lust for life {l.s.}

part 10

There's a huge picture splashed out across the LA Times. Harry feels his breath stutter to an abrupt stop and even Niall's soothing words can't help the nausea that threatens to overtake him.

The picture is of him and Louis, tucked into an alcove after some afterparty. It's easy to see that Louis has his arms wound around him and that they're kissing.

"How did they find out?" Harry gasps. "There were no paparazzi allowed at that party, we double-checked beforehand."

"Do you think someone leaked it?" Niall asks as he frowns at the article. "How else would they know to be at the exact spot?"

"Who would do that?" Harry buries his head in his hands. "Fuck, Jeff is gonna kill me."

"Forget Jeff," Niall urges. "Do you think Louis has seen it?"

"I have no clue," Harry starts to pace across his living room. "I don't even know what he would think about it. I don't even know how he feels about being outed."

His sea of thoughts is interrupted by a sharp knock at his door. Harry's head whips towards it as he and Niall stare in trepidation.

"Fuck, it's definitely Jeff," Harry hisses. "Go hang out in the guest bedroom or something."

"Are you sure?" Niall asks tentatively. "I don't want him to push you around."

"I'll be fine," Harry tries not to snap because he's not sure if he's just told a lie. "Just go."

Niall sends him one last pointed glance before he's briskly exiting the room.

Harry takes a deep breath and steels his expression into something hopefully resembling cool, calm, and collected, and opens the door.

For some reason, Jeff seems to be the opposite of how Harry thought he'd be by now. He was prepared for fingers in his face, intense shouting, and a whole stack of NDAs. Instead, he's greeted by much worse. A scarily calm Jeff.

"Harry," his manager greets him coolly. "May I come in?"

He's never asked before, but Harry knows it's not the best time to point that out. "Of course," he murmurs as he steps aside.

Jeff immediately strides over to the couch and slaps a folder on the coffee table. He opens it up and inside there are almost a dozen pictures of Harry and Louis from that party. "Care to explain to me what I'm looking at?"

"Uh," Harry stutters, at a loss for words. "My boyfriend?"

"Your boyfriend?" Jeff asks slowly. "So, you're dating Louis Tomlinson? For how long?"

"Yes. Like six months," Harry answers faintly, wringing his hands as he sits down in the chair across from Jeff.

Jeff sighs deeply as he pinches his nose. "And you didn't think to tell me this ... why?"

"I didn't think you'd want to know," Harry says and it's probably the most honest he could've said seeing as Jeff doesn't flare up immediately.

"You know how bad this makes us look, Harry?" He asks. "For Christ's sake, this makes the past PR stunts we set up for you completely null. We lose credibility."

"I'm sorry," Harry swallows harshly. "I–I didn't mean to make you look bad."

Jeff steamrolls right past his apology. "You've been an increased risk for us over the past year, Harry. We were losing traction with your audience and your relevance was nosediving. I thought things had taken a turn for the better with Nick Grimshaw, but it appears you've managed to screw that up."

White hot shame washes over Harry in a way he hasn't felt in years. "I'm sorry," he repeats again. "What can I do? How can I fix this?"

"You can start by distancing yourself from Tomlinson," Jeff says and Harry feels his heart drop to the floor. "Part of your marketability is your status to women. It sells and is the main part of your image. We're also going to step up your PR schedule. You'll have a long-term beard. We can frame this tryst with Louis as a silly little fling or something."