chapter 2

Day 31: Math

One month down. Eleven to go.

Fucking writer’s block. Louis is staring at his computer in frustration, has been for the past twenty minutes. Even a couple of those little bottles of crappy alcohol from the minifridge aren’t lubricating his brain enough to get anything done. He sighs deeply and rolls onto his face. Thank God this hotel has soft bed.

Fucking writer’s block. Fucking pop stars. Fucking tour.

Louis doesn’t want to spend five months on tour. God forbid the rumors about an autumn tour. He really hopes not, or he’ll have to go there too. More hours on a bus or plane, more rehearsals and waiting and then lingering backstage during more performances. At least he isn’t dancing or singing or shit. Especially since he can’t do either.

He can’t do anything. He can’t even fucking write. And they pay him to write.

About pop stars, though. It’s not like he’s writing anything important. And he can’t even manage that. And he hasn’t seen any of his mates for a month, or his family, or anybody he likes.

This is awful. Everything is awful.

The door opens. Louis doesn’t move. “If this is a rapist, I’m a terrible fuck,” he says loudly. “And if this is a burglar, I’m poor.”

“I’m not…”

Louis knows that awful deep voice. He doesn’t move, now out of stubbornness. “The fuck did you get in here?” he mumbles.

“A key…”

“How the hell did you get my key?”

“No, it’s mine. They forgot to get you a room.”

Louis sighs loudly and groans, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

Harry is quiet for a while. Then he says hesitantly, “No?”

“Can’t you just fucking… stay with your band mates?”

“Um. Well. Liam and Niall aren’t answering their phones. And Zayn’s staying with Aiden. So.”

“Does that mean no?”

“I mean. You have an extra bed. And I’d have to share a bed with one of them.”

“Is it really such a huge problem? You share everything else.” Harry stays silent; Louis thinks that’s a wimpy way of saying it is a problem. He sighs deeply. “Jesus. Just this one night, fine. Don’t touch my shit.”

Harry looks at him for a second, and Louis can’t tell if he’s happy or hurt. “Okay. Please, um. Please same?”

Louis pulls himself onto his knees to look at Harry suspiciously. “Same what?”

“Same rules,” Harry says in almost a whisper. “For me. Please. Don’t touch my stuff, I mean.”

Louis frowns. “Duh.”

Harry looks relieved though. “Okay.” He sits on the edge of the empty bed and tentatively puts down his bag. He looks at Louis and the laptop on the bed next to him. “Are you writing tonight, then?” he asks, and Louis knows he’s trying to sound friendly again.

He doesn’t want to be friendly. “Nope,” Louis says shortly. “I’m going outside for a smoke.” He fumbles for his pack of cigarettes and attempts to sweep grandly out of the room. Three steps out of the door, though, he realizes he forgot his shoes, his wallet, and his jumper. And it’s cold outside. Fuck.

Louis is stubborn and tipsy, so he doesn’t go back. He finds his way to a side door and ventures a few steps outside only to find Zayn, hunched under a small overhang and smoking himself.

Zayn smiles when he sees Louis. “You too?” he asks.

“Yeah. Y’have a lighter?”

Zayn obligingly lights Louis’ fag and leans back against the wall, puffing out a ring of smoke. Louis discovers a large man in all black standing a few meters away, looking ominous. “Body guard?” Louis asks.

Zayn glances at the man and nods. “So we don’t get shot.”

“No one would try to shoot me,” Louis points out. “I’m too boring.” Zayn doesn’t give him a sympathy laugh, and Louis kind of respects him more for that. “So Harry’s trying to stay with me tonight,” he says next.

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment. He sucks in another deep mouthful of smoke and puffs it out. “You letting him?” he finally asks.

“I said yes, but. Probably because I’m slightly drunk and very annoyed with myself. Don’t understand why he couldn’t just stay with you,” Louis says casually before letting out his own stream of smoke.

“And he wouldn’t say?”

“No.”

“They give him shit,” Zayn shrugs.

Louis frowns. “What kind of shit?”

