Work Text:
MAY 2011
Louis is nineteen when he sees Harry Styles live for the first time.
It’s not really his choice—his mum can’t take his little sister to the concert because his other sisters, the twins, are only seven years old and definitely can’t be left alone. Sure, Louis could have stayed home and played babysitter, but since his mum works early on Sundays, she didn’t want to take her evening off just to be tired the day after, when it’s just easier for her if Louis’s the one to accompany his sister.
Really, it just works better that way, and a live show is always fun anyway, so Louis doesn’t really mind going. He doesn’t get bored easily, and if he somehow does today, he’ll be able to catch up with Lottie and tease her about her relentless crush on the singer, which is honestly a bit ridiculous.
Lottie is the perfect model of the ultimate fangirl. She seems to know every lyric of his songs by heart, has a diary with a close-up of the singer’s face printed on the cover and owns multiple copies of his first and only album. She has posters of the pop star plastered on all the walls of her room, begs her mother to buy her every magazine he’s in, and her YouTube’s recommendation are either grainy video interviews of the lad with approximate fanmade subtitles on the bottom of the screen from when these interviews take place in another country, or video compilations of him titled ‘harry styles top 10 funny moments part 16’ that she watches on repeat on Louis’ old laggy computer, the one he left home before starting university. Louis is not entirely sure why these videos are called ‘top tens’ given that they’ve reached their sixteenth part, but sure.
So even if it’s a bit absurd at times, Louis mentally shrugs and moves on. After all, he’s had posters of Beckham on the walls of his room since he was twelve, and not just because the man is a good player. He supposes that’s just part of growing-up, to have weird obsessions and crushes on celebrities, and he’s definitely not one to judge. To tease mercilessly, sure, but he’d never try to make Lottie feel bad on purpose.
So naturally, when Louis’ mum asked him months ago if he had any idea for a gift for Lottie’s twelfth birthday, it goes without saying that he suggested buying tickets for the pop star’s newly announced tour. Of course, Lottie had been ecstatic when she had opened the envelope containing the two tickets, and had even cried.
So yeah, Louis is nineteen when he sees Harry Styles live for the first time, and it’s clearly because he’s the most outstanding big brother on the planet.
The journey from Doncaster to Manchester takes just under two hours and is accompanied by Harry Styles’ first album on repeat, thanks to Lottie sliding the CD into the car radio with an excited smile two minutes after he’d started his mum’s old car. The speakers sizzle because the music is too loud and his sister sings out of tune all along the way, but that’s alright because it’s her first proper concert and Louis wants her to have the best experience.
Louis can’t say he normally listens to this kind of music—and he’s definitely not in the pop star’s targeted audience anyway—but he admits that the singer has a few bops that makes him move his head in time with the music. He even hums along when he recognises one song that’s been playing on repeat on the radio for a few months already.
“You still have the tickets?” he asks Lottie once they’re parked and ready to leave the car, just to be sure. He checks his hair in the rear-view mirror and brushes his fringe over to the right, so it doesn’t just fall flat on his forehead, while Lottie says that she does, in fact, still have the tickets.
Once in the venue, Louis is a bit surprised by how the atmosphere is different from the last time he was here with his mates. That’s surely because the crowd isn’t the same as what he’s used to. Tonight, there’s no rowdy young adults trying to find their way to their friends with overflowing beers in their hands. Instead, they’ve been replaced by what are mostly groups of teenage girls—roughly from Lottie’s to Louis’ age—and lots of supervising mums too.
Lottie’s amazed by how big the venue is. She’s now wearing a merch sweatshirt that Louis has just paid for with his limited savings—he’s a student, after all—and she’s looking all around her, barely refraining herself from jumping up and down from excitement, taking in the loud crowd and the scene with shining eyes.
He nudges his sister. “You have friends coming here too?” he asks, because he’s a good brother, and concerts are always so much better when they are shared with friends. If he had to, he’d be willing to push through the crowd to help her find her friends, but she shakes her head no, so they find a spot in the crowd to settle from where Lottie will be able to see the stage, or at least the screens.
Louis is sure he’s seen Harry Styles’ face enough times in his sister’s bedroom to say that he’d be able to recognise him in the streets if he were to come across him. He knows what the lad looks like when he’s smiling, when he takes a mysterious look for the camera or when he’s supposed to look all confident and to die for; so clearly, it’s a mystery why Louis is so surprised when, once the opening act leaves and after a short video plays on the big screen, the pop star finally enters the stage under a big round of applauds and numerous cheers and shrieks and cries from the crowd.
Louis can definitely see that the singer is a new artist—he doesn’t carry himself like he owns the stage, and instead stays in the same place, not moving much. What’s disconcerting is that, despite his awkward stance and nervous tics, he definitely has the captivated crowd wrapped around his finger, something that Louis had previously only seen in gigs where the artists were more experienced.
When he starts singing his first song, the crowd erupts in cheers again, and the boy answers with a wave and a cheeky grin, dimples popping on his cheeks. He doesn’t look anything like he does in Lottie’s posters, and yeah, Louis admits, maybe that’s what’s so surprising. He’s not this overconfident lad that the posters depicted—the opposite, actually—but he’s still completely charming.
“Good evening Manchester!” Harry Styles says in his microphone when he finishes his second song. Louis thinks he’s about to lose his hearing with all the screeches pulled from the crowd with just those few words from the singer. “You guys are absolutely amazing! I just wanna say a massive thank you to every one of you for being here today! It’s been a fabulous year, and yeah, thank you all for being a part of this!”
Lottie grips Louis’ hand and when he turns his face to look at her, she’s wiping her eyes and grinning from one side of her face to the other in pure joy.
The longer the concert goes on, the more comfortable the pop star seems to get, so Louis let the magic happen—he cheers loudly with the crowd when a song ends, hums along the three songs he knows and lets Lottie hop on his back when a too tall woman moves in front of them and obstructs his little sister’s view.
When the end of the concert is approaching, Lottie informs him of her masterplan: she wants to leave now even if there are still some songs left and rush to where Harry’s tour bus is parked, because legend says that he immediately leaves the venue after a show and stops to chat with the fans that are waiting outside. And obviously, if Lottie wants to try this strategy even if she’s not sure she’ll see him, who is he to say no?
Weirdly, it works. A few other fans are waiting near the tour bus and chatting with each other when Harry walks out of the venue and comes towards them in long strides. He’s wearing a heather grey knitted beanie over his mop of curls which quickly disappears when he pulls the hood of a black zip-up hoodie that he wasn’t wearing for the show over his head.
