Under the Milky Way

The first time Louis sees him, it's from the stage.

Stretching out before him, 25,000 screaming fans are packed in tightly, moving as one, like the ebb and flow of the ocean, a sea of phones and hands and faces that blur into a colourful patchwork of seemingly limitless energy. He often thinks that if the energy and passion at one his shows could be harnessed, it would be able to power entire cities.

Even amidst the chaos Louis notices him. He's an anomaly. In contrast to the crowd that threatens to swallow him up, he's standing still, two rows back in the pit, a camera hiding his face, and a mass of long curls shining in the blood-red, midnight-blue, and stark-white light show that is exploding all around.

Louis' set is nearly over, just one song left. He leans down and picks up his drink, raising his glass to the audience who go wild, knowing what's coming next.

"Sydney! This has been fucking perfect. I've been waiting a long time to come back to Australia. You guys have been fucking unbelievable. One more time, thank you to every single person here. It feels fucking incredible to be on this stage. This is Kill My Mind give me everything you've fucking got!"

Louis sets his cup down beside the mic stand as his band starts the intro to his closing number. He glances across to Joni, the head of security team who is stationed at the bottom of the steps that lead off the stage and down to the barricade. Joni gives him a nod to let him know that they're all set.

It's become a tradition, running the barricade, and it's Louis' favourite part of the show. He loves getting up close with his fans, feeling their hands all over him, tearing at his clothes, pawing at his skin. They're enthusiastic for sure, but oddly gentle too and he's never come away with visible scratches or bruises.

His security had initially been concerned, but Louis had brought them around easily enough. He likes to give them a bit of a run too, his team. They don't always have the most exciting job, all logistics and point A to point B, cars and planes and hotels, navigating from country to country, city to city. But it's stressful too, pent-up and coiled tight, and there are (thankfully) few opportunities to unleash their true skills, so creating this controlled chaos situation is actually fun for them too.

He's selected his team carefully. The baldy-headed-bunch as Louis affectionately refers to them. People who he trusts and who understand the relationship he has with his fans. They get that his fans aren't the enemy and while Louis does need to be kept safe, he doesn't need to live in a protective bubble either. Yes, he walks through airports surrounded by a wall of muscle and it sometimes resembles the Presidential shute, but it's just a practical necessity in those kinds of environments. Not here, though. Not at his shows.

The first few times they'd done this, it had been pretty tame, just leaning into the crowd on the barricade. But as time has gone on, and his fans have come to expect it, they've gotten a lot more brazen and so has Louis. He's had his shirts ripped nearly clean off him, much to his stylist Helen's dismay, buttons flying and flimsy material no match for his fans enthusiasm. He fucking loves it.

He swaggers up and down the stage, belting out the song, sweat dripping down his back under his short-sleeved black button-down which will likely soon be shredded.

The crowd is surging as the end of the show rapidly approaches and Louis makes his way to where the stairs are positioned. He checks that his security team is in place, spread out along the barricade with the venue security backing up against the stage out of the way. Joni is at the bottom of the stairs and gives Louis a final nod.

The streamer cannons fire and fireworks burst up into the sky, and that's his cue.

He leaps down, running first to the left, picking his spot and stepping up onto the barricade, leaning into the crowd as he sings. It's hot and sweaty and he can feel hands all over his neck and chest and arms, fingers card into his hair and tug hard enough to angle his head back.