"We'd like to give the fans what they want." Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. "We want to give them Larry Stylinson."
Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a tw...
Louis wakes up the day after the TCA's alone, Harry's side of the bed cold, indicating that the younger man got up a while ago. Louis reaches for his phone which lies on the bedside table. He ignores the millions of notifications he's got – missed calls, and texts, and even a snapchat or two – and checks the time. 9.47. He groans out loud. He's got a mild headache pressing on his temples and he's still so, so tired. They hadn't even stayed that late at the after party; it must be the jetlag still—
Wait a minute.
Shit.
Suddenly last night's events come rushing back to him, everything from the fact that he's now publicly out, that the entire world knows he is gay, to the fact that everyone believes him to be in a relationship with Harry, to the fact that they kissed.
Again.
They'd kissed again.
And it's not that it's unexpected per se. Louis had come to terms with the fact that it was to happen at some point, but he'd never ever entertained the thought that maybe it would happen totally naturally, without any pressure from paps, or plans, or anything. At a time where it didn't have to happen, or where it didn't exactly serve the purpose of furthering their stunt. They'd kissed because that was what had felt natural in the situation. Because they were drunk, and close, and they'd wanted to. And that's potentially very, very awkward, Louis thinks.
Maybe that's why Harry's out of bed this early. Maybe he's appalled by what they did, maybe he's contemplating how to let Louis down easy, like he isn't already perfectly aware that it wasn't anything more than a snog between mates pretending to be boyfriends. It's not like he even wants it to be more. It's not. It's really, really not.
Like, it's probably not a bad idea that they get used to kissing, make it seem as natural as possible. They definitely wouldn't want to seem like they only kiss when in front of a camera, like it's awkward and unfamiliar and—no. Definitely, definitely would not want that.
And anyway, it's not like they can go out and snog anyone else – not like they can go out and kiss someone else for the next long, long while. And Louis isn't thinking they should shag, no, that'd be awkward, probably, and they're mates, so no, just no. But, like, a little snogging isn't anything to get worked up about, right? Nothing to freak out about.
Surely Harry must think so too... right?
Louis looks down at his phone again and sees three notifications from twitter he'd overlooked previously amongst the many other notifications on his phone. He continues to ignore those, not quite ready to deal with the reality they represent, and focuses on the tweets. They're all from Harry, tweeted earlier this morning in quick succession. Louis' heart is suddenly beating a mile a minute, and he's nervous. God, is he ever nervous. The press release is out now, he knows. It's out there - in black and white - confirming that Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are in a romantic relationship. There must be thousands of articles already, the calls on his phone surely have no purpose but getting confirmation directly from him. Same with all the texts, surely.
He checks Harry's tweets instead.
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