“I dunno. Depends on the day, but. They’ve taken his phone again, or locked him out of the room naked. I dunno. Stupid pranks, but he hates it and they don’t stop.” Zayn gives him a sharp look. “You do that kind of thing?”

“Honestly, I just want to sleep,” Louis says. Zayn nods, lights another fag. Louis is finished with his; he flicks the butt away. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Zayn nods. “See ya.”

Louis goes back inside and only then discovers that he didn’t take his room key. In exasperation, he has to resortto knocking.

Harry answers the door completely naked. When he sees Louis, he flushes deep pink down his chest and covers what he can. “Shit,” he squeaks. “What’s… I mean what are you…”

“Close the fucking door,” Louis says sharply, and pushes past Harry into the room. He’s suddenly warm and light-headed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, anyways? Walking around naked in my hotel room.”

“Sorry, I’m… sorry,” Harry says meekly, following Louis in.

Louis turns to be stern and instead gets a full on view of Harry’s cock. “Put some fucking clothes on!” Louis shrieks.

“I’m sorry!” Harry trips trying to pull boxers on and Louis laughs on accident.

“Jesus Christ, kid. Really? No wonder they don’t want you as your roommate.”

Harry has his pants on now; he gets in bed half-turned away from Louis. “Sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting… I mean, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Louis says reluctantly. “Let’s just… I’m gonna shower and write my blog post, and you’re gonna go to bed and not bother me, alright? And we’ll leave it at that.” He’s got his things gathered and is closing the bathroom door before Haz answers quietly.

“Okay.”

Louis types his post up after his shower. The light of the computer throws shadows over the mass of blankets and hair that is Harry. It takes a crazy amount of effort not to write an article about how shit the band is to each other. Louis is tempted to call out Zayn as the only sane one. Instead, he writes some shit piece about the places the lads went tonight and feels like a God damn liar. The only honest part is a bit at the end.

334 days till Bye5. Some might be bearable.

Day 45: Cheapskates

Who knew the most successful management company in the country would be so damn cheap? Despite being a highly influential reporter in the musical world, I’m forced to share a room with one of the band members. The three I’ve stayed with so far have been surprisingly okay and horrific. That’s as specific as I can be right now; doing further research at the moment.

So Louis doesn’t always tell the truth. He doesn’t think that makes him a bad person; he thinks it just makes him clever. Never show all his cards, that’s his motto. Or it is until he can find a cooler-sounding one. It kinda lacks poetry.

But there’s no reason to tell the bland one – Aiden, Jesus, even his name sucks – that he’s a prick. Zayn kinda seems to already know Louis likes him, and Harry seems overly aware that Louis is more than mildly annoyed with him. Those thoughts definitely have to stay away from the blog.

So withholding the fact that he is not, in fact, doing his absolute best to find out things about the lads of Hi5 can be edited out without too much guilt. He just doesn’t get along with them. Thus, he may or may not be in the corridor, spending time doing everything besides what he should be. The internet is a wide and thrilling place, and he’d much rather be there than getting to know Aiden. He’s almost disappointed Harry is home visiting family tonight. Aiden’s already proven to be a complete douche.

Zayn walks by. “Hey,” he says. “Wanna do me a favor?”

“Depends. Does it mean talking to the dickbag in my room?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Just call Harry for me. My phone’s dead, and he has to come back tonight instead of tomorrow.” He rattles off Harry’s number easily, and Louis tries not to look too annoyed as he types it in.

“Should I give a reason?” Louis asks before calling.

“Yeah. Management.”

“Helpful,” Louis mumbles as Zayn walks away. Reluctantly, he calls, gearing up to be short.

“Hello?” Harry answers.

“Hi. It’s Louis. The reporter. Y’know?” Louis prompts when Harry doesn’t answer. “The one who’s frequently annoyed with you – like now. Zayn told me to call”

“Oh.”

“Harry,” Louis snaps after a long pause.

“I’m not Harry.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“I’m his… brother.”

“His brother,” Louis repeats sarcastically. “Right. His brother picked up his phone.”

“Well we have the same one. We get confused.”

“And you happen to sound just like him?”

