb smile on his face until Lou scolds him into sitting properly so she can start his hair. Louis finds himself smiling at his phone as he finishes his post.
So. I’ll be talking to you guys in a little over 24 hours. Hope I don’t forget the really good stories, but one day out of 365 won’t hurt, I figure. You’ll forgive me as soon as I tell you a few cute things – and believe me, with these lads, there’s plenty. In the meantime, try to entertain yourselves. And not in a dirty way.
311 days till Bye5. 310 of them you’ll know the intimate details of, I swear.
Day 55: barely
partay! fuun funn
No. He’s not posting that tonight. He knows that. But he has to be pretending to text someone right now, so the dark lad eyeing him from across the room will hopefully catch the hint. The only problem with going out to party is that while Louis is very onboard with his plan to get wasted and pass out peacefully, everyone else isn’t. It seems other people think his plans involve shagging some people in the club loo.
“Who you texting?”
Louis looks up to see none other than Harry, of course, tall and awkward. He looks surprisingly big compared to other people, and Louis realizes it might be a good idea to stick with him. “Your mum,” he says automatically.
Harry fakes a polite smile. “Do you… um, can I get you a drink? It’s not an open bar this time, and I’ll pay.”
Louis glances at tall, dark, and horny; he seems disappointed. “Sure,” Louis says after a second. “Go for it. It’s a rum night, kiddo, just so you know. And if you roofie me, that’s going on the blog.”
“I would never,” Harry promises.
Strangely, Louis believes him. “Alright. I’ll pay you back,” he says, brain a little fuzzy. “And get something, y’know. For you.”
“I’ll pay,” Harry shakes his head. He tries to escape to the bar, but Louis bobs along behind him.
“No,” he protests sternly. “No debt. I don’t owe anybody anything.”
“You wouldn’t have to owe me,” Harry says softly. “Just a present. For…”
“For what?” Louis asks, leaning-slash-falling on the bar in front of Harry. Hesitantly, Harry catches him, hands large over Louis’ hips, and sets him upright on his feet. “Ta, love.”
Harry’s brain seems a bit scrambled. “Uh, thanks. I mean, you’re welcome. And just for, y’know. Being you. One rum and coke,” he orders.
Louis points at him. “You. Smart.”
Harry smiles a little. “You. Drunk.”
Louis smiles back. For once, he’s sure he looks just as much of an idiot as Harry does, and he’s drunk enough to not particularly mind. He doesn’t feel any weird stares anymore, now that he’s got a big lad right next to him. And there’s something awful about that, but Louis can’t figure it out.
Whatever. His drink comes and Louis downs it. “Thank you very much,” he says. “And I’m drunk now. And going home.” He takes a step and almost falls.
Harry catches him again. He’s really quite a bit bigger than he appears, Louis muses. Maybe he’s biased, though, what with having Harry’s hands at his waist and shoulder. He’s big. And strong. And saying, “I’m going home with you.”
“What? No, why,” Louis shakes his head. “I’m fine, just get me in a cab and tell me what I owe you tomorrow.”
“Nothing, because I’m coming with you,” Harry says doggedly.
“Kid. Really. Have fun with someone whose goal isn’t to get wasted and dead to the world. Find a pretty girl and dance with her, I dunno. Have fun.”
Harry hails them a cab and helps Louis in. “Don’t want to,” he says.
“Oh right, ‘cause you followed me to a gay bar,” Louis remembers. “No girls who want you there.”
“Right. Well. Yeah. And I don’t want to. I came to hang out with you,” Harry says shyly. He giggles when Louis collapses in a heap trying to buckle himself in. “Can I do that for you?”
“Nah. Just hold me down if we crash.”
Harry starts to laugh but falls silent when Louis tips against him. “Another one-time deal,” Louis warns. “I don’t plan on getting this wasted likeever.”
Harry carefully rights Louis and puts his arm around him. “Okay,” he says. “Understood.”
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends or anything.”
“O…kay…”
“Gold star for not overreacting.”
“Are we friends, though?” Harry asks hesitantly.
Louis attempts to roll his eyes but just falls again; Harry catches him. “I guess, if you have to put a label on everything. But it’s not a big deal.”
