Chapter Text
Harry had been living with rules for a week and so far he figured he’d been doing pretty well. His arse was safe at least and really, that’s all that mattered. Most of the time everything was pretty normal. If Harry thought too much about that he sent himself into a minor panic — but nothing much had changed at all.
They’d always been pretty co-dependent as a band. A side effect of being thrust into fame and away from their parents so young. Harry had always felt as though he’d gained older brothers, who were sometimes mischievous and sometimes overly protective.
Now it was just kind of official. That and they didn’t outright yell at him anymore like they sometimes did to each other. Harry knew that at least was a Sub thing. There were specific ways to help Subs after all and yelling wasn’t one of them. They had a tendency to take on enough guilt for themselves, thoughts consumed with not being good enough, being disappointing — a veritable storm of ugly and upsetting thoughts that manifested into physical symptoms.
Harry knew all this because Liam was making him research. Liam had almost made Harry write a fucking essay on it until Niall told him he was getting banned from google if he didn’t stop trying to set them homework.
Essay writing aside it’d been pretty useful — learning why he felt certain ways. He’d never bothered before because knowing wasn’t going to help him with pretending to be a Dom. He’d needed to avoid his biology then, not embrace or understand it.
However, avoiding it was still something he had to do when in public, which made a day of promo particularly difficult.
“We’ve got some questions from twitter now, our feed has been blowing up all morning.”
Harry tried to smile at the interviewer, which he supposed he didn’t really need to do considering it was radio and nobody could see his lack of politeness. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than polite, even if he was bored out of his mind. They were in Birmingham and had a whole day of promotion before their show the next night. Harry just wanted a nap.
It’s not as though he hated being interviewed, it was just so bloody boring sometimes. It was always the same questions, always the same rehearsed answers and anytime they dared to go off script, a lecture from management. Sometimes, Harry was sure they could send in robots to do the interviews for them, what with how predictable it all was.
“Harry, twitter wants to know what you look for in a Sub?”
He’d had that question multiple times. He’d lost count of the amount of times they’d been asked what they look for in a partner. He guessed it was because people wanted to know if they made the cut. He figured it was pretty insulting really — how did you define a person by stating a couple of traits? People were people, down to what kind of face they made when they yawned. Harry didn’t have preferences, how could he if he didn’t even know them?
He also didn’t particularly look for anything in a Sub. Considering he was one and all. But that wasn’t really the point.
“Um — well — just someone who’s nice y’know?” he mumbled into the mic, ignoring the predictable chortles of his bandmates.
They weren’t laughing at him, not that the interviewer would know that. Laughing instead at the predictability of it. Harry always gave the same answer and he always deliberately didn’t specify classification or gender. It was a quiet kind of rebellion against management that they all enjoyed occasionally.
“Care to elaborate?” the interviewer was probing, raising her eyebrows at him. But Harry had held up under worse interrogation than this.
“Just — nice and funny — just a good person.” he shrugged, shooting her bashful smile number 27. The one Louis always told him would get him water in a draught.
“Would you say you don’t have a preference in classification then?” the interviewer was continuing, her eyebrows raised in a challenge and Harry felt a slight panic in his chest. “Those don’t sound particularly like Sub traits.”
“I don’t — I mean — I think that — “ he rambled, struggling to pull himself together to formulate a response. He wasn’t prepared for the interview to go this off script and usually he’d rally, he would have made a joke before. But it’d been a couple of weeks since everything had gone to shit and Harry wasn’t really used to covering things up anymore.
In fact, he wasn’t actively allowed to outside of circumstances like this. Rules were a whole fucking thing.
“I reckon nice, funny and a Sub aren’t mutually exclusive.” Louis was interrupting, the challenge in his voice clear even if he managed to make it sound mischievous and Harry could only slump back in his seat in relief.
“Yeah what about Zayn here, you trying to say he’s not nice or funny?” Niall piped up, grinning even if his eyes were hard and determined in a way that Harry had started to learn shouldn’t be messed with.
He’d found that out when he’d thought it would be a fine idea to argue with the Dom about Niall watching him take a fucking ibuprofen of all things. He’d refused to take it then on principle that he didn’t need to be babysat to get rid of a headache. Only, he’d ended up with five stinging swats to his arse and swallowing down the ibuprofen anyway.
Harry hadn’t won against that look and this poor interviewer didn’t stand a chance either.
“No of course not — so um next question is for Liam…”
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“Harry there’s been some rumours about you and a certain Victoria Secret model, have you finally decided to settle down?”
Harry blinked as he was addressed, the mid morning interview had so far been much of the same. They’d been asked about how the tour was going, how they were finding time to record and Harry had mostly had to give a few standard answers and attempt not to fall off the spinny stool when fixing the headphones. He hadn’t been expecting to be singled out like that, although he was generally the favourite when it came to sordid affairs.
“Well...there’s always rumours.” he shrugged, glancing down at the desk as he spoke. “Can’t always believe everything you read y’know?”
He felt sick all of a sudden, and he didn’t understand that. He was used to this, he was used to the invasive questions and the assumptions about him. He knew what image he’d been given and the one management only encouraged. It helped with any suspicion over classification if Harry was simply a horny Dom not looking to settle down. Even better if some lucky, glamorous Sub had managed to pin him down.
It made people want to be that person. It made them want to be the special one who changed him, the one he stopped his womanising ways for. Harry sometimes wished they knew who he was and what he really wanted, that him not picking them didn’t mean they were lacking. He wished they knew that he wanted the same things they did — wanted to be special, wanted to be enough.
“Twitter seems to think you’ve found yourself a Sub.” the interviewer continued, the Dom seeming completely unfazed by the four glares of his bandmates directed his way. “Is the famous Harry Styles ready to settle down?”
“One time twitter decided Harry was part cat.” Zayn spoke into his mic before Harry even had chance to answer and Harry let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“Oh yeah and remember when Paynos toes were trending?” Louis added, and Harry wished for a second there weren’t three other people between them.
“That was sick. Twitter is wild.” Niall grinned, before going off on some tangent about hashtags that Harry could barely pay attention to.
It was only after a minute that he noticed his hands were shaking in his lap.
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Harry wished he’d paid attention to the agenda. He wished he’d done more than just let himself be shuffled from car to building after building. He wished he’d realised that this interview was going to be one of those. One of those faux serious interviews where they asked the deep questions. He wished it wasn’t for some podcast that dug deep into classifications and individual experiences.
If he’d known he would’ve faked sick.
“Zayn, as the only Sub in the band, would you say your experience differs from the other boys?” the podcast host was asking, a genuine look of curiosity on his face and Harry wished he didn’t feel so resentful.
He wished he could enjoy the fact that these types of things existed. That there were Subs out there that got to listen to celebrities on things like this and know they aren’t lesser than. He wished he could add his own answers into the mix. Wished he didn’t feel physically sick at the irrational anger he felt towards Zayn.
Because he wasn’t the only Sub in the band. He wasn’t and if Zayn hadn’t reacted so fucking badly, Harry wouldn’t have to pretend. But that was unfair, it was so so unfair and not even really all that true. But he’d been in a weird mood all morning since the first interview and he just couldn’t fucking shake it.
“In what way?” Zayn asked, leaning back in his chair as he thought about the answer.
