World Tour
Rock Me
***Louis Tomlinson***
Friday, March 9th, 2012 – North London, England
Since we only had one more month before we had to go back on tour, the five of us guys decided to take a week long vacation, just to get away from the redundancy of rehearsals and recording and interviews. So we rented a villa in Naples, Italy, and flew there one Friday in March. We immediately fell in love with the house – it was huge and overlooked the beach and had an amazing balcony to sit on and watch the waves crash. Harry and I took the master bedroom, and the rest of the guys set up in their own bedrooms. We spent the first couple of days exploring – mostly hanging out at the beach, but we went into town and tried out new restaurants – the food was amazing. The paparazzi were all over us, but we did our best to ignore them.
When we got back to our house after our trip, the guys all came in and we lounged around on the couches, exhausted from the vacation but feeling better prepared for our busy schedule to come. Zayn was playing around on his phone when he gasped.
“What?” Niall asked him.
“Uh, well, it looks like Louis and Harry have been outed,” Zayn explained. Harry and I glanced at each other, then walked over behind Zayn. He showed us a website on his phone called “LARRY STYLINSON: THE LOVE STORY OF HARRY STYLES AND LOUIS TOMLINSON FROM ONE DIRECTION”. It had pictures of Harry and I all over it, many just from our vacation, and quotes from comments we’d made in reference to each other or our nonexistent dating lives. It didn’t seem hateful, though – it was very much fan created by fans who knew us and knew our music, and seemed to be rooting for this “Larry Stylinson” fellow. Harry looked upset. I busted out laughing.
“Let them have it,” I said, shrugging. “It’ll make it easier on us, we won’t have to hide as much if they already think something’s going on. Besides, it almost sounds like they’re rooting for us.” Harry still didn’t say anything, and I knew he was about to freak out. “Harry,” I said, calmly, gently. “Don’t worry about it.” He looked at me, his face on the brink of collapsing in a fit of rage, and I used my eyes to calm him down, hoping he could see in them how much I loved him. He took a deep breath.
“Louis’s right,” Liam said. “The best thing to do is just go with it.”
The guys hung out awhile longer, and Harry eventually went to take a nap, so the guys left and I went up to my room where I worked on writing some songs. After about an hour, I decided I missed Harry, so I went into his room and climbed in bed with him, wrapping my arms around him as he laid on his side with his back to me, still asleep. I began massaging his hair, and he stirred awake.
“What are you doing?” he asked, groggily, but he wasn’t upset.
“I missed you,” I told him. I saw his cheek raise in a smile. “Did you dream about me?”
“Always,” he replied. It was my turn to smile. I began rubbing my arm down Harry’s side, teasing him with the tips of my fingers slipping under his shirt, and down to the band of his boxers. Once I was about to slip my fingers under his boxers, though, he took my wrist in his hand, stopping me. He’d never done that before. I blinked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he muttered, but I knew that was a lie. Why didn’t he want to fool around? Harry had the biggest sex drive of anyone I knew – he could be in the worst mood and still be game for some action. He’d never turned down any sort of physical touch from me. Why did he freak out when I was about to go under his boxers? And then it hit me.
“Harry,” I said, the horror apparent in my voice. I took his shoulder and rolled him so he was laying on his back. “Are you cutting again?” he turned his head away from me, and I took that opportunity of him not looking to pull his shorts back and check. Sure enough, there were brand new, bright red cuts. “Harry,” I repeated, my brain unable to work enough to think of something to say other than his name. I put my hands over my face, distraught. Harry turned back to look at me, then took one of my hands in his and squeezed it. “You promised,” I told him, finally able to speak. “You promised you would come to me first.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” he muttered.
“That’s not the point, Harry!” I exclaimed. “The point is letting me be there for you. Letting me help you through it, instead of your razor, which I thought I had taken from you.”
“I have more,” he explained. I took a shaky breath, then laid on my side to face Harry, using his hand that was still holding mine to turn him on his side to face me.
“What didn’t you think I’d understand? Is this about the website?” I asked. Harry nodded.
“You were so fine with it, like it didn’t bother you. Nothing bothers you, Louis, ever, and I want so badly to be like that but I can’t! Everything bothers me, every little damn thing, and I hate myself for it.”
