Archive of Our Own ^beta

From where he was hiding in the unused, plunged-in-the-dark VIP box number two, Louis Tomlinson had a perfect view of the whole stage of the O2 Arena. He for one would have loved to sit with Lottie and Harry’s mum and sister in VIP box number one, but tonight was Harry’s birthday, and he wasn’t supposed to be here.

Well, he was, but Harry didn’t know that yet.

Harry and Louis had been planning on flying to LA for Harry’s birthday, because Louis had some meetings to attend, but also so they could wind down under the sun, instead of freezing off in London, but alas. This was a rescheduled show, to make up for the one Harry had had to cancel back in April. He had sounded so miserable when he had told Louis he couldn’t make it to LA on the first of February, that Louis had immediately decided he was going to get Harry the biggest, most impressive, most fucking fantastic birthday surprise of his life. Something they had both wanted for a very long time, and that was going to change their lives.

So here Louis Tomlinson was, freezing his ass off in the heights of the O2, waiting for Harry to just get on stage already so he could go to hair and makeup without getting caught, sneaking backstage like a bloody fangirl.

A spotlight turned on suddenly, bathing in light the front of the stage, but it wasn’t Harry. Two figures were standing in the middle of the stage: Adam and Clare. The man’s hair was definitely too short for him to be Harry anyways.

“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else, good evening!” Adam said, apparently much more comfortable than Louis would have expected talking to such a large audience. The crowd erupted in cheers. “As you might have noticed,” he added with a chuckle once the cries subsided, “I am not Harry Styles.” A laugh. He waved in the direction of the woman standing next to him. “This is Clare Uchima, I’m Adam Pendergast. Don’t worry; he’ll be here in a few moments.” The crowd cheered at that, and Adam said something to Clare, that Louis couldn’t quite make out.

“But first,” Clare brought the mic to her lips for the first time, “there’s something we need to tell you.” She stopped, and the audience stayed quiet, no doubt waiting expectantly for the information that was important enough to squeeze between Mabel, the opening act and the actual show. Louis wondered if they knew today was Harry’s 25th birthday.

“I’m sure you know that today is Harry’s birthday,” Clare said, echoing Louis’ thoughts. The crowd cheered again. “Adam over there –” she pointed at him “– organised a surprise for him, with the help of Mitch, who plays the guitar, and a few of his friends.”

“I know who we’re talking to.” Adam cut Clare off with an apologetic look, “And I don’t want you guys to get your hopes up for nothing, so I’ll say it right ahead: this surprise for Harry does not include One Direction... Sorry,” he added when the crowd “awww”-ed.

Clare shot Adam another look, and Louis knew she had been against putting this sentence in the speech when they had practiced it. We shouldn’t lie to them, she had said. But they weren’t lying, Louis had argued, One Direction was Harry, Louis, Niall and Liam and the latter two weren’t here, they were already in LA for Harry’s upcoming birthday party. Mitch had added that the surprise was going to be even better if the fans didn't figure out what it was ahead of time. Louis had agreed, and so here they were.

“But anyways,” Clare said, regaining her composure, “We can’t tell you what is gonna happen exactly but you’ll know when it does, I promise. And just in case you’re worried, Harry has no idea what’s about to happen, but we talked about it and he doesn’t mind.” The crowd cheered again. Obviously, the thousands of fans gathered in the arena couldn’t very well express their feelings any other way. “We do have one thing to ask you – a favour, sort of.” The audience fell silent. “So, this thing that’s going to happen... We want to record it. There is gonna be singing involved, of course, and we want to record it for Harry to look back at it if he wants to. Meaning, we would greatly appreciate it if you could stay quiet during the... thing.”

Adam grinned, and added: “Don’t worry; there will be plenty of opportunities for you to sing along with Harry.” The crowd erupted in cheers once more, and after thanking the public for their understanding, Adam and Clare left the stage. Their spotlight turned off. The fans were back to waiting for their idol, and Louis was back to waiting for the love of his life.

Harry was putting on his suit jacket when Mitch had let himself in his dressing room, only four minutes before the beginning of the show. Harry had asked his friend to make it quick, but Mitch had started talking about an arrangement he had made for a song Harry wanted on his second album and needless to say, he hadn’t been quick. And now, they were both late.

Mitch hurried off on stage, but Harry could feel his heart beating too fast, so he took a moment in front of the mirror to try and calm down. He took another look at his form in the mirror: custom Gucci suit – this one was black, form-fitting and peppered with pink flowers of various sizes – on a fitted glittery light pink shirt. He did one more button of the shirt, so the top of the butterfly tattoo wouldn’t be visible, and took a deep breath.

He shouldn’t have been so nervous. He had played the O2 on his own before. But this, well. This was a rescheduled show, he hadn’t performed those songs in front of an audience for months and he wouldn’t perform them again for months after this. If he screwed up... Louis wasn’t even here to welcome him home after the show. He was in LA. They both should have been, but the O2 had had a cancellation for tonight and Harry had a cancelled London show to make up for – it had been the perfect opportunity, minus the fact that the only date available for months was on his birthday. But he had promised the fans he would reschedule. So he had to. And never mind Harry and Louis’ super secret sunny vacation on the other side of the pond.

Harry ran a hand through his curls to get rid of the negative thoughts, and left the dressing room.

The concert started out as usual. The crowd screamed when Harry appeared and greeted London like an old friend. They screamed when Harry started singing, and when Harry danced around, and when Harry spoke to the crowd – basically, whenever Harry did anything. Which was nice. It felt familiar and comforting, at least, and Harry was actually enjoying himself. He wished all the best to a newly married couple, he tried to guess a fan’s name (Brunnhilde, how on earth was he supposed to guess that?), and he congratulated a young man who had just gotten a PhD and who was here with his boyfriend. It made Harry wish his own boyfriend was by his side.

But besides that, the show itself was pretty uneventful. When Harry walked through the crowd for Sweet Creature, shaking hands and taking a little paper rainbow flag as well as more flowers than he could carry, he couldn’t help but feel a bit down, though. This was Louis’ song, and it was always hard to sing it when Louis wasn’t looking down at him from the VIP boxes.

He put the flowers down and took a moment to breathe. The fans were here to see him having a good time, not to see him brood over an issue they didn’t even know about.