“In every way, do you find that your relationships with the other boys is different?” the host persisted kindly, “Do you struggle with the fame more so than the others?”
“Nah, lack of privacy is a thing whether you’re a Sub or a Dom yeah?” Zayn glanced around at them, and Harry found himself nodding along as he was supposed to. “I mean, I reckon we’re at the point now that different needs doesn’t equal different status yeah? I might need to kneel cause I got overwhelmed, but Liam might need me to deal cause he did. It’s a partnership. Two way street kinda thing.”
Harry wished he was anywhere but here. He wished he’d never gotten out of bed. He wished he didn’t feel so angry and resentful. He honestly wanted to shove his headphones off and storm out of the booth. He wanted to throw things and maybe stomp his feet until someone fucking noticed how unfair this was.
It wasn’t exactly rational. But Harry didn’t want to be rational either. It felt like he was invisible, the only Harry that was being acknowledged was the fake one. Was Harry the Dom, the womaniser. Harry who had nothing insightful to add about being a good Dom because he had no fucking clue. They’d been shoved back and forth all day and the Harry he wanted to be, the Harry who was maybe a little coddled by his bandmates hadn’t gotten any time in the sun.
“Right and how does your relationship with Liam affect the band dynamics? Was it awkward at first?” the conversation was moving on to something more familiar, but Harry still hated it on principle.
He hated fucking everything right now.
“We’re all pretty close, I don’t reckon they even noticed to be honest.”
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It felt like they’d been doing promo for fifty years instead of half a day as they piled back onto the tour bus for a lunch break. Harry wanted nothing more than to go and hide in the bathroom and maybe cry or scream or something. He hadn’t said much as they were driven back to where the buses were parked, had stewed silently in the car and tried to not be pissed off that he hadn’t got a window seat.
Because that was unfair too. He wanted to rest his flushed face against the window and maybe pretend he wasn’t there. Which was a really stupid thing to be pissed off about, but it was better than thinking about why he was actually in a mood.
He trailed in after the rest of the boys, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Niall whooped with joy at the Nandos bag sitting on the table.
“Fucking finally — I’m starving.” Niall didn’t waste any time digging into the bag, pulling out various food items and laying them on the table.
“You’re always starving.” Louis rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes as he pulled out a chair and sat.
“Fuck off Tommo, I heard your stomach in that last interview.” Niall was sassy when he was hungry and usually Harry found endless amusement in that. But right now, he just kind of wanted the whole world to disappear.
“You’ve got an hour Lads and then you’ve got three stations to hit in time for Drive Time.” Harry did his best to ignore Paul as he pulled out a chair next to Louis, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the foot items littering the table.
He didn’t want to hear about all the other interviews they had to do. He didn’t want to do anything but sit and possibly sulk. He could feel the tell tale sign of a headache behind his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was suppressed rage or the tears he refused to let fall making their presence known.
“Ah shit, who got the Nandos? They forgot my cheese.” Zayn frowned from his perch on Liam’s lap, picking apart his Pita.
“Mine’s got pineapple, it’s obviously Haz’s.” Liam added, making a move to pass it over and Harry frowned as he saw the sticker on the wrapper.
“It’s not mine, that’s medium spice….” he mumbled, voice hoarser than he wanted it to be. He wanted to cry. He wanted to sob because his Nandos order was wrong, and he had no idea what was even wrong with him right now.
“Oh, they’re all medium.” Liam mumbled, glancing at the food with a worried frown.
“Fucking fantastic.” Harry snapped, shocked at the venom in his own voice.
They’d obviously sent some new assistant to get their order and they’d completely fucked it up. It was stupid. Stupid to be mad about it. Stupid to want to cry that nobody had remembered that he didn’t like the spice. It was stupid to feel offended that his fucking Nandos order had been forgotten and yet he did. It felt personal somehow, felt like he wasn’t a real person. Like he had all day, every time someone asked him a question as though they knew who he was.
“It’s just food Haz, just eat it yeah?” Louis piped up, tilting his head in concern as he glanced at him and Harry realised for the first time that everyone was staring at him. It took everything in him not to point out that now they were fucking noticing him. Even if that accusation was wildly unfair. “We’re not gonna be getting anything else any time soon.”
“I’m fine.” he mumbled, pushing away a medium Pita just to fucking spite them and the stupid wrong food.
“Here.” Nial’s voice broke through his rage, as a wrap was pressed into his hands. “There was lemon and herb one at the bottom of the bag.”
“Great. Thanks.” he frowned down at the packaging, the sticker indicating the level of spice taunting him. Because now he didn’t even have a right to be annoyed about the Nandos and that was only serving to piss him off even more.
It didn’t help that everyone was awkwardly picking at their own food, as though worried he was going to fling his wrap in their direction. He lifted his eyes enough to see Liam and Zayn communicating with eyebrows only, but that only made his heart hurt even more with something akin to jealousy. He didn’t need to look at Louis to know what he was doing, he could feel the other boys gaze burning into the side of his face. Like he was trying to see into his brain or something.
He’d noticed that recently. Louis did this thing where he’d just look at him, usually followed up by a stern word or a cuddle. Usually followed by whatever Harry hadn’t known he’d needed. It was really fucking disconcerting. But usually they had more time, usually they weren’t trying to shovel food in and then leave for more fucking hell. He knew realistically he was being unfair, that he was pushing and getting himself riled up when nobody noticed — when they didn’t have any time or space to do a thing about it.
But knowing that somewhere in his rational mind didn’t help the part of him that was restless and on edge. The rational part of him wasn’t winning this war his mind had waged on itself.
“Cheer up Lads, just three more and then we’ve got a free night.” Niall piped up through a mouthful of chicken. “Anyone fancy a bit of a kick about later?”
“No reason we can’t have one now, eat up and then we’ll go yeah?” Liam smiled around at them all, obviously desperate to defuse the tension and it made Harry want to vomit with guilt that he’d caused it.
Not enough to snap him out of it though. He was trying, he was. But instead of doing something like saying he felt weird, or apologising for his mood. He simply let their conversation wash over him as he stared at his untouched food on the table. He just sat there as they tried to eat their food as quick as possible so they’d have time for a twenty minute kick about in the car park.
“Harry, you need to eat.” he was broken out of his thoughts by Liam’s voice and he looked up to see all of them staring at him with concern.
It made him furious. It made him furious that the concern settled something in his stomach, settled a little of the restlessness because he didn’t want it to settle. He wanted to be mad and yet he didn’t and he couldn’t get a handle on any of it.
“I’m fine.” he snapped, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Are we going or are we going to sit around and talk about my digestive habits all day?”
“Curly. We’ve not eaten anything since breakfast.” Louis shot him a look, one that Harry was smart enough to know was some kind of warning. “You made enough of a fuss about the bloody medium spiced ones — so you can sit and eat your chicken.”
He said nothing. Didn’t trust himself to speak as he glared down at the wrap as though it had somehow personally offended him. Which it had. It was a legitimate glare.
“Are you tired?” Liam murmured softly, his voice laced with concern and Harry wanted to throw the fucking wrap at his head. He didn’t want their concern. He wasn’t honestly sure he deserved it. “Eat that and then you can go lie down in your bunk till we need to leave.”
“Are you actually trying to send me for a nap right now Liam?’
