Decadent delirium.
That was Harry, and that was his life. It was a crazy whirlwind of emotions and parties, and paparazzi; Louis could not get enough of it.
He felt like a stalker, watching the man's every move, but there was something captivating about it all. The extravagance of him, and his world. It was a show that Louis had never seen, a song that he had never heard, a scent that he had never smelt.
Two weeks had passed since that party and the words that Zayn had uttered.
You're our last hope.
Louis wished it were true. He wished he could help but these past two weeks had demonstrated one thing: Harry Styles was an untameable, and uncatchable wildfire.
The rockstar would throw himself into everything, no matter the risks. And the word no was not in his vocabulary. Jamie would trail behind, with his head in his hands, as the star would yell at interviewers, or snort cocaine behind cameras. The assistant's maternal nature and concern did seem to have any effect on the rockstar.
Harry and his team had been recording a segment for Factor 28. Louis had sat, silent and compliant, scared to open his mouth. His fellow contestants had also been oddly quiet, obviously sensing the uneasiness in the star's demeanour. The interviewer had turned to Harry and asked about relationship with his mentees. Louis had tensed, knowing that the topic was a sore spot. He tried not to glance in his direction, and instead, focused on the interviewer's muddy brown eyes, full of wonder. She was probably a university graduate, who had just been given her first journalism gig. Harry's gaze flicked towards him, and he tried not to squirm at the scrutiny, and continued to watch the pretty blonde girl, sitting behind the camera. He waited for the generic media trained answer to spill out Harry's mouth, emotionless, but that did not come. Instead he felt the atmosphere in the studio shift and Harry cleared his throat.
"I really do not see why it is anyone's business who I get on with," he snapped, and the room fell silent. Louis turned and looked at the boy. His face was full of thunder, storm clouds forming in his dilated eyes. He stared at the smaller boy for what felt like hours, when a deafening squeak ripped across the tiled floor. Harry's chair flew from under him, as he stood up in a whirlwind of anger and annoyance, before walking away from the interview. A reservoir formed in the blonde's eyes, and Louis wanted to reach out and reassure her it was ok. He didn't. Jamie was already there with a tissue, muttering apologies and making excuses. The Doncaster lad fought the urge to roll his eyes.
The temper tantrums only became worse. When two of Harry's contestants were eliminated, Louis watched him backstage. He lurked in the shadows, so the star did not know, whilst he snorted a huge line of coke. It was the type of line you'd do, when you did not want to remember anything. Louis's mentor then stumbled through the backstage, weaving through equipment and people until he reached Simon. Watching the two interact sent shivers down Louis's spine. Memories of their earlier argument came flooding back and he wanted to leave his hiding spot to yell at the manager. Tell him to never go near Harry again, and let him love; let him live.
He didn't. But he did watch and listen.
"You removed them on purpose to punish me!" Harry snapped, challenging the older man.
There was not much in the way of height between them, but the way Simon looked down his nose at the star gave the illusion that he was seven foot tall. Harry looked like a small child: vulnerable and scared.
"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn't," A smug grin was written across Cowbell's face, and Louis wanted to slap it off.
"At least now you know when I tell you do something, you do it,"
Harry scoffed and shook his head, angry and tired.
"I'm so sick. You can't keep me like this. I'm not a dog," The statement had resulted in a cruel laugh escaping Simon's wicked lips. Under the harsh studio lights, his greying hair looked greasy and decrepit and sweat patches were visible under his crisp white shirt. Thin, brittle chest hair peaked out from the V neckline, and there was a stain on his light blue acid wash jeans. He was a gross person: inside and out.
"Oh you poor boy. You are worse than a dog. And you need a handler. Just look at what happens when you're left unsupervised. How high are you right now? How much money do you reckon you just snorted up your nose?" The star's face morphed into a snarl, and his eyes were feral and angry. He touched his nose self-consciously, before clenching his fists. Louis braced himself, ready to intercept Harry's imminent attack on his manager, but Jamie was one step ahead, grabbing a hold of his shoulder and pulling him away.
"Remember Harry. I own you," He spat, before walking in the other direction. The star had clung to Jamie's shirt and buried his head in his arms. Sobs escaped his lips, and Louis was left, trembling in the shadows.
Despite always being there for everything press related, Jamie was always absent from Harry's ridiculous, ostentatious parties. Was he also unable to watch the star slowly destroy himself? Was he unable to watch a person's hard work slowly begin to detangle because of drug abuse?
You're our last hope.
Thinking of Zayn's words, Louis had tried his best to interact with the star, even civilly, but he was ignored consistently. In Harry's mind, Louis did not matter. He was not important enough to talk to. He'd been a good fuck and that was it. It was a hard pill for the contestant to swallow, but deep down, he had known the minute he had met the star. His arrogance had oozed off of him, when he had handed him that autograph. The only difference now was Louis knew it was all rooted in self-hatred and insecurity.
