Summary:
He can't remember the last song he wrote that wasn't about Harry, in at least the smallest way; a throwaway line or chord progression he wrote with him in mind.
(or, an au where the boys are in a punk band and louis has been in love with harry for years.)
***
Louis wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, exhaling as Harry says, "Thanks, everyone. You've been fucking brilliant. We've got one last song for you, so here it is. We're The Rogue and this is Seventeen Black."
The crowd goes wild for them, and it's the sort of thing that makes Louis think that they're ready to graduate playing shitty bar shows, to finally get signed to a proper label instead of selling their EP out of their stage equipment van. This place is slightly bigger than the places they usually play, though, a club venue that Louis is still half-convinced they only got because Harry's good mates with the bartender.
He plucks the strings on his bass before Zayn leads in with drums and Harry's voice comes in over Niall and Liam on guitar, the sound weaving through the air and settling somewhere in Louis' bones, thrumming as his heart pounds. Harry's fucking electric, his voice winding the crowd up, and Louis can see a whole bunch of them singing along. He winks at a floppy-haired boy in the first row, who blushes but doesn't close his mouth, grinning as he mouths the words.
"Want you to bet on me," Harry belts out, eyes closed and head thrown back, and Louis lets himself lose control, give it over to the music and the feeling of being onstage, of performing. He's never felt more at home than he does when he's putting on a show for the crowd, and this song is fast and loud enough that it's natural to jump around, play as if it's the last time. And then Harry hits a high note and it's like a jolt to Louis' system, because he knows Harry can sing, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sometimes catch him by surprise, sending something like adrenaline running through his bloodstream.
The song's over too quickly, and the audience cheers wildly for them, voices overlapping as they shout and scream. Harry shakes out his sweaty mess of hair and says, "Thanks, everyone. We're The Rogue. Buy our record and I might buy you a drink." He punctuates the last remark with a flirty wink at the audience, because other than singing, Harry's specialty is charming people - even if it is an entire crowd.
When they leave the stage, it's to shouts of their names and rousing cheers.
+
"C'mon, boys, let's go somewhere and get absolutely fucked," Niall is saying as he opens a bottle of beer, taking a swig. They're out in the cool breeze, loading equipment into the back of a van with a couple of their mates from a band that'd played earlier. Their band's called Greyscale, and they've got four lads - they're like a smaller version of The Rogue, playing the same old thing, and Louis hates to think it, but they're not going anywhere any time soon.
"Mate," Liam says as he bends over to pick up an amp, "Some of us actually work around here. Chuck the rest of the stuff in the van and we'll be done."
Louis just rolls his eyes as he grabs the other side of the amp. They all know how this goes: Liam, Louis and Zayn do the heavy lifting with whoever's around to help, Niall pretends to be doing things while actually standing there and watching, and Harry charms his way into getting them another gig.
"Let's just get this over with, Li," Louis jerks his head towards the van as they pick the amp up and fit it in with the rest of their shit.
Liam slams the back doors of the van shut, and strikes up a conversation with Jamie from Greyscale as Louis wanders over to Niall and Zayn. "Seen Harry?" He asks.