“Curly. Look at me.” Louis’ voice broke through the ever present anger, and Harry had no choice but to meet blue determined eyes with his own mutinous green. “You’re going to eat your wrap and go and lie down without all this attitude. Or you can carry on and do both with a sore arse.”
He wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell them that they didn’t get to spend all day pretending he was a Dom and then force him to do things like eat and nap. But then that didn’t make any fucking sense because they were simply going along with his lies. Well management’s lies but it equated to the same thing. Yet he was angry with them anyway, angry and resentful and jealous of the easy way Zayn spoke about being a Sub now.
He remembered someone saying once, that it was easier to be angry with people you loved and trusted — because you weren’t afraid they’d leave you because of it. And that thought was kind of nice, even if he was in the midst of Hurricane Harry.
“Fine.” he muttered, when Louis’ stern face never wavered, taking a mutinous bite of his wrap. “Fine.”
Nobody spoke then, they made no effort to dispel the tension as Harry chewed sullenly on his chicken and he knew he didn’t really deserve for them to make it less awkward for him. But he still wanted them to anyway, having them just wait for him to eat so he could go off for a nap felt a bit too close to being in trouble and Harry didn’t like that at all.
“Bed. Go.” was the only thing Louis said the second he’d swallowed the last bite of chicken, simply pointing towards the bunks.
“I heard you the first time.” he mumbled as he shoved his chair back, and he made sure to open the curtains to his bunk as aggressively as possible.
He honestly wasn’t sure what he was even doing, never mind saying. Only that it satisfied him more than sitting around feeling out of place and miserable did. So he lay in the bunk, staring up at the ceiling and stewing with resentment.
“What’s with him today?” Niall’s voice drifted through the curtains as they all started to shuffle off for a quick game of footie.
“I dunno, but he better pack it in.” Louis responded before the door shut behind them.
Harry wasn’t going to nap. They could all fuck off quite frankly.
----------------------
“You feeling better?” Louis murmured to him as they started to take their place for the recorded interview.
It was some local breakfast show that was due to be aired the next day, drumming up publicity for an already sold out show. Fucking pointless but here they were anyway, doing their usual thing of trying to squeeze onto a couch with two stools behind.
Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t trust himself to speak. He’d spent half an hour stewing in his bunk and a silent twenty minutes in the car ignoring everyone’s attempt at distracting him. He wanted to snap out of it, he wanted to be fine. But his stomach was churning at the thought of even more lies, and he was dreading the resentment he knew was going to surface when Zayn and Liam were able to be open and frank about their relationship.
He didn’t understand, he didn’t know why he had to be the one who was different. The one who had to change himself just to be someone people wanted. It hurt more than it usually did now he was getting used to being himself everywhere else.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Louis sighed, taking his wrist as he tugged him down onto the couch. .“Come on, you’re sitting next to me.”
“We’re not allowed.” Harry mumbled, biting his lip as he sat down next to him, nodding towards the cameras. “They’re filming.”
They hadn’t been allowed to sit together in interviews ever since the Larry rumours started in full force. Harry had learned a while ago not to question it anymore. He went where he was directed, when he was directed and he got through it. Even if feeling Louis’ comforting presence always helped to calm him down, even if he would smile more when Louis slung an arm around his shoulders or squeezed his knee. He missed the days when interviews were fun and filled with flirting.
He missed the flirting in general if he was honest.
“Who makes the rules here?” Louis murmured in response.
“You.”
“Exactly, so you let me deal with Modest yeah?” his hand rested on Harry’s knee and he shot him a familiar mischievous Louis grin. “Sit and wipe that sulky look off your face before it gets stuck that way.”
Harry felt he really couldn’t be blamed for following that particular direction. Even as everyone else settled in and the interview got underway. Even when Michael, their current handler from Modest was shooting them looks from where he was standing off to the side. Harry didn’t have to do anything, when Louis was simply raising his eyebrows at the man in a silent challenge.
“So Harry, we’ve been hearing some rumours about you.” the interviewer focused on him halfway through and Harry sat up from where he’d been buried in the couch cushions.
“Fun.” he mumbled sarcastically, and he felt Zayn flick his neck from behind but he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the mood for this, he didn’t want to hear stupid rumours about himself that he knew most people believed in.
“We thought it’d be fun to read out a couple and you can tell us if they’re true or not.” the interviewer continued, and Harry only stared at him blankly.
“Why don’t we get to play a game?” Niall interrupted with a mock pout.
“Is Hazza a one man band now?” Louis added and Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be grateful for the attempt at saving him.
He didn’t really want to feel anything at all, or he was going to feel only anger. He was going to snap and he really wasn’t a person who did that.
“Oh don’t worry, we have questions for all of you — it’s just Harry here seems to have the most interesting stories about him.”
“It’s the curls, they hide all his secrets.” Louis reached out to ruffle his hair, and it took all of Harry’s strength not to lean into the touch and beg for a cuddle.
“Well let’s see if we can get some of them out in the open shall we?” the interviewer continued gamely and Harry realised he genuinely didn’t even know the guys name. That was rude of him. He was never usually that rude. “You once spent the night delivering pizza to the homeless?”
“Uh — I think — “ he started, face heating at that one and not because it was bad, but because it didn’t really feel like trying to do a nice thing when it was being used for publicity. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t really win that one. If he denied it he was an arsehole, if he admitted it he was a bragging arsehole.
“I think Ed already outed him for that one yeah?” Louis muttered with a wave of his hand. “It’s true ...next one. We’re all waiting for our turn here.”
“Okay, Okay.” the interviewer laughed, shaking his head at their antics and Harry marvelled that they only ever saw what they wanted to see. That they were having fun. Enjoying this. They couldn’t be more wrong. “You once had a threesome with Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.”
“What?” Harry blinked, staring at the interviewer like he’d grown two heads. “No — that’s not — even if that was true, that’s pretty disrespectful to talk about them like — “
“So it is true, but you’re trying to be respectful?” the interviewer raised his eyebrows in a challenge and Harry wanted to throw a shoe at his face.
It wasn’t true. Of course it fucking wasn’t. He’d had an arrangement with Taylor sure, but one that definitely hadn’t involved any kind of sex and one that had been mutually agreed to end in public heartbreak on her end to help her promote her album and score Harry a playboy image. Acting as though they’d had a threesome wasn’t part of that deal, and whilst Harry might come out of it looking like a cool man whore — he was lucky enough to be a man. Taylor and Selena were not. It wasn’t fair to them, when he knew the names they’d get called.
“No — I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be asking about — “ he started, glancing to Michael desperately as he waved his hand. “Can we stop? Can we just — was that on the list?”
“Carry on, we can take that question out of the recording.” Michael answered calmly, and Harry wanted to scream. He was sure that any questions about his sex life weren’t allowed, he was uncomfortable talking about it when his real sex life consisted of one night stands with Doms who would sign an NDA.
“It wasn’t stated explicitly on the list…” the interviewer shrugged casually, as though it wasn’t a big deal. As though Harry’s comfort levels and the reputation of two women was worth taking the risk for a juicy question.
“No, but you’d think common decency would be.” he snapped, glaring at the interviewer and then at Michael for good measure.
“Haz…” Niall murmured from the other side of him.
But Harry was done. He was done with this fucking terrible day. He was done right now with lying and pretending whilst everyone sat around and got to be themselves. He was just done with shitty questions and shitty assumptions and he didn’t want to do it for another second.
