Letters to Larry

“Explain your relationship with Louis Tomlinson.”

“My relationship with him?” Harry Styles let out a puff of pondering breath and let his eyes wander up to the ceiling. “Well, he's my co-star. We get along well and I enjoy working with him. I'm not sure what else you'd want me to say about him, really.”

“Your viewers tend to look more into that 'work' relationship you have with him, though,” Eric Gordon pointed out, and the way he said work made Harry's jaw tighten. “I'm sure you've become aware of this after five years of knowing the lad.”

“Larry, of course.” Harry gave a nod. “It's because Louis and I do have a real friendship off the show, and we appear strangely close both off and on the show. Our viewers have just looked more into our relationship, and they believe that if Louis and I were gay, we'd be perfect for each other.”

“Would you not agree?”

Harry's eyebrow rose, almost in a challenging manner. “Well,” he said, trying to answer these questions in the most professional way possible, “Louis is a great catch, and I think any woman or man, including myself, would be quite lucky to get a shot at that. But so it remains, neither of us are gay, nor in a relationship with each other.”

The interviewer seemed to take a moment to accept Harry's answer, then moved on to ask about the actual show.

“You guys are currently filming the next season of Waiting Game, correct?” Harry nodded at the question. “What should viewers expect to see on the new season?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, trying to remember the answer he was supposed to give. “Well, to be completely honest, I haven't looked over the scripts for most of the episodes,” he said, though that wasn't what he was supposed to say. “But from what I've seen, we're going to keep the humor strong. I think people always begin to watch the show, thinking that it's going to be serious drama, when it's really just ironic, funny drama. And I think we're going to keep that going this season. I know there should be some relationship drama, especially between Carter and Janelle.”

“Carter” was Harry's character, a cocky young man who has no clue what he's doing with his life, and never seizes an opportunity to get into trouble. Harry thought that they fit together well.

“Are we finally going to see something happen between them?” Eric said with a cheeky grin.

“God, I hope so. Carter needs to get some already.”

The man sitting across from Harry on a green sofa tilted his head back and gave a laugh that was equally fake as it was real. Harry laughed along lightly for show.

“All right,” the interviewer said when he sobered. “Well, is there anything else you would like to say about the show?”

Harry just shrugged. “Just that this is going to be a good season and everyone is very excited for it.”

Then it was over. Eric stopped the recording on his phone and someone came to take a photo of them sitting together. Harry headed back to his trailer, seeing Louis Tomlinson on his way out.

There was only one thing anyone ever really needed to know about Louis Tomlinson. Louis was the kind of person you could never mind staring at. He might mind you looking at him, but it wouldn't matter to you. You just wanted to stare at him. It wasn't an attraction thing, though Louis Tomlinson was not an ugly man. It was more of the way... he looked. Just how he acted, how he made faces at certain things, how he could never hide his true emotion. Believe it or not, it's hard to find people like that because everyone has a wall. Harry's wall was his best friend. But Louis's—it was practically nonexistent. If the lad was sad, you knew it. If he was pissed the fuck off, you knew it. If he had just had the best orgasm of his life, you would—without a doubt—see it on his face.

He didn't act like that for attention. He just didn't give a fuck about walls and hiding what went on his life, at least not on his face. That was something Harry both admired and hated. Admired because Louis was an easy person to talk to for that reason. Hated because for some damned reason, the fact that he didn't hide his emotions made him a fantastic actor. Harry assumed it was because when Louis was in character, he was really in character. He just felt what his character felt, and he showed it.

And for that, Harry didn't like that quality about Louis all that much.

Louis looked kind of happy today, smiling at Harry when they walked past each other, but there was a slight edge to him that Harry picked up on. Harry said nothing, though, but returned the gesture.

Harry turned his phone back on when he got to his trailer, and he saw the group message from Jo that had been sent to other cast members saying to be at XIR later tonight. Harry thought about it for a moment.