“I’m his… twin. Edward.”

“His twin. Pop sensation Harry Styles has a secret twin.”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Okay. Well, could you tell Harry that he has to come back tonight?” Louis says, still sarcastic. “Management wants him.”

“Not till tomorrow, though, right?”

“No, they want him tonight.”

“Shit. Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t fucking thank me, Harry’s twin. I’m doing this for Zayn.”

A brief pause. “So you’re mean to everyone?” Harry – or “Edward” – says.

“What? What are you talking about?” Louis frowns.

“You’re… or, Harry told me you’re mean to him. And you’re being mean with me. Do you just hate everybody?”

For the sake of argument, Louis doesn’t mention that this is definitely Harry, so that’d technically be only one person he’s mean to. “I don’t,” he says defensively. “I like tons of people. I like Zayn.”

“Zayn’s awesome. Everybody likes him.” Harry sounds pouty.

“So your real question is why don’t I like you. Or Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes.

“I guess. Yeah,” Harry says shyly.

Louis sighs deeply. “I should hang up on you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Alright, Harry’s twin. Just because I need an excuse to avoid the bland one.”

“Who?”

“Aiden Twatshaw.”

Harry accidentally giggles. “You don’t like him?”

“You kidding? He’s awful, I hate him. Massive twat. Pretty sure he’s watching porn in there, so I’m in the hall.”

“Yeah, he does that a lot. I mean, Harry tells me…”

‘Right, right, whatever. Look. I like and dislike a lot of people. You aren’t particularly outstanding on either end. Alright?”

“But you’re particularly mean to… Harry. You said he was spoiled and a bad singer and stupid. And made fun of what he was wearing.”

Shit. Harry’s hurt, like definitely gutted by whatever he’s talking about. “When did I do that?” Louis asks.

“His bracelets.”

“Oh. Well. I talk like that to everybody. The ones who can take it are the ones I end up liking. So. I mean if it hurt your – his feelings, then I’m sorry. I guess. I didn’t mean… well, I did.” Louis is at a bit of a loss.

“It’s just. It’s hard. For Harry. Because everybody else in the band is kinda frustrated with him all the time, and he was kinda hoping you’d be… I mean, you’re both…”

“What,” Louis prompts after a moment. “What do we have in common? Because as far as I can tell, there’s nothing.”

“Well… uh. I’m. Or, he’s.”

Louis huffs out a frustrated breath. “Listen. Just come back – or tell Harry to, I mean, and whatever. Nice to meet you, I guess. And I don’t hate him. I’m not particularly mean to him, and I swear I’m not singling him out for anything. He’s fine. I don’t really care that much, honestly, alright?”

“You don’t hate him,” he says again, just to make sure.

“I don’t. I hate the bland one way more, I swear.”

Harry giggles again; it sounds kind of adorable. Louis doesn’t hate that. “Okay,” he says. “So will you be… nice?”

“I’ll be me,” Louis shrugs. “No promises.”

“Right, okay,” Harry says after a pause. “I… he’ll be there in a couple hours.”

“Great. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Eventually, Louis can’t avoid going into his room. He spends a lot of time in the shower so they don’t have to talk. Aiden’s talking mainly consists of insults and sexual innuendos, and not clever ones like Louis’. Then he puts headphones in and watches six hours of Misfits before bed.

He should be on that show. He should write that show. He wishes he could write that well. Maybe more people would read his blog.

As soon as Louis is sure Aiden’s asleep, he pulls out his headphones and puts his computer under the other pillow. He doesn’t trust his roommate. He doesn’t have any trouble falling asleep, though, not with his computer and phone in bed with him. He’s a light sleeper. It’ll be fine.

Someone touches his shoulder a few hours in and Louis is proud of how fast he flips over and hits out at whoever it is. “Fuck off,” he mumbles.

“It’s Harry,” comes a whisper. Harry’s caught his fist and gently lets it fall.

“What the fuck, man,” Louis sighs, turning back over to check on his technology. It’s there.

“Can I, um.”

“Spit it out, ya tit.”

“Can I sleep in this bed? With you.”