“How’re we doing over here?” he asked. The fans cheered. “That’s what I thought. You good? Everybody good?” Another cheer. “Alright!” He chuckled and waved the little paper flag that he had picked up on the way to the second stage. Harry then carefully balanced the microphone on his shoulder by the chord, and he somehow got the flag to stand upright on the microphone stand pole. He took back the mic and addressed the crowd again, a slight tremble in his voice that he seriously hoped nobody was going to notice: “This song is very special to me; please sing along if you know the words.”

He wondered if the fans were expecting him to blow a kiss or wave at the VIP box like he’d done in Amsterdam and Manila. But there were only his mum and Gemma in the box tonight, and he loved them dearly, of course, but this song wasn’t theirs. So he resolutely kept his gaze in front of him and focused on playing the guitar. It was painful, singing Sweet Creature when Louis wasn’t here. The fans, oblivious, were slowly swaying to the music.

The last few chords of Sweet Creature resonated in the arena, and Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds. He was hyperaware that his every move was being recorded, but he needed to compose himself or he was going to burst in tears before the end of the next song.

“This is a song I wrote a few years back in 2015,” Harry announced, voice more serious than he was going for. “This is If I Could Fly.”

The cheers subsided quickly when Harry played the first chords on his galaxy guitar, quickly losing himself in the music.

Harry smiled fondly when he reached Louis’ part, and like every single time, he took a split second too long to start singing. He missed Louis like a phantom limb. And well, he was always hesitant to sing Louis’ part, because he couldn’t pull it off as well as his boyfriend, so, what was the point, right? Although there was the added benefit of the fans’ reaction; he did enjoy making them go mad by giving off hints that could be taken as coincidences.

His gaze was unfocused, his mind deep in thought. He wondered if the audience could tell, if they knew he was thinking of someone. If they knew exactly who he was thinking of. Surely they had to. They were far from being out as a couple, but from Louis’ and Eleanor very public “breakup” back in October to Harry practically outing himself on stage in Los Angeles, they hadn’t exactly been subtle this past year.

The crowd was singing the backup vocals, voices melting together in a beautiful harmony that complimented Harry’s main vocals so well. He lived for those moments, when a choir of thousands of people would scream his songs back to him like it was their favourite piece.

Harry finished his riff and paused dramatically, turning to look amusedly at the crowd which was now screaming. He brought a finger to his lips, trying to no avail to silence the fans, and maybe to hide his smirk. He even walked back to the mic to let a little amused “shhh” make its way through the audience.

He wasn’t counting the seconds, but he let the pause go on for much too long, probably. Except, well, there was usually an intern in his in-ear, begging him to carry on singing, but tonight, nobody was asking. So he let the moment linger on, and on, until the screams felt overwhelming. Only then, finally, did Harry let out a satisfied sigh. He stepped closer to the mic. He looked down at the guitar to put his hands back on their right place, and –

The lights went off.

The whole stadium went dark. Even the giant screen had stopped displaying. Weirdly enough, the crowd wasn’t panicking. What was happening though? Harry couldn’t make out anything in the dark, but the crowd was weirdly silent, considering they had been screaming their hearts out just a few moments ago. It didn’t make any sense. Was it a blackout?

Then, a spotlight turned on. Not a blackout, then. At the exact same time, someone started playing the next few chords of the song. Harry was still standing motionless on the B-stage and couldn’t see a thing, so it obviously wasn’t him. Was it Mitch? The spotlight, angled towards the main stage, was illuminating the figure of a man, dressed in tight black jeans and a pink oversized sweater. Harry didn’t need more than half a glance to figure out who it was. He felt all the air leave his lungs, and his heart stopped.

The man was Louis Tomlinson.

The giant screen turned back on then, displaying a high-definition picture of Louis’ face. The crowd collectively held back a cheer, but Harry couldn’t hear them. Louis started singing his part of If I Could Fly. His part, for which Harry had made such a dramatic show of stopping every single time he had sung the song on tour. It was angelic. The crowd was dead silent, and Harry could only feel the blood in his temples, only see the blue of Louis’ eyes, only hear the light velvet of his voice. Louis’ singing was only accompanied by Mitch’s playing, and it didn’t even sound as good as the studio version, because he was slightly shaking, but he made up for it with the passion he was infusing in every word.

As he was singing, Louis started walking towards the B-stage and the spotlight followed him. The fans on both sides of the pathway were pressing against the fences, holding out hands, flowers and flags in the same way they had done for Harry, but instead of cheers and screams, they were offering whispered words of appreciation and muffled sobs. Louis shook the hands he could reach, snatched a lone red rose from a girl’s hand and blew her a kiss, only looking away from Harry for a split second. Louis finally got close enough for Harry to see him properly. His hair was styled in a soft fringe, in what was obviously Lottie’s work, and he looked really, really good.

As Louis got closer, Harry realised that he wasn’t just singing the song Harry had written to him. No, he was serenading him with it. It was in his slow but assured steps, in the way his whole body was angled towards him. It was in the look of pure pride and the hint of nervousness on his face; it was in the glimmer of love in his eyes and in the trembling of his voice, perfectly audible over only the guitar.

The B-stage was bathed in a soft golden glow now, but Harry was frozen. He was still holding his own guitar, hanging desperately onto it in the hope that it would keep away the tears.

The second Louis reached the B-stage and presented him with the red rose and a grin, Harry was shocked into motion. He blinked several times, causing a lone tear to roll down his cheek. He put his guitar back on its stand, took the flower from Louis, and turned to slide it next to the rainbow flag on the mic stand. Then he grabbed his microphone, and faced Louis with tearful eyes but a beaming smile. The two men kept their eyes locked as Louis took the few final steps and sang the last line of the chorus.

What Harry couldn’t say with words, he was conveying it all to Louis with a glance. You’re here. I love you. You’re doing this for me, for us. Thank you. Coming out on stage – they had talked about it so many times when they were still in the band, and they had always dismissed it as a foolish dream, not even daring to hope. Yet here they were; on the stage of the biggest arena in London, declaring their love to the world.

Harry held out a hand for Louis to take, and they laced their fingers together as seamlessly as if they had done this their whole lives. (They had.) Harry brought his mic to his lips and drew out a shaky breath, and when he tried to sing the next line, only a muffled sob came out.