“Hi!” he waves with a grin to the fans. The fans are chill—there’s no pushing or shoving, and everyone waits their turn to meet the pop star, which is honestly great. Still, security isn’t far behind in case things get a bit too enthusiastic and fans get a bit too rowdy, Louis supposes.
Lottie’s arms loops through Louis’ and she stays stuck to his side, clearly a bit shy and star-strucked.
“C’mon, don’t you wanna say hi?” he asks, gently pushing his sister towards her favourite singer. She doesn’t often lose all her assurance like this, and she would blame herself terribly if she missed the occasion to talk to him, especially since they’re the last one Harry hasn’t said hello to and that he’s about to leave for his tour bus.
Nevertheless, Harry notices them and he’s actually the one coming in their direction.
“Hi! Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, planting himself in front of them, still smiling.
And that seems to be exactly what Lottie needed to regain her confidence. “Hi Harry!” she answers excitedly. “We did! I had so much fun!”
The pop star flashes her another smile, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Louis is not exactly sure how old Harry Styles is, but he does look a bit younger than him, and he suddenly gets the enthusiasm around the singer’s looks. Harry’s cute in the exact boyish way that Louis fancies and usually goes for, except that he generally doesn’t make a move on boys who are either looking a tad too young for him or who are world-famous singers.
“I’m glad you had fun! What’s your favourite song of the album?” the pop star asks, trying to make Lottie feel comfortable enough with a bit of small talk.
Lottie’s eyes widen. “I don’t think I can choose! Maybe One Thing?”
“That’s a solid choice! Do you want a picture before I leave?”
Lottie nods so Louis takes his phone out of his pocket. The singer gets closer to his little sister and puts his arm around her shoulders. They both smile big grins at the camera, Lottie clearly on the verge of tears, and Louis snaps a picture at this exact moment.
“It’s in!” Louis announces.
The singer takes a step back and checks his phone, wincing as a result. “Well, it was nice meeting you but I gotta go now!” he then says, turning and pointing at his tour bus with an apologetic smile.
“Harry, wait!” Lottie suddenly calls, seconds after the pop star starts moving towards the vehicle, taking out of the front pocket of her new sweatshirt the album they had listened to in the car on the way here, making Harry stop in his tracks. “Could you maybe sign this, please, if it doesn’t take too much of your time?”
Harry takes a look at the album and his lips curve into a smile again. It’s an easy smile, light and genuine. “Sure! I don’t have any pen on me, though. Do you mind asking the tall gentleman with the black jacket over there if he has one?” he asks, pointing to a man who appears to be part of his security team.
Lottie goes immediately, making Louis snort. He’s pretty sure she’s never obeyed someone this quickly before—especially not their mum when she asks her to tidy her room or to help with the dishes.
In front of Louis, Harry shifts his weight from one leg to another, and gives him a shy smile, one that’s different from those he was giving to Lottie seconds ago. He’s inspecting the album the twelve-year-old left him. “I’m pretty sure it’s not an official album,” he finally mumbles, when Louis arches an eyebrow in his direction with an unspoken question.
Louis snorts again. “Really? Well, don’t tell her that, she’d be heartbroken.”
“Oh! No, of course, I wouldn’t, I promise,” Harry splutters, hesitant, his eyes flickering between Louis and the album he is still holding between his hands. “I just wanted to let you know, in case you didn’t already, that’s all! Are you her brother?”
He looks nervously at Louis, and Louis is certain that it’s because Harry must sense that he’s not a fan, and that it’s easier to talk to teenage girls who you know love you than to boys your age. Louis shoves his hands in his pockets, a little uncomfortable too.
“I am, yep,” he still answers easily. There’s a moment of silence that Louis wants to fill because it’s a bit awkward to just stand here, so he just says, “Love your hoodie, by the way!”
Louis doesn’t know what possessed him to say that. The zip-up hoodie is just a plain black one, but earlier, when the pop star was with the other fans, he noticed the word ‘oasis’ written in big letters on the back, and Louis’s a bit of a fanboy of the band, so he hopes Harry won’t think he’s taking the piss.
“Thanks!” the boy in front of him beams, seemingly unfazed, his big green eyes trained on Louis. “You want it?”
“Um, what?” Louis blinks, a bit taken aback.
“You want it? The hoodie?”
“I’m not going to steal your clothes, you’ll get cold!” Louis snorts. “Besides, you look pretty in it,” he adds with a wink, without thinking twice, because it’s right, Harry does look cozy and pretty, buried in the hoodie under his beanie and the hood, with just the tip of his curls poking around his pale skin.
Harry’s cheeks take suddenly a nice tint of pink, and that’s when Lottie finally comes back with a marker that she triumphantly waves at them.
“Here, lovely,” the singer says, giving her back her signed album, cheeks still warm under Louis’ gaze. “It was a pleasure meeting you both! I hope I’ll see you again someday!”
“For your next tour, right Lou?”
Harry laughs, and his green eyes find Louis’ again. He smiles a big smile, showing all his teeth, including his two front bunny teeth. Weird how Louis never noticed them on Lottie’s posters before, yet now they’re all he can focus on. Then the two dimples make their appearance again on each of the singer’s cheeks and Louis’ attention shifts completely. He kinda wants to bury his fingers into them to see how they feel.
“Well, goodbye, then,” the pop star finally says after a beat, waving at them.
He shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts, his curls popping out of his hood a little bit more as a result, then leaves, rapidly gaining his bus. The doors of the vehicle open, he hops on, and Harry Styles is gone.
APRIL 2015
History repeats itself four years later.
Louis is now twenty-three, and doesn’t live in Doncaster anymore. He moved out of his hometown shortly after finishing university, and now lives in London with his flatmate and best mate, Zayn.
They met about three years ago at a rubbish party where they shared their biggest dreams, as well as their love and passion for music, over weed on an empty balcony. At three in the morning, when it had been time to head home, they swapped numbers, both freezing in their too-thin jumpers for the cold March air, and never left each other’s sides again after that.
Unlike Louis, Zayn is still at university in his final year, and he’s closer than ever to complete his degree. He hopes one day to work in the music industry as a producer, but for now, Louis is his favourite test subject. They have fun creating all sorts of music together, which Louis sometimes performs in a pub down the street when he feels like it. He also got a bunch of his own songs uploaded to SoundCloud, even if they’re not really popular. But whatever, Louis is happy where he is now in his life—they’re creating and experimenting with what they like, and that’s what counts.