“No. No fuck this.” he stated, standing from the couch and walking towards the door before anyone could stop him. “Play your fucking games with someone else.”
“Harry.” he heard Liam’s voice, but he didn’t turn, he didn’t make any attempt to go back to them or apologise.
“No. I’m fucking done.” he said instead, taking great satisfaction as the door shut behind him.
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He honestly wasn’t sure how he found his way back to the Green Room. Only that nobody stopped him and for that he was grateful. He knew it was a bit of a dick move, the other boys couldn’t exactly also walk out mid interview. But he didn’t want to be with them right now either. Except he did, he really did and yet he didn’t at the same time and nothing was making sense.
He’d never walked out of an interview before. None of them had. Louis had probably come the closest to losing his cool, but Harry had always done his best to remain polite even when they were asked questions they definitely weren’t supposed to. It usually meant those interviewers were blacklisted and they were rarely allowed to air them — but some organisations would still take the risk.
Harry was used to it. They all were. Yet right now, as he grabbed his jacket and bag — he didn’t want to be used to it. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to be furious, because that way he didn’t have to pay attention to the guilt churning in his stomach or the restlessness he felt spreading through his limbs.
He turned as the door opened and Paul entered the Green Room and Harry knew immediately that the other man knew what had just happened. He didn’t look angry, he wasn’t their management after all — he was rarely concerned with their image and more about their safety.
He did look concerned though, eyes soft as he surveyed Harry silently and Harry honestly wished he could just be pissed instead. He wished Paul would just yell at him, call him unprofessional or something. He wished he’d justify all the shitty things Harry was currently thinking about himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to make a joke, to kill the tension. It was like all the humour had been sucked out of him. He couldn’t remember how to be himself right now, when he felt as if his entire being was just a ball of rage and guilt.
“I want a car.” Harry bit out, shouldering his bag as he stared somewhere in the vicinity of Paul’s face — because meeting his eyes wasn’t something Harry was going to brave.
“Mate, you’ve gotta calm down.” Paul took a step forward, holding his hands up in mock surrender when Harry immediately stepped back.
“No Paul, just get me a fucking car.” he snapped, shocked honestly at his own voice. He sounded harsh, angry in a way he really never was.
“I think you should wait until — “ Paul started and Harry could only shake his head, desperate suddenly that Paul didn’t tell him he had to wait for the boys. He needed out. He needed to leave this place. Just for a minute, just to take a fucking breath or something.
“Paul, please….”
There must have been something in his voice, because Paul studied him carefully for a second before nodding and pulling out his phone.
“Alright...alright just wait here, I’ll get you out of here.” he typed something out on his phone before fixing Harry with a stern look. “You’re going to the hotel, no detours. I’ll get you out of here, but that’s where you’re going.”
Harry could only nod, his throat dry all of a sudden, fingers tingling as he gripped the strap of his bag. He wasn’t trying to avoid the boys, he wasn’t running or avoiding them even though he suspected they were going to be angry. He just wanted out of this building, this day. He wanted to be done.
Paul didn’t say anything more, simply left to go check on the car and make the necessary arrangements to get Harry out of the building without the others. Harry felt like he’d taken half the oxygen with him when he left, all of sudden alone in the room that felt stuffy and stifling. He stumbled back against the table, hands gripping the edge so hard his knuckles turned white as he attempted to just breathe or something.
He looked up only when the door opened a couple of seconds later, shocked when it wasn’t Paul who entered. Instead, it was Michael.. he wasn’t particularly memorable, around 6ft with his hair shaved so close to his head and Harry sometimes wondered if maybe he was just going bald. Harry didn’t hate him or anything, but he also really didn’t want to deal with him or what he thought of Harry’s stunt right now.
“What the hell was that?” Michael snapped in lieu of greeting as he shut the door behind him.
“Nothing.” he mumbled in reply, lifting his face to meet Michael’s eyes stubbornly.
Because he wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t doing this right now. He wasn’t going to be meek and mild when they were supposed to stop that shit. They were supposed to screen the fucking questions and Harry had, had enough today.
He was done.
“Are you sick?” The Dom continued, raising his eyebrows. “Because that’s the only reason I can think of that you’d walk out of an interview.”
“No.”
“Then you need to get back in there and make an excuse about needing the bathroom.” Michael pointed to the door, and Harry could only raise his own eyebrows in disbelief. Like hell he was going back there. He definitely wasn’t going to make some bullshit excuse whilst everyone looked at him and knew he’d been forced to do it.
Dom or not, even if everything in Harry’s body was protesting at refusing. Harry wasn’t going to do it.
“They’ll be done soon anyway.” he mumbled, despite his inner thoughts being steeped in stubbornness, it was hard to refuse outright when a Dom was being particularly authoritative. “I’m leaving.”
“You do realise how this looks don’t you?” Michael ranted, and Harry noted the red blotch on his neck that he assumed meant he was stressed. It looked kind of like a tomato. But right now that thought didn’t even amuse him. “This isn’t the type of press we need when we want to add more tour dates — “
“I don’t care.” Harry snapped, fingers straining with how hard he was gripping the edge of the table. “I don’t fucking care.”
“Well that’s nice, but you have four other band members who do care. So perhaps you could consider making an effort for them?”
That was the crux of it wasn’t it? Why Harry was positive the boys would be angry with him too. Because it wasn’t just him. Anything he did, anything they did impacted the others. Why Harry had to be a Dom. Because he was more attractive that way. Because when people wanted him to fuck them — it sold albums, it sold tickets and it wasn’t just his livelihood on the line. They were a band, and everything Harry did impacted on the others.
It was pressure Harry felt right in his chest.
“It’s just one interview — you said you’d screen the questions — I don’t wanna answer that stuff anymore.” he mumbled, the anger he’d felt replaced instead by guilt, by an urge to submit to this man he barely knew. “I’m sorry — I just — I can’t — “
He couldn’t keep it up, he couldn’t stay strong and stubborn when Michael was hitting every trigger he had for his guilt. There was a reason Subs had Doms in the first place. There was a reason not every Dom was allowed to assert authority over a Sub. Because it was easy to do. It was too easy. It was why Subs had a choice in who they chose to give that kind of power to. Because it was hard, it was so fucking hard to outright refuse something without the impending guilt settling in.
“Harry, do you need some help?” Michael softened his tone, studying him in a way Harry didn’t want to be studied by him. Like he was figuring him out, analysing him when he wasn’t a Dom that Harry wanted right now.
“No I just — I need to go — “
He watched as Michael rummaged through his own messenger bag, watched as he pulled out a brand new pack of pills. Pills Harry knew intimately. Pills he’d always been assured would make it possible for him to carry on without a Dom. Pills he’d taken almost an entire pack of to stave off a drop. The pills that had started this whole fucking thing.
“Here, we always keep some spare just in case — you should have said something.” Michael murmured in concern, but Harry knew that his concern came in two parts. Sure, he was a human being and a Dom and presumably not a complete dick — so he obviously didn’t want Harry to drop. But he also wanted them to be okay from a PR standpoint — and that meant Harry getting control over himself.
“No that’s — I don’t — “ he stumbled over his words, as his wide eyes stared at the familiar pack of pills being held out to him.