Louis came to his rescue, carrying out the second chorus perfectly. Harry shook his head and tried again. This time, his voice seemed to work properly, if a bit shakily, and his deep timbre melded with Louis’ higher one, in a breathtaking harmony that resonated through the arena.

They each sang the last line once, separately, knowing how to attribute lyrics without even the need for words. As the last guitar note played, Harry turned around to put his mic back on the stand, and pulled Louis in a desperate hug, clinging onto him for dear life. Louis tangled his free hand in Harry’s hair. The crowd erupted in cheers, the loudest since the beginning of the show. Harry felt like he had been there before; another hug, another crowd, another lifetime.

But if the screams of the fans were deafening all the same, the hug itself stood no comparison. Now, there were no bro-lad pats on the back, no management telling them to cut it off in their ears. Now, there was only Louis and Harry, surrounded by the roar of the crowd but alone and secure in their own little world.

The two men separated slowly, eyes locked. Louis was staring at him expectantly, to gauge his reaction. Harry smiled gently. He was nothing but pleased by the turn of events this show had taken, and he didn’t want Louis to have any doubt about that. He looked infuriatingly good tonight, all soft and sincere in the spotlight. Harry wanted to kiss him senseless, but they were very much on stage, and for the briefest second, he saw, clear as day, a pissed off Simon Cowell scowling down at the two of them.

A memory, but a vivid one.

So Harry settled for the cheek instead. As his lips grazed Louis’ cheekbone, he whispered: “Just to be sure, this is for real, yeah?”

“Yes,” Louis answered, quiet but confident. “We’re free, Haz. We never have to hide again.” Harry couldn’t see his eyes but he knew they were aflame. He tightened his hold on the back of Louis’ neck, grateful and too shocked to get any proper words out. “If you’re up for it,” Louis added as an afterthought, misreading Harry’s silence.

“If I’m...” Harry pulled away in disbelief. “Lou, of course I’m up for it. This is – it’s everything I’ve wanted for years.”

Louis smiled then, easy, genuine, and private. The world was watching but the smile was meant only for the two of them. The corners of his eyes crinkled like they did when Louis was truly happy. The butterfly inked on Harry’s stomach took it as its cue to fly away, and Harry felt his insides melt at the sight of this sweet, caring, gorgeous man he was lucky enough to have in his life. He wanted to kiss him, he really did, but he simply couldn’t stop staring.

The fans were still cheering. Louis’ eyes were shining with mischief as he walked back to the center of the B-stage, and Harry was powerless to do anything but watch him claim the space, easily falling back into his old patterns of crowd entertainer.

Louis turned back to the audience, charming as ever. “Okay, how about we all wish Harold here a happy birthday?” A cheer. “On the count of four, I want all of you to sing Happy Birthday Curly! One, two, three –”

On the count of four, the crowd erupted in singing the designated song. Harry felt a fond smile creep on his face. He had never been able to hide his fondness when it came to Louis. Surely he was flushed red from embarrassment, and surely he looked dumb, happy, and most of all, in love. Harry chuckled in joy. It was exhilarating to show it, finally, after all those years of hiding.

Louis hummed the last line along with the crowd, and Harry beamed when the whole stadium erupted in cheers and applause. Louis looked around, clearly amused by the situation and by Harry’s unexpected shyness. The fans were still screaming their hearts out, and Louis waited for the cheers to subside a bit before he dropped his next bomb, eyes focused solely on Harry. “Happy birthday, love.”

The crowd roared, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He stared at Louis for a few seconds of stillness. In a silent question, he cocked an eyebrow, and the corners of Louis’ mouth perked up in reply. Harry could feel the eyes of the crowd on them. He could already see tomorrow’s headlines: One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles coming out on stage! 28 pictures to prove Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the power couple of the decade! H. Styles’ London show hijacked by boyfriend Louis Tomlinson! Harry Styles isn’t straight, neither is Louis Tomlinson, what else is new? The whole world was going to know about them.

Looking in Louis’ eyes, he found he had never cared so little.

Harry started walking towards his boyfriend, oblivious to the shrieks of the fans. The B-stage was small enough; in three steps, he had crossed the limit of “acceptable personal space between two former bandmates”, but he didn’t stop. He would never stop there again.

He reached Louis and paused for a split second, searching for certainty in his gaze. The eyes of the entire world were on them, but Louis’ were the only ones that mattered. He gave a small, almost imperceptible, but determined nod, and Harry grabbed a fistful of his sweater to bring him closer, always closer, and then their lips were pressed together and they forgot about everything else.

Harry cupped Louis’ jaw with the hand that wasn’t clutching the sweater. Louis looped an arm around Harry’s neck and kissed back fervently, pulling on his curls. It was no peck on the lips. It felt both terrifyingly public and beautifully private, a coming-out for the world and a promise of forever for the two of them, a firm reassurance they were never going to hide again. The crowd cheered madly but neither of them noticed, too caught up in each other. Louis ran his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, and Harry felt a shiver run down his spine.

The kiss lasted for less than a minute, but it felt like a fragment of eternity. When they finally broke apart, Harry was suddenly reminded of their surroundings. He giggled, not quite daring yet to believe they had done that. He looked down at Louis, who was gazing at him, his eyes the picture of love, his face split by a large grin.

Unable to restrain himself, Harry pressed a small peck on the corner of his mouth.

They had done that.

The walk back to the main stage was a blur of hands, flags, and screaming. Louis had been singing when he had made his way through the crowd the first time, and the fans had all been silent, but on the way back, they most definitely were not. Harry seemed overwhelmed, so Louis put a hand on the small of his back to safely guide him. It was familiar and comfortable, something he had done countless times, even though they didn’t usually need guidance in front of roaring crowds.

“So, um. That was... unexpected,” Harry drawled once they were up on the main stage. Louis laughed. “No, I mean it. I had no idea... Whoah.” He seemed to be at loss for words.

Louis, always ready to step in, came to his rescue. “So it seems you guys were right, innit?” Harry was watching him fondly. Louis winked at him. “Larry is real.” Predictably, the fans went mad. Louis would have said it was the loudest he had ever heard a crowd scream, but he was well aware that it must have been worse while they were kissing. Even though that specific noise had been drowned out by much more important things. Namely, Harry’s lips, Harry’s smell, Harry’s muffled whines, Harry Harry Harry.