So yeah, music is their whole life. Their flat is full of music equipment, instruments and records and CDs to prove it, and, as Louis works in a record shop, it’s not unusual that he comes home from work with something new to listen to, most of the time an album by an underground artist they’ve never heard of before.
Today again, a nameless indie-rock vinyl record spins on the turntable that they almost went bankrupt buying.
Too bad Louis can’t really listen to it as he’s being disturbed every two seconds.
“Why is it always so messy in here anyway?” Lottie complains, stumbling over a power strip that’s plugged into the wall near the kitchenette, goes through the whole room, passes over the backrest of the sofa where Louis is sprawled in and scrolling on his old iPhone 4, loops around the kitchen table legs and ends its journey on a tiny desk all the way across the room where it’s connected to a synthesiser, a professional recording mic and a laptop opened on GarageBand.
“Maybe if you’d stop moving this much—” Louis starts to say, but his sister interrupts him quickly.
“We’re leaving in thirty minutes! You should be the one moving!” she admonishes with a high-pitched voice, reminding him of his mother.
Louis shrugs and goes back to his phone. “I’m ready, we can leave whenever you want. Just say the word.”
Living in London means his little sisters pop by often to see him at the weekends—especially when they want to go to an event happening in the city. Louis doesn’t mind much; he misses his family a lot, and if it helps his mum to have one less child to take care of when she already has her hands full with the second pair of twins of the family, who are barely over one, then so be it.
Lottie is proving to be a bit of a nuisance today, though.
“No you’re not! You’re not going like that! You’re still wearing the trackies you’ve slept in!” she protests, stopping mid-lap on her way to the bathroom, her face stuck in an expression of outrage.
She’s been on edge ever since she arrived at the flat last night for the sole and only reason that she somehow managed to get her hands on VIP tickets for Harry Styles’ O2 show in London—her dream since she was a little girl, as she says. And let’s just say she’s now wearing a full face of make-up and clothes Louis’ mum maybe wouldn’t approve of. Louis is pretty sure that she also shaved her legs in the shower earlier this morning, but he refrained from mentioning to her that she’s only sixteen years old, and that the singer is obviously too old for her, as she’d be embarrassed to be called out on it.
Lottie squints at him, ready to open her mouth and complain again, so Louis talks before she can. “Bloody hell, calm down! Firstly, I didn’t sleep in those and secondly, we’re going to wait for a bloody long time so excuse me for wanting to be comfy!”
“No Louis, you don’t understand! We’ll be front row, and we’ll likely be filmed, and I’m not getting filmed if you’re standing next to me looking like that!”
“For fuck’s sake, Lots, I don’t look that bad!”
“Your hair’s a mess and your shirt has a stain and your socks are mismatched.” She then points at the cracked screen of her phone, showing him the time. “Twenty-five minutes left.”
He rolls his eyes, but decides it’s not a fight he’s going to win. “My hair’s messy on purpose,” he still mutters under his breath—and it’s true! His hair might be sticking out from everywhere, but he likes how it looks when it’s styled like this, with his fringe laid on his forehead on the side. “And who’s gonna care about my socks anyway?” he adds out of spite.
But he knows Lottie won’t stop being annoying unless he gets changed, so he throws his phone onto the sofa next to him and jumps to his feet. He hushes Lottie out of his way, nearly trips on an abandoned jacket laying on the floor, and locks himself in his bedroom, quickly selecting from his dresser a black shirt and some black skinnies—the ones he usually wears to pull. He rolls his eyes at the thought, because now, he’s not any better than his sister who bloody shaved her legs to see her favourite artist.
The tube ride is excruciating, and so is the wait once they’ve arrived, but when they’re finally inside the venue, their patience pays off as they are indeed front row, thanks to Lottie spending a small fortune on early access tickets. She’s worked her ass off during her school holidays this year and last year, waiting for a world tour announcement, and has put all her savings into the best tickets she could find once they were on sale. Louis can’t say he’s not impressed by his sister’s dedication.
“I hope you’ve listened to his album,” the teenager says, restlessly gripping the cylindrical bar of the metal barricade in front of her with both hands, once the opening act is finished. She still radiates nervous energy even though the show has already started and they’ve had their places secured for hours. “And you better sing!”
“Oh my god,” he groans. Of course he listened to Harry Styles’ latest album—between him working at the record shop and his little sister’s pleas, he had to, but he obviously doesn’t know the songs well enough to sing along. He’s primarily here to accompany Lottie, since she’s still a minor.
“Louis! What he’s gonna think if he doesn’t see you sing! That’s like, so rude!”
“I doubt he’ll think anything of it,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “I reckon he won’t even see us.”
“Well I hope he does!” she frowns, just as the lights dim in the room and an animated video starts playing on the screens.
Immediately, she forgets that she was arguing with Louis and her attention turns to the stage. The crowd around them screams, and Louis thinks he’s never heard anything like that before. Quickly, the video ends and the band starts playing. When the pop star arrives running and dancing on stage, the crowd roars again—even louder than before—and Lottie starts to sob.
And, fucking hell, Harry Styles isn’t an inexperienced artist anymore. The way he moves and dances during his first three songs is captivating and there’s no place for his past awkward stance on this stage. His hair is longer than five years ago and his curls, let loose, are brushing past his shoulders, dancing with him as he moves. His face is more sharp than before too, his jaw more angular and his cheeks less round. He lost what he had left of his baby fat and undoubtedly doesn’t look like a boy anymore.
The white, airy, almost transparent blouse he’s wearing is opened on his chest, revealing, just under his collarbones, a set of bird tattoos as well as a silver cross necklace which dangles from around his neck, catching all the artificial lights as the singer passes by. His long legs are in black skinnies that might as well be painted on, and he’s wearing chelsea boots on his feet.
He looks tall and unruly, like that. It’s like the stage is his playground and they’re all little puppets at his mercy, doing whatever he implicitly asks for, screaming when he unashamedly grinds into the microphone stand, following his every move when he runs from one side of the stage to the other.
Louis is surprised with how much more catchy the songs are when he hears them performed live. The atmosphere is cloying and sultry, and the singer goes from rocky songs to ballads with ease. For two hours without stopping, the pop star screams and jumps and jokes with the audience without getting tired. It’s an experience worth having at least once, Louis thinks to himself, caught up in the singer’s unstoppable energy.
Next to him, Lottie is screaming-singing the whole time too, only pausing once to hyperventilate when the singer looks straight at them and winks—and maybe, just maybe, Louis is glad that Lottie’s made him change earlier, but under no circumstances will he ever tell her.