“Hey,” I said, harshly, and I pulled my hand from his and set it on his upper arm, squeezing his muscle. “Don’t you ever talk like that. There is not a single thing about you that is worthy of hatred, Harry Styles.”
“There's not a single thing about me that’s worthy of love, either,” he muttered, and his eyes glazed over with tears. My heart dropped into my stomach.
“Do you really feel that way?” I asked him. He shrugged, and then his face collapsed. I wrapped my arms around him and he laid his head against my shoulder, crying. “Harry, you are the best person I know,” I told him. “You are so amazing and wonderful and perfect, Harry, the only flaw you have is that you don’t take care of yourself. I don’t know how to get you to stop doing this.”
“I’m a lost cause,” Harry sniffled. I pulled away just enough so I could see his face.
“No, you are not,” I told him, firmly. “Don’t you ever talk about the man I love like that again. You’re my everything, Harry, if you think you’re nothing what does that make me?” Harry didn’t seem to have a response for that.
“It makes you my rock,” he finally choked out. I sighed, then hugged him again. Little did he know, he was my rock, as well. A voice inside my head told me to tell him that, but I couldn’t – that was too much vulnerability, even if it was Harry.
“Harry, your pain is my pain, okay?” I said to him, the implications of that being more than I wanted him to understand. If he was going to cut, I was going to do it, too, every time, so that I could at least go through it with him instead of as an outsider looking in, because clearly that wasn’t helping. “I’m here for you, even if you think I won’t understand something just try me. I may not let things get to me like you do but that doesn’t mean I can’t still be there for you, okay?” Harry nodded, calming down a little.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, getting up.
“You alright?” I asked him, not sure I was ready to let him out of my sight yet. He nodded, then disappeared into the bathroom. While he was in there, I got all the razor blades I could find and took them out to the trash – all but one. I used that one to make my own cut on my hip, in the same spot as Harry’s. It hurt, but it was a different kind of pain than I was used to – there was almost a sweetness to it.
Friday, March 9th, 2012 – North London, England
Since we only had one more month before we had to go back on tour, the five of us guys decided to take a week long vacation, just to get away from the redundancy of rehearsals and recording and interviews. So we rented a villa in Naples, Italy, and flew there one Friday in March. We immediately fell in love with the house – it was huge and overlooked the beach and had an amazing balcony to sit on and watch the waves crash. Harry and I took the master bedroom, and the rest of the guys set up in their own bedrooms. We spent the first couple of days exploring – mostly hanging out at the beach, but we went into town and tried out new restaurants – the food was amazing. The paparazzi were all over us, but we did our best to ignore them.
When we got back to our house after our trip, the guys all came in and we lounged around on the couches, exhausted from the vacation but feeling better prepared for our busy schedule to come. Zayn was playing around on his phone when he gasped.
“What?” Niall asked him.
“Uh, well, it looks like Louis and Harry have been outed,” Zayn explained. Harry and I glanced at each other, then walked over behind Zayn. He showed us a website on his phone called “LARRY STYLINSON: THE LOVE STORY OF HARRY STYLES AND LOUIS TOMLINSON FROM ONE DIRECTION”. It had pictures of Harry and I all over it, many just from our vacation, and quotes from comments we’d made in reference to each other or our nonexistent dating lives. It didn’t seem hateful, though – it was very much fan created by fans who knew us and knew our music, and seemed to be rooting for this “Larry Stylinson” fellow. Harry looked upset. I busted out laughing.
“Let them have it,” I said, shrugging. “It’ll make it easier on us, we won’t have to hide as much if they already think something’s going on. Besides, it almost sounds like they’re rooting for us.” Harry still didn’t say anything, and I knew he was about to freak out. “Harry,” I said, calmly, gently. “Don’t worry about it.” He looked at me, his face on the brink of collapsing in a fit of rage, and I used my eyes to calm him down, hoping he could see in them how much I loved him. He took a deep breath.
“Louis’s right,” Liam said. “The best thing to do is just go with it.”
The guys hung out awhile longer, and Harry eventually went to take a nap, so the guys left and I went up to my room where I worked on writing some songs. After about an hour, I decided I missed Harry, so I went into his room and climbed in bed with him, wrapping my arms around him as he laid on his side with his back to me, still asleep. I began massaging his hair, and he stirred awake.
