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On more than eight different occasions Louis has been called gay right to his face (and he’s not even going to try and count up and keep track of all the indirect times through Twitter or Tumblr). The usual reaction he has is to flip off whoever it was or pretend he hadn’t heard it. Obviously, he would never be able to just say, “Yep, I am,” because management would kill him. But he also has never disagreed because the truth is Louis doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to say he’s not if he ends up deciding later that maybe he is.
There’s no getting around it: Louis has always been camp and flamboyant. And he’s not trying to act like he isn’t, because he’s admitted it more than once and even in one interview with the band. But he doesn’t see why that has to automatically mean he’s gay, because he doesn’t really think he is.
Louis sort of feels like by the age of 20 maybe he should have figured this shit out. Instead he’s dating a girl because management forced her upon him for the sake of his image, and he really actually liked and was attracted to his previous girlfriend, but he’s overly touchy with four other lads and right now he’s staring at a fucking dress in the store window with way too much interest. It’s really beautiful with a square neck and a straight skirt that he thinks wouldn’t be too tight over his giant arse. And it’s a really nice shade of teal that he knows looks good on him.
He goes home to Harry and asks for a cup of tea before curling up on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asks setting the cup on the table. Instead of worrying that maybe Louis just wants his space, Harry just lays down right on top of Louis, pressing Louis into the couch cushions.
“Our couch smells like ass and beer,” Louis garbles out the side of his mouth.
“It actually smells a lot better than usual.”
If there’s anyone in the world Louis can talk to about his sexual identity or gender identity or whatever identity crisis this is, then it’s definitely Harry, who tries to be gender neutral as much as possible and had a threesome with Caroline Flack and Nick Grimshaw but also slept with the two of them individually on separate occasions, and he supports the LGBT community as much as possible but in subtle ways so management doesn’t get on his case too much. Harry is the best possible person to talk to about this
“Just one of those days,” Louis not-exactly lies. Because he does have these sorts of days when he wants to put on something pretty and girly instead of the typical jeans and t-shirts and beanies that he usually prefers. But he’s never gone through with it, and he thinks he maybe never will.
~
It’s not like he’s never worn stuff meant for girls. As the older brother of four sisters, Louis has played dress up more times than he can count. Louis also knew by that point that the fact that he maybe didn’t want to take off the ill-fitting dress Lottie had stuffed him into or wash off the makeup that the twins smeared on his face as best as possible wasn’t normal. So when they finished playing, he changed back into his boy clothes and when his mum scolded the girls for still bothering him to play dress up when he was a teenager, Louis didn’t protest even if he maybe sort of wanted to.
~
Sometimes when Louis is getting his makeup touched up just before going on stage or before an interview, he has this urge to ask for a little eyeliner or maybe some shadow to make his eyes pop. Instead, he presses his lips together and very carefully does not look at the array of makeup on the counter that’s only to be used on women and not men. It’s tempting though, because it’s all just sitting out and he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself by actually trying to figure out what stuff to buy, and no one would know because Louis has heard his makeup artist bitch a million and one times about losing things. Stuff gets left behind when they unpack and pack up and move around as much as One Direction does.
His makeup artist steps away for a moment to pick up her phone when it rings and Louis finds himself swiping a shimmery golden eye shadow and light pink lipstick. He can see his bag from here, iPad sticking out just a little and he manages to toss both items in before she comes back, muttering about the stupid things her son does.
The eye shadow doesn’t look too bad, although Louis has a feeling it’s not really the right color for his blue eyes. It’s a subtle color, he thinks a week later, holed up in the bathroom in the flat. Harry’s out with Niall and Liam, gone to golf again, and Louis cancelled going out with Eleanor feigning an upset stomach.
The lipstick is horrible though. It took him long enough to even get the color on without messing up and putting some on his face, and then there was too much and his lips felt all slippery and horrible. He blots it with a tissue the way he’s seen women do countless times and it feels a little better and he sort of likes that he gets to make this action, but he still hates the color. It’s too light, Louis decides.
A few days later he has something a little more red, having swapped the pink one for it when his makeup artist stepped away again. It looks much better, but it’s even more difficult to put on. The color’s darker and richer, so when he messes up and colors outside of his lips, it’s even more obvious than with the light pink.