“I’m never gonna recover…” his sister says, still a bit dazed, as they eventually leave the venue, once the concert is over. They’re getting pushed out of the room by the waves of people trying to get outside to their cars first, making Louis glad to live in the city.
“If you want to and promise to stay with me the whole time, Zayn is suggesting we join him and continue the evening in a pub not too far from the flat. What do you say?” he asks, checking his text messages with his best mate, and already knowing which answer he’ll get from Lottie because she’s still looking dreamingly into the void.
She’s definitely not ready to go home now. Louis understands—it was a hell of a show.
His sister nods her answer, grinning. “But can we buy more merch before we go?”
An hour and a half later and with two more hoodies added to Lottie’s collection, they finally arrive at the pub. Louis is chuffed to see that the place is not swarmed by people, as he still feels sticky and sweaty from the packed crowd of the pit, the undergroud on their ride here being full of fans heading home not helping with the icky feeling either.
They sit down with Zayn and their mutual friends and order—a beer for him and cider for Lottie, because she’s still sixteen and his mum wouldn’t be pleased with him if she knew he was taking her with him to pubs.
The rest of the evening is full of laughter and it’s a great way to gently discharge all the energy from the show.
At one moment, Lottie scouts out of the booth because she needs the loo, and it’s only fifteen minutes later that Louis notices she still hasn’t come back. With a frown, he quickly surveys the room and finds her near the bar, talking to someone wearing a bun, who has his back turned to Louis, and who definitely looks bigger and taller than his sister.
“Oi Lots!” he shouts from across the room, already on his feet and walking towards her. “I thought you were supposed to stay by my side!”
He’s prepared to go and scold the man for talking to his sister who clearly looks underage, but when he shouts, Lottie and the stranger both whip around to face him, making Louis comes to a stop, as he immediately recognises the face of the pop star who was dancing on a stage in front of them a few hours ago. And yeah, that checks out, you can count on Lottie’s luck to bump into her favourite artist in a random pub in London, surely celebrating with friends after his big show.
“Oh, hi!” Louis says with an amused smile, coming towards them much more calmly than before.
“Hi,” the singer drawls with his deep, smooth voice that sends shivers down Louis’ spine. His sleeves are rolled up and reveal an array of tattoos on his arms, and when he catches Louis starring, his pink lips curl into a smile.
Louis is once again glad for Lottie making him change, because bloody hell.
“Lou!” Lottie cuts the tension, the silent exchange between the singer and Louis going unnoticed as she’s clearly overjoyed and ready to combust. “I was just telling Harry that we saw him in Manchester when I was twelve and that we met him near his tour bus after the show! I might still have the photo saved on my phone!”
“Of course you still have it, Lots, it was your lockscreen for six months straight after you got your first phone,” Louis snorts, happy for his sister’s intervention, as she looks into her gallery.
“Oh my god, Louis, shhh,” she answers with a roll of her eyes. That makes the pop star laugh, and when Louis looks at him, his eyes are still fixed on Louis, examining him like he’s searching for something. “Here! I’ve found it!” Lottie says, interrupting them.
She shoves her phone in front of the singer whose face lightens up in recognition. “I do remember you two, actually! I wasn’t sure but—you had a fake limited-edition album or something, right? Oh god, and I promised your brother I wouldn’t tell you, didn’t I?”
Louis laughs just as Lottie’s eyes widen. “It’s fake?”
“I’m sorry,” the singer says sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to let the cat out like that.”
“That’s alright mate,” Louis laughs. “Lottie’s a big girl now, right Lots? She can handle the truth. Do you remember every interaction you have with your fans this well, though?”
Harry blushes. “No—I… It’s just—you said something to me that night, and I guess it stuck with me.”
“Oh,” Louis says, a lazy smile suddenly stretching his lips. “I do remember. And I can say, you were—are—even more tonight,” he adds in a roundabout way, not wanting to reveal too much in front of his sister, but remembering how he’d said to Harry that he looked pretty four years ago after his show, after Harry had offered him his hoodie just because Louis had say he liked it.
Louis didn’t think Harry’s cheeks could go any redder after his confession, but oddly, they do.
JULY 2017
Two years later, Louis, Zayn and Lottie find themselves in the south of France. The cicadas are singing around them in the excessively hot weather of the afternoon, creating the perfect soundtrack for the suffocating heat to wash over their already too sweaty bodies that haven’t seen another piece of clothing except for their bathing suits since they arrived.
The three of them are slumped in their camping chairs in a lethargic state; they don’t even have the strength to talk or even smoke—it’s just too hot for that. Their only moment of relief is when the faint breeze miraculously blows over them.
Even if they are surrounded by pines and olive trees, they cannot escape the heavy sun, and their camping pitch is way too far from the pool to even think about moving. As a result, Louis is fanning himself with the documents detailing when and where he’s supposed to be playing in this festival in Provence—which is where they are now—in five days’ time.
It wasn’t a surprise to be contacted to play for a festival, especially since Louis has already done a few very small ones in the UK over the past year, but to be fled to another country was kinda a big deal.
He and Zayn are not sure how it happened, but the songs they’ve recorded over the years attracted a small fanbase and they’ve gained a bit of money from that. Two of his songs even became a little popular on the internet—which surely led to the small festivals booking him in the first place. It’s not a career yet—Louis obviously still works at the record shop, and Zayn landed himself a nice assistant position in a label after finishing university, but when they have some free time, they’re focusing on recording an EP; which is all Louis could have ever dreamed about.
But that is if he doesn’t die from the heat first.
Lottie’s dozing off on her chair in a bikini, Zayn’s reading some weird book about turtles, and Louis is just lost in his thoughts, slowly melting under the sun. The one positive thing about this weather is that he’ll have a nice tan for his set.
From the neighbouring camping pitch, a wireless radio plays on a white plastic table, and has been since this morning. Louis doesn’t understand a word from what it says, but he sees the exact moment when his sister perks up, emerging from her impromptu nap.
“—et vous pouvez encore tenter de gagner des places pour le concert de Harry Styles qui a lieu dans deux jours, je répète, deux jours, en appelant au trente-cinq quarante-cinq—” says the local radio host, before speaking more gibberish that Louis doesn’t try to decipher.
The thing is, Lottie’s French is way better than Louis’, so except for the singer’s name and the word ‘concert’, he can’t figure out much more, and therefore has no explanation as for why his sister’s eyes widen excitedly, and neither why she quickly grabs her phone to make a call like her life depends on it.