“– that all of you are immensely supportive and I, no, we wanted to thank you for it.” Harry was talking to the crowd now. He had apparently found his confidence again, and when he said we, he sent Louis a soft look that was so full of love and pride that Louis was sure the whole stadium could feel it. It was a thank you, a look, we made it, a promise that there would be many more years to come. “That was very unexpected on my part but it, um... It was... I mean – I couldn’t dream of a better coming out.” 

And that's when it hit Louis like a brick. They were out. Which, wow. Louis had orchestrated this whole surprise, for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t have come as a shock that they were going to be out by the end of it, but it did. They were free. They really, really were, finally, free. He didn’t think he had ever been this happy in the last couple of years.

“I love you,” he said to Harry, without thinking, so suddenly that his microphone was still against his hip and didn’t pick it up. Harry had heard, though. They locked eyes. “I love you,” he repeated, and this time it resonated in the whole arena. Harry smiled, dimples in full display.

“I love you too, Lou,” Harry said without missing a beat. Louis’ heart did a somersault in his chest. It always did. “I love you so much that I wrote a bunch of songs about you.” And, yeah. Right. They were in the middle of a show, after all. “Including this next one, surprisingly,” Harry added, and smiled almost sheepishly.

“I’ll let you work then, Haz.” The crowd cheered again. “Babe,” Louis added, just because he could. Unsurprisingly, the cheering got louder.

He grinned again and went to sit on the far right side in the back of the stage. He didn’t want to hijack Harry’s show too much... even though, realistically, he probably already had messed it up beyond repair. But Harry hadn’t seemed to mind, so. Louis stared at his boyfriend, who was gesturing to Sarah to kick off the next song. As she started playing a very aggressive set of drums, Louis laid back and enjoyed his own unique view of Harry’s 89th concert.

Harry was definitely exaggerating, Louis thought. Anna hadn’t been written about him, really. It had been written with him in mind, sure, but for an imaginary girl with a name more befitting a song. Louis knew that, they had discussed it when Harry had decided to not include it on the album. But Harry really, really liked that George Michael sample in the middle, and, well, it was a great concert song, full of energy, and the crowds loved it. The choice to perform it on tour had been a no-brainer.

And when Harry sang “You don’t know what you do to me, oh Louis” on the last chorus, Louis felt a wide grin split his face in two after the surprise wore off, and he was glad that song had been on the set list after all.

The song came to an end and the lights went off, but this time it was planned. When they turned back on, Harry had put away his guitar and was standing in the center of the stage.

“The next song is sort of special to me.” Harry was smiling at the crowd. “Had this song never existed, I wouldn’t be standing here on the stage before you tonight.” The fans cheered at that. They already knew which song Harry was talking about. Of course, so did Louis. “But,” he added, “since we have a special guest tonight, I thought I’d let him join in. Would you like that?” The cheers from the crowd got even louder. “I’ll take that as a yes then. If you will, darling?” Harry offered with a cheeky grin. And then he winked at Louis, melting his insides. It made him want to kiss him senseless, maybe squeeze his bum to wipe that smirk off his face, and suck on this one spot on Harry’s neck that always got him desperate, and – bloody hell, no. They might be out now but there was obviously a limit on the stage PDA they could get away with, a restrictive limit they were probably already toying with.

“But of course, honey,” he said, going for suave and trying to keep a straight face, but his eyes crinkled with the ghost of a smile anyways. Louis stood up, grabbed his microphone, and did a little bow for the audience who cheered him on, before walking up next to Harry.

“Alright then.” Harry was clearly amused. He, of course, was seeing right through Louis. Harry turned to the audience again. “There might be two of us tonight, but if you know the words please join in anyway, this one is for you.” A pause. A cheer. “One, two, three, four!”

The familiar chords of What Makes You Beautiful started. It had been so long since Louis had last been up on this big a stage, with Harry, allowed to interact with him in any way he wanted. It was a little overwhelming, but Louis knew his cue in this song like the back of his own hand; after all, he only sang in the chorus, right?

But Harry gave him half of the first verse, no words needed but a tilt of his head. They made the crowd sing the chorus. They each sang the title line alternately. They were as in sync as ever, an easy back and forth they could do in the dark. Harry was prancing around the stage in dance moves that were both embarrassing and dangerous, because he was hopping around his microphone chord. He came close to falling at least twice and Louis hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

When the guitar solo started, Harry encouraged the audience to clap in time with the “Na na na”. He then looked straight at Louis, beamed, and went to grab the rainbow flag that was waiting for him on Clare’s piano stand. The audience went mad, and Louis couldn’t have taken his eyes off of Harry even if he had wanted to. He was beautiful, dancing around the stage, being more himself than he ever had been performing with the band.

And then, someone threw a rainbow flag at Louis.

He really should have seen it coming: he had just come out, and he had been ogling Harry and his flag for about twenty seconds, but for some reason, he hadn’t thought he would actually get one. He wasn’t allowed to pick them up, back in One Direction, even though Harry could. Louis stared blankly at the flag. He didn’t know what he was expecting. A sign, maybe. The sign came in the form of Harry, on the other side of the stage, who screamed “That’s what makes you beautiful!” and, well, right, they were in the middle of a song. He didn’t have the time to ponder such insignificant details. Especially considering that Louis had kissed a man tonight, so. Matt, his manager, probably wouldn’t have his head over a rainbow flag.

He shook himself out of his apathy, gave a thumb up in the general direction the flag had come from, and picked it up. Harry was still waving his, so Louis decided to one-up him and wrapped his own flag around his shoulders like a cape. The crowd went wild, and Louis felt a rush of pride, and he wiggled the flag a bit more on his shoulders.

At the end of the song, Harry had discarded the LGBT flag somewhere, but Louis had never been allowed to have one before and he never wanted to let it go. They found themselves in the middle of the stage for the last lines. Louis sang half of the last verse with Harry, and when they locked eyes, Harry’s were hungry, like he wanted to devour him. To be fair, he probably did. Louis blew him a kiss and grabbed his hand. They both turned to the crowd to sing the last “That’s what makes you beautiful!” The music came to an end and Harry raised their joined hands under the cheers of the audience.

