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"Aunt Beauty!" Little Freddie Tomlinson shouts when I open the front door to reveal Louis with his son on his hip and two pizza boxes balanced in the other hand. A smile spreads across my face at the precious little boy, blonde locks poking out from a beanie and little body kept warm by a jean jacket with a fur collar that exemplifies the uncanny resemblance he shares with his father.
The small boy shoots his arms out and grabs for me with his hands, so I comply with his wishes, it would be impossible not to, and easily steal him from Louis. Freddie practically leaps into my arms, a glorious laugh ringing out like bells coming from deep within him. Tiny arms wrap around my neck instantly as the three year old buries his face into my neck. I swing us around, the cold air pouring in from the open door and melding with the dark backsplash of night that hangs behind Louis Tomlinson.
"Hey, little man! How's my best boy?" I coo at the angel amongst men in my arms, a smile illuminating his chubby dimpled cheeks that I reciprocate back to him, scrunching my nose playfully to make him laugh more.
"Oi!" Louis interrupts offendedly, face scrunching and mouth frowning. He pushes his way in, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his foot. I'm quick to lock it, proceeding to follow him into the kitchen where he sets the pizza boxes down. The entire time, he complains, "I seriously can't believe this right now. I thought I was your best boy, and now me own son's replacin' me?"
"That's exactly what's happening, Tommo. Get with the program. Maybe if you'd made more of an effort to see me over the past year, you'd still be in my good graces," I smirk at him with a cock of my head and a shrug of my shoulders. "Besides, little Mercury here is way cuter than you."
I bump noses with Freddie, tickling his sides to illicit more laughter that makes my heart swell. Handing him back to his father who he hasn't seen in some time thanks to Louis' busy schedule, I walk to a closed kitchen cabinet where I find plates to put our pizza slices on.
"Would you please stop calling him that?" Lou groans at my nickname for Freddie. "Also, I am so beyond sick of your bullshi-"
Opening the pizza box that unveils the pepperoni slices, I raise my eyebrow in warning at the ex-boyband member, watching through stern eyes as his blue gaze that identically matches his son's, slowly dances back and forth between me and the child in his arms.
"O- of your bull," he corrects himself with a stout nod.
"Shit!" Freddie joyfully finishes for his father, making us both gasp, mouthes dropping open and eyes widening to the size of saucers.
Instantly closing the box of pizza I'd opened with hopes of finally getting to stuff my face with some, I reach forward and take the child from Louis again, spinning him around until his baby toothed smile grows in size again, using my index finger to gently tickle his chest as I chirp, "Did you learn those no-no words from that scary man over there?"
"No!" Louis shouts in protest, practically jumping forward to keep Freddie from outing the foul language that he can't even help himself from using around a three year old.
Directing Freddie's gaze to Louis, the little boy, full of just as much sass as his father, sticks his tongue out and scrunches his nose, making a tooting sound with puffed out cheeks. I nearly high five him, but then I remember I'm supposed to be the better parental figure.
"Stop turning me own kid against me, Beauty. It's unethical," Lou deadpans, cutting his ocean blue eyes at me.
"No can do," I beam with a larger than life fake smile. Angling my body so that Freddie no longer faces Louis, I take extra precaution by turning my head away from his impressionable ears as I add with a whisper, "Fuck ass."
"Now that's just down right hypocritical," my actual best boy teases me with a shake of his head and an abrupt cross of his arms over his sweater covered chest.
Our mixing laughter collides in mid air and bounces back to us from the four walls of my great room, bringing about a jolly warmth that has nothing to do with the incoming winter holidays. Even Freddie- Mercury as I've grown to call him thanks to his father stupidly naming him after my favorite musician of all time- even little Freddie's small laugh, high pitched and more electric than anything I've ever heard, sounds louder than Louis' and my own combined.
"You know you'll always be my best boy, right?" I ask with a knowing grin.
"Oh, absolutely," Louis answers, accented voice that has only grown stronger during our time apart full of a certain haughtiness that only a Tomlinson could possess.
I bounce Freddie on my hip who is now fully distracted by Olivia slinking around soundlessly on the floor. Meanwhile, as I continue cooing little compliments into the boy's ear, my eyes appreciatively watch Louis fix plates for everyone, pulling out a small blue sippy cup from his back pack when he gets to Freddie's portion.