Even though he was angry and embarrassed, he could not stop watching the formidable force. There were subtleties to him, layers. Like how his gaze would always linger on Louis for too long, how his hands would shake before he went to the bathroom. He would rub his nose constantly, and his knee would jump up and down when he was nervous. He went into that room on the stairs, like it was part of his daily routine. Sometimes, he would spend hours in there, and Louis would hear his gentle sobs through the door. Sometimes, unheard music would play, and Harry would leave the room red-eyed and tear stained.
Since his interaction with Simon, Harry's parties had also increased and he was slowly losing what was left of him.
Wide eyes and no soul. Forests burning in a fire of cocaine.
Every so often, he would meet Louis's eyes across the room, and the smaller man would also be pulled into the burning sensation. His ocean desperately trying to extinguish the flames. It was relentless, but never lasted long enough. After a few seconds, Harry's gaze would travel elsewhere. Louis would be left with third degree burns that would scar his heart.
He expressed his concern to Niall, following one particular night where Harry had been carried away by some random male model, barely able to function.
He lay on his bed, messy clothes surrounding him on the floor, and poured out everything.
"Niall you don't understand. It's bad," He whispered into the phone, as if it was a confession that should never be spoken out loud. His small tattooed fingers twirled a piece of his hair falling into his face, and the moonlight fell across the room, creating dancing shadows on the wall.
"It was bad before," The Irish lad replied. The line was crackly, and muffled, and Louis tried to focus in on his words.
"Yeah, but not like this," He replied, wondering what was happening to the star at that moment. Was he safe?
"I'm really worried, especially after what Zayn said to me," Niall knew about his interaction with the famous singer. He was the first and only person Louis had told.
"I don't see how he is your responsibility though," He tried to reason, and Louis heard a deep sigh crackle through the line. He suspected that Niall was in the car, as he could hear the distant hum of the road behind him.
"You're in a competition, not babysitting a drugged up rockstar,"
Louis knew he was right. Harry Styles was not his responsibility, but he could not help it. He was an enigma that Louis wanted to solve, even if the puzzle pieces did not seem to fit.
"I know. It's just-"
"You care for him," Niall interrupted. He sounded disapproving, but he understood. Louis had a habit of falling for bad guys. Harry just so happened to be the baddest.
"Yeah. I care for him a lot, and I'm not even sure why," He confessed with a sad chuckle.
A cancerous tumour grew inside his heart, pulsating and shutting every system down, drying out his ocean, and poisoning his waters. Harry Edward Styles was breaking him.
"shit Lou. I don't know what to say," Those words had never left Niall's mouth before. He had never been left speechless. The Irish lad had a solution to everything.
Perhaps there was no antidote to this pain. Perhaps Louis was terminally fucked. Harry Styles was trailblazer and scolding him with a selfish fire of desire.
"It's a bit complicated," Louis sighed, burying his head into his hands. The moon seemed to be glowing even brighter, illuminating the silent and gentle tears that rolled down his checks. They looked like diamonds, priceless and delicate: jewels shining on display in a museum.
"well I tell you what Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable," Niall laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Louis chuckled. His statement had been pretty pathetic. It was true. His relationship with Harry was anything but simple. Was it even a relationship? Did Louis even exist to him?
"Thanks," he smiled, before changing the subject. The two had chatted aimlessly for hours, until the sun poked through the clouds and the moon turned to dust.
===
Whipped up in the commotion of his turbulent feelings for Harry, Louis's artistry was suffering. His voice no longer held the power it once did, and he was unable to connect to any of the words he sang. His last two performances had been lacklustre at best, and the hype surrounding him was slowly fading. Ashe had commented on the sudden change, and he had claimed that he was sick.
He wasn't.
He had just lost his reason to sing.
Even Carol, his vocal teacher, was concerned, and had sent him to the doctor to see if he had a throat infection. He went, not wanting to confess that the reason behind his crackly voice was the fact that he had been crying himself to sleep for the past two weeks.
If Harry had noticed anything, he hadn't uttered a word, not even during the judge's feedback on the show, when Ariana, Drake and Jennifer would rip him apart for his lack of stage presence. He would simply shrug his shoulder and take a gulp from his glass. Louis suspected he was not drinking water.
It was odd what Louis missed. He did miss his smile, and his gentle, genuine laugh but what he missed the most was when he said his name, or when he argued and bickered with him. He missed his subtle arrogance and how his lip would slightly curve upwards when he smirked. He missed the smell of tobacco mixed with vanilla and spices.
===
Tonight was Saturday, meaning that it was Factor 28. Louis stood and stared out at the stage. The star sat there, under the artificial light. The bags were evident under his eyes, and the makeup team were desperately trying to hide the dullness of his skin. He looked as broken as Louis felt. He heard his name called by the loud speaker and tried to clear his scratchy voice. Bright lights clouded his vision and he winced a little. When his vision cleared, all he could see was Harry. Zayn's words ran through his head.
You're our last hope.
He had never felt more helpless.