So You Could Be Free

With him being the laid-back king of chill that he was, never wanting to rush or be rushed anywhere, it was a wonder how Harry managed to nail every red carpet with a hail-mary outfit. Why was it that these events crept up on him even when they were set months in advance?

It was two days before the MET gala and he hadn't had a fitting for his outfit yet.

Sharon picked him up at 3pm from Pilates and drove straight to Katia's atelier. The Russian seamstress had given her the codes to let themselves in on Sunday afternoon and make sure the suit was coming along as planned.

"Ugh I feel disgustingg. Did we have to go straight from the gym?" Harry groaned and pouted looking both annoyed and petulant. He was wearing a pair of shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. He pulled his top bun to release the long curls and put his face in front on the air conditioning to dry off the sweat.

"Sorry babe, I really tried but the place was all booked during the week, we'll be in and out, I promise."

They parked in front of the entrance and saw another car there and some of the lights on.

"That's weird," she said while checking her phone for the codes. "I thought the place would be empty..."

They let themselves in and heard voices coming from the main dressing room. Sharon headed to the back to get Harry's outfit and he followed right behind her.

"Oh, Lizzie, it's you!" She almost bumped into another stylist. "Sharon! You scared me for a sec. How are you darling? Oh, hi Harry dear," they all kissed each other hello. "What are you doing here?"

Lizzie was putting away a stunning pair of pastel wings that looked bigger than her 5'3" petit self. Entranced, Harry found his hands stroking the feathers, and the soft fluffy texture immediately put a smile on his face and all was good in his life again. Always the touchy feely, it was no surprise that his love language was physical touch.

"I'm almost done with a fitting, we'll be out of your hair in a few," she said.

"Go on, babe." Sharon told Harry to wait for her in the fitting room while she grabbed everything.

Humming a tune while he answered Niall's text, he walked into the room and fell on the couch laughing at the meme he'd just sent him. He looked up as he put the phone away, and his heart dropped immediately. Standing on the circle platform in front of the mirrors, wearing an all-white ensemble that made him look like a proper angel, was none other than Louis Tomlinson, head tilted, eyes on the boy who just came in, with a sad smile on his face.

Harry's head started spinning. As much as he had imagined this moment and rehearsed what he would say when he saw Louis again, he was not prepared. He could feel his heartbeat drumming so loud he was positive the walls were vibrating along with it. His mouth went dumb and any and all things he had planned to say in his mind went out the window and he had nothing. No words, no reaction. And he wasn't cool and collected and put together like you imagine being when you meet an ex. Just plain deer in headlights.

After what felt like an eternity that lasted 5 seconds, he stood up nervously and gave him a quick awkward hug. The kind where you wrap one arm around the other person just enough but the bodies don't touch at all.

"Hey. Good to see you...

Is this for the gala?" Harry asked, trying to make small talk.

"Yeah. How you been? It's been ages..."

"Good. Really good... you know... working a lot and stuff."

"New album?"

"Yeah... how about you?"