"Have you heard from any of the boys yet?" I ask curiously when we reach the couch, Fred in between the two of us. I gaze upon Lou in admiration as he pushes his plate aside in favor of making sure his son gets to eat first without making too much of a mess.
Leaning forward, I take the remote from the coffee table and flick on the television, some silly commercial playing that will simply serve as background noise until the show starts that we've gathered solely to watch.
As I lean back, propping my feet on the small table in front of me so that my knees now serve as a makeshift surface to set my plate, I begin munching on the pizza while Louis nonchalantly answers, "Yeah, I heard from Zayn first actually."
"See!" I excitedly intone. "I told you, you had nothing to worry about! How did it go?"
"I mean, I guess it was fine," Louis shrugs with slightly widened eyes, hands kept busy as he continues to help Freddie by wiping sauce from his small mouth with a napkin.
Just as I open my mouth to speak, Louis cuts me off with an astute expression.
"Don't even say it!"
"I told you so!" I gasp out almost too giddily, simply overjoyed at the fact that Louis and Zayn finally talked after years of static. This small piece of information is enough to make me forget about all my problems, everything wrong in the world suddenly feeling right again.
"Dammit!" He groans, hating more than anything to be proven wrong.
My face shifts instantly to something stern, my finger raising to accusingly point at Louis who seems to have quickly forgotten that a three year old is present.
Rolling his eyes with a scoff, he mutters, "Sorry."
Brushing him off with a wave of my hand, I rub my sweater sleeve across my lips before taking another bite of pizza, the sounds from the TV alerting me that Saturday Night Live will start any second.
"So, that's a yes from all of them then?" I question, butterflies ripping through my stomach at the thought of my conniving plan coming to fruition. With every man, manager, and company who ever did One Direction wrong under investigation with all evidence leading to disbandment and jail time, 18 months may end a lot sooner rather than later.
Louis nods slowly with a sideways smirk, everything about him more relaxed than it should be, but eventually, no longer able to hide it, I notice the glint in his eye that leads to the rise of his cheekbones. A larger than life toothy smile banishes the indifference from his features as he begins nodding hurriedly, the excitement too much. His smiling lips twist as me purses them, and before I know it, I'm lunging forward to envelop Lou and Baby Mercury into a massive hug, some sense of normalcy on a fast track back to our lives.
Change is definitely a good thing despite not being something I've always welcomed. But the loss of my group of goonies, of my gang that I'd willingly spend hours with in Eric Forman's basement, of my best friends for infinity, isn't something I was ever prepared to lose, denying it until the very moment we all went separate ways.
It's almost been five years, and I'd say their little 18 months idea was too long to begin with.
"You haven't told Harry yet, have you?" I ask worriedly as we pull away thanks to Freddie's squirming and whining from in between us. Ruffling his blonde hair, I watch as Louis nods in confirmation, his response making me breathe a sigh of relief.
"No, Belle. Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of listening and following directions every once in a while," Louis pointedly states.
Smacking my lips together and blowing off his unwelcome sarcasm, a new but familiar voice rings through the room from the TV. All of our attention gets diverted to the screen where Harry Styles has appeared to give his opening monologue, adorned in bright yellow pants, a blue shirt just as vibrant, and a creme suit jacket.
He looks more confident than I'ver ever seen him which I think is just a testament to how much he's grown since I left him. The thought that this Harry wouldn't want me back scares me more than death itself.
That's why I didn't listen.
I couldn't do it.
I heard my voice, and like a light switch, every thing inside of me shut down even more than it already was.
I couldn't listen to Track 5, because I heard my voice in the beginning, and that was enough for me. The thought of that being his odd way of saying goodbye was too much for me to face, so when Harry came back downstairs, I handed him his phone, told him it was great, and watched him leave through teary eyes- the same teary eyes I use to watch him on Saturday Night Live.
"Now, I don't know if you've heard or not, but," Harry begins as he sits at a piano, melodic music playing from the keys. "I'm not in a boyband anymore. I'm in a man band now."
There's subtle laughter from the television, but not much from Louis or myself.
"I was in a band called One Direction. How crazy would it be if they were here tonight?" Harry smiles at the crowd as they cheer. Louis sits quietly next to me, yet when my eyes drift toward him, I find he's already watching me. I quickly look away, using my sweater covered palm to wipe at face, taking every precaution to ensure that no tears are there.