Louis has to hoist himself up on one arm, wiping at his eyes with the other. “What?” he groans. “Why?”

“’Cause I don’t want to sleep with Aiden.”

Louis puffs out an obnoxiously long sigh. “Fine. But only because he’s a twat.”

Harry’s slipping in next to him in a minute. “Why’s there a computer in bed?” he whispers.

“Shut the fuck up. My bed. My choices.” Louis hugs the computer close and puts it under his own pillow. He debates, for a second, whether or not to say goodnight and ultimately decides against it. No need to complicate things.

Harry doesn’t seem to have the same opinion. “Goodnight.”

Louis stays silent for a while. Harry gives up on him, he thinks; he stops holding his breath in anticipation. But what’s the harm in saying it back? That’s what he’s arguing about with himself. Harry obviously puts a huge amount of stock in Louis’ opinion of him. He fucking made up a twin brother to speak his mind. And that’s mental, but it’s sweet. Louis feels bad for him.

“G’night, kid,” he says.

“Did you-“ Harry begins

“Don’t push it.”

Harry falls silent.

When they wake up, he’s facing Louis, curled almost close enough to touch. He has dark circles under his eyes, looks tired even in his sleep. Louis kind of wants to hug him.

“Did he try to jerk you off?” Aiden says from behind Louis.

Louis gives himself a second to get his face under control. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he frowns.

“He’s gay, y’know.”

Louis frowns. “What are you talking about? Did he tell you?”

“Nah, he tried to suck me off before. He’s as queer as they come.”

Louis just knows Aiden doesn’t know Louis is gay. He’s developed a kind of instinct about this, after being out for a couple years. And now is definitely not the time to tell him. Louis is getting ornery, as usual, and he has a very fierce instinct to do the opposite of what Aiden wants of him.

Aiden’s still talking. “I’m going down for breakfast. Come down and join us, there’s some great food. Tell him to get his ass up if he wants to eat.”

“Right. Okay,” Louis says tightly.

Aiden leaves, and the instant the door is closed, Louis throws his arm over Haz’s shoulders. “Wanker,” he mumbles to himself, holding the skinny boy a little closer.

That has him thinking about blowjobs from Harry, how his pink lips would look stretched – but no. Nope, that ain’t gonna happen. He observes. He doesn’t get involved, and he definitely can’t get involved with one of his subjects. Especially a young, annoying, awful one that he doesn’t even like. Harry just has great blowjob lips. Cool. Moving on.

Louis lets go and pats Harry’s head awkwardly until the younger blinks his eyes open. “Breakfast,” he says. “Get up.”

During breakfast, while the other boys laugh and joke, Harry curls up small in his chair, head against his knees, and doesn’t say anything. Louis watches Aiden and Niall throw pieces of muffin at Harry in silence. Then, he pulls out his phone and edits last night’s post.

Well, maybe I can be a little more specific. Best roommate by far; Zayn, mister brooding himself. He can shut the hell up and is willing to watch Fame with me, so win-win. Gold star. Coming in a surprising second Hairy Styles, baby of the band. Remarkably considerate, even if he’s got some weirdo shit going on. Fun fact; he wakes up with his hair like that. Ladies.

320 days till Bye5. At least I won’t have completely shitty roommates.

Day 51: Idiots

The more time I spend with these pop stars, the more I’m learning exactly how fucking stupid they are. And I mean that in the nicest possible way, but they’re the most idiotic teenage boys I’ve had the necessity of spending time with.

Not that I know much about teenage boys. Maybe I’d be annoyed with all of them this much if I practically lived with them. It’s kind of endearing, though, to see the lads behind the name. They seem a lot more real when they’re choking on their milk, y’know? But maybe I shouldn’t say that. Would you still buy a face with the shirt of a lad who chokes on a liquid? Ask Hairy about that at his next signing; he’ll turn pink and sputter.

“You’re writing a lot about Harry.”

“Get away from me.” Louis glares at Zayn and holds his computer close to his heart. “Don’t read my personal shit. What the hell is wrong with you?” They’re in their hotel room together.