“They say we have a chance to win tickets for Harry Styles if we call this number!” she squeals, immediately clarifying the situation.
And yeah, Louis has already heard all about Harry Styles performing in a nearby big city for his current world tour, and how it’s a big coincidence that they’re in the same region of France at the same time, and how Lottie’s devastated because there were no tickets left when she checked, because Louis’s been approached by the festival he’s playing at far too late for her to buy tickets.
She said multiple times during the three days they’ve already been there that the whole thing is a tragedy; but apparently now is her chance—and that’s how two days later, after playing tourist all day, they find themselves standing in the pit of a roofless venue, thanks to Lottie’s luck.
Even though the evening is well underway, the air is still heavy around them, so Louis would clearly have preferred to not be standing in the crowd. His white t-shirt clings to his skin from walking around the city all day, and his hair sticks to his forehead too. His head is buzzing a bit from the beers they’ve been drinking since the opening act climbed on stage forty minutes ago and his face feels hot and tingly from the sun.
They’re not front row like two years ago in London but they’re not too far from the stage either, thanks to the early access tickets the local radio show was giving. Someone’s smoking weed just next to them and Zayn coaxes the group of friends to share with a smile and a bat of his long eyelashes; so when Harry Styles runs on stage, it’s difficult to say if Louis feels dizzy because he’s inebriated or because, well, Harry Styles.
Since the last time they’ve seen him live, Louis has been following his career, so it’s not a surprise that his long, long curls are now chopped off. This new look is definitely something on him. He looks older, less wild and a bit more composed, which Louis can’t blame him for—he himself looks older and less wild as the years pass; he’s even sporting more facial hair now, trading his subtle stubble for a scruffier look.
Harry Styles’ songs are a whole other repertoire than before too, and as usual, they always sound more when Louis hears them live. This time, he’s proud to say that he can sing along to most of them.
Like always, Lottie let a tear or two slip during one of the gentlier songs, making Louis chuckle softly—not mockingly—to himself. It’s just, that’s his little sister, right there. The one he took to her first concert years ago, and even if she’s all grown up now, some things never change.
In the middle of the concert, right after Harry draped himself in a LGBTQIA+ flag and ran around the stage with it floating behind him, his eyes stop on them in the crowd and the pop star flashes them a big smile. Louis is sure he just recognised them.
“I see some familiar faces,” Harry says in his microphone, confirming Louis’ doubts.
“Oh my god, Lou! He’s talking to us, I think,” Lottie whines, her long nails digging into Louis’ arm where she grips him tightly from the emotion.
Zayn groans as the fans around them start cheering louder. “You didn’t mention he knew you personally, or that he’d be able to spot you two when we’re surrounded by so many people.”
Louis wants to say that they obviously don’t know him personally, but the pop star interrupts him before he can even speak. “Yes, yes, you two—Lottie and Louis from the tour bus in Manchester, right?” he asks, pointing at them and getting closer, surely recalling their names from two years ago in the pub, which is actually a long time ago for him to remember their names. “Are you enjoying the show? What are you doing here, all the way across the Channel?”
“My brother’s playing at a festival!” Lottie doesn’t hesitate to scream towards the singer, who opens two big surprised eyes when he finally deciphers what she’s saying over the screams of the crowd.
“Oh, that’s exciting! I wish you all the best, you’re gonna kill it!" Louis can’t help but smile a secret smile at him, and immediately, Harry’s expression mirrors his. It’s gentle and a little fragile, like they know each other, even if they don’t. Then the singer takes a few bouncy steps back, and the band starts playing again. That’s Harry’s cue to know that he’s meant to start the show again, so he leans into his microphone, keeping an unfaltering eye contact with Louis, and says, “This one’s for you!”
The drums behind him get louder and pick up a proper tempo, and Harry goes off on the stage, starting singing the first notes of the next song he’s just dedicated to Louis; and bloody hell—Louis can’t even blame his racing heart beating too loud and too fast on the alcohol and the weed, this time.
When the show’s over and people slowly start oozing out of the venue, Lottie suggests they hang out in the city a little more before heading back to the camping, which is nearly a two hours drive. Even if she doesn’t say it out loud, Louis knows she wants a repeat from two years ago, so naturally, she’s bummed when they don’t bump into the pop star anywhere.
“He’s not supposed to be playing another concert for a week or so, so I thought we’d have a chance to run into him in the city,” she sighs, when they’re finally back to their tents.
Zayn laughs at that. “Aren’t you a bit of a stalker, babes? You’re always, always so spoilt by destiny—and still always expect more.”
“Yeah, Lots, three times you’ve seen Harry Styles live, and three times you’ve talked to him,” Louis adds teasingly, making his sister pout slightly.
“He’s the one who remembered our names, so if anything at all, he’s the stalker.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Louis chuckles again as she crosses her arms on her chest.
It’s only four days later, when the festival has passed and when they’re folding up their tents, that Louis hears about the singer again.
Completely exhausted because he hasn’t slept a lot after his set, trying to see as many artists as he could during the festival, he’s currently battling against his suitcase, making an attempt to fit it into the boot of their rental car. He’s already sweaty even if it’s eight in the morning, because apparently temperatures don’t go down during the night here, and he just can’t wait to be home and in his bed.
So when he sees Lottie coming towards him, shoving her phone in his face instead of helping pack, Louis groans.
“Lou, Lou, Lou,” she says, “apparently Harry’s been seen at the festival, but like—at your set!”
“How do you even know that?” he asks, rolling his eyes, even though a little pleased.
That’s an information he doesn’t know what to do with, and he somehow feels oddly exalted and complimented—honored, even—by the singer’s presence. Maybe the pop star had planned to go long before knowing Louis would perform there, but his chest feels warm to know that he got to see him in a place where the roles are reversed, where Louis’s in the spotlight, and where Harry’s hiding in the crowd, watching, hearing his songs, his creations.
Two hours later, the rumors of the pop star’s presence at the festival are confirmed when he follows Louis on Twitter and Instagram, and god knows Lottie’s unbearable after that.
NOVEMBER 2017
It’s only a few months after that Louis receives word from Harry Styles.
A lot has happened in the four months between the festival he played at in France and today, so it’s not like he was expecting it.
First of all, autumn and its drop of temperatures happened, as well as jackets and soft scarfs and beanies, blankets on the sofa and wind rattling the windows of their old flat. Orange, brown and red leaves and naked trees, London streets continuously battered by rain and constantly veiled by grey clouds. Then, the defective water-heater at Zayn and Louis’ flat not working as it should anymore happened too, their showers jumping from hot and cold constantly, slowly torturing their minds, when everything the two of them dream of in this weather is long, hot, uninterrupted showers.
