That's Me In The Spotlight {The Jesus Fic}.

Chapter 7

Harry had cried himself to sleep, and cried the whole drive to the airport. He'd have felt embarrassed if only the blues hadn't been so consuming.

He loved his family: his dad, his mom, his sister, he loved his church and his friends. Four months. He wasn't going to see them for four months – way longer than the Christian youth summer camps he'd gone on before. He was homesick and he hadn't even left yet.

His sister Gemma held his hand for the whole car ride, trying to lighten the mood with jokes. She'd scooted over into the middle seat, and despite his wet eyes she insisted on taking about a hundred photos of them with her phone. “Come on Harry, smile. I need photos or I'll forget what you look like!”

In his other hand, Harry tightly gripped his carry-on bag. His uncle Michael had indeed bought him lubricant. Sex lubricant. Harry had muttered that he'd only need one bottle – Michael had returned with three and, humiliatingly, two were flavoured and worse, the third said anal on it. He'd bought Harry more condoms too, although Harry hadn't even opened the first box. They

  

He'd bought Harry more condoms too, although Harry hadn't even opened the first box. They were all now safely wrapped up in a t-shirt, stashed at the bottom of Harry's backpack.

Harry and the crew were headed to Los Angeles. Harry had seen it on television a lot, and it looked pretty cool place to visit. Modern Missionary was kicking off with an episode filmed at Universal CityWalk the very next day.

I can do this, I can do this, Harry chanted to himself, closing his eyes to pray with Gemma as they saw the airport coming up in the distance.

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There was going to be a tour bus, as well as a small convoy of company cars. Jeremy had proudly shown the crew a photograph of a double-decker monstrosity waiting for them in Hollywood. It had a seven-foot tall picture of Harry's face plastered to the side. The money they were throwing at this production was absurd; the bus seemed half for show, as Louis was still booked in for a quite a few flights over the upcoming months.

Louis had been given an itinerary, but he'd lost it the next day. He'd then asked Linda very nicely for another one, put it in a very safe spot and promptly forgotten where that spot was. It'd show up eventually – wrapped around a spare toothbrush, twisted up in a belt, but for now Louis just relied on the 5am text messages from Linda each morning, briefly outlining his day. As far as he'd gathered, she did it for everyone – she was incredibly useful, Linda The Assistant. She was wasting her potential with a twat like Jeremy, really. She'd thrive in the white house. She'd probably even hack it as one of Anna Wintour's overworked, highly pressured assistants, if only she were younger and slimmer.

Linda's message that morning had read: 11am flight to LAX. Meet MM crew at Fort Worth Airport, domestic check-in, 9.30am. Reply ASAP if assistance needed to arrange travel to airport.

Louis had been thinking about Harry and the flight since the message had woken him up at five. Would Harry try to blow him in the airplane bathroom again? (Did Louis want him to?) Would Louis be able to, maybe, just put his hand by his thigh and just lightly stroke Harry's leg with his pinkie finger? What if Harry was, like a typical teenager, so horny he was blind to the consequences of his actions, and did something completely fucking obvious in front of the whole team?

Or what if Harry was done with Louis? What if their little thing had just been a last hurrah before Harry started the TV show properly, entering his new life as national celebrity? Perhaps Louis was just a warm-up, and now Harry was confident, ready to kiss some cute guy his own age.