Zayn smiles. “You making friends?” he asks.

Louis glares. “No. He’s annoying, and immature and super emotional. I don’t do well with that kind of shit. Kind of infuriates me like no other. So. Y’know. No.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “He got thrown into this too young,” he says mildly. “And he gets so much shit from everybody. I’m just saying, try to put up with him a little longer, yeah?”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Louis frowns. “I’m kind of doing a year-long exposè about you guys. You want me getting close? It won’t be objective.”

“You called Aiden the king twat in the post a week ago. You aren’t objective now,” Zayn points out. “And that’s fine. It’s more interesting. But maybe you could be the one member of the media who doesn’t pick on him, y’know? It’s different ‘cause everybody loves Aiden.”

“I don’t. He’s the worst.”

“Everybody else.”

Louis tries not to roll his eyes; Zayn actually has a point. “Okay,” he says. “I won’t include that shit. And I won’t include the fact that Harry’s trying to convince me he has a twin.”

Zayn outright laughs. “No way.”

“Yep. He’s convinced I hate him, so he does this to spill his guts.” Louis shrugs.

“He tells you shit?”

“Yeah, that one night when I called him for you? It started then. And he keeps casually mentioning this ‘Edward’ in casual conversation. It’s ridiculous.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Zayn stands up. “I need you to call him for me, yeah? Tell him I want to room with Niall tonight.”

“But wait, that would put him in…” Louis straightens up in his seat. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Just tell him. Ask if he’s okay with it.”

“I’m writing a whole piece about what a terrible person you are,” Louis shouts after him. Very grumpily, he dials Harry. “Hi. This is Louis.”

“Uh… hi. It’s Edward.”

Louis wants to laugh. “In Harry’s hotel room on tour?”

“I flew up. To see him.”

“Right. Okay.” Louis rolls his eyes so hard, it kinda hurts. “Well. Tell him Zayn’s switching rooms; he wants to stay with Niall, so Harry’s gonna be with me tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Is that alright with him?” Louis says sarcastically.

“Um, yeah. It’s… fine. Yeah. As long as you’re okay with it. You don’t hate staying with him?”

“Nah, he’s not bad. A little, y’know. Weird. But. Not bad.”

“You still think he’s childish?” Harry asks, sounding pouty. 

Louis hesitates. “Well. You’re a kid, you’re like, thirteen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Right, and I’m twenty. So you kind of are a kid, compared to me. And so is he.”

“Do you think he’s… um. Has Aiden said anything about Harry and…”

“I do my best to tune him out when he speaks, so I don’t know but probably not,” Louis cuts him off. He really fucking hates Aiden.

“Didn’t he say something, though, about, like… um, how Harry’s…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. He’s mean, don’t pay attention to him.”

Louis hauls his knees up to his chest and hugs them. “Mean? He seems pretty harmless. Obnoxious as hell, but alright.”

“No, he’s not, he’s awful. He, um. Harry’s claustrophobic. So. It’s not awful, but when he’s trapped it gets worse really quick. And then the dressing rooms…”

“So when Aiden locked him in-“

“Yeah.”

“And Aiden knew?”

“Yeah.”

“What a fucking dickhead.”

“Yeah.” Harry sounds a little happier.

“And I don’t want to room with him, so tell Harry to get his fucking ass over here, y’understand?”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

In maybe five minutes, Harry is knocking on his door. Louis sighs as he gets to his feet and opens the door. “Look,” he says. “I’m wearing clothes.”

Harry blushes. “Right, sorry.”

“Alright.” Louis turns his back on him and gets back in bed, curling up with his computer in his lap. “Where’s this twin of yours?”

“Went home,” Harry says uncomfortably.

Louis doesn’t push. He talks to his sister on facebook, tweetssomething he forgets a minute later, and watches a youtube video of a snake. Meanwhile, Harry showers and gets ready for bed. He only wears bottoms to bed, apparently, and Louis gets a good peripheral eyeful of pale muscled torso and long gangly arms. Harry has a smattering of tattoos in easy-to-hide places, and they make him look younger.

