<ul class="conversation_lines" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.600000381469727px; font-family: Courier, monospace; list-style: none; padding: 0px; color: #444444; text-align: left;">
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 0px 0px 6px;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Louis:The room is kind of small for the twenty girls (including you) and the five boys. There are a few couches and chairs, but it isn’t enough space for everybody to sit and the noise, the cries of joy, the giggling and laughing and shrieking, makes the room feel even fuller. For a second you think, how awful it must be for someone with claustrophobia, but then the knawel of girls is dissolving, leaving you in the vacant space, disorientated. The boys are already showered with questions and request, so you decide to pick a seat at the brink of the centre and listen to the stupid and cute and quite thoughtful questions and enjoy the possibility of learning a bit about the boys behind the famous name of One Direction. Right next to you, three girls are bombarding Louis with request of photos and autographs and what not, making him look slightly uncomfortable despite his bright smile. And you’re not sure if he is searching for an escape or trying to make them understand that they’re wearing of his nerves as he suddenly turns to you and asks: “And what do you want?” His voice is this short of being sarcastic, but you simply tilt your head a bit to look up at him. “Is it possible to fit “Through the Dark” into tonight’s set list?” It’s a simple request, he heard it a thousand times before, but it’s different somehow, because you don’t laced it with overexcited squeals or press on with pleads, you merely ask with a calm, soft voice, like you’re not expecting anything, just taking a chance. “Why?”, he wants to know, irritated by your behaviour. “Because I like how your voice sounds in it.”, you state, serene but earnest. It takes him by surprise and he can feel how heat is rising to his cheeks. Flushing he stammers out his thanks, before he hasty leaves your side, embarrassed but smiling.</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px; background-color: #fdfdfd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Harry:The boys enter the room like it’s normal to be greeted by screaming girls and grabbing hands (it probably is for them), you just shake your head slightly overwhelmed and stand back a bit, you don’t like to get your feet stomped on or elbows rammed into your rips (thank you very much), till the other fifteen girls are fit into a neat line and then you join in as well. The order holds for exact 32 seconds (you counted), that’s the time Harry could hold up his serious face, before it broke into a goofy grin and he scooped up the first girl into his arms. The screams are deafening and you nearly lose your footing as you try to free yourself of the wriggling mess that are over a dozen mesmerized girls. Luckily the rest of the boys are as charming (and apparently worth to squeal over), so that the crowd scatters pretty quickly (luckily). “And what can I do for you love? A photo? A Hug?”, a booming, happy voice on your left enquires. You turn around, looking straight at a grinning Harold Styles and bemused raise an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you at least ask for my name before you offer me full body contact, love?”, you respond, lacing the last word with a good amount of sarcasm. His green eyes widen in shock, and he is about to apologise for being so brash, when he sees the playful grin on your lips, and doubles over in laughter. It takes him a moment to gain back his control, but then he is holding out his hand to you. “Hi, I’m Harry, who are you?” “Y/N” “Y/N”, he nods, turning your name over in his head like a foreign word, “What about that hug now?”, he requests and this time it’s you, who’s breaking out in laughter.</li>
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