Louis felt high on performing, but he was still clear-headed enough to know that the next song was Sign of the Times and that he couldn’t pull it off without a tremendous amount of rehearsing, if that. He definitely couldn’t pull it off tonight, and he sort of wanted to listen to Harry singing it anyways.

“That was a lot!” Louis announced. The crowd seemed to agree with him, judging by the volume. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that, I feel like I’m going to faint or summat.” Laughter. “I’ll just be sitting over there if you need me, Haz.” He waved at the audience, neatly wrapped his flag around Harry’s shoulders, and went back to his earlier sitting spot.

Harry didn’t seem to mind. “Yes, shoo!” He giggled, clutching the rainbow cape to prevent it from falling. “You hijacked enough of this show for today!” He grabbed a water bottle and took a gulp of it. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and Louis’ throat went dry.

Harry gathered his mic chord and put the mic back on its stand. “By the way,” he addressed the audience, “have you noticed that Lou has a wireless mic?” And, well, Louis did. It even had the blue ring like back in the day. “And I’m stuck with this mess?” Harry pouted, and it was unfair how much Louis wanted to kiss him right now. “Honestly, it’s a catastrophe waiting to happen. It’s a miracle I made it through the whole tour without breaking a bloody leg!”

Harry paused for a second, still toying with the chord.

“Can you believe this is the last show of the tour? Almost eight months after the second-to-last show – I thought it’d never end!”

“And what a show, am I right?” Louis chirped in with a grin in his voice.

“It was,” Harry answered earnestly. “You’re great. But,” he added, “not as great as this fantastic crowd we have!” The crowd roared its approval. “Every single one of you has been nothing short of incredible tonight.” A genuine smile, with full dimples, made its way on Harry’s face, and Louis could tell he was moved. “Thank you for your support, it – it means a lot to us.” He breathed deeply. “I love every single one of you, and I wish you all the same support, should you ever wish for it.” A single tear rolled on his cheek, and Harry smiled at the audience. He was okay, Louis knew. Better than okay, even, he was thankful. Happy. “For everyone who needs it, this is Sign of the Times.”

Harry was always majestic on stage, Louis had seen it up close for five years and he knew that. But when he was singing Sign of the Times, he was phenomenal. And tonight in particular, right after their coming out and still wrapped in a bloody rainbow flag, he was simply breathtaking.

The song was emotional. It was different – whereas a large part of One Direction’s or Harry’s songs were about relationships, this was a statement about the world. To Louis, it had always felt like a cry for help, a silent prayer for a getaway from a life Harry didn’t feel in control of. The reassuring part of the lyrics had felt empty, devoid of meaning.

But tonight, for the first time, Louis heard hope in the words. For the first time, the bullets didn’t sound as scary, the comfort appeared to be genuine and the prospect of getting away wasn’t downright terrifying since it would be the both of them, hand in hand. Maybe Harry had decided to perform it slightly differently, or maybe Louis was just projecting what was going on in his mind, but either way, he was lost in the music, letting the drums and Harry’s deep voice take him somewhere he would never have to worry about the bullets again. Albeit, maybe this fantasy world was now their own. Maybe now, they could – could have, could do, could share whatever they wanted.

Tears of joy and pride and overwhelming feeling welled up in Louis’ eyes, and he stood up to slip backstage, unnoticed, before he could burst in tears, too moved by the song he felt like he was hearing for the first time.

When Harry slipped backstage a few minutes later, after excusing himself for a short break, he found Louis waiting in his dressing room, quietly sitting on the couch. Harry had had in mind to kiss him senseless, both as a thank you for the amazing surprise and a teaser for what would definitely be happening later at his flat – which would also be a thank you for the amazing surprise, not that they needed a reason, but still. However, when Harry stepped into the room, the first thing he noticed was that Louis was on the verge of crying.

“Lou?” Harry immediately rushed to his boyfriend’s side, sitting down beside him on the sofa. He took one of Louis’ hands in both of his. “Lou, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I –” Louis stammered. He looked up at Harry, who relaxed slightly at the overwhelming love and happiness in his eyes, despite the tears. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just so fucking happy, Haz. You were magnificent, love. I can’t believe we did that.”

“I can’t believe it either, to be honest,” Harry smiled, and shook his head in disbelief. “How did you manage that?”

“It’s wasn’t easy,” Louis got a wet chuckle out. Harry threw an arm around Louis’ shoulders and Louis huddled closer, resting his head in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I got your whole crew to help. I went through hair and make-up while you were already on stage; it felt weird, on me own, like I was really late to the venue. Nick did me a favour as well –”

“Nick? Oh my god, really?”

“He invited you over yesterday so Mitch and I had time for soundcheck.” Louis grinned, sounding very proud of himself. Harry laughed. He had thought Nick’s invitation was a bit peculiar since they had seen each other not so long ago, but he hadn’t questioned it. Everything that had seemed off those last few weeks suddenly made a lot of sense.

“Oi! Don’t laugh, Harold.” Louis untangled himself from the cuddle to throw a look – he was probably going for disapproving, but to Harry, it just looked adorable. “I had to promise him the first coming out interview. We’re going on Radio One on the 16th.” Louis was definitely not pleased about that. “Jeff wasn’t happy, I can tell you.”
“You talked to Jeff?” and, of course Louis had talked to Jeff, now that he thought about it, it was obvious. He wouldn’t do anything this scale without Harry’s manager’s approval.

“Of course I talked to Jeff, babe,” Louis said, unknowingly echoing Harry’s thoughts. He settled back against Harry’s chest, who hummed contentedly and lightly threaded a hand through his hair. “I had to get his approval. He didn’t mind, said since I was planning it, the whole thing was sure to garner us a lot of publicity. Good publicity nowadays.”

“What’s that got to do with Nick?”

“Nick’s first open slot was two weeks away. That’s bloody ages for a manager. I reckon he wanted the first coming-out interview to come sooner after the actual coming-out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. In the meantime, Matt and Jeff are going to release a joint statement, I think.”

Harry frowned. “How much of a hassle was Matt?”

“Not much of one,” Louis said lightly. “The whole coming out had been negotiated already when I signed with him. And the promo that’ll come with it is giving me a chance to release a single before we go on Nick’s, so Matt was proper thrilled.” Harry couldn’t see Louis’ face but he could hear him sigh contentedly under the brush of Harry’s fingers. “And as for Jeff, well, it’s Nick, so. Jeff came around.”

