(Harry’s POV)
Soon it’s time to head off to Australia, and we’re both happy and sad at the same time. Happy, of course because we get to go perform more concerts and experience new countries and let’s face it, it’s Australia. Sad, because over the little time we were here, we developed such a perfect routine that I can’t stand to see it leave. Much like in America, Louis and I adapted to fall asleep together, wake up together, cook and eat together, shower together, and…well do literally everything together. The only time we were apart was when Gemma wanted help unpacking at her new place, the same day that the twin’s school play was. So we were apart for a whole 8 hours and I thought I might die. Never again.
The plane ride to Australia was long and boring, but Lou snuggled onto my shoulder and I fell asleep with him there. We played stupidities like Would You Rather and a ridiculous plane version of Never Have I Ever with the boys with us, that got cut off by Paul before too much alcohol was consumed. (“Never have I ever had sex with a guy.” Zayn had said, and we’d rolled our eyes and downed our shots as we ignored their chortling laughter.)
We’d already been met with hoards of screaming girls, not that this was anything new, but it was still shocking. We were just too tired and fell asleep curled up on the closest bed for who knows how long, before being shaken awake by a sweet Liam who tells us the stylists are here because we have interviews.
I grumpily get up and hop in the shower, Lou following and hopping in with me. We know we can’t do anything so we just massage each other’s scalps with fruity shampoo and kiss away any remaining exhaustion.
When we emerge, the stylists are coming in with bright smiles and ugh it’s too early for cheeriness. Niall’s on the couch, eating pancakes and Zayn’s dozing on his shoulder. Liam is chatting with one of them, Sharon, like he always does. He’s a people pleaser and he can own that. So.
I slump into one of the foldout hair and makeup chairs, and someone gets to work on my curls. I know, I know. Spoiled. But I’m too exhausted to be thankful right now, I just need to pass the hell out.
Getting ready goes well. We tease each other about blemishes and half-finished hair, ponder about what we want to do while here, and Louis and I talk to each other silently through looks. It’s amazing how we can do that. One quirk of his eyebrow and it’s You’re being ridiculous. One tug of his lips into a smirk is a simple Yes. And one bit frowning lip is a resounding No. Most of all I like his more indecipherable faces, like when he smiles at me with a closed mouth, eyes twinkling. Usually it means something along the lines of You look cute, babes. But other times it’s something dirtier and whoa I can’t think about that in a chair with people fussing about, so I don’t.
And then of course, there’s the thumbs up. We’d come up with this ages ago, as a little gesture between friends. Back then it was more like I love you, you complete idiot. But now it takes on a serious tone of I’m in love with you, babe. And I love that.
Everything is going fine. Until it isn’t. I’m more attune to Louis’ stylist than my own, mostly because I get to hear him speak in his amazing honey-sweet voice. But this time it’s not so great.
“Louis, you’ve been wearing jumpers nonstop! The fans are starting to come up with crazy theories, you need to where your signature striped T-shirt and braces, it’s what the fans want.” His stylist, Susan I think, is saying.
“I don’t want to. I can where what I like, the fans aren’t in charge.” He argues, and my head snaps up (despite the hair person telling me to keep it down) to see panic flash in his blue eyes.
“Let’s put it this way, it’s what management wants.” She says and the boys are slowly becoming a part of the listening crowd and I start to worry that I might need to do something, but what?
Louis sighs and pinches his nose. “I can’t.” He says, and the way his voice sounds, so fucking timid, reaches me and I’m out of my chair and across the room in seconds.
“What do you mean you can’t, of course you can, you have to.” Susan is saying and wow I hate her now.
I take Louis’ hands in mine, intertwine our fingers and put our faces close. God I hate having to hold back, all I’d need to do is kiss away his worries but these stupid stylists love management and would run and tell them and ugh.
He looks at me brokenly and I manage a small smile. “You have to, Boo. It’s okay, we’ll cover them up.”
Louis looks torn, his gaze flashing to this Susan bitch and back to me, obviously scared for her to know Having us, the people who care about us the most, know is one thing. Having a stranger? Someone who’s here for their money? That’s very different. But we have no choice.
“Lou?” I ask, seeing him retreating into his head and building walls. I can just see it. “Babe, stop that. It’s okay, nothing’s gonna happen, alright? We’ll fix it, and then you can wear your adorable T-shirt and everything will be fine, alright?”
I know he’s far from convinced but he nods anyway, blue eyes darkening as he tries to put on a brave face. I turn to Susan, who looks rather lost.
