And then a bit

III

Vi kan fylde den kop helt op til randen
Vi kan kaste med gnister til vi har en brand
Vi kan starte det hele op igen
Ja vi kan bare blive ved min ven
Men hvor ender vi så henne?
Hvor ender vi så henne?
(Marie Key – "Landet")

CHAPTER III:

It's two weeks later when they find themselves back at Modest!'s conference room, finally discussing how everything is going to proceed. It's been two weeks filled with, well, with Harry, really. It's been two wonderful weeks, but also two extraordinarily strange weeks. It seems as though One Direction has been mentioned more in the media within the last two weeks, than they have for the last two years. It's been kind of funny, really, following people's speculation and theories, and Louis has started getting a bit of a kick out of tweeting suggestive stuff. It's essentially like playing a really elaborate prank on the world.

The fans had run particularly rampant the day after their shopping trip, when Louis had been papped putting petrol on his car around noon, wearing a lilac American Apparel jumper and his own jeans from the day before. There'd been no doubt in anyone's mind that he was wearing Harry's sweater, the sheer size of it being a dead giveaway, as well as the millions of photos floating around the internet of Harry himself wearing it years ago. It was a stroke of genius, if he says so himself, leaving little to no doubt that Louis had spent the night at Harry's.

Never mind that nothing but some innocent cuddling between mates had happened.

Beyond that, they'd made sure to arrive to rehearsals together, taking fan photos upon entering and exiting their rehearsal space, and generally spending loads of time at both their places. They'd eaten out in various parts of London, and even driven up to Manchester to have dinner at Rosso's again. It'd just been nice. Very nice. Not even feeling like a publicity stunt, really.

Now though, they're sitting here again, and it would all be fine and dandy, if not for the fact that Louis feels horrible. His throat had been starting to hurt the night before, and when he woke this morning it was to a fever, terrible cough, and a throat that feels like someone is rubbing it with sandpaper every time he talks.

So he tries not to. Talk, that is.

Harry keeps casting concerned glances his way, but whether it's due to Louis' silence or the fact that he looks like he has died and been poorly resurrected, he doesn't know. Everything had been done at a snail's pace for Louis this morning, resulting in him being very late to get out of the door. He'd hailed a cab, not trusting himself to be able to drive safely, and arrived at the Modest! building at the very last moment. He and Harry hadn't had any time to talk before the meeting began, but it was clear Harry could see that something was definitely wrong. Louis' behaviour throughout the meeting so far could only have solidified his suspicions.

Paying proper attention to the meeting is hardly something Louis is capable of doing in between coughing up his lungs and the massive dizzy spells that seem to hit him at regular intervals, as well as just the general shitty-ness he's feeling from the fever.

Louis has never been graciously ill. One could argue that Louis should be professional enough to power through, and Lord knows that he's performed more concerts than he'd care to recall feeling like absolute death, but he's definitely not feeling particularly inclined towards putting on his bravado and powering through whilst he feels like this, for a bunch of people in suits that he has little love for, while they negotiate to which degree his life is going to be a charade.

Yeah. Thanks, but no thanks.

Luckily, Harry has seemed to pick up on this, and has taken it upon himself to represent them both. Louis is eternally grateful. Harry Styles truly is too good for this world, and one day Louis is going to figure out how to give him something no one else has ever been able to, because he deserves the fucking world.