Sing Me a Lie

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Harry and Louis were called to their management's office, and neither of them expected anything good. Without acknowledging each other's presence, they strode into the spacious room where their manager was already waiting.

"You wanted to see us?" Louis asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Yes, take a seat, boys." the older man replied, gesturing to the chairs positioned in front of his desk.

As they settled in, he leaned forward. "As you both know, the fans are absolutely obsessed with your relationship," he began. "They're convinced the two of you are secretly together."

Harry's brow furrowed. "And what exactly are you getting at?" he asked cautiously.

Louis scoffed, cutting in before the manager could reply. "You know that's not true. Hell, we can't even stand each other." he said, his blue eyes narrowing with annoyance.

"I know you two aren't exactly fond of each other," the manager continued, his tone calm but calculating. "But this whole Larry thing? It's a goldmine. It brings us money, publicity, and keeps the band in the spotlight. You two are the talk of the group."

Harry exchanged a sharp glance with Louis, his jaw tightening. Louis rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. "So what?" he snapped, leaning forward, his tone sharp and defiant. His piercing blue eyes locked onto the manager, daring him to elaborate.

The older man remained unfazed, clasping his hands together on the desk. "So," he said with a calculated pause, "we want you to lean into it. Play along. Give the fans what they want."

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "You can't be serious." he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Dead serious." the manager replied, his voice firm. "This could be the biggest PR move of your careers."

"There's no way I'm agreeing to this," Louis shot back, his voice sharp with indignation. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly as if to shield himself from the absurdity of the situation. Harry, sitting beside him, said nothing. His eyes were downcast, focused intently on the rings he was nervously twisting on his fingers. The tension in the room was palpable, the weight of the manager's words hanging heavily between them.

The older man sighed, clearly anticipating their resistance. "Look, I get it. But this isn't just about you two. This is about the band, the brand, everything we've built."

"How is it not about us?" Harry suddenly burst out, his voice rising in frustration as he looked directly at the manager. "It literally is about our relationship!"

Louis turned to Harry, surprised by the outburst, but he quickly nodded in agreement. "Exactly! You're asking us to fake something we don't even have!" he added, his tone laced with indignation.

The manager raised his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm not denying that, boys." he said, his tone carefully measured. "But this isn't personal—it's professional. It's about controlling the narrative and giving the fans what they want. Think of it as... a role you're playing."

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "A role? You want us to turn our lives into a scripted soap opera?"

Louis shook his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, brilliant idea. What could possibly go wrong?"

"It's not like you two have a say in this." the manager said coldly, his gaze unwavering. "You will do this, no matter what. What I say, happens. So get ready to play lovebirds."

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He clenched his fists in frustration, his jaw set tight. Harry, still fiddling with the rings on his fingers, felt a heavy silence stretch between them.