Louis is kind of waiting for Harry to break the silence. When he does, it’s predictably awkward. “So um, why did Zayn want to switch?” he asks, glancing at Louis nervously.

“I dunno. He likes to piss me off.”

“You…”

Louis sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that, God.”

“Okay.” Harry clearly doesn’t know how to take that.

“Look, if you could stop overreacting a little bit and just trust that I’m being sarcastic all of the time, it would probably go a long way towards making me more sympathetic towards you, y’know?” Louis snaps.

“You’re being sarcastic?” Harry says weakly.

“Yeah, absolutely. That’s how I communicate in life. Do I have to just say it?” Harry gives no answer. “Okay. Well. You’re not the worst member of the band, alright? I think you’re fine. A little stupid, but fine.”

Harry glances at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really, Jesus Christ. You’ve gotta trust me if you want me to be that nice to you, understand? Ya gotta earn it. Shit head.”

Harry almost smiles; seems he picked up on the affectionate tone this time. So Louis gives him a little reward. “Good. C’mere, sit next to me.” Briefly, Louis considers what to do if Harry doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t need to worry. Harry grins and comes over happily, curling up near the edge. “Do you have something you could be doing?” Louis asks patiently.

“Oh, okay.” Haz gets his iPad out.

“Fancy,” Louis makes a face, reopening his computer.

He can feel Harry looking at him. “Was that sarcastic?” he finally asks.

“Kinda. Not really. Was it that bad of an insult?”

“I dunno. It just kinda feels like… like you’re not… kidding. It’s not my fault I can afford an iPad,” Harry says softly. “It’s not like I bought an elephant.”

He has a point. “Yeah,” Louis says after a second. “I guess.”

“So why are you upset with me? Do you want one? I’ll give you one.” He’s being completely sincere; he holds it out to Louis.

Louis frowns. “What? No. Why?”

“So you’ll stop being so mean to me,” Harry says a little desperately.

“Why does that matter to you?” Louis demands. “I’ll be gone in ten months.”

“But you’re here now. And I… I like you,” Harry says in a small voice. “I liked you before I knew who you were. And you’ve just hated me on sight and I don’t know why. Am I a bad person?”

Louis chews on his lip. “I, um. No. I never said that. You’re a fine person, I dunno. I don’t even know you.”

“But everyone else hates me too, so there has to be a reason.”

“Yeah, the reason is Aiden’s a twat and the rest follow his lead, and the media is – quite frankly – out to get every single celebritythat exists. I should know. Okay? It’s not ‘cause you’re a bad person. And I don’t hate you. How many fucking times-“

“But the first night, everything you said…”

“I was drunk and angry, I wasn’t at my most honest or incisive. And don’t get all sensitive about how I was angry, I’m angry at everything at one point or another,” Louis sighs dismissively.

Harry falls silent. “You really… I mean… you’re really really sure?”

“Yeah. I’m really sure. Just… try to have a little thicker skin, okay? I’m not here to write a smear piece. I’m here to be funny. And honest. Yeah? I told everybody it wasn’t you who tweeted that thing about the dick and mashed potatoes. Remember?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m not being mean, and I don’t hate you. Seriously, honestly, that’s the God’s honest truth. Fucking Zayn probably switched with me because he wants me to tell you. Wanker. But why is it so important that everybody like you? Aiden’s never going to, just a fact.”

Harry flushes dark and curls up small, legs to his chest. “Did you… you remember what he said? About me?”

“I already said I don’t pay attention to him-“

“But you heard, though. Right?” Harry says, trying to smile. His voice is shaking and he seems older, somehow.

Louis is abruptly uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he says softly. “About you trying to… yeah. But.”

“I did. I actually did,” Harry says. “I tried… I thought he’d like me then. If he liked something about me. Even something awful.”

“Sex isn’t awful,” Louis objects.

“No, but. He’s… and I’m…”

Louis waits longer than ever for the end of Harry’s sentence, but it doesn’t come. “You don’t have to do that,” he says at last. “For me or anybody else. I like you. And anybody who doesn’t isn’t worth it. Okay? Who needs ‘em.”

