Under The Limelight ⇢ Larry

Ch 6: Stressing Out

Things had been stressful enough as they were, but as they reached their third week, everything got more busy, more complicated, and just generally more fucking insane. They couldn't leave the house without being swarmed by fans and paparazzi, and it was so mental, Harry didn't even know how to handle it. There was so much to do - they were working on their new song, struggling with it for days and then suddenly Simon decided it was not the right one. They had to switch. And then they were all so busy and stressed that they barely had time to think, trying to learn and perfect a whole new song in a much more limited space of time. In between, it were interviews and outings and by the time the day was over, all they could do is slump on sofas in front of the TV until their brains winded down and they could collapse into bed, falling asleep pretty much instantly. They were not even talking or messing around as much as they used to - everyone was too tired and stressed, and it was like suddenly it was not fun and games anymore. The whole house felt more tense, like everyone was really buckling down, really competing.

The whole week, it was only once that he and Louis were alone together. They were in the living room - a bunch of the contestants were all watching mindless TV together when, by chance, everyone else seemed to wander off around the same time - to the toilet or for snacks or to head off to bed. It was maybe a two minute window, Harry guessed, before someone came back, and he could practically hear the seconds ticking past. He was so intensely aware of the fact that that was the first time they've been alone since that thing that happened in the bathroom, that one charged little moment that Harry still didn't know how to explain. It felt monumental, at least to him, and he wanted something like that to happen again and he didn't know when the hell their next opportunity was going to be - but in a second, he began to doubt himself, realized how rarely they've talked since that night, wondered whether it could be blamed solely on the stress or if maybe he ruined something.

The thought was almost unbearable, but it took over his brain in an instant and seemed to paralyze him. He hadn't even had much of a chance to really think about it in the past few days, but it was true that they've been less close, that Louis had seemed distant and serious. On the outside, he supposed, it might have not looked like anything -they still gravitated towards each other like they always had - but it seemed almost out of habit now, or for comfort; there wasn't any excitement in it anymore. Suddenly Harry was terrified, terrified that he changed something, that whatever was going on between them wasn't at all what he thought it was, that he had misinterpreted every little look and touch and Louis was gone forever. Or, really, even worse - that he'd still be there, a constant presence, reminding Harry that he fucked things up, that it was never going to be the same.

They were sitting side by side on the same beanbag, almost in each other's laps, and staring straight ahead at the TV as if they were completely engrossed in the Virgin Mobile advert that was playing, and suddenly it's painful, the firm warmth of Louis's leg pressed against his, the way he was avoiding looking at him. Harry felt a sort of panic rising in his chest and for a second he didn't even notice Louis's hand suddenly touching his thigh, fingers stretching out over it and squeezing gently as if in silent reassurance, as if he'd been reading Harry's mind. Warm relief spread through Harry and he turned to smile, heart pounding when their eyes met, but then he could hear voices getting louder behind them and footsteps, and they had to drag their eyes back to the TV and Louis had to remove his hand. Harry felt a wave of sick frustration course through him, making him clench his fists so tight it hurt.

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