XIR was always a fun hang out. It was a great club here in London where the cast often went after work. Harry always had fun there, and getting shit-faced did sound appealing for the night. Had he not woken up the way he had this morning, he probably would have thought differently of the idea.

Because that morning, he'd woken up with someone next to him, and he wasn't hung over.

Though it seemed like he should have been hung over because he hardly remembered how that person had winded up in his bed, sleeping with him. He knew sex had been involved; it always was. But that was usually it. The only time it would go further was if Harry was too tired or too drunk to kick them out. It's not like it was a usual thing, though. Harry would never let himself breach manwhorism. But simply, he had a sex drive, and he needed to sate his needs sometimes. He only sought out for a companion for the night when he was in dire need of sex because he was no longer in a relationship where sex was constant.

But this morning was the first time he'd woken up next to woman when neither of them were so fucking hung over, they didn't remember the sex, in a long fucking time. Harry did remember the sex. He remembered it being satisfying and laced with desire. But he couldn't remember why she was there. There must have been a point during the night where he either called her over, or she came over on her own. He remembered a small bit of chatter, then getting right to business. But he couldn't remember if he asked her to stay the night, or if they had fallen asleep before they could discuss the matter.

Either way, he wasn't happy about it, and a drink or ten sounded perfect at the moment.


XIR was pretty hectic tonight, though when was it not hectic?

It was a hot club, Harry had come to realize. He always thought places like this were a good place to get drunk, at least for him. It would make it harder for people to see him act like a complete idiot.

He spotted Jo, Clara, Nick, Mil, and Lydia at a V.I.P booth off to the corner of the room, glasses already collecting over the surface of the round table. When Harry came to join them, they “greeted” him with obnoxious and incoherent shouts, clearly already feeling some sort of buzz. They made room for Harry at the end, and he sat next to Lydia, a beautiful brunette that Harry, admittedly, had shagged once.

It was ages ago, though.

“This is all you invited? I thought I saw more contacts in the group chat,” Harry said as he examined them.

“Nah,” Jo said, passing Harry a shot to start off with. He took it graciously and waited for Jo to finish talking to toss it back. “I invited more. Though I have no clue who's all actually coming.”

Harry barely nodded, feeling the burn of the alcohol find its way down his raw throat and he looked down to hide the face he was making. A moment later, he took another.

Twenty minutes in, he was proud to say he was on the road to being wasted.

A few other cast members had shown up not too long after Harry had. He was glad to see that Niall Horan was one of those people, because he was definitely the kind of person you wanted to get drunk with. Louis had also shown up, and Harry noticed that Louis had only wanted one beer, and after ten minutes, he hadn't drank half of it.

Harry took his eyes off of the mystery to throw back his last shot of bourbon. That seemed about all he needed then, and he hopped up from the booth.

“Which one of you fine ladies should I ask to dance?” he asked over the music.

The women at the table, at least most of them (Clara just scoffed), looked up at him. Mil, the blonde with smooth skin and sweet eyes, held out her hand.

“Not that I'm volunteering, but I was going to go dance anyway,” she said as Harry obliged, taking her hand as she stood up. He guided her out of the booth and down the steps to the main floor which was just a sea of dancing bodies. They found a spot they could squeeze into, and without even having to think about it, their bodies were moving along to the beat of the music.

A song by Rihanna was playing, and it was one you could really move to. (Plus Harry liked the lyrics: Bitch better have my money.) Mil was moving along to the music perfectly, her hips swaying in a smooth motion, side to side, and her hands danced with his as they moved together. Their heads dipped around each other and they let the music and alcohol take control.

It wasn't until the song changed and moved onto another that one of them seemed to have something on their mind.

“You should talk to Lou,” she said, looking up at him as they continued to sway together.

Harry frowned. “Why?”

“Well, aren't you his best friend?”

“Love,” Harry said, trying not to laugh, “I'm not even sure if I would go as far as to say we were friends.”

Mil just rolled her hazel eyes. “You two sure do act like friends,” she pointed out.