“I know it was gross. And wrong, for me to go that far, but-“

“Shut up.” Louis puts down his laptop and reaches one arm out to Harry, wrapping it around his shoulders. Harry’s lower lip is out, but in less of a pouty way than an about-to-cry way. Louis feels bad for him again.

“I just couldn’t think of anything else to do,” Harry says after a moment, voice tiny. “And he’s been terrible to me. I just wanted it to stop. I’m s’posed to be happy doing this, I’m supposed to like it.”

“You don’t like it?”

“We haven’t exactly… connected. As a group. I guess the money’s alright. But.”

Louis is only feeling more sympathetic. He sighs – he sighs a lot around Harry – and lets Harry’s head down on his shoulder. “Is it improving at all?”

“I guess a little, since you.”

“Okay.”

“I was drunk,” Harry offers. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

Louis pulls Harry closer and rests his cheek against his hair. “It’s okay,” he says, just to be comforting. “It’ll be okay. Aiden’s a dick. Don’t touch his.”

“Okay.” Harry sniffs deeply. “Do you want my iPad?”

“Keep the sodding thing. Have some self-respect.”

Harry takes a couple shuddering breaths. “Could I… could I stay in this bed tonight? Please?” he asks softly. “It’s just I’m always alone.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I said yeah. Stop it,” Louis says, getting irritated.

Harry nudges a little closer, pulling Louis’ arm tight around him and turning to cuddle into his side. “Are you sure you don’t want my iPad?” he asks.

Louis laughs and swats at Harry’s ear. “I’m too proud for bribery,” he assures Harry, because he’s got the craziest feeling that Harry would actually give it to him. Harry kind of ripped open his heart to show Louis what was inside; Louis thinks he should get to keep his iPad. “Show me what this thing does, then,” Louis says, tugging Harry closer to him so he’s nestled under his arm.

“What do you mean?” Harry smiles, nervous.

“I mean everybody I know practically thinks this is space-age shit. Show me your stupid games and stuff, I’m curious. Go on.” Louis pokes Harry in the side until he starts moving.

“Okay… well, there’s Fruit Ninja.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve never heard of it? Oh my God, watch.” Harry picks the app and starts to play it. “You just cut the stuff up. And don’t cut up the bombs, or you lose.”

“This is how you spend your time?” Harry nods. “Let me try.”

Louis is shit at it, too twitchy. Harry’s much better with his long, calm strokes. “Another game,” Louis demands. “One I’m better at.”

Harry giggles and exits the game. “Do you like word games?”

“You know I do.”

“Okay, well there’s this one, where they give you pictures and letters and you have to figure out the word. Try that. I’m shit at it.”

“No surprise there,” Louis says without thinking.

Harry laughs a little and cuddles closer, very relieved when Louis rubs his shoulder encouragingly. “So what do you think this one is?” Harry asks happily.

“Are you kidding me? Easy. Stone cold.”

“How-“

“Just type it in.” Harry does and it’s right. Louis gloats. “Toldja so.”

Harry smiles, slumping a little closer to Louis and just glowing from the inside out. “Next one?” he asks.

“Fine.” Louis laces his hand deep in Harry’s damp hair. For the next hour, he talks Harry into typing in his correct answers. It’s really, really stupid. Louis doesn’t find it half as interesting as he pretends to most of the time. But Harry is enthralled. He keeps glancing over at Louis to make sure he’s still friendly, and keeps being so happy when he is.

Louis is starting to see how Harry isn’t always stupid. He’s easily flustered and insecure, so young and scared. He’s not an idiot. He’s got stage fright, and to steal a phrase from a better writer, all the world’s a stage for him. When he’s not trying, though, he’s charming. Louis kinda likes the actual him.

When Harry’s iPad dies, Louis puts them to bed. “This,” he says sternly, “is a G-rated bed. Not anything higher. I’m not impugning your character or anything, but I have to clarify.”

Harry blushes. “Sorry. Okay.”

“Cool.” Louis turns the lights out and curls under the blankets. Harry doesn’t seem to be the blanket-hogging type, thank God.