"Well, they're not here," Harry continues, genuinely making me laugh despite how forced it sounds to appease Louis' obvious worry. "Wouldn't it be crazy if they were though?"
All I can think about is the look on Harry's face when and if my surprise works out.
"They're not," he looks at the audience hopefully to arouse their suspicions once again before ultimately shredding their dreams with a doubtful shake of his head. "I love those guys. They're my brothers: Niall, Liam, Louis."
So much happens within the next few moments, that I struggle to comprehend it all at once, everything filtering in my brain more slowly than the events actually take place. Harry pauses for dramatic effect, pretending as if he can't remember Zayn's name, so I see not much has changed from when the fifth member first left the band. Harry copes best by pretending the problem doesn't and never did exist.
Louis finally breaks his silence, narrowed eyes going even more slanted as he leans toward me slightly, hand flinching like he is trying to decide whether or not placing it on my knee will reassure me or simply scare me away. Meanwhile, I quickly thrust my now empty plate onto the coffee table in front of me, sitting back against the couch cushions with eyes clamped shut seeing as I know what's coming and would rather not face it.
Instinctively, I begin twisting my rose ring around my finger just as Louis ponders aloud, "What's going on with you and Haz?"
My breath hitches in my throat as two things happen at once.
First, Harry speaks again with a joke and completion to his earlier statement that gains him the loudest laugh of the night so far. "And, uh... Ringo."
Then, just as Harry's deep voice bellows from the speakers, a smaller more American sounding one rings out just as loud, if not louder from his excitement. Freddie jumps up, his sippy cup falling to the floor and plate of food almost flying everywhere if it wasn't for Louis' fast reflexes. The little boy starts jumping around on the sofa while he shouts happily, "The man on the TV said your name, daddy!"
Suddenly, a newer, more somber feeling overtakes the room, frowns forming on not just my face but Louis'. Harry's presence on the television is completely forgotten as Lou practically flings himself forward to grab the remote and turn the electronic off, a dark look on his structured face the entire time.
I suppose I'll just have to lie when I talk to Harry and tell him that Louis and I really loved the show, conveniently leaving out the part where we only watched five minutes of it.
Louis' anger is apparent now, the man no longer trying to hide the look of hurt from his bearded, more mature face. However, I know he isn't directing any of it at Freddie, because he's too busy blaming himself for the small boy not recognizing a man who is practically his uncle just as much as I am his aunt.
It's been a rough couple years on all of us, and Freddie not knowing who Harry is just testifies to that.
Selfishly, I hope to now focus on Louis instead of myself, but he's too smart for that, always seeing right through me when I think no one can. He scoops Freddie into his lap, bouncing him and smiling down at the blonde boy.
"Hey, bud. Why don't you go play with Aunt Beauty's cat, okay? I think me and her need to have a little talk."
Shit.
"I wanna have a talk with Aunt Beauty too," Freddie whines hopefully, looking over with his adorable smirk that matches his father's.
Sighing almost inaudibly, I lazily blink and soften my worried expression to one of defeat because I know Louis won't let up, and maybe talking things through with him to get advice from another perspective other than Taylor's and Kendall's won't be the worst thing. "Listen, little man, your dad and I need to talk about some grown up stuff for a little bit, but as soon as we're done I'll come get you, and we can go get some ice cream or something."
"But it's late, and Mommy doesn't like me to have sweets late," Freddie frowns, blue eyes dulling.
I reach forward and take his little hand into mine, smiling gently as I whisper, "Mommy isn't here."
Louis looks at me with a gleam of bewilderment mixed with pride in his eyes, mouth curling into a surprised toothy smile. Freddie does the same, clapping his hands at the idea of doing something he isn't supposed to... just like his dad. Lou stands with little Freddie in his arms, turning the boy's face away from me as he mouths, "What a terrible influence."
To which I mouth back, "What Briana doesn't know won't kill her."
A smirk lights up his face as a small scoff passes through his lips before he walks away to find my cat so she can be abused by a three year old which I'm sure she'll enjoy. As Tommo walks away, not only do I hear him start to mutter to Freddie, "Fred, it's not mommy, it's mummy," but I also start to freak out a little at the thought of everything I'm about to catch Louis up on.