“Susan, right?” I ask to be polite, and she nods. “From this point onwards you are sworn to secrecy, you understand? You absolutely cannot tell anyone about this or I’ll personally make sure you lose your job.”
She looks surprised at the harsh tone in my words but she nods her blonde head. I pull a chair directly beside Lou and sit down, putting my hand on his sleeve. He’s shaking slightly and I “shhhh” him in hopes of helping. It works a little.
Gently I pull up his sleeve and turn his wrist over, hating that we’re even in this fucking situation, but there’s no other way. The scars are faded now, but still quite visible, along with the burns. From far away you wouldn’t see anything, but these are our fans we’re talking about. They’ll know.
Susan’s eyes widen, but she nods in acceptance. I thank her for not saying anything, as Lou buries his head in my shoulder and fucks his hair up a little.
“We need makeup that can cover that. You have some?” I ask coldly, trying to keep her silent.
“Yes, no worries. Right here, hold on.” She mumbles as she looks through her bag of supplies.
I feel my shirt get wet and I know Louis is crying, but I have to be the strong one so I hold back and rub circles in his palm comfortingly, kissing his feathery hair.
Lou pulls away, blinking in hopes of calming down when she returns with a pot of cover up suited to his tan skin tone. She opens it and puts some on her finger and reaches out but Louis pulls his arm away with a shake of his head.
“I need Harry to do it.” He whimpers and Susan bites her lip. She looks to me, obviously unconvinced.
“I know what I’m doing. We’ll just be a few minutes, maybe you could go help with Zayn, he’s dangerously close to ruining his hair.” I suggest, gesturing to said boy, who’s slumping on the couch, a few inches from flattening all the stylists’ work.
Susan nods, taking my forceful hint and passes me the cover up as she goes. Once she’s out of ear shot I pull Louis close to me, enveloping him in a hug which he returns by clutching at my shirt.
“Shhh, you were amazing! I’m so proud of you, love. I know how hard that was, you did great, I love you so much.” I say soothingly and he sniffs, tears coming to an end.
When he pulls away those walls are gone from his eyes and I grin. Thank god.
I take the cover up on my finger and spread it over his inner wrist, seeing him shiver at how cold it is. Gently, I work it over each slice and mark, and rub it in to match his skin tone. It takes me a few minutes, because I have to make it look natural, but it’s professional grade stuff and eventually the dreadful marks are gone, hidden from the world and I smile.
Louis looks down and inspects it carefully, eyes widening. He nods to himself, to what I’m not sure, and pulls up his other sleeve.
“I nearly forgot you had more.” I breathe, taking that arm in my hand and doing the same massaging technique there as well, covering up each mark carefully.
“I’m sorry.” He says out of nowhere and I snap my head up to look at him curiously.
“For what?” I ask in a ludicrous tone.
“For…everything. The fact that my idiotic mistakes are affecting you too. The fact that you have to take care of me and do things like this, because I’m weak and needed to do this in order to survive, and…” He trails off, but I’m shaking my head in disbelief.
“Are you an idiot? I’m doing this because I love you. I would do anything for you, Lou. I would jump in front of a bus for you, do you understand? Anything. This,” I say, lifting his arm up. “may not be my favorite thing about you, but it’s part of you nonetheless. And I love you, which means I love doing this. Okay?”
He nods timidly, eyes swirling.
“And you are not weak. You are the strongest person I have ever met in my entire life, Louis Tomlinson. You’ve been battling this since you were 15. You never once did anything stupid and went too deep, and the one time you thought about it, what did you do?” I ask, waiting for his answer.
“I told Zayn.” He mumbles, looking at his lap.
“Exactly. You told someone. You swallowed your pride and faced your fears and told someone. Do you know how many people there are that never say anything? That keep it to themselves because they just can’t do it, and end up killing themselves because of it? Hundreds, Louis. Hundreds. I’ve done my research. You are so fucking brave for doing that. For telling Zayn, for dealing with Niall and Liam and then dealing with me. And now today! You’re strong, you idiot. Don’t ever forget that.” I say fiercely.
He meets my eyes and he’s crying and then I tear up too because fucking hell, he’s so beautiful, I can’t see him like this.
“Research?” He asks out of nowhere.
“The guy I’m in love with has a self harm problem, did you really think I’m not gonna do something about it? When you fell sleep that night after you told me about it all, I went online and researched for hours. And by the end of it I was so proud of you because you’re so strong.” I explain, smiling at him.