“Exactly. We act like friends.”

“You should still talk to him.”

Harry took a step back so he could see her better. “What, is something wrong with him? Did his puppy die?” Harry said without even trying to sound nice.

“You know what I'm talking about,” she said exasperatedly, a sigh following. “Talk to him. Tonight.”

“Fine,” he gave in. “I'll talk to him.”

So that's what he went to do. They danced for one more song, then Harry went off to find Louis and his fucking emotions. On his way, he was delighted (not really) to see a couple in the crowd taking “dancing” to a completely different level. It was all unclear, with all the oblivious drunks around them, and the lighting, but Harry was eighty-seven percent sure he was seeing a young guy holding up a girl by her thighs as she had her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, and her body was moving up and down. It was pretty ugly, rather than sexy, and Harry hurried to look away before he threw up everything he'd drank.

After going on a hunt for the bastard, he spotted Louis at the bar, his blue eyes off towards something at the other side of the bar. When he grew closer, he saw what was in Louis's line of vision. A small thing with not so small things, her breasts popping out of her tight dress perfectly, her fingers flirting sweetly with the sliver necklace that led conveniently down her chest. A man with high cheekbones that were outlined against the bright lights, and had that sort of dangerous look to him was standing with the girl, though he didn't seem very interested in her.

“You know, most girls rather have you talk to them, rather than stalk them from across the bar,” Harry said in Louis's ear when he approached his backside.

The shorter man jumped and stood up straight as he turned around cautiously. He sighed when he realized it was only Harry, but his cheeks turned pink.

“W-what?” Louis said.

“That girl you're gawking at. You should probably talk to her before she gets freaked out.”

Louis's head turned back around and he glanced off where he had been before, still seeming confused. Harry was kind of confused, too, so he looked at the girl again. It was easy to assume that she was who Louis had been stalking, but when his eyes drifted over to the right a bit, and he saw the dangerous eyes of the man flicker in their direction, he realized he may have been wrong, and he decided to drop it completely.

“So,” Harry said, giving Louis a light pat on the back, which made him turn his attention the other way, “I was told you needed someone to talk to.”

Louis frowned and took a seat on the stool he stood over, and Harry joined him on the stool next to him. “I never told anyone I needed to talk to someone,” he said, though he didn't deny he indeed needed to talk to someone.

“Well, you've been off all day, and people got concerned.” Harry was careful not to make it sound like he was one of those people.

“You mean Mileena,” Louis corrected.

“Yeah.” Harry gave a shrug. “Persistent lil' thing forced me over here.”

“Well, Harry, I appreciate your overwhelming concern,” Louis said sarcastically, providing the face to fit with his tone, “but you don't need to come talk to me if you don't want to.”

“No, it's fine. Besides, I'm already over here, and you offered to buy me a drink.”

“I did no such—”

Harry whistled for the bartender, and she made her way over. “I want a Tom Collins, by the way,” he told Louis.

“What can I get you boys?” said the tall, tattoo-covered woman on the other side of the counter. Harry gave Louis a sweet look, and the other young man just sighed.

Louis ordered himself his choice of beer and Harry's Tom Collins, and the woman went off to make the drinks. Louis's came first, in a tall glass that overflew, and Harry's a moment later with a pretty pink straw and a lime slice over the rim.

“That drink is nearly thirty, so it better be good,” Louis told Harry when he sipped his drink.

“Thirty?” Harry raised his eyebrows as he swallowed. “I forget how expensive this place is. But yes, it is good. Want a sip?”

Harry held his glass out towards Louis, who just shook his head and had a swig of his beer. Harry had figured out by now that Louis wasn't much of a drinker. He usually would go out with everyone when they had a night out, but he never drank much. He just seemed like a mellow guy, and that was something Harry would never admit that he liked about him. Sometimes, though, you just needed mellow people around so your life could be slightly less crazy.

