Always You

When the World Isn't Watching

Dear readers,

The One Direction song "Little Things" wasn't part of their Up All Night album. I want to edit this, but I'm too busy and lazy to do it, so just ignore it. It was included in their second album, Take Me Home. 😅

My sincerest apologies ✌️

***********

The arena was buzzing with energy as One Direction arrived on the red carpet at the 2012 Music Awards. Fans screamed their names, camera flashes lit up the night, and the weight of their stardom settled heavily on their shoulders. Harry and Louis, despite the roaring crowd, walked with a noticeable distance between them. They didn't exchange their usual playful nudges or whispered jokes. They didn't dare. Management had made it painfully clear: no unnecessary contact, no lingering glances, no room for speculation.

The rest of the lads—Zayn, Liam, and Niall—tried to fill the void with light conversation, but even they couldn't ignore the tension hanging over Harry and Louis like a dark cloud.

As they entered the venue and took their seats, the invisible wall between Harry and Louis was unmissable. Louis sat between Liam and Niall, with Zayn on Harry's other side. It was orchestrated, calculated, and suffocating. When the boys' name was announced as winners for Best Group of the Year, the arena erupted in applause. The five of them stood, grinning and waving as they made their way to the stage, but the joy felt hollow for two of them.

Harry and Louis made sure to stay on opposite ends of the group during their acceptance speech, with Liam and Niall taking the lead. Louis spoke briefly, his voice steady but his eyes avoiding Harry's. Harry followed with a similar composure, the words rehearsed in his head to avoid any slip-ups.

The audience saw the same charming group of lads they'd fallen in love with, but behind the smiles, there was a shared agony.

Backstage, the boys were ushered into a line of waiting reporters. Most questions were harmless—about their music, their inspirations, their excitement over winning the award. But then came the dreaded topic.

"So, boys, your fans are dying to know—what's the status of your love lives?" one interviewer asked, her smile bright but her tone probing.

Harry's chest tightened. He felt Louis stiffen beside him.

Liam jumped in first, his smile practiced and polished. "We're all really focused on the music right now, but we're grateful for all the support we get."

The interviewer wasn't satisfied. She turned to Harry. "Harry, you've been linked to Caroline Flack recently. Is there any truth to that? Are you two happy together?"

Harry swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, things are great. She's amazing."

Louis's jaw clenched, but he managed to keep his expression neutral as the interviewer shifted her attention to him. "And Louis, what about you and Eleanor Calder? You two seem like such a sweet couple!"

Louis felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His voice came out tight, almost robotic. "She's lovely. We're very happy."

The van ride back to their shared home in North London was silent. The usual post-award chatter was absent, replaced by a heavy tension that none of the boys dared to break. Zayn exchanged a worried glance with Liam, while Niall fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat.

Harry sat by the window, staring out at the city lights, his fingers fidgeting with the ring on his hand. Louis was across from him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Zayn finally spoke, his voice quiet. "You two okay?"

Neither Harry nor Louis answered.

********

Their shared home—a cozy London townhouse filled with memories of late-night laughs and lazy mornings—felt colder than ever. Harry dropped his keys on the counter and headed straight upstairs without a word. Louis lingered in the living room, staring at the photos on the wall. There was one of all five of them from their early days, arms slung around each other, carefree and happy. He wanted to tear it down, but he didn't.

When Louis finally climbed the stairs, he found Harry in their room. Usually, they'd fall into bed together, talking about their day or laughing over something stupid. But tonight, Harry had already claimed the guest bed on the far side of the room.

"Goodnight," Louis said, his voice strained.

Harry didn't look up. "Goodnight."

The lights clicked off, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Louis lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could hear Harry shifting restlessly in the other bed. He wanted to say something—to apologize for the lie, for the distance, for everything—but the words stuck in his throat.

Across the room, Harry was fighting his own battle. The interview replayed in his mind, each word cutting deeper. He hated the lie, hated how it had forced them to deny the most genuine thing in their lives.

Neither of them slept much that night. The silence between them was deafening, a chasm neither of them knew how to bridge.

The world outside continued to celebrate One Direction's success, oblivious to the cracks forming behind the scenes. Harry and Louis remained the heart of the band, but for the first time, it felt like the world was trying to tear them apart.

