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

Chapter 11

“Louis. Louis!”

Louis didn't often allow himself to be woken up – he had the ability to ignore most sounds and be asleep again in sixty seconds - but something in the tone of Harry's voice stirred him. He forced his eyes open and as soon as he sat up, Harry pushed a hot cup of coffee into his hands.

“Merci,” he said hesitantly, noticing that the sun hadn't risen yet. “You have to buy me new clothes,” Harry blurted out.

Louis smiled in confusion, but his face dropped quickly when he saw how completely serious Harry was. “What?”

“For on the show, for publicity stuff, everything.”

“What's wrong with what we got?” Louis asked, taking a sip of coffee to mask the hurt quiver of his lip. There's a lot things Louis could receive a jab to - his height, his accent, his secret love for band t-shirts, the way his left eye sometimes squinted more than the right one when he smiled in photos – but his sense of style was not to be insulted.

“What's wrong with it?” Harry cried, outraged. “Four hundred dollar Dolce & Gabbana jeans? Silk shirts from Burberry? Socks from Lacoste that cost thirty dollars for one pair? Blazers with shiny lapels? No one my age wears that stuff! I'm sixteen, Louis! Kids my age wear polo shirts and sweatpants and socks from Walmart!”

“I don't think Walmart is quite up to standard for television,” Louis murmured into his cup.

Harry gave him a push to the shoulder, and to avoid burning himself Louis lost half his hot coffee to the bedspread. “Watch it,” Louis scolded, setting the cup aside.

“Well don't be a dick!” Harry then bit his lip, wincing at his own swearing. “Don't be annoying, I mean. I'm not saying Walmart. I'm just saying you have to get me some normal clothes.”

“What's this about?” Louis sighed, bundling up the coffee-stained bedsheet.

Harry paused for a second, green eyes burning into Louis' blue, then he lunged for his phone and threw it into Louis' lap.

“Open the first text,” Harry ordered. “It's from one of my friends. You met him at my going-away party.”

Louis followed Harry's instructions, reading; Dude, show was sick! Loved the band too TELL ME U GOT AUTOGRAPHS! Whats w all the fancy clothes tho? U look kinda poofy lol.

Louis' eyes flicked back up to Harry, who was starting to flush red with anger – or was it embarrassment?

“He's not the only one saying it, you know! Everyone's saying I look like a fag! It's a effing disaster!”

“Calm down, mon petit-”

“Don't call me that!” Harry spat out.

Louis was shocked.

“Okay, calm down Harry. I'm sure not everyone's saying it. I know what I'm doing. You look good, and you look normal, I promise.”

“Jeremy will take my side, you know!” Harry said hotly. “He won't want people saying I look gay.”

“I think even Jeremy's smart enough to know good clothes don't dictate where you stick your dick,” Louis pointed out sourly. “He wears Armani suits.”

“I don't care! I'm not wearing what we have now! I don't want to look like a poof, I want normal clothes okay! No more Louis Vuitton, no more Chanel, no more Saint Laurent, and no more stupid Prada sweaters!”

“Hey,” Louis said softly, heart sinking. “The Prada sweater was just for us. When we're together... alone.”

Harry hesitated over Louis' hurt expression.