Harry was actually glad to get a coming-out interview with Nick. Even if Nick was far from One Direction’s level of international fame, he knew how unfair the closeting situation had been on the boys, and he had gone through a coming-out himself. He knew what it would be like for Louis and Harry.

“Louis and Harry” and “coming-out” in a sentence that didn’t also include the word “not”. It had been years since Harry had allowed himself to think about it. Of course, Jeff had been more pliant than Modest: he hadn’t minded Harry performing Medicine on stage, for example. But as gay as he could be on stage, he still hadn’t been allowed to express his sexuality outright.

“Thank you.” Harry said softly, and pressed a feather light kiss to Louis’ temple. He was still threading his fingers through Louis’ soft hair, carefully so as to make sure the hair didn’t get stuck in a ring. “I don’t know how you managed to convince him, but – thank you.”

“No,” Louis replied, all fire when Harry had been quietly earnest. “Thank you.” Louis turned around and sat in Harry’s lap. “I wouldn’t have wanted to come out if it hadn’t been with you.” And, wow. Harry liked to think of himself as an eloquent person, but Louis kissed him fiercely and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything else.

They kissed for hours, or maybe it only lasted a few seconds. Harry whimpered when Louis tugged on his bottom lip. “I love you,” Harry panted when they broke apart, breathless.

“I love you too,” Louis said, and he grinned. Harry frowned. That couldn’t be good – Oh. Louis rolled his hips, and, well, he was sitting in Harry’s lap so, really, it wasn’t exactly fair, was it? Harry felt an electric shock run though him, all the way to his fingertips. He put a hand on Louis’ cheek, and pulled him in for another kiss, far more heated. Louis tasted slightly minty and like Harry’s relaxing throat spray. He didn’t have the time to ponder on that, though, because Louis moved his crotch just right and Harry felt a surge of blood to his lower body. They were quite literally grinding down on each other now, and it only got worse when one of Louis’ hands travelled down Harry’s back to squeeze his bum.

Louis detached his lips from Harry’s and pressed frantic kisses on the side of his face, moving on to the underside of his jaw and then to the part of his neck Harry knew was going to make him lose his mind. He threw his head back and moaned loudly, urging Louis to keep going by encouraging him with deep whimpers. He really hoped nobody was going to hear them –

“Fuck,” Harry panted, “Fuck. Lou, wait.” Louis stopped immediately and moved back to study Harry’s face. He was sure he looked like a mess. He possibly had a hickey or two. “I need to get back on stage.”

“Yeah?” Louis smirked. “Why don’t you, then?”

“I will. But we’ll finish this later tonight,” Harry growled, and Louis leaned forward to steal a quick, chaste kiss.

“Actually, no we won’t,” Louis said matter-of-factly. Harry wanted to kiss that smirk off his face.

“What? Why?”

“We’re flying after this. Straight to LA.”

“Terrible choice of words,” Harry commented. Louis rolled his eyes but his smile was fond and his words playful.

“We’re going for your birthday party, Harold, the lads are gonna be there, don’t make me regret this.”

“Well, I am regretting it now, Lewis.” Harry was pouting now. “I was looking forward to taking my time with you, take you apart one finger at a time, or, or ride you, god, Lou, I want to –”

Louis groaned, a deep grunt that sent another shot of arousal to Harry’s crotch. “Fuck. Don’t worry, it’s a private jet.” And, well, those were excellent news at least. Harry’s grin turned sultry, and he lowered his head to nibble at Louis’ exposed neck. “Ah, Harry, stop.” Louis’ voice sounded far away. “You have to get back on stage.”

He was right. He was absolutely right, and Harry knew he should have been more professional, but, well, he was alone, backstage, with a lap full of Louis. Who would blame him?

“I hate you,” he whined, frustrated.

“Sure.” Louis flashed a blinding smile, the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and Harry’s insides melt. He manoeuvred his legs so that he was sitting next to Harry on the couch, rather than in his lap. Harry was both disappointed and relieved to lose the pressure but, well, it was necessary. And they would have all the time in the world on the plane. Louis rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and lightly stroked his arm with the tips of his fingers. “Go ahead, then, baby. They’re waiting for you.”

The lights were low when Harry came back up on stage, matching the slow, emotional song that was From the Dining Table. His voice didn’t falter, even though it felt almost blasphemous to talk about the rough times he’d been through with Louis after the fucking out-of-body experience he’d had when they had kissed on stage earlier. To say that they were in a better place now that when he’d written the song would be the understatement of the century. They weren’t just in a better place; they were in a different galaxy, on a different plane of existence. They had travelled to a whole alternate universe with just a kiss and a serenade, a universe in which they were together and out and happier than they had ever thought they would be.

Harry sang the last lines of the song and the lights got brighter. The crowd erupted in screaming. Harry, out of breath but elated, looked back at his band. Mitch was frowning and adjusting something on his guitar, but Clare and Adam were sporting matching grins, and Sarah even gave a thumbs-up with the drumsticks. Chuckling, Harry turned back to the fans who were still pouring their hearts out in screams.

“Thank you again for being here tonight!” His face split in a full grin, dimples showing. “We’ve got two more songs for you tonight, but it’s time I introduce you to my wonderful, wonderful band.”

He turned to Adam first, but when he met his gaze and Adam raised an eyebrow, Harry quickly realised something was wrong. He frowned. Sarah was supposed to set a rhythm for the band introductions, but she wasn’t playing. When he looked at her to make sure she was alright, she smirked and pointed to the crowd with a tilt of her head. What on earth?

And, well, the crowd was still screaming their hearts out, but it sounded different. Harry understood, startled, that they were chanting something. It took him another split second to figure out they were chanting Louis’ name, most probably to ask for him to come back on stage. Thrilled, Harry couldn’t hold back a genuine smile at seeing his fans being so supportive. He took the mic off the stand and walked to the front of the stage.

“Oh,” he said, “interrupting the band introductions, that’s not very nice.” His tone was disapproving but playful. Of course, he was fully set on bringing Louis out again, since the fans were asking, but he was going to make them work for it.