What he wanted to say was that he wasn’t allowed them. But for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing anyone else. He didn’t want Michael to be mad at him, even if sometimes he wasn’t sure what Michael thought his best interests were.
“Come on, we’re working hard to keep this quiet for you — but you need to do your part as well.” Michael continued, taking a step closer as he pushed the pack towards Harry.
“I don’t need — I’m fine.” he shook his head, even as his fingers released their death grip on the table. Because Michael was right.
They were working hard for him. The line of NDA’s was a mile long when it came to Harry and his sex life. He’d had to scratch the itch somehow after all. There was only so long he could go without something physical, even if that came in sex form. He was causing them extra work and now he was refusing to take something that would lessen that burden.
“You’ve been acting out all day. It’s alright, you’re bound to get some urges sometimes.” Michael soothed, smiling at him softly and if it was anyone else, Harry would find it reassuring. But he didn’t want him. He wanted the boys. He wanted Paul. He wanted his fucking mum or Gemma or Robin or anyone but their Management when he honestly wasn’t sure where their priorities were. “This will help till we can get you sorted out properly and into bed yeah?”
Harry took a breath, biting his lip as he looked at the pack being held out for him. It would be so easy just to take it. It’d be easy to do what Michael wanted and maybe he’d feel better. Maybe the pills would help and then Michael wouldn’t be mad and there wouldn’t be some big drama with management. A lot of Subs took them, they weren’t hardcore drugs or anything. But most Subs hadn’t survived solely off them for a year. But there were also rules — his rules — rules that had been lovingly given to him and right now he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place.
There was no possible way to please everyone and Harry felt tears spring in his eyes against his will. Because it wasn’t fair. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who he was supposed to be listening to, when everything was supposedly for his benefit.
“Put those fucking things away.” Louis’ voice was a shock when Harry hadn’t even heard the door open.
He sounded furious as he rounded on Michael, his eyes flashing dangerously, fingers white where they were gripping a bottle of orange juice. “What the fuck are you doing? You think you can just come in here and try and shove pills down his throat?”
“Louis, this was a private meeting. I understand you’re concerned but — “ Michael started, only to be interrupted as Louis simply shot the other Dom a look so stern Harry wasn’t sure how Michael was even still standing.
“No. No there’s no fucking but, unless you’re referring to his which you’ll be half responsible for if he takes one of those things.”
“Lou…” Harry whined, cheeks heating at that particular implication. He didn’t particularly want Louis’ current mood transferred to him, but the whine just slipped out of him.
Louis however, simply turned to him then, shooting him a warning look as he raised his eyebrows.
“You know better.” he stated simply, fingers closing over his wrist as he led him over to the couch and Harry could only follow blindly, trying for his own sanity to ignore the abject relief at Louis taking over. “Sit down. You need to drink this, you’ve barely had anything all day.”
Harry’s knees bent automatically at the order as he sat on the couch, watching as Louis opened the bottle of orange juice and handed it to him.
“All of it please.”
Harry raised the bottle to his lips dutifully, Louis’ entire focus on him as he swallowed his first gulp of juice. He wasn’t sure if it was following the instruction or the sugar itself that had the slight buzzing in his skin settle a little — but either way he wasn’t feeling quite as emotional as he had not thirty seconds earlier.
“What’s going on here?” Michael was looking between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed in apparent confusion and Harry couldn’t really blame him. He had after all, neglected to inform management of his change in circumstances.
...he’d been distracted.
Louis however, didn’t seem particularly concerned with Michael right now. He was continuing to study Harry intently, fingers threading through his hair as he pushed his fringe back from his face and glanced down at him.
“You good? We’re going to have a chat in a couple of minutes about saying no to things that you know aren’t allowed and keeping things to yourself.” the Dom murmured, and Harry could only bite his lip in response. Louis must have sensed his mild panic, because he was continuing. “Right now you’re just going to sit there and drink that juice. That’s all you need to concentrate on right now Curly.”
“But I — “ he started, as he swallowed down another mouthful of orange.
“Drink your juice please Hazza.” was all Louis said, dipping to press a kiss against the top of Harry’s curls before he was turning to the side to face Michael.
Harry wasn’t sure if he should be concerned, but he was supposed to be drinking his juice and he didn’t really have room to contemplate anything else but that.
“Louis, what is — “ Michael started, and Harry could only watch with wide eyes as Louis rounded on the other Dom.
“You don’t corner him like this again.” Louis snapped, eyes blazing with anger as he lifted a hand when Michael opened his mouth again. “No. Before you start, I’m well aware he’s capable of making good decisions. But not when he’s had a shit day and nobody has had time to help him.”
“Lou — it’s fine — “ Harry tried, biting his lip because he didn’t want Lou to get in shit either. He didn’t want Louis to feel like he did.
“It’s not fine — and less talking, more drinking. I want that bottle gone.” Harry brought the bottle to his lips so quickly, he was pretty sure he would have won Gold if it was an Olympic sport. “He’s vulnerable and the worst thing is you fucking know that. You know you can corner him and pressure him and he’ll do whatever the fuck you say and if you don’t know that, then you’ve got no business managing a band that has two Subs.”
“Okay, let’s take a breath shall we?” Michael held his hands up, “As far as I was aware, nobody knew about Harry’s classification and I was trying to do what anyone would for a Sub who doesn’t have an immediate Dom around to provide adequate care.”
“Those things aren’t adequate care and you’re a piece of shit.”
“Tommo….” a familiar Irish accent interrupted and Harry lifted his head in shock as he saw the other boys pile into the room. “Let’s take a breath or summat yeah?”
“No. I don’t give a fuck.” Louis simply waved a hand in Niall’s direction, eyes firmly on Michael. “We’re his guardians. It’s all legal, so next time there’s an issue with Harry you come to one of us. That’s how this is going to work.”
“You’re his guardians?” Michael couldn’t seem to hide the shock in his voice and Harry wanted to sink into the sofa, but he wasn’t sure he could do that and also finish the juice. “Harry?”
“Uh — yeah — the three of them.” he mumbled, biting his lip once more as he avoided looking at the other man. He probably should have informed them or something. He wasn’t really sure what the procedure was for that.
“He’s drinking his juice right now. As you just heard me tell him to.” Louis actually snapped his fingers in Michael’s direction, pulling the other Doms attention back to him. “This is the shit that needs to stop, you’re not gonna undermine us with him. We love him, we know what he needs and he doesn’t need this kind of shitty pressure.”
Harry could only sip from the bottle at that and pretend it didn’t make him feel kind of safe and squirmy. Sure, it wasn’t a declaration of love from Louis or anything — but it was still nice. Nice to know they loved him, nice that Louis was dealing with this. Nice to that it was being acknowledged that Harry had been facing pressure from all sides.
He had a vague thought that he should possibly be ashamed of how relieved he was not to have to deal with it himself. But he’d been told to drink his juice and he wanted to do a good job with that right now.
“Right. I have to make some calls.” Michael stated suddenly, pulling out his phone and Harry didn’t miss the eye roll that Louis responded with. “Expect a meeting regarding this when you’re back in London in two days.”
“It’ll be a meeting with all of us then.” Liam piped up as he handed an apple to Zayn. “You’re not talking to him alone.”
Harry resisted the urge to declare his undying love for all of them, as Zayn took what could only be described as a threatening bite of the apple in Michael’s direction and Niall wrapped an arm around Louis’ shoulder in a show of solidarity.