He breaks out into a grin through his tears and laughs a little. “God, where would I be without you, Curly?” He asks, ruffling my hair. But beneath his teasing there’s strong emotion that only I can hear, and he’s done that purposefully.
“Let’s not find out.” I chuckle and lean in to kiss him.
I know there are people around. I know there are stylists and all that shit but Liam walks over then, standing in front of us and blocking the view as our lips touch softly. The pot of makeup falls at some point, as does my sense of care. Because this idiotic boy who’s kissing me is way more important than anything in the world.
******************************
(Louis’ POV)
A few days later and I still cannot believe that Harry researched it. He’s…fucking perfect. I don’t know anyone else who would have done so. He cared about me. He cared before we even got together. Good god. He’s perfect.
The other day was wonderfully weird. We went out on a boat in the ocean and while yes, the helicopter following us wasn’t exactly fun, and yes, Niall making wanking gestures got us in a shit load of trouble, it was still amazing. Partly because it’s Australia and it’s beautiful, partly because we could all chill with a beer and relax and partly because my gorgeous boyfriend was shirtless. As well as that, Liam and I went boarding, and it was great to just hang out with him, as I haven’t done so since the argument way back. It was nice to be able to talk about relationships and such, comparing what romance Danielle likes and what Harry does. And then we’d talked about sex (Yeah, I know,Liam? Yep. Surprised me too.) and I’d gotten an awkward boner that I had to play off as a suit malfunction on national television. Fuck my life. I’d come back to the hotel to find Harry in hysterics, because he just knew it wasn’t a malfunction. (“Thinking about me, were ya?” He’d teased, but I didn’t even smirk. “Shut up and fuck me.” I’d said sternly, throwing him backwards onto the bed.)
And then today was hectic as ever (When is it not?) as we had plenty of interviews and blah, blah, blah. I’m exhausted, and I would very much like to cuddle up with Hazza and sleep.
Although…..
Okay. So he may be my boyfriend and all, and I may be in love with him but….it’s high time for a prank. It’s well known that I’m the prankster, and either Harry or Niall is my partner in crime. And I’ve gone far too long without fucking with at least one of the boys.
But who?
I glance around the giant hotel room we’re in. We’ve just finished a ton of interviews that Haz and I ruined by making each other crack up, and I do believe I acted the gayest I have in a while. Oh well, all in a days’ fun.
Harry’s laying on the couch, effectively passed out along with Zayn, who’s sprawled across the floor in a deep sleep. Niall is eating crisps, quite happy to just munch on them and watch tv. And Liam is playing Angry Birds on his I-Pod, smirking to himself. I glance back down to the sleeping boys and remember an errant thought from weeks ago.
I need markers.
I grab a few sharpies from the table and stand above the boys for a minute, pondering. I grin spreads across my face when I see Liam catch on, his eyebrows raising evilly.
I go for Zayn first, knowing he’s a heavy sleeper. I bend down on my knees, and lift up his shirt. He shifts but does nothing as I push it up further, revealing his toned back. I uncap a sharpie and write the first witty thing that comes to mind.
‘Zayn + Mirror 5EVER!’ With a huge heart around it. Oh come on, that’s funny.
I hear a loud, barking laugh and snap my head up to see Niall, whose crisps are now falling around him, catch on and go into hysterics. I shush him and smirk once more, lowering the shirt carefully. Zayn doesn’t even budge.
I then look towards Harry and grin. While there’s a new level to it this time, being in love with him and all, it feels like old times, plotting his prank demise. And suddenly I just know what I have to write.
I maneuver onto the couch between his legs carefully, making sure to be gentle. When he doesn’t move I shove up his sweater and tug his pants and boxers down just enough to see the crack of his ass and I chuckle to myself.
Niall and Liam are into it now, both getting up to walk across the room and see what I’ll write.
In big, block letters I scrawl the truth. ‘Property of LouLou.’ And I add a little heart beside it.
Niall breaks into laughter and Liam covers the leprechaun’s mouth with his hand, snickering himself. I tug back up Hazza’s clothes, but he shifts and opens his eyes blearily.
“Lou?” He mumbles, half asleep, and I have to fight back laughter, as does Niall.
“Go back to sleep, honey.” I coo softly and he nods, halfway there anyways, and lets his eyes flutter closed.
I smile a triumphant grin as I get off the couch and high five Liam and Niall at the same time. Tommo, you’ve done it again.