And They Knocked On The Closet Door

Prologue: In All Three Worlds

AUTHOR NOTE:

A few things:

1. English is my second language, beware hahahah!2. It is not my intention to label anyone, ok? These are MY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS and it is them I'm labeling, not the boys (read point 3 for clarification).3. I often struggle to find the balance between what is acceptable publishing and what is not, and I am not sure I'm doing the right thing this time. Every character is original in its own way, even Harry and Louis and the boys, what they share with the real Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik are just their names and appearances in my head, although, this time, you might find there is a lot of abuse artists under Syco and Modest and X Factor contestants went through in real life, and the reason is not my need to write about things that don't concern me or that I'm a very bad person and need to touch grass and die or whatever, but simply how overwhelming things have been these last few days, my own grief to understand how boys, kids of my own brother's age or one year younger than I am myself were forced to do certain things or treated a certain way.I write this to canalize my own feelings and because I feel like my power is this, my power is this story and its ramifications in real life situations, this is my way of fighting, of expressing my anger, and if you are uncomfortable reading or it turns out to be too triggering please do not, your mental health should be the most important thing.

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The barrier between worlds was quickly fading, it was disappearing just like those ocean bubbles after a big wave, just like the sand in the air after a hurricane in a particular part of our world. And there we go: two versions of the same couple, two ways to cross the same two hearts -one full of big (and yet, fulfilled) dreams and sacrifices, in which the closet doors were yet to be open and the share bank account could not be fuller; and, the other, made of frustrated fantasies and share happiness, in which neither of the two souls' alarm clocks went on that particular morning and the teens found one another, instead, two years later, when the one known as Louis Tomlinson was assigned to give a free tour through campus to a particularly charming curly-haired fresher.

Neither of the two matter right now, as a third version was born from between the ashes of the ones already alive and only one alarm clock was activated correctly, only one of them got to sign that tedious and extremely important document in time and only one of them was called, months later, to audition for the X Factor.

We set our eyes now in the Tomlinsons' family home, right there in the middle of Doncaster. It was a morning unlike any other, the sun was rising up in the sky and clouds had no place in England, which happened to be a rare occurrence. Louis, though, woke up on the verge of a panic attack.

"Muuuuum!" He bellowed "MUUUUM!!"

"What?" Jay answered from the kitchen "You're gonna wake up your sisters !"

"I told you to wake me up at 7! AT 7! The alarm sounded weird, I think it almost went off!"

"But, but... It's Saturday!" Louis' mom babbled, clearly missing some pieces of crucial information in her son's life. That was not, however, Jay's fault: Louis had hidden his intentions from everybody, even his mom. He had no choice but to do so since last year he practically made an official announcement (BBC News: Louis Tomlinson has filled the form to enter the X Factor!) and was mocked mercilessly by his peers and younger sisters when the phone didn't ring, not once.

Now, a big mistake was made by such a peak of independence: without a mom to tell one off for the usual teenagerly state of procrastination and nerves, important things were put off (including the damn form). Hence, why he had but two hours to fill it and send it, just in case someone would figure out Louis was worth listening to (spoiler: not a chance).

Should he do it? He knew he wasn't good enough (although this author and half of the world disagree, alas! this was teenage Louis' way of thinking!), surely not. But then again, what is the worst that could happen? That he would receive some very harsh critics and the professional opinion he needed so much? Because yes, Louis could always ask his mum (she thought he was wonderful), but aren't mums prone to be, at least, a little biased?

This way, if Louis' voice was truly as atrocious as his classmates said it was, he would finally have the polite and trustworthy declination that would allow him to move on.

Fortunately for Louis, he clicked "send" at 8.28 am and and he got THE phone call exactly a month later, telling him the most wonderful news.

The curly-haired boy from Holmes Chapel, however, did not have such luck and, as he opened his eyes at nearly 10 in the morning, he shouted a coarse word we shall not repeat here and cried out of nerves. It had been a relentless night, full of nightmares of Simon Cowel's stern glance and straight "No!" or, what was worse, of him falling asleep and missing the deadline. How unfortunate was it that it was exactly what happened. Oh my! Harry Styles must have been the first person on earth to wake up to a fulfilled nightmare!

"Mum! Muuum!" he cried "I've missed it, I cannot join now!"

"What?" Anne replied, half confusion, half guiltiness in her eyes. "Surely not! It is only 10!"

"Yeah! The deadline was one hour ago!" Harry complained.

Harry's mum hugged him and suggested what we were all thinking (thanks, Anne!).

"You can always try next year, sweetie."

"No, this was a sign!" He corrected her "I'm not made for the X Factor, I shall try my luck elsewhere."

(Oh well, nice try, Anne).

What nobody told Harry, though, (I mean, we could have, but, in our defense, we do not know him in this universe yet so...) was that the X Factor was not a nice place and he could certainly still do well outside of that shit show. Therefore, with a looser's set of mind and the naivety proper of a sixteen years old boy lost, Harry made of that morning of early September a fail and paved his way through high school and (eventually) university with a long lost dream that, slowly, started to become more and more unattainable; less like a dream, and more like a fantasy.

And making music became Harry Styles' guilty pleasure just as listening to that four-members boy band, One Direction, was (nobody could know, not even Gemma, who was a big fan herself). It got shoved by far more socially respectful "Law" and shut down at the bottom of the closet -the same place (between you and me) where, in another life, his sexuality and gender identity would have remained .

Years got by, and Harry, openly bisexual and genderfluid, law-hater and frustrated musician in secret, and now a twenty years old university drop out as well, finally dared to go to a One Direction concert, booked a fancy hotel in London with the money saved from two whole years of uni fees, packed his bags and caught an early train. He traveled all the way to the capital and tried, pointlessly, to sleep in one of those far too comfortable pillows and soft duvets.

It was then, as he caressed the strings of his guitar while he sang what happened to be an original song he had composed himself, when the door was opened and a guy he knew all too well broke down into his room with what must have been a maste rkey in one hand and a whipped cream can in the other.

It was then when different realities collided, when what gave them a meaning returned to its beginnings: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles were, yet again, reunited... in all three worlds; and the clock struck by its conventional way at last.