Harry’s quiet for a while. Then he says, “It kind of is, though. I don’t… not many friends have stuck with me. Haven’t made many new ones, either. Kind of. Hard to. With the tour and everything.”
“Look.” Louis is slurring his words now. “I dunno why this is so important to you. But you’ve gotta relax, cupcake. We’re friends.”
“Okay.” Harry’s smiling.
The car goes around a sharp corner and Louis falls over, his head in Harry’s lap. “No, no, leave me here,” Louis says, pushing off Harry’s help. “Comfy.”
So Harry leaves him. He only makes sure Louis stays on the seat. He doesn’t touch him more than he needs to. “You’re a good drunk buddy,” Louis observes. “Maybe I should do this more often.”
“Probably not,” Harry says quietly. “I can’t really go to a lot of gay bars.”
“Oh right, since you’re a super-hetero lad. Yeah.”
“Well, yeah. That’s my image, I guess.” Harry sounds vaguely unhappy.
Louis pats his knee. “Aw. Shh. It’s a very nice one.”
Harry doesn’t answer. He lets Louis stay until the cab stops, and then he helps him out and into the hotel. Louis can walk mostly on his own; Harry just shadows him and steadies him if he starts to tip.
In the elevator, Louis is off-balanced when it starts to move. “Shit,” he says abruptly, and wraps his arms around Harry’s chest.
“Louis, what are you-“
“Shut up. I’m scared.” Louis clings tightly until the ground settles. “Does it usually go that fast?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we together tonight? Together in a room,” Louis adds when Harry doesn’t answer. “C’mon, I’m the drunk one.”
“Okay. Yeah, I mean. Yeah we are. You’re okay with that?”
“Yeah.” Louis drapes himself over Harry – or tries. Harry isn’t very cooperative, he keeps vaguely nudging away and trying to resist. “I have some questions,” Louis says sternly. “Who do you think you are? And what gives you the right?”
“To do what?” Harry says, a little confused.
“To win me over. I entirely intended to remain irritated with you, child. It’s inconvenient to get close. Unprofessional, I mean.”
Harry unlocks their door. “I… I didn’t think I could,” he says. “I’m sorry. How… and why? Am I… do you…”
“Get your words together, love,” Louis says, letting himself be dragged inside. “You’re strong.”
“You’re small,” Harry wrinkles his nose. “And you smell. You should probably, like, shower. So you don’t wake up gross.”
“That was kinda the goal.”
“Yeah, but.”
“Fine. I’ll shower,” Louis says derisively, and sticks his tongue out at Harry. “Stupid boy. If you hear a crash, dial an ambulance.”
He makes it through the shower crash-free. By the end, he does feel better – obnoxiously, because he’s only more stubborn when he’s drunk and he doesn’t like the kid being right. Also, he forgot his clothes. He manages to get a towel around his waist and calls that good enough to leave the steamy bathroom.
“Hi,” Harry says without looking up. “So, um. How would you feel about…”
“No,” Louis decides.
Harry frowns at him. “What?”
“No,” Louis says again, raising his eyebrows and kind of daring Harry to argue. Harry’s just kind of staring at him, though. “What’s gotten into you, weirdo?” Louis asks, turning away to get his pajamas. He changes without thinking much about it. Only when Louis straightens up and turns around to find Harry staring does he realize he generally doesn’t get randomly naked. He has to struggle to remember why; he thinks it might have something to do with professionalism.
“Stop staring,” he finally says. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry,” Harry murmurs. “You’re just…”
“What? Say it.”
“Won’t.” Harry shakes his head childishly.
“You have to. I’m a reporter, you have to tell me or I’ll make it up,” Louis insists. “Tell me. And it should be a compliment.”
“It is, but.”
Louis plops down on Harry’s bed across from him. He narrows his eyes. “Well if it’s a compliment then you have to tell me. Right now. Is there something you want to say? Tell me, whatever it is. You have to tell me. What?”
Harry looks conflicted. “Louis… aren’t you going to sleep?” he tries.
“No, I want you to tell me nice things first.” Louis scoots closer and pokes Harry’s cheek. “Tell me.”
“You’re really drunk,” Harry says uneasily.
“Not that drunk. Tell me. Flatter me. I want to know. Please? Tell me. I told you we’re friends. Tell me something nice back.”
