Led By Your Beating Heart [L.S AU]

4

Her name is Sara.

Harry finds out next week, while in a meeting with his PR team. Sara Sampaio. She's twenty-three, from Portugal, with brown hair and long legs and she's one of Victoria's Secret's newest Angels.

He doesn't need to do a lot: just a few pap walks with her, a public dinner, an activity of their choice, and something with them being seen with frozen yoghurt. In the span of four months.

By now, the speculation has died down, the general public having moved on to a new scandal. Currently, Harry's house is habitable again (or as habitable as it was previously), the wall of paparazzi surrounding it having dispersed some time ago. The tabloids have also tried to kill the story, trying to bury it under other gossip and publishing syndicated articles sent by their team. They're all fake, of course--Harry hasn't been out trying to pick up Gigi Hadid, for one, he's never even met her--but it's enough to convince the people, enough to remind them that Harry Styles is a straight, red-blooded male with a penchant for leggy models.

Harry's not bitter. Really, he's not.

"You don't have to do this,"Zayn says, as they're walking out of the meeting and to the parking lot. "You really don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"He's right, you know," chirps Niall from behind him. "You could refuse. Say you don't want to be seen with all these models anymore. And just, come out."

Harry grits his teeth. "I can't," he says, trying to keep his voice even, his head calm. He's already frustrated with the day's proceedings, he doesn't want to end up shouting at his band mates. "We'd end up getting absolutely no promo for our album, for one. And then our sales would go down, and it'd be the end of that. The end of us."

"Mate," pipes up Liam. "You can't really believe that, can you?" He sounds baffled.

Honestly, Harry's not sure what to believe. It does seem like a rather dramatic leap in logic, but in the words of their team from four years ago, 'nobody's going to buy your music when you're no longer desirable'.

Because apparently, that's all they ever will be. Four pretty boys who do nothing but sing shallow love songs and look pretty for their fans.

Don't get Harry wrong, he loves their fans. They wouldn't be anywhere without their loyal fans. But sometimes, he just wants to be seen as something....more. He wants to be more than just musicians that people don't take seriously; wants to be more than a bunch of asinine PR stunts and ridiculous 'what do you look for in an ideal girlfriend' questions.

"Whatever," Harry says, and he sounds resigned, he knows. "It's nothing, really. Just a few pap walks. It's fine, I'm fine, we'll be fine."

"Harry," Liam says, sounding concerned now, and God, Harry hates it when Liam sounds concerned--it makes him sound like some sort of parent, kind of like his mum, and it makes Harry want to curl up in a ball. "You do know that you don't have to do this. We're pushing for a rebrand so that we don't have to do these things for publicity. So you can..."

Liam trails off, but Harry hears his unspoken words anyway. Come out. Be yourself. He makes it sound so easy.

But it's not at all easy, and Harry's tired of explaining himself. He can't anyway; doesn't know how to voice out his concerns, doesn't know how to explain that he doesn't want to be the one to single-handedly end their careers, to be the one to dig a hole and bury 'One Direction' into the ground. He just feels like he still has a lot to do, they still have a lot to do as a band, and Harry coming out would end them before they can even start working towards their long-term career goals.

So Harry thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can sacrifice this. For the sake of his band, and for the sake of his best friends.

He still appreciates the sentiment, though. "Thanks, Liam," he says, shooting Liam a small smile. "Honestly, I'll be fine. Really, I promise."

"Group hug," Niall calls out, and soon, Harry's being wrapped up in their arms, their faces smushed into his neck. It's a bit uncomfortable, but Harry loves it, all the same.

He basks in it for a bit, hugging his friends, his best friends back, until they eventually pull away.

His phone chimes with a text.

have you guessed yet?, it reads.

It makes Harry smile wide, enough that both Niall and Zayn peek over his shoulder.

"Oh," Niall says, his voice knowing, and Harry's face colours at his tone. "I didn't know you and 'Cute Lou from the loo' still talked."

Harry shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. "It's nothing," he says. "We had dinner. To catch up, you know. It was nice."

To Louis, he texts, I don't know where to start, to be honest.

"When?" Liam asks.

"Last week."

"While you were on house arrest?"

Harry wasn't on house arrest. He was on advised house arrest. There's a difference.

"I wasn't on house arrest, Liam."

Liam says something, but Harry doesn't really hear him, too busy looking at Louis' new text, which is just a string of leaf emojis. It's cute. He's cute. Louis is so, very cute.

Those aren't flowers, he types back. Liam's still talking somewhere behind him, probably reprimanding him for going out while he was on house arrest. But he wasn't on house arrest, which is why he doesn't need to listen to this.

astute observation, styles, Louis replies. what reward do you want?

Harry bites his lip. To see you again.

flowersssss, Louis' next text reads.

Hint please?

Louis' next text takes a while, but when he receives it, Harry has to read it thrice. Because it's a riddle. Louis has just sent him a riddle.

i am friends with fine feathers, radiant and bold; in the winter, to them, my seeds are black and gold. what am i?

Harry sends back, ????

not telling, Louis sends a few seconds later. it's just to aid you on your noble task. And then he adds the emoji with the sunglasses. Honestly, how is Louis even real?

"--Earth to Harry," Liam's voice breaks into his thoughts, and he looks up to find all three of them staring at him, with matching smirks on their faces.

"What?" He asks. The more he stares at them, the more he thinks they look kind of creepy, smirking at him like that. "Stop that."

"We were just wondering when we were going to meet this 'Cute Lou from the loo'," Zayn says, as sweet as he can. Which is not very; Zayn's not really meant for these sweet voices and stuff. He tried though, and that is what matters.

"Never," Harry answers.

And in-sync, all their faces change into a pout. Literally. Harry wants to say he's kidding, but he isn't.

They spend way too much time around each other.

"Why?" Niall asks.

"Why would I want to expose him to any of you lot?" Harry asks them, incredulously. Not that Louis is his to expose, but he's Harry's friend. And Harry doesn't need Louis' mental image of him get even more tainted because of his wild band mates, thank you very much. He's doing well enough on his own, sadly.

"Why wouldn't you?" Niall asks. "We're fantastic and hilarious. And ridiculously good-looking. And we have a lot of stories about you we can share. Remember that time you cried because you thought that Zayn was leaving the band on February thirty?"

"That was years ago," Harry protests.

"Well," interrupts Zayn, "you pissed on 'Cute Lou from the loo', years ago, but it's still a great story. Why did you never tell us this?"

"Wait," Liam interrupts, sounding confused. "You really pissed on 'Cute Lou from the loo'? I thought it was a joke!"

"Yes he did," Niall says loudly, loud enough to make the lady taking a cigarette break on the other side of the parking lot turn to them. "He whipped out his dick and just marked his territory."

Sometimes, Harry just hates his band mates. So, so much.