Trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter.
This prologue takes place around 2011.
Louis POV
I sat in this cold office, glaring at the face of the man I'd grown to hate.
"Louis, this isn't working. The fans are getting suspicious. The media is starting to catch on. We need to diffuse this fast."
I stared into Simon's eyes, my anger growing by the second. I didn't let any emotion show on my face though. I'd learned long ago that he'd only see it as a weakness; picking apart every insecurity and fear in my mind until I caved into whatever he was asking. I was slowly falling apart at the seams, every meeting breaking me down more. But he couldn't know that. No one could.
"We've done all you asked. All the stunts, the girlfriends, I don't know what else you want from us!"
I took a few deep breaths, trying to control my anger. Blowing up at Simon would not end well.
"Yeah, you've done all that, the problem is it's not working. We have a way to fix this though. We're going to change Harry's entire persona. Paint him as a ladies man, someone who sleeps around. We have plenty of high profile women lined up for him to be seen with, whether he dates them for a very short period or just sleeps with them I don't care, just as long as they're seen together and people are talking about it."
I let the reality of what he just said sink in. He wanted to paint Harry - my Harry, who was always kind to everyone, who cried during the cheesiest romantic comedies, who hated sleeping without me because he got cold - as a womanizer.
"No, I'll do it! Please, I'll do whatever stunts you want me to just leave Harry out of this."
The desperation was obvious in my voice as I pleaded with Simon, I'd do anything to keep Harry from getting hurt.
"I'm afraid you can't take this one, Louis. You don't have the... persona to carry this image."
He looked awkward now, aimlessly shuffling some of the papers on his desk.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
"Have you seen how the tabloids have been describing you?" Simon finally snapped. "Camp, flamboyant, extravagant. All the media are catching on to the fact that you're a fag! It'll be a miracle if we can get them to believe you're straight, much less a ladies man."
I ignored the sting of the slur and tried to focus on why I'd come in the first place. Protect Harry. Keep him safe.
"We have a girlfriend lined up for you, but we're going to need Harry to do the stunts as well."
"Isn't there something-"
"This is non-negotiable. I'm sorry but there's nothing you can do about this. The team has made up their minds."
Nothing I can do. I couldn't let Harry down, I couldn't let them do this to him! I never let Harry come to these meetings, I couldn't stand to let Simon fling these insults at him. I could take it, but no one could say those things to my Harry.
"Please, I'll do anything! Just keep harry out of this. Please." I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes but I couldn't let them past. I wouldn't give Simon that satisfaction.
"Harrys 17!" I argue. "How the hell that going to help the image of the band? That's just disgusting!"
"Not as disgusting as two fags in a band." Simon snapped back. "This meeting is over. I'll be seeing Harry in two days to explain the situation to him. Now get out of my office."
Before I could protest I was pulled out of his office by two security guards. Hurrying down the hall until I found an uninhabited place far enough from Simon, I sunk to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest. I couldn't breathe. Everything was closing in on me. Just then my phone went off; it was a text from harry.
Is the meeting over? What did Simon want to talk about? xx
The sight of that text made me lose it. I was gasping for air, hot tears rolling down my face. I don't know how long I sat there, but when my cries finally stopped I felt worn out, empty, and hopeless. I have never hated myself more than I do in this moment. Why did I have to be like this? Why couldn't have I just been straight like every other normal person?
I ran my hands through my hair, stood up, and exited the building. On the drive home I kept replaying the meeting with Simon. I should've fought harder, I should've protected harry. I can already see his face crumpling at the news. God, I fucked up. I don't deserve Harry. I don't deserve anyone.
These thoughts kept running through my mind on the way home. When I got home my eyes fell on the note Harry had left me.
Went out to get some groceries for dinner tonight, don't have too much fun without me :)
I smiled sadly at the note. He was so innocent. So undeserving of all this.
I numbly made my way up to the bathroom of our shared flat, rummaging through drawers until I found what I was looking for. The thin razor glimmered between my fingers and before I could think this through I was holding it up to my wrist. I hissed at the first cut, the sharp burning pain taking me by surprise. I cut four more times, watching the blood trickle down my arm and into the sink.
I deserved this. It was my fault Harry had to go through this. I'm so fucking useless.
"Louis, I'm home!"
Just the sound of his voice made me smile.
"I'll be out in a sec!" I responded, quickly cleaning up the blood and bandaging my wrist. For a second I imagined how Harry would react if he found out, how his beautiful green eyes would feel with tears and his soft lips would start to tremble. I shook these thoughts away as I pulled my sweatshirt on. He won't find out. I'll never let him find out.
And he never did.
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