“What are you doing?” he asked, groggily, but he wasn’t upset.
“I missed you,” I told him. I saw his cheek raise in a smile. “Did you dream about me?”
“Always,” he replied. It was my turn to smile. I began rubbing my arm down Harry’s side, teasing him with the tips of my fingers slipping under his shirt, and down to the band of his boxers. Once I was about to slip my fingers under his boxers, though, he took my wrist in his hand, stopping me. He’d never done that before. I blinked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he muttered, but I knew that was a lie. Why didn’t he want to fool around? Harry had the biggest sex drive of anyone I knew – he could be in the worst mood and still be game for some action. He’d never turned down any sort of physical touch from me. Why did he freak out when I was about to go under his boxers? And then it hit me.
“Harry,” I said, the horror apparent in my voice. I took his shoulder and rolled him so he was laying on his back. “Are you cutting again?” he turned his head away from me, and I took that opportunity of him not looking to pull his shorts back and check. Sure enough, there were brand new, bright red cuts. “Harry,” I repeated, my brain unable to work enough to think of something to say other than his name. I put my hands over my face, distraught. Harry turned back to look at me, then took one of my hands in his and squeezed it. “You promised,” I told him, finally able to speak. “You promised you would come to me first.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” he muttered.
“That’s not the point, Harry!” I exclaimed. “The point is letting me be there for you. Letting me help you through it, instead of your razor, which I thought I had taken from you.”
“I have more,” he explained. I took a shaky breath, then laid on my side to face Harry, using his hand that was still holding mine to turn him on his side to face me.
“What didn’t you think I’d understand? Is this about the website?” I asked. Harry nodded.
“You were so fine with it, like it didn’t bother you. Nothing bothers you, Louis, ever, and I want so badly to be like that but I can’t! Everything bothers me, every little damn thing, and I hate myself for it.”
“Hey,” I said, harshly, and I pulled my hand from his and set it on his upper arm, squeezing his muscle. “Don’t you ever talk like that. There is not a single thing about you that is worthy of hatred, Harry Styles.”
“There's not a single thing about me that’s worthy of love, either,” he muttered, and his eyes glazed over with tears. My heart dropped into my stomach.
“Do you really feel that way?” I asked him. He shrugged, and then his face collapsed. I wrapped my arms around him and he laid his head against my shoulder, crying. “Harry, you are the best person I know,” I told him. “You are so amazing and wonderful and perfect, Harry, the only flaw you have is that you don’t take care of yourself. I don’t know how to get you to stop doing this.”
“I’m a lost cause,” Harry sniffled. I pulled away just enough so I could see his face.
“No, you are not,” I told him, firmly. “Don’t you ever talk about the man I love like that again. You’re my everything, Harry, if you think you’re nothing what does that make me?” Harry didn’t seem to have a response for that.
“It makes you my rock,” he finally choked out. I sighed, then hugged him again. Little did he know, he was my rock, as well. A voice inside my head told me to tell him that, but I couldn’t – that was too much vulnerability, even if it was Harry.
“Harry, your pain is my pain, okay?” I said to him, the implications of that being more than I wanted him to understand. If he was going to cut, I was going to do it, too, every time, so that I could at least go through it with him instead of as an outsider looking in, because clearly that wasn’t helping. “I’m here for you, even if you think I won’t understand something just try me. I may not let things get to me like you do but that doesn’t mean I can’t still be there for you, okay?” Harry nodded, calming down a little.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, getting up.
“You alright?” I asked him, not sure I was ready to let him out of my sight yet. He nodded, then disappeared into the bathroom. While he was in there, I got all the razor blades I could find and took them out to the trash – all but one. I used that one to make my own cut on my hip, in the same spot as Harry’s. It hurt, but it was a different kind of pain than I was used to – there was almost a sweetness to it.
Notes
So...this was going to be a fun chapter all about their trip to Italy.Not Louis too!! These boys!!
@Sinthiaa
No, it's not hers, it's mine, and I can't get in touch with her or the site admins to get it taken down, grrr haha. Thank you for saying something though :-) *MUAH*
5/6/14