Harry hesitates. “I… I like you too.”
“Not good enough.”
“Louis…”
“One more thing. One more really nice thing and I’ll leave you alone. C’mon.” Louis copies Harry’s pose, crossing his legs so their knees are touching. “C’mon,” he says. “Not hard.”
“Fuck.”
Louis pouts. “Now that’s not very nice at all.”
And all at once, Harry leans forward and kisses him. After just a second, his hands come up to cup Louis’ cheeks and he deepens the kiss, sucking on Louis’ lower lip a little and teasing his mouth open.
As soon as Louis gets his mind together, he pushes Haz back and stares at him. “What the fuck?”
Harry’s eyes are huge and wide. “I’m sorry. I thought…”
“Don’t fuck with the gay blogger. It’s not funny. I’m attracted to lads, I’m not a fucking slag. What’s wrong with you? Aiden’s supposed to be the twat.” Louis’ head is suddenly aching; he thinks he’s considerably more sober than he wants. “Is there a camera here or something?”
“No,” Harry says vehemently. “It’s not like that, Louis, I swear.”
“Then what the fuck were you doing?”
“I thought… I thought you were flirting with me,” Harry says in a tiny voice.
Louis frowns. “What? Why would I be doing that? I don’t tend to go for the pop stars. Or the young. Or the heterosexual, why didn’t I say that first?” Louis asks himself. “I understand I can be too… flirty sometimes, and I guess it’s probably worse when I’m trashed, but I don’t try to turn people, okay?”
“No, I know.”
“Then what, you think-“
“Can you let me answer?” Harry says, a little desperate.
Louis nods after a second. “Fine. Tell me.”
Harry unsurprisingly can’t spit it out. “I… I wanted to kiss you,” he says. “Because I…”
“What?” Louis is starting to feel he knows what Harry’s going to say.
“I was so excited,” Harry says, “that you were going to be our reporter, because you’re kinda… you’re out. And I thought maybe you could help… but then I saw you and I just wanted to…’cause you’re beautiful.”
“You aren’t making any sense,” Louis says very clearly.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” Harry whispers. “I’m sorry.”
Louis frowns. “Why?”
“I just can’t.”
“Okay. Well. What if I guess?” Harry doesn’t answer. After a second, Louis asks, “Did you mean it? The kiss.”
Harry nods, hunched small.
“Okay. Then.” Louis leans in and pecks Harry’s slack lips. “Thank you,” Louis says. “Okay? I’m not angry, I won’t tell anyone, we don’t have to talk about it.”
“Why not?” Harry says softly. “Why can’t we?”
Louis stares at him. “Why would… I can’t be your sexperiment,” he says.
“I don’t want you to be.”
“Then…”
Harry reaches out and fits his hand over the curve of Louis’ jaw again, petting underneath his ear with a few fingertips. It’s a lover’s caress, Louis knows that as a fact, and still, he doesn’t pull away. It feels nice. And Harry is looking at him with softness that Louis definitely really likes. It’s just he never thought of Harry even remotely like this.
“I like… boys. Too,” Harry says in a voice barely louder than a breath. “I just… I can’t tell anyone who’s just trying it out. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, really. I’m not s’posed to be…” Harry starts over. “It’s just I’m not sure what it means, or… I have a lot of questions. About the whole thing, and there’s not anybody to ask. And then there was you. And you’re beautiful and gay and confident. So. I thought. Maybe you could help.” He drops his hand into his lap and looks down. “But I’m sorry. If you’re not interested. I should’ve… I thought you were.”
“Do any of the other boys know?”
“No. I think maybe Zayn… but none of them know. Aiden just thinks I’m a slag.”
“So… what do you want, then?” Louis asks because he’s still unclear. “Are you horny or something? You want a fuck without any negative kickback?”
Harry flushes. “No. I want…”
“Go on, tell me. Just hypothetically, on your wish list. What do you want with a bloke? Besides the kiss.”
“I just… I want to hold your hand and watch a film or something. I want to see how it feels. I’m not allowed to date normal people, and not-normal people don’t want to. And kiss. I liked kissing. But that’s… it’s fine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I won’t try to make you. I’m sorry.”