The makeup stuff is easy for him to buy he finds out. He snags eye shadow, eye liner, lipstick and nail polish whenever he’s out and the store has a self checkout lane. He’s afraid to order anything and have it shipped to the apartment in case one of the boys is there when it comes in or management checks his credit card statement (and he’s pretty sure they do, which he didn’t know was legal). Each time he’s out Louis grabs one thing. and before he knows it he’s got a whole collection that he keeps in a little box and hides underneath the sink in his bathroom. He hasn’t used the nail polish yet because he knows something like that isn’t exactly easy to get off; it will stick around for days or weeks. But the rest of the makeup he can put on and wear around for a bit before wiping off.
And then Harry comes into the kitchen one day, scratching his stomach and says, “Is Eleanor keeping stuff here?” Just the fact that Harry mentioned her name is surprising because Harry almost never asks about Eleanor.
“What?” Louis makes a face. He likes Eleanor well enough, but he hates the reason she’s around. Before she became his fake girlfriend so people would stop speculating about his sexuality, Louis and Eleanor were pretty good friends, always up for partying together. In the beginning they slept together pretty frequently, but that stopped as they grew to resent each other more and more. And now she’s sort of seeing a guy and can’t wait until she can get out of the contract with Modest. The lads all know this, so Louis’ not entirely sure why Harry thinks either of them would be up for spending more time together. “Um, no,” he finally says.
“I thought that would be weird,” Harry says. “Then whose makeup and stuff is in your bathroom?”
Louis must have left the kit sitting out on the countertop after the last time he… Except, he can’t remember the last time he had a chance to put on even a little makeup since they just came back from two weeks in Sweden. And, come to think of it, “What were you even doing in my bathroom? And rooting around under my sink for?”
“Looking for extra razors,” Harry says, pouring himself some orange juice.
“They’re in the hallway closet.”
“We must be out then. I just thought you might have some in your bathroom somewhere.”
And just like that, it’s all forgotten.
“So’s it yours?” Harry asks before Louis can escape the kitchen. And he’s not even teasing Louis. He’s just curious, which is such a Harry thing to do and be that Louis just sighs.
“Um, maybe we should call a band meeting tonight.”
Harry shrugs. “I’ll give the lads a call.”
~
“I’m not gay,” Louis says first, to which Niall looks wildly around the room.
“Who the fuck said you were?” he asks incredulously as if looking for the asshole who was calling Louis names because Niall is a wonderful human being and Louis just wants to gather him up and cuddle him for all time. “And who the fuck cares if you are?”
Louis shakes his head in frustration. “No, just… wait until the end of what I have to say.”
Niall shrugs and leans back against Harry’s shoulder. Liam is now sitting up straight and rigid, bracing himself for a bomb. Zayn still looks half asleep, but he’s trying to keep his eyes open, which Louis appreciates.
“I’m not gay. At least I don’t think I am, because I still like a good pair of boobs as much as any other straight guy.”
“So you’re bi?” Harry asks.
“No interrupting!” Niall pouts.
“No, I’m… I dunno about any of that. But that’s the point. I feel like I don’t know what I am and it just confuses the hell out of me. Because sometimes I feel like normal Louis, I want to run around in a jeans and a t-shirt and kick a football and dunk you lads in the pool. But there are days when I don’t feel like that. Days when I want to wear something … that’s maybe… something… argh, more feminine,” he blurts out before he can embarrass himself into stopping, “and make up and paint my nails or something Idon’tfuckingknow,” he breathes out as quickly as possible.
“Have you talked to anyone about this?” Harry asks in his slow, ponderous voice.
“I’m talking to you ain’t I?” Louis asks in a huff. Niall looks so bored against Harry’s shoulder that Louis is almost offended by how little the Irishman cares.
“No, I mean a professional, someone who really knows and understands this stuff and can help you figure it out.”
“Like a psychiatrist?” Louis sneers.
Harry shrugs and doesn’t get put off by Louis, because he’s too used to Louis’ shit and he knows that when Louis is uncomfortable he goes on the offensive and tries to make the other person feel like crap first.
“There’s gender identity centers.” Louis scrunches his face up in thought. “Because it sounds like you’re having a gender identity crisis and that is sort of fueling a sexual identity crisis because it’s all confusing you.”
“Oh!” Niall says suddenly, popping up from Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe you’re one of those, uh, people who feel like they’re born in the wrong body.” He nudges at Harry. “What’re they called? Girls who want to become boys and boys who want to become girls?”
“Transgendered,” Harry says all-knowingly.
Louis sits down on the coffee table, ignoring Liam’s frown because apparently one shouldn’t put one’s ass on a surface where people occasionally eat. “I’m definitely a man. I like my penis and even my beer belly a little and sometimes growing a beard. I don’t want to be a woman, I just, er, just want to dress like one sometimes. But not because I want to look like a woman, just because I like the stuff.”