More importantly, they’ve finally recorded an EP, entirely produced by Zayn, leading them to be recently contacted by a label for further discussion about an album. Louis already had a few popular songs within the indie and alternative music scene, but the EP propelled him to another level in terms of his monthly listener count, hence a label contacting them. So even if the album is still a maybe for now, they’re both over the moon at the news of at least being considered for discussion.
Louis remembers being twenty and meeting Zayn at that party, he remembers talking about their love for music and their shared dreams of creating and producing music—and now, six years later, he’s twenty-six and they’re finally getting there.
Louis’s about to take a shower; shedding off his damp clothes from coming home under the chilly rain, then scrolling naked on his phone while waiting for the water to warm up—if it does at all, but he really wishes it would because he’s freezing his bloody arse off right now. That’s when he decides to open his Instagram DMs for the first time in two weeks.
He doesn’t notice it at first, but waiting patiently for him in his inbox, there’s a conversation labelled ‘harrystyles’. When he does notice, though, it takes him by surprise. Dumbfounded, his eyebrows lifts as he stares incredulously at the screen, a fluttery feeling spreading in his stomach.
The DM is from last week, from when Louis was so, so busy that he didn’t check his phone more than four times a day, his mind too preoccupied with work, calls, emails and other stuff from the label that he doesn’t quite comprehend yet.
He quickly opens the conversation and reads quietly, the shower still running next to him.
The message from the pop star formally invites him and Lottie to one of his last shows of his world tour, happening at the end of this week in London. The message ends with the initial of the singer’s first name as a signature, along with two VIP tickets and backstage passes in Louis’ name.
Louis thinks it’s really lovely of the singer to remember them and to invite them, even though he doesn’t understand why they’re invited in the first place. Lottie’s going to be thrilled at the news, though—as anyone would be if they’d personally be invited by their favourite artist of all times.
By now, the water is hot enough for Louis to enter the shower cabin without freezing to death, so he screenshots the convo and sends it to Lottie, then answers the pop star, thanking him profusely for the tickets and assuring him that they’ll be there.
Ten minutes later, when he’s out of the shower because the water became ice cold again—they’re really meant to call a plumber or someone to get it fixed—he has three missed calls from Lottie, and the screen of his phone lightens up with her fourth incoming one.
He should have expected this from his sister, honestly. She hasn’t shut up about the singer lately, sending Louis tons of videos of him—so even if her room back home doesn’t look like the one of a fangirl anymore, she’s still quite fixated on the pop star. Louis can’t say he doesn’t watch the videos Lottie sends him, but it’ll stay a secret. It’s just—the way Harry Styles talks, taking the time to pronounce each word slowly, thinking about everything he says before it leaves his mouth, even if it doesn’t make much sense sometimes, there’s something oddly attractive in that.
Louis is obviously not the only one thinking that—apparently, the whole world does.
He takes the time to slip into clean trackies and a jumper before calling Lottie back.
“Are you taking the piss out of me, Lou?” she says immediately after picking up. “Oh my god! We’re going, right? Tell me we’re going! He DMed you—you—personally! We’re definitely going, in fact, I’m booking a train to London right now!”
“I already told him we were, so yes, I reckon we are going Lots,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes as he superposes two pairs of socks on his cold feet now that he’s dressed. If the temperature is this cold in November, what will it be in two months from now?
“Please, tell me you said thanks. Oh my god, backstage passes, I can’t believe we’re gonna meet him again,” she cries.
With everything Louis and Zayn have going on, the days until the concert pass quickly, so when Lottie shows up at his door at nine in the morning on Sunday, and hugs him like she just consumed five Red Bulls and three cups of coffee back to back, he’s already knackered.
Then she starts fretting over his appearance when he’s not even showered yet, because their bloody water-heater still doesn’t work properly after a week and it’s torture to get under warm water only for it to turn freezing; and that’s when he mentally thinks it’s going to be a long, long day.
Later on, though, when he sits down minutes before the start of the video announcing the pop star’s imminent entrance with the two beers he went to fetch for he and his sister, he forgets all about his tiredness and gets consumed by the energy the singer gives on stage with his big entry.
The thing with Harry Styles is that he only gets better and better and better. He steals Louis’ breath even though Louis is sitting twenty meters from him, even if Louis is not standing next to the stage as he and Lottie usually do.
Tonight, the singer is wearing a floral suit with a black shirt underneath. His curls look a bit longer than last summer. He looks lovely, as always—soft, delicate, even. It’s a shame that from where he and Lottie are sitting, Louis can’t see the details of Harry’s face. Of course, that’s what the big screens are for, but it’s really not the same as the real thing.
So maybe Louis starts to mentally plan which tickets he’s going to buy for the pop star’s next world tour—for Lottie’s benefit, of course, not his. But he gets too engrossed by the man on stage retrieving a guitar to follow his thoughts, so he lets himself get carried away by Harry Styles’ phenomenal voice, and just enjoys the moment.
Completely absorbed by the music, Louis doesn’t notice the avalanche of texts that keeps coming and coming on his phone, and it’s only when the concert reaches its end that he checks them.
He blanches immediately and runs a nervous hand in his hair, tugging at the strands the more he reads the messages. “Fuckin’ hell, Lots, I have to go now—the water-heater exploded and the flat’s completely flooded.”
He knew they should have called a plumber earlier, but with their busy schedule they hadn’t taken the time to, and now he’s going to have to leave Lottie behind and let her come home alone.
“But—what about backstage? Harry’s waiting for us!”
“You’ll have to go alone, yeah? Please, apologise for me. And grab a cab when you leave, I’ll pay for it!”
And just like that, Louis leaves the venue before the end of the show and rushes to the flat.
Thankfully, most of their things are spared from the water and nothing valuable is lost, but the wooden floors are pretty damaged and the landlord tells them they’ll have to evacuate the flat until everything is fixed. They’ll have to remove their furniture too, and with everything they’ve accumulated since they’ve moved here years ago, it seems like a lot of work and headaches. They really didn’t need that on top of everything they’re trying to handle right now.
A week after the flood, when everything is finally settling down a little, Louis contemplates sending a DM to Harry to apologise again, but since Lottie’s already done it for him, and since the singer hadn’t answered Louis’ thanks to the considerate attention that were the tickets, he just shrugs and lets it go.