********

The early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains of their shared London home on Princess Park. Harry stirred awake first, stretching lazily as the events of the previous night replayed in his mind. The cold "good night," the silence in the van, and the unbearable distance between him and Louis—it gnawed at his heart.

This isn't us, Harry thought, sitting up in bed. He glanced toward Louis's room down the hall. They had both let the pressure and lies from last night come between them. But deep down, they knew the truth. No media narrative, no management rule could erase what they had.

Harry smiled faintly. Time to fix this.

Harry slipped into the kitchen, tying an apron over his old T-shirt. He knew Louis was a sucker for his pancakes—soft, golden, and perfectly fluffy. Pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, and tea. That would surely do the trick.

Humming softly, Harry pulled out all the ingredients. He cracked eggs with precision, mixed the batter effortlessly, and set a pan on the stove. A rhythm fell over him as he worked, flipping pancakes like a pro. He made sure everything was perfect.

But as he reached for the kettle to boil water, the pan suddenly hissed with a small splash of oil. A drop landed on Harry's wrist.

"Sh—ow!" Harry yelped, jerking his hand back. He stumbled slightly, clutching his wrist as the sting spread.

"What the hell happened?" a groggy but concerned voice called from behind him.

Harry turned, wide-eyed. There was Louis, hair adorably mussed, standing in the doorway in his oversized pajama shirt. His blue eyes darted to Harry's hand.

"Harry Edward Styles," Louis muttered, rushing toward him. "What did you do now?"

"It's just a little burn—" Harry started, but Louis cut him off.

"Let me see," Louis said firmly, taking Harry's wrist in his hands. His touch was careful, gentle, and Harry couldn't help but smile at Louis's serious expression.

"It's not that bad," Harry assured him, but Louis was already wetting a kitchen towel under cold water.

"Sit," Louis ordered, pointing to a stool by the counter. Harry obeyed, watching as Louis carefully pressed the damp towel to the burn.

"You're lucky it's small," Louis said, shaking his head. "Honestly, you're hopeless sometimes."

Harry chuckled, leaning into Louis's touch. "I was trying to make breakfast for us. You know, as a peace offering."

Louis paused, his stern expression softening. "You were?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I hated last night. I don't want to fight with you, Lou. Ever."

The air shifted between them, heavy with unspoken words. Louis set the towel aside and looked at Harry, his lips twitching like he was holding something back.

"Haz, I—"

"Lou, I—"

They froze, speaking at the same time. A beat of silence passed before they both burst into laughter, the kind that shook their shoulders and filled the room.

"You first," Harry said, grinning.

Louis smiled back, sitting on the stool beside him. "I'm sorry, Harry. For last night, for being distant. I hate when we get like that."

Harry reached out, taking Louis's hand in his. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to make you feel alone. I just... hate lying. I hate pretending we're not—"

"—us," Louis finished, his voice soft.

Harry nodded, his curls bouncing slightly. "Yeah."

Louis squeezed Harry's hand, his blue eyes meeting green. "We'll get through this, Haz. No matter what they throw at us, no one can take this away."

Harry leaned forward, resting his forehead against Louis's. "No one. You're my person, Lou. Always."

Louis smiled, his breath fanning over Harry's lips. "Always."

The promise lingered in the air as they leaned in, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. It wasn't rushed or desperate—it was sweet, forgiving, and full of love, the weight of the last 24 hours melting away.

"You do realize I was in the middle of making you pancakes, right?" Harry teased, gesturing to the stove.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "You burned yourself making pancakes? That's a new low, Styles."

"Hey, it was the oil, not the pancakes!" Harry shot back, laughing.

Louis smirked. "Right. Let's finish this together before you burn the whole house down."

The two of them worked side by side, Louis occasionally nudging Harry playfully or stealing bits of fruit from the plate. By the time breakfast was ready, the kitchen smelled heavenly, and they sat down at the small dining table, laughing and teasing each other like the previous night's fight had never happened.

As they clinked their mugs of tea together, Harry looked at Louis, his heart full. "I love you, Lou."

Louis grinned, his cheeks dimpling. "I love you too, Haz."

And just like that, everything was right again.

*********

The atmosphere in the arena was electric, the kind of energy that made your heart race even before the show began. Thousands of fans held glowing signs, wearing shirts with the boys' faces, their screams rising as the lights dimmed and the intro for Little Things began.