What's worse is that I'm more nervous of how he'll react based on what happened three years ago in 2016 when Harry and I broke up. He was less than pleased at how Harry acted, and I have always refused to let Louis tell me what happened when he went to confront H about it. I'm sure it wasn't pretty.
"Talk," Louis commands when he suddenly reappears, this time without Freddie. He makes himself comfortable next to me once again, crossing one leg over the other and nonchalantly resting his elbow on the white floral pattered arm of the couch.
"Damn, are you about to pull out a bright light to shine in my face or something," I chuckle awkwardly in an attempt to put out the nervous fires in my brain.
"Really, Beauty?" He raises his brows and glares at me. "Just talk to me for once, and stop pretending like everything doesn't hurt you."
Gripping onto my sweater sleeves, I roll my eyes while sucking in and proceeding to let out a massive breath. I readjust my sitting position to get comfortable, because this is going to take a while to explain, and I don't even think Louis is ready.
I start from the beginning... or at least the beginning of this portion of our fairytale turned horror story. I take Louis on a journey from the night I listened to Harry's album for the first time before going to his show.
I tell him about the conversations we had and the apologies we shared, meanwhile Louis listens, simply nodding his head and listening intently. I talk openly about the day Bennett came back into my life, tearing down every good thing I'd built up for myself, and I continue into even darker territory when he crashed my party and broke into my house. I speak of the day at his parents' art gallery and the horrors of how he treated me, poor Louis already knowing most of this thanks to the media, but tears well in his eyes at the stories coming from my own mouth.
Taking his hand to comfort him since the lingering pain within myself is too deep, permanently scarring me to truly show that I care anymore, I rub reassuring circles with my thumb against his clammy skin.
Finally, I reach the infamous Met Gala. Louis throws his shaking head into his hands before grabbing his temples with his thumb and index finger, rubbing therapeutically with his eyes closed. "Oh," he breathes out. "He didn't. Please tell me he didn't."
"He did," I confirm with my nose scrunched in disgust at the memory of Harry moaning out Camille's name. "But Lou, he was so drunk and-"
"Have you talked to him about it?" He interrupts me.
My mouth falls open, opening and closing like a fish out of water as small incoherent sounds come from my throat. I tilt my head to the side, eyes meeting Louis' judging gaze every few seconds before I look away again to stare at nothing in particular. Louis refuses to look away from me, the ocean waves crashing in his eyes assaulting my form as he shakes his head with impatience.
"I'll take that as a no," he confirms for himself with a stout nod, finally taking his eyes away from me to allow them to search the room.
"I've tried, Louis. I really have but things keep getting in the way."
"Like what?" He asks with a forceful tone as if the way both and Harry and I are acting is pissing him off more than anything.
"I tried telling him on Halloween, but Kendall fucked that up. I tried telling him again the next morning, but he made it perfectly clear he only sees me as a friend, and to be honest I don't see a point in telling him at all because clearly drunk words are sober thoughts, so-"
"Beauty, are you even listening to yourself?" Louis blurts, more stressed than angry at this point. I instantly shut up to let him speak, eyes widening at the outburst I didn't expect. "First of all, of course Hazza isn't going to admit that he still loves you on air for anyone to hear. You of all people should know how private he is."
I stay silent for of course this is something I know, but it still hurt to hear when I'm in a state where my heart is already so fragile. Louis takes my silence as permission to keep talking... more like reprimanding.
"Unfortunately I can't give you an explanation for why he did what he did that night when he kissed you, but I can tell you this. For him, it's always been you. Always. Even when Taylor, Kendall, and whoever else was in the picture, none of them could ever take his heart the way you did.
"I know I haven't spoken to him in a while, but that doesn't mean I don't know how his mind works. Harry is just as stubborn as you, if not more. He thinks that what he did to you in that hotel is something you'll never truly forgive him for. Even though you told him you do, Harry is too stubborn to believe it.
"He thinks he doesn't deserve you anymore, and he blames himself for everything. As badly as he wants to tell you that he still cares, somewhere deep inside, he genuinely believes you could never feel the same again. You're both more alike than you think, Belle, and if there's any real advice I can give, it would be to listen to that song he tried to show you. That was his way of trying to tell you without really having to tell you."