“Boys, I’m not sure what exactly you think we’re doing here. It’s the bands interests we’re looking out for.” Michael shook his head and Harry spared a brief thought for the fact that it was kind of weird how it didn’t really feel like they were on the same side as their own management. “We need to make sure this is handled properly and how we’re going to move forward.”
“Well I guess we need to make sure our definition of the bands interests match up then don’t we?” Louis stated casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cause last time I checked, Harry’s interests are part of that.”
“I’m sure we can figure all of this out.” Michael continued, his tone taking on a formal, professional air. “You’ve had a long day, all of you should get some rest.”
“You don’t offer him those again, are we clear?” Louis nodded towards Michael’s bag as the other man stuffed the pills back inside. “He’s not allowed to take them.”
“Lou…” Harry whined once again, forever embarrassed whenever the new fact of having rules and stuff was brought up.
“Haz, c’mere…” Liam murmured, taking a seat next to him on the couch as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders. Harry wished it didn’t fill him with instant warmth. “Calm down yeah? He’s just saying what’s true, you’re not allowed. That’s the only part you need to worry about here. It’s against the rules.”
It should have been insulting. But it wasn’t. It was calming in a way Harry hadn’t expected it to be. Because he didn’t have to worry about pissing off their management, or trying to please them when what they wanted didn’t match up to what his bandmates wanted. Because there were rules and Harry wasn’t allowed to self medicate his classification anymore like it was a fucking illness he wanted rid of. He just wasn’t allowed, he didn’t really have to think much past that. He just had to follow the rules and there was something really safe about that when Harry felt so out of sorts.
“We’ll get you a copy so we don’t have this kind of issue again.” Louis continued, “You won’t be putting him in a position again where he has to choose between following them or pleasing you lot.”
“We’re not the enemy here Louis.” Michael shook his head and Harry thought he actually looked a little hurt.
He wished he didn’t care so much about that, that it didn’t make him want to apologise and make their lives easier. But that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
“Then prove it.”
“I’ll see you at the show tomorrow.” Michael stated calmly and Harry swore he’d been about to step towards him, but then Zayn was standing between Harry and Michael and Harry couldn’t see anymore. “Feel better Harry.”
Harry chose to simply focus on the fact he’d finished his juice as the door closed behind Michael.
-------------------------
The hotel corridor was blissfully empty as they all tumbled out of the lift. Harry sometimes felt ashamed of how many perks their fame brought, like buying out almost an entire floor of a hotel for them and their teams. But right now, he couldn’t be anything but thankful as Paul gathered them round to hand out room keys.
The ride back had been pretty uneventful. Harry had been sandwiched between Louis and Niall, both boys seemingly competing with who could dispel the slight tension the most obnoxiously. Harry had simply sat there silently, clutching the empty juice bottle in his hand until Louis had smiled softly at him, called him a good boy and taken it from his hand. He hadn’t forgotten that Louis wanted to talk to him, but he was more than grateful that their priority had been to get back to the hotel.
“What’s the room situation?” Louis asked as Paul pulled out the keycards, and Harry snapped his head up from where he’d been studying the carpet intently.
It felt like forever since they’d actually been in a hotel. At least a day of promo had afforded them hotel luxuries and two days in the same city. Harry wanted to curl up in a big bed and avoid people for as long as possible. The brief respite from his mood was rapidly ending, the unexplainable frustration and resentment coming back in waves. He knew rationally that maybe it was because nothing had really been dealt with all day, that he hadn’t gotten the kind of attention he wanted. But he also didn’t want it, and didn’t want to be rational and being at war with himself and everyone else was exhausting.
“Payne and Malik are together, you’ve all got singles this time.” Paul stated casually as he started to hand out room keys and Harry frowned as Louis blocked his hand when Harry reached for his.
“Cancel Harry’s, he’s staying with me.” he shrugged, and Harry could only glare in absolute outrage at that statement.
It didn’t matter that staying in rooms with Louis again was his absolute dream. Because it was the fucking principle of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what the principle was, only he wasn’t going to accept being forced into sharing like a child who couldn’t be trusted on his own. Like a child who didn’t get a say.
“No I’m not — “ he started, only to be interrupted as Louis raised his eyebrows challengingly.
“Are you really in a position to be arguing right now?”
“...no.” Harry mumbled, instantly chastised only then he heard Zayn snort and saw red.
Rationally, he was aware Liam and Zayn had been mumbling together and Zayn was probably laughing at something else entirely. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter as every irrational resentment he’d held in all day came flooding to the surface as he rounded on an unsuspecting Zayn.
“And you can shut the fuck up.” he snapped, shocked by the venom in his voice. Venom he never had and especially not with people he loved. And he did — he did love Zayn so he didn’t understand why this was coming out of his mouth like verbal diarrhoea.
“What the fuck Haz?” Zayn snapped right back, immediately defensive as was his way and Harry watched with horrible jealousy curling in his stomach as Liam immediately put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t take it out on me, just cause you got yourself in shit with Louis.”
“What the fuck Haz.” he mocked, his voice higher in an entirely incorrect impression of Zayn. He was mildly aware of the other boys saying his name, but he didn’t give a shit at that minute. He couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t control whatever was happening to him. “Don’t take it out on you? What, you mean the fact I have to listen to this crap all day cause you couldn’t have a normal reaction?”
“Harry….what are you — “
He ignored Liam’s confused tone, ignored how Zayn jerked back into the other Dom like he’d been slapped. Because if he focused on it, then he’d feel bad. If he focused on it, then he’d have to acknowledge that his bad, terrible, horrible day wasn’t just because Zayn had made a fuss when he’d been outed as a Sub. That the likelihood was, Harry would have had to pretend either way. It didn’t matter. Because he was mad and it wasn’t fair.
“Get the fuck over yourself.” Zayn snapped, wrenching himself out of Liam’s hold as he took a step towards Harry. “Not everything is about you.”
“No, no nothing is about me is it?” he laughed coldly, shaking off Louis’ hand on his arm as he took a step towards Zayn. “It’s not allowed to be. Because God forbid there’s another fucking Sub in this band. God forbid I have any kinda reaction that might remind everyone of the shit you pulled.”
He watched as a blank expression settled over Zayn’s face. Watched as he went cold, but not before he’d seen the brief flash of guilt and pain in his eyes. Harry knew that’s what Zayn did, he didn’t want to show he cared if it meant he’d look vulnerable. He didn’t want to show someone they’d hurt him, especially if he loved them, if he cared about what they thought. He knew that, but he still hated that the emotional shut down was directed at him.
“Oh poor baby Haz.” Zayn mocked, his eyes flashing dangerously but Harry only felt satisfied. He wanted it. He wanted Zayn’s anger and harsh words. He wanted to fucking feel it. All of it. “So fucking eager to please he couldn’t say no. Can’t fucking stand the thought of anyone not loving him, he fucked himself over with lies. Don’t blame me for your shitty decision. You did that to yourself. You’re pathetic.”
Harry recoiled like he’d been slapped, staring at Zayn with wide eyes. Because he’d provoked it, he knew he had. He’d wanted it, wanted to hear harsh words to further enhance his shitty mood. He’d wanted it but that didn’t make hearing it any easier.