The crowd only started chanting louder, visibly thrilled by Harry’s acknowledgement.

“And here I was, thinking you were here to see me,” he lamented, in a very over-the-top bit of acting that he was sure Christopher Nolan would have cringed at. “I thought you were here for me, but no!” He threw his hands up. “Of course, you only wanted to see my boyfriend!”

At “boyfriend”, the crowd went wild.

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t sound so excited to see him. Just so you know, I’m really upset! I could break up with him, you know. I might, if you don’t start showing some appreciation for me.” The crowd instantly fell quiet. “Yeah, that’s right, you better be sorry. Now are you here to see him?” A loud cheer. “Or me?”

A noticeably louder cheer. Harry smirked, managing his effect. Someone announced in his in-ear that Louis was walking up the stairs, and that Harry needed to signal it to them if he didn’t want Louis on stage. As if. Harry was definitely going to take advantage of every single opportunity to share a stage with Louis as boyfriends, thank you very much.

“Or are you quite happy to see both of us?!” He announced finally, radiating happiness, and Sarah improvised a few drums to welcome Louis back on stage. The cheers were deafening. Louis stepped forward and waved to the crowd. He met Harry’s eyes, and his smile grew wider.

“I’m glad you guys are here at least so I can feel properly appreciated around here,” Louis teased, and Harry chuckled.

“Shut it, Lewis, this is not your show.” He obviously didn’t mean it. As far as Harry was concerned, Louis could take over any of his shows, anytime, anywhere. He didn’t even need to ask. Harry was about to point out he was kidding, but –

“Oh, isn’t it?” Louis cut him off, flashing a feral grin.

Harry and Louis had first gotten together almost a decade ago now, and Harry knew Louis well enough to know he still had at least one more surprise planned. But he hadn’t thought he would get to see it before getting on the plane to LAX, or even before his birthday party all the way over the ocean. And well, okay, all that was probably still on the table, but Louis was looking at him with sly curiosity, and there was the hint of a smirk left at the corner of his mouth, and Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that Louis had planned yet something else, something that was about to happen right here, right now.

A soft bass started playing. It took Harry all of two seconds to figure out the song was Strong. His eyes opened wide in shock, and he was pretty sure his jaw was hanging open as well. Louis’ smirk only got wider.

It had been forever since he had last sung Strong on a stage. He remembered, didn’t think he would quite be able to forget, the way his chest tightened, back then, when he sang it. So close to Louis in words but so far in distance, separated by the weight of the rumours and the strain of prejudice.

He felt none of that now. Now, he was staring at Louis with a tearful smile and a surely obvious fond. Harry didn’t realise they had been walking towards each other until they met in the middle of the stage, pulled to each other by an invisible force. Harry felt Louis’ hand slip in his, right before the first verse.

The fans screamed, of course, when they sang “tied up like two ships”, because it just so happened that Louis’ rope was exactly aligned with Harry’s anchor, and well, that had obviously been on purpose but it was the first time they held hands in public, the first time the fans could really appreciate how well the two tattoos matched. They sang with sparkles in their eyes and fire in their voices, and Harry briefly thought that the song had never sounded so intense, so genuine, so heartfelt.

He didn’t let go of Louis’ hand until the end of the song, until his cheeks were sore from smiling so wide and his head felt dizzy from feeling so much.

After that, Louis slipped away to sit next to Mitch, and quietly watched as Harry sang The Chain, lost in the music, and then Kiwi, with as much energy as he could muster. The high of performing it always got to him, but Kiwi was an especially exhausting song to sing on a stage, and the emotional toll of the evening was starting to get to him.

Louis seemed to feel it, because he came back for the last verse, his voice joining Harry’s, to the fans’ absolute delight. Harry wanted to touch him, to lean on him for support, but Louis was standing slightly too far in the back, clearly voluntarily out of reach. Harry was guessing Louis didn’t want to steal the spotlight. He definitely wouldn’t have minded, but he understood.

So he shot his boyfriend a grateful look, which Louis responded to with a wink, and he kept prancing around the stage, high on music and less afraid that his voice was going to break completely now that Louis was backing him up along with the rest of his band.

Sarah was playing her soul out, and so were Adam and Mitch. It was the last show of the tour, and Harry had wanted to do things right. The lights were flashing harshly, back-and-forth between blinding white and absolute darkness. The crowd was loud and the music was louder, but all he could hear was his heart, thundering in his chest from exhaustion and excitement. The fans were losing their damn minds, and Harry felt like he was about to pass out, or have an asthma attack maybe, but he couldn’t have stopped jumping around even if he’d wanted to. He was so worked up we could feel tingles in his palms, under his skin, everywhere.

As the last verse was nearing its end, Harry left the singing to Clare and Louis. He turned around to try and locate his water bottle. He needed the hydration, and he needed to do the whale, hopefully so there could be a clear shot of it to post on Instagram later. (Even though he secretly hoped there would be a better picture, one of Louis and him, to illustrate tonight’s show.) When he turned around, he found himself face to face with Louis. He was holding Harry’s own water bottle. Harry mouthed a “thank you”, and grabbed it, but Louis didn’t let go, and instead tilted his head up to sweetly kiss Harry on the cheek.

Giddy with the small attention, Harry beamed and took a few gulps of water, carefully making sure not to swallow the last one. He faced the crowd again, and walked back to the front of the stage, Louis on his right, matching him step for step.

On time with the last beat of the song, Harry bent back and expulsed the water into the air above his head, creating a cloud of tiny droplets that dispersed slowly around him like stardust. He got back up, and bowed at the crowd. Harry was beaming. It had been a beautiful last show.

He leant in to reach the mic: “Thank you all so much for being with us tonight! I hope you enjoyed the show.” The crowd cheered as a confirmation. “I love each and every one of you and I’ll see you again very soon. Have a good night!!”

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Mitch looking at him expectantly. Harry’s face split into a large smile and he wrapped his friend in a tight hug. “Thank you,” Harry whispered next to his ear. It was for so much more than tonight’s show, and he knew Mitch would understand.
He felt the other man tighten his embrace a little. “You deserve it, H – to be happy.” Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

When Mitch let go of him, Harry found himself with an armful of Sarah, quick but intense. Then he hugged Clare, who even kissed his cheek as she let go, and Adam, complete with friendly pats on the back.