"Will you listen with me?" I ask with downcast eyes, fingers nervously fiddling with my pinky ring like always.
"Of course," Louis gently smiles, reaching forward and taking my hand like I did with his a few minutes ago. "Wait, how do you have it?" He recoils suddenly with a curious smile now lighting up his once somber face.
"I may have sent it to myself just in case I ever grew a pair," I shrug with a guilty grin.
"Well, I'd say that's the smartest thing you've done so far," he teases with a little nudge of his elbow to my side.
Smiling and rolling my brown eyes at the man, I pull out my phone, stomach boiling with nerves like I've never felt, Louis' calming presence doing absolutely nothing to make me feel any better. Finally, my shaking fingers pull it up, a massive sigh of anything but relief passing through my lips as I go to press play, but suddenly Lou speaks, stopping me much to my own solace.
"I had this exact same conversation with Harry once," he speaks quietly, eyes glazing over with a fond memory.
"Really?" I falter.
"It was just after you and that little bitch- sorry to ruin whatever kind of moment this is, but I refuse to say his name."
"You're good. Go on," I giggle, eyes crinkling.
"Anyway, it was just after you two broke up and you told Harry you wanted to come on tour with us. He was terrified of confronting you with how he felt, because he genuinely believed you didn't feel the same. He went on about it for months on end, and I think it hurt him more than he cares to admit that you didn't want anything more than just sex out of the relationship you two started back then. I guess what I'm trying to say is how you've completely switched places now."
A lump forms in my throat that I find nearly impossible to swallow, tears forming in my eyes that are struggling to fall thanks to how hard I'm fighting them. Louis' words are something I feared but needed to hear, and if there really is any truth to them, which I know there is, I know more about how Harry feels than he probably does himself.
Karma really is a bitch I guess, because now I get to suffer through everything I put Harry through. Next thing I know, when I make it known that I still love him, he'll tell me the same thing I told him.
"I don't want anything serious, just something fun. I need a distraction, Bunny, that's all."
I'll be his distraction now. He needs a distraction from Camille like I needed one from Bennett.
And I'll gladly do it if that's what he wants.
Shaking my head, I stay quiet and press play on track five, my hand tensing as I hurriedly reach for Louis and take his hands again in my own, the phone resting on the couch between us. I sniffle my nose, thankful for Louis' silence as I deal with every wild thought racing a million miles a minutes in my throbbing head.
"Coucou!"
My body tenses as does Louis'. There's that voice again. I know it's mine but she sounds so different- so hopeful and happy like nothing could possibly tear her down. That girl saw the world through rose colored lenses for the first time in her life, however she wasn't allowed to wear them long thanks to the normal darkness of my life coming back just as quickly as it left.
Harry was my own personal pair of rose colored lenses.
Breathing heavily, I feel my muscles soften as the music begins. Everything about it is so delicate and folky that it manages to calm me more than anything I've ever felt. So many of my senses are flooded just by the Parisian sounds. First, I smell the bakeries Harry and I passed on our trip to France in 2015, and then I feel the perfect French breeze blowing through my hair that was so much longer then. I feel his hand in mine and the immense joy he made me feel- I feel the old love I used to have for Paris before Bennett took that away too.
"Don't you call him 'baby.' We're not talking lately. Don't you call him what you used to call me," Harry's soft voice sings, making my stomach jolt for the millionth time and a chill race down my back that contrasts with the sweat making my hands clammy. I jerk my head up to look at Louis in bewilderment, so many ideas doing a marathon in my head, but Louis is already watching me sympathetically.
"I, I confess, I can tell that you are at your best. I'm selfish so I'm hating it. I noticed that, there's a piece of you in how I dress, take it as a compliment."
So much begins to happen that I can hardly think straight, Harry's singing being the only thing that keeps me from running off a cliff. When did he write this?
Is he releasing it?
Did he really care about me enough to stay jealous after we broke up?
Before I know it, my lip is trembling and tears are falling down my face like a waterfall into a ravine as the salt water falls into a pool at my lap. I squeeze Louis' hands tighter, so tight that I fear I'm hurting him until he returns the gesture in an attempt to reassure me.
"When did he-" I mutter through shaky breaths.
"When did he write this?" Louis finishes for me.
I nod with glossy eyes wide, my face quickly growing sticky from the tears.
