***Louis Tomlinson***
Saturday, July 14th, 2012 – North London, England

As the five of us ate lunch at mine and Harry’s place, I started to feel better. I wasn’t happy that I had lost my cool with the managers, but in a way I was proud of myself for sticking up for my relationship. I usually just did whatever I was told in order to please people and not stir up conflict, but this was different. This was my life; my Harry was my only happiness right then, and I was sick of having to hide it.

“What did the managers want?” Zayn asked me when he saw me starting to relax.

“Oh, we’re not allowed to tell people that Harry and I live together anymore,” I explained. “So I kind of…blew up at them,” I glanced at Harry, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. He hadn’t said anything to me on the drive home from the recording studio, so I couldn’t tell if he was angry at my outburst or not. I was still terrified of upsetting him.

“You blew up at them?” Liam asked, surprised and worried.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “They weren’t mad.”

“Harry told us what happened in Anaheim,” Zayn told me, changing the subject. “I’m sorry, man,” he squeezed my shoulder. I sighed.

“It is what it is,” I shrugged. “Glad I have my boyfriend to defend me,” I winked at Harry, who looked surprised at the shout out at first before smiling back.

The guys left, and I started doing the dishes. Harry walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder. I smiled.

“Feel better?” Harry asked me. I nodded.

“Sorry for blowing up,” I told him as I rinsed a glass.

“It was kinda hot,” Harry teased. I smiled. “Lou?” he asked, turning his voice serious.

“Yeah?” I said.

“What did you mean when you said what management was doing is taking a toll on our relationship?” he asked. I bit my lip.

“It – it’s just hard sometimes,” I shrugged.

“What’s hard?” Harry reached around and shut off the faucet, then turned me to face him. I hopped up so I was sitting on the counter, facing Harry.

“Not being able to touch you all the time,” I explained. “Or take you out on dates, or clear this whole drama up with everyone who’s wondering.”

“Let them wonder,” Harry said, hopping up next to me. “And we can go on dates here in our house. And you can touch me all you want, when we’re at home.”

“That’s the problem,” I said, now hopping off the counter. “Harry, I’m proud of you. I’m proud that you’re with me and I want the world to know. I want them to know how much I love you, but the more I fall in love with you the more Management stifles us.”

“I know, but we just gotta play by their rules for now and hopefully they’ll change their minds,” Harry said, like it didn’t bother him at all.

“Great,” I said, sarcastically.

“What?” Harry asked.

“It doesn’t bother you that we can’t tell anyone about us?”’

“Louis, we knew going in to this relationship that that would be an issue,” now Harry hopped off the counter so we were standing, facing each other. How could things have switched that fast from us being all lovey dovey to us arguing?

“That wasn’t the question,” I told him.

“Of course it bothers me,” Harry sighed. “But I have to remember why we’re doing it.”

“Why are we doing it, Harry?” I challenged.

“For the band, for our fans,” he listed.

“For our image,” I corrected. “Glad to see you care more about our image than our relationship.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Harry said. “But I do know we wouldn’t have a relationship if it weren’t for this band, or this job, so yeah, those things are important to me too.”

“Fine, I hope you and Management are really happy together,” I retorted. I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out. Harry’s face filled with hurt.

“Louis,” he said, sadly. I looked away as I felt the tears come on. I was sick of crying. I felt like that’s all I had done for the past few days, and I hated it. “Why does the whole world have to know about our relationship?”

“Why don’t you want them to?” I snapped.

“I feel like, no matter what, we keep coming back to this same argument,” Harry said, his voice quiet.

“And we probably always will as long as you’re embarrassed to be with me,” I stated. “Maybe one of us should move out after all.” I didn’t really feel that way. In fact, it was the last thing I wanted. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted. But it seemed like it was what Harry wanted. He just nodded as tears spilled out of his eyes.

“I’ll go pack my bags,” he said, then thundered up the stairs. I turned around, angrily grabbed the glass I had been rinsing from the sink, and threw it against the wall, hard. It shattered into a hundred pieces. I slid down against the counter until I was sitting on the floor. A loud voice in my head was yelling at me to run up to Harry, to fix this, talk it out, make it work, compromise, fight for him – whatever it took. But I couldn’t find the strength to stand up, or to move, or to talk. I heard Harry come back down the stairs, and he paused to look at me. “I miss my Louis,” he said, sadly, then slammed out the front door. I started to cry, the pain so unbearable, so crushing. I reached over and picked up one of the thin, sharp pieces of glass from the floor and sliced it shakily, deeply, across my wrist, not caring about anything else in that moment except watching the blood pour out.