“Enough.” Liam snapped suddenly, reaching out and taking a keycard from a silent Paul as he grabbed Zayn by the wrist. “Our room. Right now.”
“Get the fuck off me.” Zayn practically growled, and Harry knew then he’d pushed the other boy too far. He’d pushed him to that place Zayn went to that Harry assumed only Liam could bring him back from.
“If I were you, I’d stop talking and start walking if you want to sit tomorrow.” Liam murmured, low enough that Zayn flinched the tiniest bit. “Our room. Now Zayn.”
Harry could only watch with wide eyes as Liam practically dragged Zayn down the corridor, the silence in the hallway palpable as their door closed behind them. Harry hadn’t fought like that with anyone since the time he’d shoved Zayn in the X Factor house. He wasn’t Louis who had an argument every other day, or Liam who went insular and moody sometimes, or even Zayn who reacted with anger to anything remotely laced with emotion. He didn’t fight with them, he wanted to make them happy, he wanted to be loved — Zayn wasn’t wrong there.
“C’mon Haz.” Harry flinched as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder, Louis’ voice in his ear and he wanted to give into it. He wanted to lean back against the comforting weight of him. But he couldn’t. He’d gone too far now. He’d forced Zayn into a reaction and gotten the other boy in shit with Liam. He didn’t deserve to now be comforted.
“No. I’m going to my own fucking room.” he shrugged Louis off, refusing to pay attention as Niall shot a look to Louis before heading to his own room. “Paul give me my key.”
“You should probably quit while you’re ahead kiddo.” Paul simply raised his eyebrows, handing Louis his keycard, before turning and heading down the corridor to his own room, calling out over his shoulder. “Deal with that Tomlinson, I don’t wanna hear any of that shit again.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Harry yelled after him, turning to kick the wall in frustration, immediately regretting it when it fucking hurt. “Ow fuck — “
“Enough.” Louis’ voice was firm in his ear, his grip strong as he dragged him down the hall and Harry didn’t really have any chance to react as a door was unlocked and he was pulled unceremoniously into a hotel room. “That’s quite enough of that. You done with your tantrum or do you want to carry on?”
Louis released his wrist, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised his eyebrows and Harry wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cry or carry on shouting. He couldn’t get a fucking handle on his emotions.
“It’s not a fucking tantrum.” he snapped — alright he was going with the none crying option then. “You can’t just make me stay here if I don’t want to — you’re not — “
“I’m not what?” Louis asked simply, his face a picture of calm and Harry hated that. Hated that he was out of control whilst Louis remained perfectly fucking put together. “Not your Dom? Because I think you’ll find I am.”
“I’m not a child! You don’t get to just — “ Harry started, only to be interrupted as Louis pointed towards the other side of the room.
“Corner.” he stated simply and Harry froze for a second as he followed the line of Louis’ arm to the one free corner in the room.
That couldn’t be what he meant. It couldn’t be. Harry must be misunderstanding something, because there was no way Louis was trying to make him go to the corner, like a five year old who needed a timeout.
“What?” he blinked, looking from Louis to the corner in complete shock. His previous rage forgotten for a second, because what was even happening right now?
“Corner. You’re making it pretty clear what you need Haz, and if you carry on it’s gonna be a spanking.” he raised his eyebrows, pointing towards the corner once more. “Go put your nose against the wall and calm down.”
“That’s not — I don’t — “ he rambled, heart pounding in his chest as his face burned entirely against his will. He was trying to be stubborn. He was trying to be mad, but it was really hard to do when Louis was being all calm and stern and making him stand in a corner. “Lou…”
“D’you want me to count?” he asked simply, and Harry was pretty sure his face was going to burst into flames. This was mortifying. “Because I can count to three and you can go to the corner and then get a spanking. Or you can go now and save yourself a sore arse.”
“Fuck— no — I don’t — “ he blinked, staring at Louis with wide eyes as he struggled to figure out what to do. Louis was giving him choices again and Harry didn’t like any of them. This hadn’t been his plan here. He hadn’t really had a plan if he was honest, but if he had — it wouldn’t have included standing in a corner. Or Louis counting to three like his mum had done when he’d refused to go to bed.
“One.”
“Fuck — Lou I’m going.” a surge of panic hit him with the counting, because he didn’t want Louis to get to three and he rushed over to the corner before the other boy decided to get to another number. “I’m doing it.”
He bit his lip, standing in the general vicinity of the stupid fucking corner, but still facing the other boy. He was familiar with the concept of the whole corner thing sure. But the idea of turning and facing the wall and having this be an actual thing made him feel physically sick and technically he’d done what Louis had said….he was in the corner.
Louis for his part, simply raised his eyebrows once more and made a spinning motion with his finger.
“Nose to the wall Haz. You’re gonna stand and look at the wall and you’re not gonna speak unless you feel a drop. We clear?”
Harry could only nod dumbly, his previous rage forgotten because Louis was really going to make him do this. He was really going to make him stare at the wall in the corner like a naughty child and if anything could strip him of any rebellious thoughts — it was that.
He bit his lip, cringing inwardly as he turned and faced the wall and he’d never thought much about hotel wallpaper before but right now he really fucking hated it. He hated it a lot.
“Good boy.” Louis murmured, and Harry resisted the urge to wriggle happily at that. “Twenty minutes. I’ll tell you when you’re done.”
“Twenty minutes?” Harry couldn’t help it, he twisted the top half of his body round, eyes wide as he stared at Louis in shock. Twenty minutes seemed like a long fucking time to stand and stare at a wall.
He regretted it instantly, he’d barely managed to truly convey his shock and disapproval at this time limit before Louis was striding over to him, laying one hard smack to his arse that had Harry letting out an involuntary whimper.
“Eyes on the wall.” he ordered and Harry whipped his head back round to the wallpaper so fast he was surprised he didn’t have whiplash. “Twenty minutes and I expect you to concentrate on your little tantrum, because when you’re done here, I want answers.”
Harry felt him walk away then, and he was just....left there. He just stared at the wall as he heard Louis pottering around the room. He hated it. He hated trying to stand still with nothing to distract him but the stupid fucking wallpaper. He hated being ignored. He hated being left with his thoughts when he wasn’t quite sure he trusted his own thoughts right now.
But it was also pretty hard to stay angry when there was no stimulation. It was hard to blame his emotions on everyone else when there was nobody to provoke him. He could only blink at the floral wallpaper and try not to cry as he realised he was definitely being punished. That he’d behaved really poorly and rather than leaving him to it, Louis was dealing with it. He wasn’t ignoring him, or disowning Harry for the horrible things he’d said to Zayn.
Nobody had even been mad at him for leaving the interview. If Harry really thought about it, which he was forced to do whilst staring at a wall — the second the boys had seen him again their only concern had been that he was okay. When Louis had said they were going to talk, he hadn’t even mentioned walking out of the interview, he hadn’t even mentioned his attitude. He’d just said about Harry saying no and keeping things to himself.
Harry had been more angry with himself than anyone else had been with him.
He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, and a second later Harry heard it opening and he wanted to die a little bit. He was in a corner — he was in a corner, definitely being punished and someone was coming in. He knew they all had a deal, that Harry wouldn’t be punished in front of anyone that wasn’t involved, and he felt bad for doubting that for even a second when he heard Niall’s voice.
