You Could Be Mine

The Last Song

"I can't keep doing this," I whisper, pulling my hair. There are tears streaming down my cheeks, but they feel empty somehow. I feel empty somehow. "I'm just so fucking tired, Haz." I say, shrinking further into myself, trying to minimize the space I'm taking up. The rain thundering down on the windows above us helps set the gloomy mood and if I was alone, I might've been able to enjoy it. But I'm not. Harry sits down beside me, the couch groaning and he doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. He knows what I'm thinking.

Yesterday he had another one of his stunts scheduled. Stunts which consist of Harry, my fiancé, being forced around the city, photographed hand in hand with models or other female artists because God forbid two boys from the same boy band are gay. Haz can't do anything other than cooperate because we both know that if he doesn't, it only gets worse. I've already had a taste of what that's like, I'm supposedly the father of a non-existent baby.

"What do you propose we do, love?" he asks, always so gently. Haz' eyes look so honest, ready to do anything for me to feel better, but I don't want that. He's always had to sacrifice so much. "I don't know," I say, sighing. I want to give up, wave the white flag and stop all of this. "I didn't understand until now, but I've been drowning and I can't breathe anymore. I've finally reached the bottom of the sea and there's nothing to save me and I know you feel it too, all of it, but we're too broken to save each other and everyone else is too oblivious to see that it's already too late. I just," I breathe, the words tumbling out of my mouth, not allowing me to stop. "I'm not strong enough to continue doing all of this."

I feel the wetness of my cheeks and as I keep biting my lip, the taste of blood quickly replaces the saltiness of the tears. We stay like that for a while, too consumed in our own thoughts to ask about the others, but where I am sad, he looks pissed. The tap, tap, tap of the rain hitting the window is soothing. Taking a chance and hoping that his anger isn't directed at me, I lay down in his lap, remembering that tomorrow is the last concert and maybe, then we can get some proper rest and talk about it. If we're lucky, management might give us all some time off, as unlikely as that may be.

Harry's gone when I wake up, and instead of his warm body holding me, soothing me with comforting and encouraging words, there's only a blanket engulfing my body and a pillow underneath my head. There's a note on the table and I pick it up, instantly recognizing his messy handwriting. I'll be back soon, recording session with Julian. All the love, Haz x.

I get up and do all of my usual routine's before the concert. Before I know it, it's time for the show and I still haven't seen Harry.

We've almost reached the end of the concert and thank God for that. I don't know how much longer I'd be able to put up a fake smile for the enjoyment of others. Don't get me wrong, I love our fans with all my heart, but if you had to get up every day for the past five years to please a couple of hundred thousand strangers, you'd feel a little tired too. That's not even mentioning the fact that I had to divert my eyes every time I came close to looking even slightly in Harry's direction. Funny as it is, that simple little rule made by our beloved management was made thanks to the one time where my gaze lingered a little too long and it ended up in all of the tabloids with the headline: Louis Tomlinson, in love with band mate? They weren't wrong, which made it terribly hard for our management when they tried to make me deny it. When they couldn't make me discard the rumours, they made a rule instead, one that has been working well in their favour.  That wasn't much of a problem tonight, even as Harry waved the most obvious rainbow flag yet, because I had a little baby in the front seats to keep my focus on.

"Baby, let me love you goodbye." Harry sings which signals the end of the song. It's my turn to talk to the crowd now, excite them, even though I asked excessively this morning if someone else could speak in my place tonight, predicting I wouldn't have the energy, but before I get the chance to even lift the microphone to my lips, Harry is already sprinting down the catwalk shouting, "Okay, everybody. I have a surprise for you tonight," which I wasn't informed about. "Before we get to that though, I need you all to shout a little with me. Clapping would be nice too. You ready?" Harry asks, doing ridiculous gestures to hype them up. I stand back, walking over to where Niall and Liam, two of our remaining band mates, are standing and join them, eternally grateful of Harry. "What is he on about?" I ask, sighing softly. Harry does his usual ritual of screaming 'yeah' and telling people off for stomping in the wrong rhythm, which if you've ever been in an arena filled to the brim with thirty thousand people, you know is pretty hard and my heart swells with a mixture of pride and love for this boy. "Don't know, mate." Niall answers, grin in place, which is if not alarming, extremely suspicious. "Liam?" I question, eyebrow raised. He's the responsible one out of the four of us. If I'm getting the truth out of anyone, it's him. He fidgets as he looks past me and into the endless sea of people. I can swear there's a bead of sweat racing down his face. He stays silent, obviously ignoring my wondering look. "So that's how it is?" I ask, punching Niall's shoulder lightly. "If you guys are pulling a prank on me, I will get you back so bad." Niall giggles and Liam looks at his feet, transparently guilty and probably a little proud of himself for keeping whatever they are planning a secret. As Harry finishes, confident as ever, all the lights in the giant arena are shut off and replaced with an enormous light illuminating Harry as he stands at the edge of the catwalk alone. "If I could kindly ask you all to turn off you phones, that would be very lovely," Harry says softly and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Also, mates, would you care to join me?" he requests, directing the question towards me. There's a heavy tension in the air and I gulp down the nervousness. What the hell is going on? I walk while the others skip and Harry sends a warm smile my way. He turns back around to face the crowd. "Now, you've probably heard all the songs from our new album and-" he's cut off by the screams and we all smile fondly. "And," he continues, chuckling. "For the first time ever, we are going to sing you my favourite, and most personal song on the album. Here's If I Could Fly everybody." He shouts, running for the conveniently placed piano behind us. The crowd goes wild and all I can do is stare at Niall and Liam in shock because those bastards are smirking knowingly and they know the story behind this song. The story of the night I was fed up with everything and Harry was on the other side of the world and all I wanted to do was to see him. So I wrote him a song, conveying all my love for him and all the frustration of our situation into that one piece of music. And he seemed to understand perfectly.

If I could fly,

I'd be coming right back home to you

I think I might

Give up everything just ask me to

Harry sings perfectly and plays perfectly and maybe I'm not drowning, because in this moment I can see so clearly the boy I fell in love with. Listening to him sing true words of love may be the one keeping my head above water and I realize now that I was wrong. I can still be saved.