“Would you… is this a one-time deal too?” Harry asks quietly after a while.

Louis considers. “Tell you what. I’ll room with you more if you cut the blushy schoolgirl routine a little, okay? Man up a bit. It’s okay.”

Harry hunkers down small. “Okay.”

“But this doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” Louis adds, just in case.

Harry is silent for a while. “Really?” he asks. “You…”

“Stop it. Really. Okay? God; lesson number one, stop saying really. If people are fucking with you, they’ll do it more and if they aren’t, they’ll start. I’ll punch you every time you say it. And yes, really, I will, here’s one for thinking it.” Louis punches Harry’s bicep gently. “Idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Louis falls asleep feeling pretty solidly friendly with this strange boy. Maybe they could end up being friends once Harry grows a pair of balls.

But then he wakes up with Harry curled into Louis’ breastbone, eyelashes dark against his cheeks and hand tangled in Louis’ shirt. They aren’t touching, but just barely. Louis could easily put his arm over him.

He doesn’t. He slips out from Harry’s grip and rolls out of bed. As quietly as he can, he gets dressed, packs, and leaves. Harry doesn’t even stir. Louis tries to feel bad about it – he knows Harry will – but honestly, they’ll see each other downstairs. It’s not like anything really happened between them. And Harry seems like the type to overreact about these kind of things, blow them out of proportion. It was two lads sleeping in a bed. Not a big deal.

Zayn gives him a sharp look when Louis plops down next to him at breakfast. “Hey,” is all he says, though.

“Hi.”

“So?”

“That means literally nothing to me.” Louis takes a piece of toast and takes a bite out of one corner. “In unrelated news, Harry introduced me to the wonders of Fruit Ninja.”

“Uh huh.” Zayn’s still watching him closely.

Louis plays very innocent. Toast hits him in the cheek and he throws some back, harder. “Hey, fuck you,” he says, pointing at Niall, who’s giggling. “I’ll destroy you, Irishman. Why aren’t you hung over?”

Niall puffs up proudly. “Because I’m resilient as fuck, man.” He doesn’t throw anything else, though, which only cements Louis’ opinion that the other lads aren’t as mean-spirited as Aiden.

Zayn’s still staring at him. “So you get along with him,” he says.

“I… he’s not completely horrible all the time,” Louis says uneasily.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Harry comes in the room then, looking rumpled and sleepy but nervous. His eyes find Louis’ right away, but he doesn’t say anything.

Louis starts clapping. Zayn follows. There’s a spontaneous round of applause. Niall even throws a few whistles in. Harry is predictably bright pink. “What did I do?” he mumbles, sitting in the chair next to Louis.

“Way to be yourself, kiddo,” Louis says brightly. “Also this bacon is awesome.”

Harry giggles, drawing his knees up to his chest. He eats a piece of bacon and agrees, “It’s pretty awesome.”

“Lame,” Aiden screws up his face.

Louis frowns. “Shut up,” he says, and tosses bacon at Aiden’s stupid quiffy hair. “You’re lame. I’m awesome. I’ll write that you take two hours on your hair every morning and they’ll believe me.”

Breakfast dissolves into an argument over how long Aiden actually takes to do his hair. Louis glances over at Harry to find him munching on a waffle and smiling shyly. Nobody’s picking on him. Louis won this morning. And he loves Harry’s smile, too, so he pokes his shoulder and says, “Hey. Can I come with you to the show tonight? Hotel room’s getting kinda boring.”

Harry lights up like the sun. “Yeah,” he agrees immediately. “You could write about it. How we did. And you could watch backstage. And stuff like that. We could party after.”

Louis snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he says. “Let’s see how the show goes.”

Harry nods and smiles at him shyly, and Louis knows how to finish his post.

Really, though, Harry’s not that bad. He’s a master at that game with the fruit, and he’ll probably give you a hug if you ask (and if security doesn’t think you’ll shank him). It’s the eldest in the band who’s got a couple serious issues. I mean, how much hair product does one male need?

314 days till Bye5. A certain member of the band might spend all of them getting his hair perfect.