“Your cases got dropped off in my room.” Niall mumbled, and Harry could hear the pull of wheels on hardwood floor. “An’ I wanted to check everything was alright and you were dealing with — ah good shout. “
He cut off then and Harry knew it was because he’d seen him. He couldn’t help wanting to check though, even as his face burned with embarrassment. So he craned his neck, in what he was sure was a very subtle Bond like move. He didn’t do well with being ignored, he always wanted some kind of attention — had ever since he was little.
Niall was heading to the couch with Louis, their suitcases by the door and his guitar slung across his back and Harry wanted to be there with them. He didn’t want to be stuck in the corner by himself. What if they were going to do something fun?
“Harry.” Louis’ voice interrupted his mild sulk, and Harry’s eyes widened as he realised Louis was looking right at him. “Turn around. If I need to tell you again you’re going over my knee.”
“Fuck — okay — sorry.” he mumbled, biting his lip as he turned back towards the wall. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to be stuck standing in the corner like a naughty kid, when they were hanging out.
That thought was only compounded when he heard the familiar strumming of Niall’s guitar and he blinked back tears as they talked amongst themselves.
“Listen to this sick riff yeah? I reckon we can add this to the set one night — do a cover y’know?”
“Haz’ll sound sick in this part.”
“Yeah that’s what I was thinking, and you and Payno can harmonise here yeah?”
Harry sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes as Louis and Niall chatted amongst themselves and experimented with the new cover. He was sorry — he didn’t really have anything to be angry about anymore. There was no stimulation.
He only had the wall and his thoughts and the sound of his bandmates being the people he loved so fucking much. He’d fucked up, he’d fucked up really badly and let his bad mood take over his entire day. He’d forced Zayn into feeling guilt that didn’t belong to the other boy and now he felt nothing but really fucking sorry.
He really wanted to turn around and tell them he was sorry. He wanted to so badly, but he also wanted to be good and he didn’t want to get spanked. So he had no choice but to stand there and stare at the wall, the tears coming whether he wanted them to or not because he could’ve just told them. He could’ve just explained he was struggling and that he felt weird and they would have helped. Instead he’d made around roughly a thousand scenes and got himself and Zayn into trouble.
“Alright Curly, you’re done ...reckon we can spring you now.” Louis’ voice interrupted his thoughts once more, and Harry wiped at his eyes desperately. “You can turn around.”
He turned quickly, biting his lip as he surveyed the other two boys looking at him. He knew he probably looked pretty pathetic. Dishevelled in a way you could really only get from crying and apparently standing in a corner. But he wasn’t mad anymore, far from it. He was sad and sorry, really really sorry and he just wanted this horrible day to end. He wanted them all to be friends again, and to maybe take back the last couple of hours.
“C’mere you….” Louis murmured, and Harry would have felt insulted that Louis was obviously feeling sorry for the sniffling mess in the corner. But that didn’t stop him from breaking the sound barrier to get over there when the other boy held his arms open for him. “I reckon you’ve earned a cuddle yeah?”
“M’Sorry….” he mumbled, letting Louis tug him onto sideways onto his lap, as Niall tugged his legs over his. It was the best kind of cuddle really, when he could bury his face in Louis’ neck and feel Niall’s hands rubbing his shins. “I’m sorry — I didn’t mean it — “
“We know Curly, you’re a good boy.” Louis murmured, one hand rubbing his back and Harry really wished this didn’t affect him as much as it did. But it worked every fucking time.
He felt all the tension drain away, all the residual guilt and resentment leave because they still thought he was a good boy, he hadn’t completely ruined it. He’d acted like the worst person in the world and they still loved him anyway and he wasn’t sure anything could make him feel safer than that.
“You wanna tell us why you got yourself all wound up?” Louis continued, his voice low and soothing, like Harry was a small animal prone to being startled.
It should have been insulting, but Harry figured it was probably pretty accurate.
“I dunno….” he mumbled, face heating against his will, because it was embarrassing. He’d overreacted to an extreme degree. “The interviews...it was stupid.”
“Haz mate, that’s not stupid.” Niall piped up, a hand squeezing his ankle. “You’re allowed to get upset about that shit y’know? Lying sucks, it’s shit every time...but you know you didn’t get in trouble cause you were in a mood yeah?”
“What?” he frowned, lifting his head just enough so he could see the two of them properly and immediately regretting it as it definitely wasn’t as comfortable as Louis’ neck.
“We all have bad days Hazza…” Louis murmured, one hand on his neck guiding Harry’s head back down and really, it’d just be plain rude to not go as directed. “The issue is you didn’t tell us it was more than just being cranky or tired. You didn’t tell us you were spiralling like that. We’re all learning yeah? We’re learning your triggers just like you are and we could’ve helped you before that little episode in the corridor.”
“Oh…” he frowned, because they weren’t wrong. He hadn’t even thought of it like that, not properly. Aside from a few epiphanies in the corner, hearing them say it out loud like that made it seem so much simpler. “I fucked up with Zayn...“
“Yeah you did a bit Bud.” Niall grimaced, “But he did too, so you’re probably even there. You can talk to him tomorrow yeah?”
“This is our fault too.” Louis continued, fingers running through tangled curls and Harry maybe preened a little bit as he attempted to actively crawl into Louis’ skin. To his credit, the Dom only held him tighter. “We could’ve and should’ve stepped in sooner, and we won’t let it get that far again okay? You’re pretty good at hiding stuff Haz and I fucking hate that, but we’re not gonna leave you to suffer all day like that again — if it means we need to pull you out of an interview and deal with some behaviour then that’s what we’re gonna do alright?”
“...I can be professional.” he frowned, because he didn’t need them to make allowances for him, or cancel things because he couldn’t get a handle on his emotions.
“It’s not about that mate.” Niall shook his head, “All this shit you’re feeling, it’s so intense cause it’s all kinda new. You’ve been suppressing all of it, you’re settling in to how things should have been all along — it’s gonna take some time to get you settled.”
“Which is one of the reasons you’re not allowed to take those pills anymore.” Louis’ voice had taken on a stern edge, and Harry whined pathetically into his neck. “No don’t give me that Haz, Michael put you in a shitty position, so you’re not in trouble for being tempted. But you know now and they know too that the rules we’ve given you are your priority yeah? And if someone is pressuring you into going against that, then you come and get us. You don’t have to handle this shit by yourself anymore.”
“Okay…” he mumbled, nuzzling into Louis’ neck just cause he could. “M’Sorry…”
“You’re all forgiven Bud, fresh start now yeah?” Niall squeezed his ankle once more and Harry smiled as he realised his terrible, very bad mood was gone. The invisible weight he’d felt all day was gone, like nothing had even happened at all. “Now you gonna help us figure out this cover or what?”
So he did. He sat with them on the couch and did the thing they were good at. He sang until he hated the damn song and loved every fucking second of it. Because it was this, it was this that made all the rest of it worth it. The fame part was bullshit, the lying and the manipulation was just one part of getting to do this.
He sent a text to Zayn when he figured enough time had passed, unable to go to sleep until he’d at least said something.
I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it Z.
And if his phone buzzed as he was settling into bed with Louis, well....he thought he was justified for going to sleep with a smile on his face as he read Zayn’s response.
You’re not pathetic. Go to sleep you little shit.