Louis examines his face, really looks for the first time. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he thinks Harry might be kinda beautiful too. All light eyes and milky skin, pink lips and curls. And he’s sweet, and kind, and not arrogant or mean or deceitful. Louis could do worse. And it’s not like he’d be giving anything up.
“Hey,” Louis says to get his attention. Harry looks up, and Louis kisses him. Properly, actually kisses him, nosing at his cheek between kisses and winding his hands into Harry’s hair. When they’ve finished, he’s kneeling over Harry’s lap and both of them are breathing heavy. “Okay,” Louis says then. “I might be interested.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “Re… you are?”
“Yes, really,” Louis says, a little teasing. “Babe, I won’t hit on straight boys, but bi ones are a different story. And a date or two won’t hurt. It’s not like you can go to the tabloids to smear me. How about tomorrow, though? ‘Cause I’m still drunk. And it’s late.”
“Will you change your mind? When you’re not drunk anymore?” Harry asks hesitantly. “I won’t be mad. Just. I’d like to know.”
“No, I won’t. I’m gay sober, kid. I’ll give it a shot. I just can’t promise where it’s going after, okay? Just ‘cause we’re both queer doesn’t mean it’ll work.”
“Okay,” Harry nods, “Yeah, I understand.”
“Okay. But we can probably sleep in the same bed tonight, if you want,” Louis offers as a bit of a compromise.
“I’d like that a lot,” Harry nods, a small smile growing on his face. “Would you kiss me again? Just one more time.”
“Once more tonight,” Louis corrects. “And yes. Come here.” He settles himself down in Harry’s lap and links his hands behind his neck. Louis kisses him again, smiling at first and then smiling bigger when Harry exhales an astonished laugh into Louis’ mouth. “You like it?” Louis teases.
“Yeah,” Harry ducks his head into the crook of Louis’ neck. “I like your stubbly cheeks,” he offers after a second.
Louis laughs outright. “Dork.”
“I do!”
“Dork,” Louis repeats firmly. “Good night. Move your fat ass over.”
“Pretty sure yours is-“ Harry begins.
Louis shoves him. “Unless you’re about to say lovely, divine, or awe-inspiring, I don’t want to hear it, pipsqueak.” He gets off Harry and throws the blankets over himself, curling up on his side away from Harry.
Harry turns off the light. “Good night,” he says, soft and hopeful. Louis can just tell Harry’s facing him.
And he’s drunk and the room is cold and Harry’s warm and they did just make out a couple times. So really, there’s quite a few reasons for Louis to flop onto his stomach and turn his head towards him like he does. “G’night,” Louis sighs. “Give me your hand, there’s a good lad.”
Harry’s hand is trembling when Louis laces their fingers together. “You don’t have to-“ he begins.
“I know,” Louis interrupts. “I could destroy you with this. I don’t feel any kind of pressure. I’m doing it ‘cause I like you.”
“I like you a lot,” Harry says softly. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
Louis brings their hands up to his mouth and kisses one of Harry’s knuckles. “Shut up and go to sleep, dork.”
“Okay. And would you answer my questions and stuff?” Harry ventures after a moment of silence. “Tomorrow? About…”
“Being gay isn’t like a culture. There’s no lore or folktales or secret… songs or shit, I dunno, that are passed from gay father to gay son or whatever. I don’t know what you think I can tell you,” Louis mumbles.
Harry’s quiet for a long time, and Louis waits. “No,” Harry finally says. “I know. But. I still have questions.”
“And I am quite a notorious know-it-all,” Louis adds after a moment. He likes Harry confident. He doesn’t want to make him insecure again. “Okay. Fine. I’ll answer some of them or whatever, and I’m claiming a favor at random some time in the future. Shut up, I’m going to sleep for more than twelve hours, and I swear to God, if you wake me up before, I will wring your skinny neck.”
Harry chuckles. “Okay. Promise.”
“Good. Fucking. Night.” But Louis gives Harry’s hand another squeeze, just to be reassuring, and tucks their linked hands close to his chest. He wants him to be happy. He’s drunk, though; he wants everybody to be happy. A date day isn’t a bad idea, though. It might be the perfect way to end his mini-bender.
He wouldn’t mind another 310 days if they’re all like this.