The lads had been told—again—to keep their interactions "professional." Harry and Louis were seated at opposite ends of the stage, a deliberate move orchestrated by the management to avoid feeding into the frenzy that had become too much for the higher-ups to control.

But tonight, Harry had other plans.

As the spotlight hit Zayn, his soulful voice began the first verse, his velvet tones filling the space and sending shivers through the crowd. Liam followed, his warm, steady voice grounding the performance.

Zayn:

Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me

But bear this mind, it was meant to be

And I'm joining up the dots, with the freckles on your cheeks

And it all makes sense to me

Liam:

I know you've never loved

The crinkles by your eyes when you smile

You've never loved your stomach or your thighs

The dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine

But I'll love them endlessly

Zayn:

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if I do, it's you

Oh, it's you, they add up to

I'm in love with you

And all these little things

Harry glanced across the stage toward Louis. Though the lights obscured his face slightly, Harry could see the small, almost imperceptible smile playing on Louis's lips as he sing. It was the kind of smile that told Harry everything.

Louis:

You can't go to bed without a cup of tea

And maybe that's the reason that you talk in your sleep

And all those conversations are the secrets that I keep

Though it makes no sense to me

And then it was Harry's turn.

Harry:

I know you never loved the sound of your voice on tape

You never want to know how much you weight

You still have to squeeze into your jeans

But you're perfect to me.

They both smiled through their mic, the soft piano melody guiding them. The words came naturally, smooth and heartfelt.

Harry:

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if it's true, it's you

It's you, they add up to

I'm in love with you

And all these little things

Then here goes Niall singing the lovely bridge of the song.

Niall:

You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you

And you'll never treat yourself right darling, but I want you to

The crowd swooned, the lyrics dripping with sincerity. But Harry's heart raced as the next line approached. He was about to break every rule management had laid down.

Niall:

If I let you know, I'm here for you

Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you, oh

All of them:

And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth

'Cause it's you, oh, it's you

It's you, they add up to

And I'm in love with you

And all these little things...

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if it's true, it's you

It's you, they add up to

Then came the moment. The line that would light the world on fire.

Harry: "I'm in love with Lou, and all his little things."

The arena erupted. The screams of thousands of fans reached deafening levels, and phones shot up into the air, capturing the moment they knew would trend within seconds.

Louis's head snapped up, his mouth falling open in shock before his lips curved into a wide grin. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if to say, Typical Harry.

Zayn, sitting next to Louis, immediately burst into laughter, leaning back in his seat as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Niall clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes twinkling with amusement, while Liam grinned, shaking his head with a knowing look.

The fans? They were losing their minds.

Though management had ordered Louis to stay calm, to not react to anything that could stir the frenzy further, he couldn't help himself. As Harry returned to his seat, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, Louis lifted his mic and said, "Well, cheers for that, Haz. Subtle as ever."

The crowd went wild again, and Harry, unbothered by any potential consequences, winked in response.

As they wrapped up the performance, the energy in the room was undeniable. Louis caught Harry's eye as they exited the stage, and though no words were spoken, the smirk they exchanged was loaded with defiance.

Backstage, Zayn was the first to speak. "Mate," he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder, "you've got some serious balls."

Liam chuckled. "You know management's going to explode, right?"

Niall, still grinning, added, "Worth it though."

Louis, standing beside Harry, looked at him with a mixture of admiration and affection. "You're insane, you know that?"

Harry shrugged, his dimples deepening. "Maybe. But it was true, wasn't it?"

Louis rolled his eyes, but the soft blush creeping onto his cheeks said it all.

Later, as they piled into their van to head back to their hotel, the tension about what awaited them from management hung in the air. But instead of feeling weighed down by it, the boys were laughing, joking, and teasing Harry about his boldness.

Zayn leaned back in his seat, shaking his head. "Honestly, mate. That was a big 'screw you' to management."

Harry smirked. "More like a 'f**k the management.'"

Niall burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. "That's it! New slogan: f**k the management!"

Even Louis, who had been quieter since the performance, laughed at that. He glanced over at Harry, his eyes filled with something softer, something grateful. "You're ridiculous, Haz. But thanks for being ridiculous."

Harry reached out, his pinky brushing Louis's briefly. "Always."

And just like that, the rules and restrictions didn't matter. All that mattered was them.