When he turned around, the fans started screaming louder. It just confirmed what he already knew; he only had one person left to hug: Louis. Louis who was smiling so wide that his eyes were crinkling in the way Harry found so endearing. He didn’t have time to process it, though, because next thing he knew, he felt a pair of lips pressed against his own. Harry melted into the kiss, running his tongue along Louis’ bottom lip.

Louis, somehow, bless him, seemed to keep track of the fact that they were on stage, and kept his lips shut. Harry broke the kiss after a few seconds. They rested their foreheads against each other, composing themselves, catching their breaths.

Harry slid his hand in Louis’ and looked around. Clare, Sarah, Mitch and Adam were already off the stage. He had taken off his in-ear, but he was positive if he were to put it back on, he would hear someone ranting about how they needed to get backstage so the O2 people could start clearing the arena. He would have gladly spent hours upon hours kissing Louis on that stage – they did have nine years of PDA to catch up on – but, well. All the people involved in this tour had likely been involved with tonight’s surprise, and he was really thankful for that. He didn’t want to make all those people’s jobs harder.

So Harry gently tugged on Louis’ arm, signalling him it was time to go. They both waved one last time at the cheering audience, and made their way downstairs.

Backstage was a mess, as backstage always was, Louis had found. Especially on the last show of a tour, especially on a kind of one-shot show like this one, everyone was buzzing with energy, and they needed to clear out everything before noon tomorrow anyways. As the stars of the show, Harry and Louis (along with the rest of the band) weren’t expected to help and were allowed to leave. Harry was still holding onto Louis’ hand, but Louis didn’t mind. He would have let Harry drag him to the end of the earth.

When they reached Harry’s dressing room, Harry let go of his hand to hold the door open for him. Always such a gentleman. Louis rolled his eyes with a fond smile but walked in anyway. Before he could take in his surroundings, he found himself wrapped in a hug. It was Anne, and she was crying.

Louis reached up to awkwardly pat her back. He had asked Anne for her opinion on a stage coming-out before he started planning the whole thing, and even though she had ultimately given her blessing, she had seemed a little reluctant. He really hoped those were happy tears.

“I’ve been to many shows in ten years, but I’ve never seen him look so happy on stage,” she whispered in his ear. Louis had been by Harry’s side for most of it, so he knew, and he was sure now that coming out had been the right thing to do. Anne tightened her hold, and added: “Or you, for that matter. I’m proud of you, Louis. I’m sure your mum would be too.” And, well. If Louis had to blink back tears, no one ever had to know.

He hugged Lottie next. Her eyes were glistening and she held onto him for dear life, like she wanted to make sure Louis wasn’t going to break. She told him about the reactions on Twitter. Eleanor had congratulated her “dearest friends” on their coming-out. Liam had tweeted a rainbow emoji and his best wishes. Niall had posted a single picture, a meme of himself with sunglasses, captioned “we been knew”. Other reactions were slowly coming in, and according to Lotts, save from the bigoted odd one out, they were apparently overwhelmingly positive. Which, of course, they had pretty much figured given the audience’s reaction tonight, but it was nice to hear it. Louis thanked his sister, feeling giddy with relief.

When he turned around to tell Harry, he found that he and Anne were whispering, huddled close on the couch, obviously sharing a private moment. Gemma was hovering stiffly next to them. Louis caught her eyes and quirked an eyebrow. In a flash, she crossed the room and engulfed him in a bear hug, complete with hair ruffling. “I’m glad I convinced Mum to give this dumb idea a chance,” she commented.

“Me too,” Louis replied fondly, although with a wet chuckle. “You have no idea.” He buried his face in her wool jacket.

Before he knew it, Lottie, Harry and Anne joined in on the hug, and soon they were a mess of limbs, faces, tears and echoes of laughter. Those were some of his favourite people in the world, Louis thought, and with their support, being exposed to the judgement of a million eyes felt much less terrifying, and much more exciting. He just couldn’t wait to finally be himself after all those years, and he knew Harry felt exactly the same. He could sense it in the way Harry was nuzzling the back of his neck, holding his waist. He could hear it in his relieved sobs, feel it in his heartbeat.

Anne, Gemma and Lottie left shortly after, but not before they extracted a promise from the boys to drive up to Donny as soon as they were back from LA. Harry and Louis were more than happy to oblige.

Harry turned to Louis when the door closed behind their families. His eyes were red, but he was beaming, and he fell in Louis’ arms. They didn’t need to say anything – they already knew. He rubbed soothing circles in Harry’s hair and whispered sweet nothings in his ear to help him breathe.

Louis didn’t keep count of how long they stayed here, wrapped up in each other, hearts beating in time. It didn’t matter. They had forever now, never to be hidden again.

When Louis pulled out of the hug, Harry was radiating joy. His eyes were bright, sparkling in the neon light. Anne had been right: he looked happier than he had in a long time. Louis couldn’t help himself; he leant up and stole a quick kiss from Harry’s lips. His smile only got wider, and a touch more wicked. Louis grinned back, fully aware that he was in for a terribly inappropriate flight and, well a terribly inappropriate vacation overall.

He couldn’t wait.

Harry quickly changed into jeans and a rainbow Treat People With Kindness sweater. Louis watched fondly as his boyfriend made sure to properly hang the flower suit back on its rack. He left a thank you note – Thanks for everything. Until the MET. H. – in the breast pocket for Alessandro Michele, who would find it when the suit was sent back to Gucci, and they got out of the dressing room at last. Louis had made sure to pack everything they would need for the flight; it was already waiting for them in the car, so they didn’t have any luggage to carry through the busy arena.

When they got to the artists’ lobby, they stopped. The paparazzi were just on the other side of the glass door, and they could already see the flashes of the cameras going off periodically, even though they were safely out of sight inside the arena. Harry slid his hand in Louis’ again. Louis looked down at their joined hands, and then up at the love of his life. His smile, full dimples, was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing Louis had ever seen. Handholding and heart eyes. In public. He could get used to that.

“So?” Harry said. His voice was deep and his palm was warm against Louis’. “Are you ready to take on the world?”

“With you?” Louis asked, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Always.”

They pushed the door open, hands intertwined. And when the camera flashes started going off near continuously, Louis could have mistaken them for twinkling stars.