It’s not like the pop star really cares—Lottie’s the fan, not Louis.
JUNE 2019
So there’s this charity event that’s meant to have a very small attendance that Lottie’s been bugging Zayn about, until he finally gave in and agreed to get them some tickets, using his newfound fame in the music industry to get his hand on them.
The reason for Lottie’s persistence is simple; Harry Styles is playing, and Lottie won’t miss the chance to see the singer’s first live performance since the end of his last world tour, even when it means pestering her big brother’s best mate for weeks. Zayn is not one to refuse a pregnant lady either, especially when it’s one as tyrannic as Lottie, so here they are now.
This explains Louis’ current situation as why he’s lost in some unknown building—Zayn and Lottie left him behind for a second and the next one he was taking a wrong turn, and yeah.
Louis is about to turn at the end of a long hallway for what seems to be the fifth time, when he abruptly bumps into someone bigger than him. Two hands find his shoulders to stabilise him, and Louis’s about to thank the lad who just prevented his fall—he raises his eyes at the stranger—just to be left speechless.
Harry Styles is already looking at him, startled. “Louis?”
“Thank god, someone I know,” Louis almost cries out, while Harry takes his hands back to his sides.
A frown finds its way onto the pop star’s face. His green eyes assess Louis’ face just as Louis’ eyes do the same, greedily taking in each other’s appearances. The singer has grown a light stubble since the last time Louis saw him and his hair looks longer too. Some rebellious strands brush just under his eyes. He’s wearing some pearls around his neck, as well as the silver cross necklace that seems to be his brand.
His shoulders look broader too—but again, the last time Louis was face to face with him was four years ago in a London pub, when the bloke was only twenty-one.
Louis already found him attractive back then, and always has, but today, Harry Styles is something else.
“Are you lost?” the pop star finally asks, as if they hadn’t been looking at each other in total silence for a minute or so.
Louis smiles, Harry smiles in return. Louis’ stomach flutters, his smile widens—and Harry’s smile widens too, showing his dimples and his bunny teeth. Bloody hell.
“I reckon I am,” Louis eventually chuckles. They’re doing it again, looking at each other and not talking. “Still haven’t forgotten me, then?” he wiggles his eyebrows, making Harry giggle with that unique boyish charm he carries with him all of the time.
“It’s only been two years! I could never.”
“What does that mean?” Louis chuckles again.
“Nothing,” the singer hastens to say, cheeks blushing. He starts walking towards what Louis thinks is the exit, and makes a sign with his hand, indicating Louis to follow him. “It’s just… You’re definitely hard to forget, is all.” Louis raises an eyebrow in interrogation but Harry just shakes his head, still with a small secret smile on his lips. “So what are you doing here? Is your sister here too?”
“Yep, and we’re with a friend too,” he says. “She’s doing well, will certainly bite my head off because I’m talking to you and she’s not here. Or maybe she’ll cry, you never know with these pregnancy hormones!”
“She’s pregnant?” the pop star immediately interrupts, whipping his head towards him. “Oh my god, I have to see her! How old was she when we first met? I can’t believe she’s pregnant!”
Louis calculates quickly. “I reckon she was eleven. Or twelve maybe?” he answers, only thinking that if Lottie heard her favourite artist talk about her like that, she’d think she’d won in life. Harry remembers her, talks about her, asks about how she’s doing and wants to see her? Yeah, maybe she’d cry.
“Can’t believe it’s been this long. Who’s the other friend you’re here with?”
“Zayn Malik, maybe you’ve heard of him? He used to be a producer but he opened a label a little over a year ago?”
“The label you’re signed with, right?” Harry nods. “I’ve listened to your album by the way!”
It takes Louis by surprise, but maybe it shouldn’t have. “Really?”
“You were a lot on the radio, t’was hard not to…” Harry teases, and Louis nudges him playfully as they walk side by side. “Your music’s really good though, I loved the album!” Now it’s Louis’ turn to blush. They take a turn right and Louis finally recognises the place. “So, I’m supposed to be on stage in thirty minutes, but if you’d like, I’m free afterwards for drinks…” he says, when they eventually stop in front of a closed door that leads to the main part of the charity event.
Louis gives him a smile, his mind racing, hopeful, trying to make sense of Harry’s words and tone. “Of course, I’d love to,” he answers quickly.
Harry seems to hesitate and nibbles on his lower lip, staring intently at Louis, evidently wanting to add something to their discussion. “Just so we’re clear,” he finally says, “this is me flirting with you, and this is not an unmotivated invitation.”
Louis’ heart misses a beat, but his smile widens when Harry’s cheeks take a nice tint of red from his boldness. “I was hoping I got that right, but thanks for clearing things out,” Louis pronounces slowly, carefully choosing his words, still grinning, teasing a little.
Harry’s always been charming and pretty, exactly Louis’ type, and even with the few interactions they’ve had, he’s grown attached to him—so who is he to refuse him?
“Good,” Harry exhales. “By the way, this is your last chance, because last time I got you backstage passes, you stood me up.”
“I—what?” Louis’ brain tries to keep up. “There was a flood in my flat—I didn’t… That wasn’t on purpose!” he scrambles to say. He didn’t know Harry had wanted to use the occasion as a pretext to ask him out.
“I know, I was just teasing,” Harry giggles again, before opening the door for him, immediately drowning them in the chattering of the people inside. “See you after, then?”
“Yeah—yeah! Definitely!”
Louis spots Lottie at the back of the room, but before he has time to do anything, Harry has already turned around and left. His sister seems to notice him standing all alone—and a little bit dazed, but Louis hopes nobody can see it on his face—and joins him with light steps.
“Lou, where were you? Harry’s meant to sing soon!”
Ah, and if she knew!
Louis could tell her that all these years admiring Harry’s presence on stage, his energy, had led to the pop star hitting on him. That Louis hadn’t been the only one to feel this odd tension between the both of them. But for now, Louis wants to keep the moment just for himself, because he thinks what happened is a little too valuable to be shared and he wants to cherish and savour it a little bit longer—at least until he and Harry have a drink together, and if Louis has his way, hopefully until they’ve been on a date or two.
“Don’t worry Lots, just got a bit lost in the building, but thankfully I found my way back just in time for Harry, right?”
She beams. “Yeah, can’t wait to hear him sing again!”
MAY 2020
“Bloody hell,” Louis swears under his breath, “one of these days, I’m gonna buy a minibus,” he mutters, making sure the youngest pair of twins are buckled up in the back of his car on their booster seats.
