Larry Stylinson - Buried

Chapter Two - Larry Stylinson - Hidden

      Sometimes being Louis’ friend was the best thing in the world. There were those days when as Harry settled into his bed at night his heart quivered pleasantly in his chest as he thought back on the events of the day.  Today had been one of those days.

            Harry hadn’t known it would be as he sleepily followed Louis out of their apartment, pausing to help the older boy straighten his shirt from where it had fallen crookedly from his shoulder and placing it back around his neck. He’d let his fingers linger longer than necessary at the base of Louis’ collar before he let them fall back to his side. While the older boy didn’t notice anything remotely odd about the gesture, Harry could feel the heat of his blood rushing in his fingertips long after they’d left Louis’ soft skin.

            No, Harry hadn’t expected it would be a good day, simply because it started out horribly. Practice had been long, and despite his caffeinated tea he couldn’t manage to wake up. Already exhausted the boys were ushered to the recording studio to put their morning practice to the test. One by one the boys took their place within the glass case and in front of the microphone.

Most days Harry loved recording and he had often considered it one of his favorite parts of the job. Usually he would excitedly rush from the enclosed sound proof booth to the producers area to listen to the play back and then eagerly beg to hear his voice being added atop the four other boy to create a finished product. Today, however he just couldn’t get it right.

“I need a break,” he snapped after the sixth try to reach a note in his solo. The producer held up five fingers from behind his control center and feeling resentful Harry slung the headphones down on the stand in front of him and moodily slunk into the other room. Most of the boys had gone home, only Louis lingered behind to wait for his roommate to finish.

The older boy was on the phone chatting animatedly to his mother but when he looked up at the defeated face of his best friend he quickly realized Harry needed his attention more, “Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Harry could hear her quick reply as he walked towards Louis who was lying lengthwise on the couch. Louis shifted his legs to the front of the cushions so that Harry could slide in behind them his own legs draping over Louis’ knees. Feeling weak with fatigue and a sense of failure Harry flung his head back against the back of the couch and groaned in exasperation.

“I can’t get it Lou,” he cried out and his fist clenched atop where it laid absentmindedly atop Louis’ leg.

Louis took one look at his dejected best friend and began to sit up. Because he was perched atop the older boy it also forced Harry to struggle to his feet.

“Get up,” Louis commanded firmly but with a gentleness that eased the tension from Harry’s body as he allowed Louis to guide him back towards the studio. Louis waved his hand to get the attention of the producer as he closed the door enclosing Harry in the small booth. Harry watched Louis enter the control room as he placed the headphones back over his ears.

“Alright let’s try again,” the producer’s voice filled the booth, “from the top of your solo.”

Things were all right until Harry reached the point that had been troubling him all afternoon. His voice narrowly missed the high note as he stumbled over the key change. Exasperated his let his head slump forward.

“Why does your voice do that before you try to hit the octave?” the producer said pressing the button in on the control board, which let Harry hear him speak from the other room.

“I don’t know!” Harry snapped back spinning to glare through the layers of glass, “I’m not doing it on purpose!”

Harry watched as Louis stepped forward to replace the producer and when the high-pitched voice Harry knew almost better than his own filled the booth the anxiousness and anxiety slipped away and drifted off into the high corners of the studio. Harry exhaled as Louis spoke.