"It started out as just an idea that he brought to me after the night you came to our show for the first time, and I helped him kind of come up with a concept. Over the years he'd pull it out every now and then, but this is completely different from how it started, so I'd say these wounds are fresh."
And just like that, Louis' suspicions about fresh cuts are confirmed when Harry sings, "I, I just miss, I just miss your accent and your friends. Did you know I still talk to them? Does he take you walking 'round his parents gallery? Don't you call him 'baby,' we're not talking lately. Don't you call him what you used to call me."
"Oh, my god!" I choke out, fully sobbing now.
I fall into Louis' arms, my tears staining the sleeve of his shirt, but I can't think straight enough to care. That simple line about an art gallery is enough to tell me that Harry wrote this more recently than I could have ever imagined. He wrote this only months ago when he seriously believed I was back with Bennett.
What hurts the most is that he felt this way and didn't say a word. We are both so fucking blind and ignorant, just as stubborn as the other, almost like we've been in a never ending competition since we met to see who can keep their foot down the longest.
Well, I've had enough.
I am hopelessly and endlessly in love with Harry Styles and I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him and most definitely get my heart shattered, but I have to try. I know now that I can't move on until I try. I broke up with him in the first place to find myself, because I feared I couldn't do that while focusing on someone else all the time.
Back then young, innocent, 19 year old Belle needed that. But now strong, independent, 23 year old Belle Olivia Granger knows exactly who she is and what she wants. I want Harry.
I need Harry.
The song comes to end along with my tears, and as I move leisurely to sit up, I feel Louis press a hard kiss to the top of my head. However, just as Harry's pained yelling ceases, a more melodic tune begins to play followed by my voice again which nearly jolts me back into a manic state if Louis wasn't here to pull me back into a side hug.
"Coucou!" I say once again, voice sounding breathy for reasons I don't know until I say, "Tu dors?"
Everything comes rushing back in an instant.
I can physically feel the sun on my skin and the rocking of the yacht. I feel Harry's hardened body under me and my own cell phone pressed to my ear, the irritation I then felt at having to deal with Jane Granger's strange obsession with speaking in French coming back to me as I now feel frustration for taking a moment like that with her for granted.
"Oh, j'suis déolée!"
I envision the light shade Harry's eyes were that day, almost like summer leaves when the sun shines through them so you can see every tiny detail from variations in color to the minuscule veins.
Jane was curious about dinner, and she was asking what Harry and I wanted to do. Harry hoped to teach her how to boil water since she could barely do that.
"Bah non," I remember answering at the same time I noticed Harry recording me. I always wondered what he would do with it if anything at all.
"Nan, c'est pas important. On a été à la plage, et maintenant on-"
Jane wanted pasta that night.
"Harry!" My voice echoes as the song ends along with my beautiful memories of that day.
Silence falls upon Louis and I as I fully pull away, the quiet not lasting long as Freddie's happy shrieks soon break it.
"So, Beauty, what are you gonna do?" Louis asks, watching me with pursed lips.
"I'm gonna tell him, Lou. I am, but I have to do it when the timing is right. I can't do it now and drop all of this baggage on him now that he's on this album campaign trail. He's so, so excited about everything coming, and I'm not going to be the one to ruin it," I state as I wipe my tears away. "I can't do that to him, not when he's the happiest I've ever seen him."
"No, no I get it," Louis holds his hands up and shrugs. "When are you supposed to see him next? Is it the night where we're all going to surprise him-"
"Actually," I interrupt, "I'm seeing him in a few weeks, but not really in a conventional way."
Louis nods for me to keep going as we push away from the couch and walk into the kitchen in search of Freddie.
"Um, it's really funny actually," I continue, biting down harshly on my bottom lip and crossing my arms over my chest. "My new manger booked me a spot on James Corden's show."
Tommo raises his eyebrows as if to say, 'Okay, and?'
"It just so happens to be the same night Harry is filling in as the host."
"Oh, shit," Louis curses instantly just as we find Freddie dragging himself and Olivia up the stairs.
"Shit!" The little boy chants.
"Shit is right, little man. Shit is right," I smirk at both Tomlinson's, one watching me happily and the other's blue gaze full of sympathy.
Maybe I was lying when I told ya, "Everything is great. Everything is fucking great."