In the front seat, Lottie waits, scrolling on her phone. Louis glances to his right and sees his mum fretting over his three other sisters, all seated in a second car that his step-father is ready to start and drive. He’s waiting patiently for Louis to tell him when they should go.
Driving with all his siblings is always a challenge—the first set of twins never wants to be separated from each other, except when they’re fighting, and the youngest set always wants to ride with their big brother, but since he’s driving today, that means they have to be separated from their parents, which they don’t like because they’re still quite young, to be honest. Lottie, who left Louis’ nephew at home with his dad, wanted it to be just the two of them in the car for old time’s sake, but it was obviously not possible with only two cars.
In other words, the whole morning was a logistic mess, but they’ve finally figured it out, and now that all seatbelts are fastened, they’re ready to go. Thank god.
“Look what I’ve got,” Lottie chimes in not even two minutes after they’ve left their mum’s house’s driveway. Louis glances quickly to his left and smiles when he recognises the CD her sister is holding triumphantly between two fingers. “Found it randomly in my room yesterday!”
“What is it?” asks his six-years-old little sister in the back, eyes wide with curiosity, writhing in her booster seat trying to see what Lottie is holding.
“Don’t you wanna know,” teases Lottie, meeting the twins’ gaze in the rear-view mirror. She waggles her eyebrows exaggeratedly, making them giggle.
“Tell us!”
“It’s a CD Harry signed when I went to see him live for the first time,” she explains with a very serious face, starting the story of how she made the world-famous pop star sign a fake collector-edition album.
Back then, the twins weren’t born, weren’t even a thought yet, so it’s weird to be driving Lottie to Manchester again, almost a decade after the last time, with them all grown-up in the back.
Lottie puts the album in the compartment between the two front seats, next to Louis’ first album, and connects her phone to the bluetooth of the car. The first song of Harry’s debut album starts playing in the vehicle. It’s clear that she takes her role as co-pilot very seriously during this remarkably nostalgic drive.
Louis shakes his head fondly and chuckles to himself when his siblings start howling the lyrics. And to say that the song is older than them…
They don’t have time to listen to Harry’s whole discography during the hour and a half drive it takes them to arrive—and quite frankly, that’s great news, because Louis can’t fathom how he’s managed to avoid getting a headache with all the yelling and out-of-tune singing happening in the back of the car and from his side.
Once inside the venue, the whole family settles into a VIP box at their name. They shuffle inside quietly because they’re definitely late and the opening act is already on stage. Lottie suddenly nudges Louis who clearly understands what she wants, and after a shared glance, they sneak out of the box. Everyone has their back turned, focused on the artists playing, so it’s now or never.
They make their way backstage as if they have always belonged there, weaving through the bustling hallways to reach Harry’s dressing room swiftly. Louis knocks twice on the door, and Harry, who’s behind it, hums to let them know it’s okay to come on in. When he realises who’s opening the door, he beams at them.
“Hello, darling,” Louis grins. That’s the ‘Harry’s Face syndrome’—he can’t help but smile and feel all giddy and light when Harry’s around and when he gets a glimpse of his face. Lottie calls it disgusting; Louis knows it’s love, so he just ignores her like he is right now, and instead focuses on his boyfriend. He takes a few steps towards the pop star and plants a kiss on his lips as a greeting. “You look pretty, ready for the show?”
Harry sighs dreamingly on purpose, making Louis chuckle at his antics. Harry’s always soft like that, and Louis doesn’t miss how the singer’s cheeks blush at the compliment—as they always do—even when Harry tries to hide them behind the palms of his hands, his rings glinting on his fingers. His smile is so bright that his dimples pop. Louis never wants to not touch them, he’s obsessed.
“I am, now,” the singer says, burying his nose in the crook of Louis’ neck after he’s looped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
A voice comes from the hallways, announcing that Harry’s in fifteen minutes, so he detangles himself from Louis with a slight pout.
When he’s about to leave the dressing room, though, Lottie calls out to him. “H—wait, I have something for you!” she says, handing him the fake collector-edition album and a black permanent marker pen. Harry understands immediately.
“Oh god,” he laughs. “I can’t believe you still have that. Want me to sign it?”
“Duh,” she laughs.
With a giggle, Harry signs his name next to his previous signature from 2011. “There you go! For my favourite fan!” he grins.
He then kisses her cheek and pecks at Louis’ lips before running where his team is waiting for him. “Love you! See you after!” he shouts, already gone.
“You too, break a leg, darling!”
Louis must look like a lovesick fool when Lottie drags him near the stage where they’ll be able to watch the concert without being seen by the crowd, but so be it. He couldn’t have known he’d be so in tune with Harry that time they went for drinks for the first time.
He didn’t know life would be this easy, that love would be so easy. Sharing a sofa, writing until three a.m. both in their own little world but still in the same bubble of concentration. Sharing rhymes and lyrics between kisses—writting songs for each other that’ll only belong to them, never for anyone to listen but for their hearts, beating in unison, always.
In no time, the music starts, and Harry runs on stage, pulling Louis out of his thoughts. There’s one song, two songs, and then the singer stops for a bit, as it is his usual pause to greet the crowd.
“Good evening Manchester!” the singer shouts as predicted in his microphone, all pretty and sparkly in his outfit. Louis suddenly can see seventeen-year-old Harry at the same spot saying the same thing, and a twinge of tenderness makes his heart beat faster. Then Harry turns towards Louis, his lips curling into the kind of smile that makes his dimples pop. He winks. “There’s someone really special with us tonight, can you make lots of noise for him?”
Lottie nudges him. “If twelve-year-old me knew you were dating Harry Styles right now, she’d have a stroke,” she chuckles. “God, he’s practically my brother, now.”
Louis glares at her. “Well, don’t forget who brought you to your first concert ever—I’m still the superior brother.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favourite,” she laughs. “Still, twelve-year-old me would stay awake the whole night knowing we’re having breakfast with him tomorrow morning.”
And well, yeah. She might be right.
Louis had no idea that taking Lottie to her first Harry Styles’ concert because their mum couldn’t would lead them both here, but he’s glad things turned out the way they did.
The crowd erupts in screams and cheers, surely because Harry just said something that Louis has completely missed, bringing him back to reality.
Harry’s eyes meet Louis’ and they smile at each other. For a beat, it’s as if Harry isn’t on stage anymore, and as if Louis isn’t standing in the wings either. It’s just the two of them, and nothing else exists but that.
Then, the music starts again.