Golden // Larry Stylinson

Chapter Six

An abandoned laptop sits open on the desk, it's screen dimmed from being untouched for a while.

The steady beating of water droplets comes to an abrupt halt as the shower clicks off, the glass door sliding noiselessly open. A minute later, Harry emerges from the doorway, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one in his hand as he shakes out his hair. Ruffling it through his locks, they fall around his jaw in strings. Throwing his head around one more time, he's satisfied with the dampness level and tosses his hair towel on the floor.

Taking a pair of boxers out from his suitcase, he quickly slides them on, along with a pair of loose pajama pants. He doesn't have any plans for the day besides having a call with management, so he at least wants to be comfortable.

Niall and Zayn are passed out on the bed closest to the bathroom, mouths hanging open and their breathing gentle. Liam's curled up on the floor, a pillow beneath his head and a spare towel acting as a blanket. Whoops.

Security had decided it would be easier to keep them all in one room than try to separate them again through the growing crowd.

Harry notices the bed he had come from is empty. The sheets are ruffled, the comforter kicked to one side and the pillows lumpy. Frowning, he glances to the front door to check that it's still locked. Then he sees the balcony door's curtain is bunched slightly, the door unlocked.

Louis must be outside.

Walking over to the door, the computer screen catches his eye. It flashes the low battery sign, lighting the screen up painfully bright for eight in the morning.

Taking the mouse, Harry clicks close on the screen. When the warning disappears, he sees a blank, unwritten tweet pop up. Louis' account.

Sighing, Harry once again runs a hand through his hair. He was hoping to avoid the publicity stunt tweet for as long as possible, but Louis seems to want to get it over with.

Crossing the small space left between him and the balcony, Harry slides the door open and steps outside.

Louis turns to see who joined him, his heart breaking a little more when he sees it's Harry.

Harry. His boyfriend, his love, his best friend. The boy who he loves, but has to tell the entire world he doesn't. He's always the first person on his mind, but today it hurts so much. Just the thought of having to lie to his fans, his friends and everyone else is killing him. But the worst part is having to hurt Harry. Of course Harry knows Louis doesn't have a choice (just like Louis knows Harry doesn't) but it'll still hurt each other to see the other posting about how they're 'just friends'.

"Hey," Louis says, looking away.

"Hey," Harry replies, stepping forward and leaning on the railing.

Together in silence, they look over the edge of the balcony, down at the ground twenty stories below.

The people on the sidewalks look no bigger than ants, the cars the size of pebbles. And in each car is at least one person, and that one person has at least one problem that they think is the end of the world. The one unsolvable issue in their life that seems to be ruining everything and taking over, that they'll never overcome. When, in reality, it's just a bump in the road. The problem will pass and they'll become stronger for enduring it.

Louis wishes his biggest issue was as big as the preschooler's on the bus down there. Who will they sit next to at lunch, or what color crayon should they use to color the sky.

Gray. The sky should be colored gray. At the moment it's a gentle, morning blue. But it might as well be gray with the amount of joy Louis' receiving from it. Gray would fit his mood. He doesn't think gray is an option in the standard box of Crayola Crayons, though.