Harry let a few sips of the alcoholic beverage settle in before he spoke again. “So, are we going to talk about your personal problems now?”

Louis sighed and shrugged, looking down. “I guess, though I think you'll be bored.”

“I don't have a doubt that I will be bored,” Harry agreed, grinning as he took one more sip.

Louis was quiet, then, watching his own index finger trace around the rim of the glass, like it was something he enjoyed doing, for he smiled softly. “I should be the one telling you to explain your problems, you know,” he said after a bit, dropping his hand.

“I beg your pardon?” Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Louis grinned at Harry smugly. “You have something going on in that pretty head of yours, and I can just tell it's busting you up.”

“Aw, you think my head is pretty?”

“Harry—”

“I wish I could the same for yours, but it needs some work.”

Louis sighed quite loudly. “I don't know why I try with you.”

“That's a good question,” Harry said, though it hadn't been a question, really. “Why do you try with me? You know, you only have to pretend you're my friend.”

Louis turned his head towards Harry and gave him a pointed look. “Did you ever think that maybe I really want to be your friend?”

Harry stared at him for a moment, then looked ahead while he snorted. “Hate to break it to you,” he said, “but I have enough friends.”

“Name one.”

Harry was surprised at how the childish little challenge rattled him. He became frustrated, and he stared dejectedly down into the glass in front of him, studying the ice that floated in the liquid. This is why he didn't like Louis. He always had to do this, just look into things he had no business in. He thought he was some sort of therapist that could solve all of the world's problems, and Harry had had just about enough of it.

“I don't see why you would want to be my friend. I'm not nice to you,” Harry decided to say, rather than replying to Louis's challenge.

“Sure you are.” Harry could see Louis shrug in his peripheral. “You just don't realize it.”

“Yeah?” Harry shot a look at Louis, wanting to seem like he was giving Louis a challenge of his own to hide his curiousness. “How so?”

“Harry, I've known you for nearly five years,” Louis stated. “And you still put up with me.”

Harry was going to argue that he had to put up with Louis, but he knew exactly what Louis meant by that. They had known each other for almost five years, and the entire time, they had done nothing but act like friends, off and on camera. They played best friends on the show, and because the people loved seeing them as friends, it was best to keep the image up in the real world so people would like them more. But Harry would admit he wasn't acting sometimes. Sometimes, he did enjoy spending time with Louis. Louis was someone that made having fun inevitable. He irritated Harry, but Harry enjoyed it. He wouldn't act like he was listening to you. He would actually listen to you. And Harry kind of wanted all of that in a friend.

He would just never tell Louis that.

“Anyway,” Louis said the same time Harry was realizing they had sidetracked tremendously, “I want to hear about the problem you so obviously have.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Harry sipped his drink. Well, more like he slurped it down.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.”

“How about you get drunk with me, then maybe I'll tell you,” Harry suggested, whistling for the bartender again.

“I'm not sure I like that idea.”

“Too bad. We need a round of shots!”

And so a couple of hours passed, though it didn't feel like that to Harry, and both him and Louis were wasted, for the lack of a better term. They were falling off their seats, and leaning on the people around them to stay up. But they were having fun. Real fun, like they always, secretly, did. They'd made “friends” with the people around them that recognized them from the show, and they were buying rounds for anyone. It was all good fun.

Until things got crazy.

So crazy not even Louis was smart enough to take control of it.

There were so many voices around them, and Harry was barely focusing on them, until they became more demanding, and the lights seemed to get brighter. He heard the words “Larry” and “dating” and lots of others words, though only a few really got through that he remembered.

“...kiss Lou...”

The excitement in the crowd that had formed around them was insane, and it made Harry excited as well, and with alcohol burning in his throat and the world around him blurring, he found his lips pressed to Louis's.

Notes

So, this is my first time posting on this site, but it is not my first time writing fan-fiction. Please let me know what you think if I should continue on with this story. Thanks! x

You can also find this story on onedirectionfanfiction.com under the same title and same username.