“So just do it.”
“Dress like a girl?”
“What’s the big deal?” Harry asked. “Girls dress like boys all the time. They wear suits and ties and vests and … and … all of that’s normal. But they can also wear skirts and dresses. Why can’t men wear pants and t-shirts and skirts and heels? Why is it allowed for one gender to wear the traditional clothes of the other but not vice versa?”
“Who the fuck knows?” Louis asks exasperatedly. Talking with Harry about gender stuff always makes his head spin, and it’s even worse when the discussion is about his own confusion.
“You can dress however you want around us,” Liam finally speaks up now that Harry and Louis are done debating.
Louis flushes a little at the thought. He doesn’t really have anything to wear around them, just the makeup. “You, uh, you guys wouldn’t be weirded out by it?”
Niall once again looks bored to tears, but he shrugs his shoulders in his typical, “Who gives a fuck?” way. Zayn shakes his head sleepily and Louis sort of wonders if he entirely understands what’s going on or if he’s going to think this was all a really lucid dream later.
“Shopping trip!” Harry says enthusiastically. “We can go out and buy stuff and tell people it’s for Eleanor or one of our mums or Gemma. Or we can just tell everyone it’s stuff for the band, that we’re going in a whole new direction for our looks. That’ll stump people.”
And of course Harry would be okay with this whole thing. This, after all, is the guy who wore a gold thong around the house once, who asked his stylist while on a radio show to get him some gold, crotchless tights. The same brave soul who wears that goddamn “Love is Equal” shirt and talks like a girl whenever he’s asked to do an American accent.
Louis wishes he was half as brave as Harry.
~
Louis wishes Harry would go die in a fire. They’re out shopping, and Louis was eyeing that dress again. The teal one with enough room for his big bum. And Harry dragged Louis into the store, pulled the dress off the rack and went to the dressing room. And when Louis said that there was no way he was trying the dress on, Harry huffed and disappeared into the dressing room himself.
“Too tight!” He gasps from inside the dressing room. “I think I’m getting fat.”
Louis grumbles, but goes out and grabs the next two sizes, smiling apologetically at the girl behind the register who is blinking in a daze. The same girl almost has a fit when Harry steps out a minute later in a slightly larger dress, and he looks a little ridiculous because he’s still got his socks on and a beanie over his hair.
“It’s a little big on me,” Harry says pointedly. “So it’ll fit her perfectly.”
For a second, Louis wants to snap back, “I’m not a girl,” but then he remembers that Harry is only saying that because they’re in public and he can’t very well let people know the dress is for Louis. So they end up buying it, because Louis really does think it’s very pretty.
By the time they get back home, a picture of Harry in the dress has been up online for half an hour and Louis isn’t sure if the girl working at the store snapped the pic or if someone passing by just so happened to catch a glimpse.
(Harry gets in loads of trouble with management and in an interview later that week, rather than actually give an actual answer, he jokes that he thought he pulled it off when the interviewer asked why he was wearing the dress at all. Because Harry is the type of person who doesn’t feel like it should be weird if a guy decides to throw a dress on.)
But when they get home, after Niall is done laughing himself sick and telling Harry that he looked hideous while Harry pouts, Louis gets a text from Liam.
youl lok gr8 n it
~
In the weeks since Louis sat down the band to tell them about his gender identity crisis, he’s taken to wearing blouses or girly sweaters and makeup around the apartment. He doesn’t very often and rarely around the rest of the guys, but on the few occasions when Zayn popped by to watch a movie or Niall came by to eat or Liam just wanted to hang out, none of them even looked twice at what Louis was wearing.
The only reason he even started wearing the clothes around Harry was because Harry got so fed up with Louis buying the stuff and then only wearing it when no one was around that he raided Louis’ closet. Somehow, Harry had this uncanny way of knowing when Louis was in the mood to be feminine and when he wasn’t, and one time when he figured out Louis’ mood, Harry put on a skirt and wore it around the apartment all day until Louis changed too. But Harry being Harry announced he sort of liked wearing the skirt and decided not to change out of it after all. Of course, he didn’t wear boxers underneath or a shirt so Louis cut his losses and let Harry keep the article of clothing.
“Are you androgynous?” Harry asks while they’re just watching TV, both of them dressed in girls’ clothing. “That’s someone who doesn’t neatly fit into masculine or feminine gender roles and identifies as being somewhere in between the two.”
This is a thing Harry does, researching gender identities and presenting them to Louis in an attempt to help Louis define himself.
“I don’t think so,” Louis says. “I definitely identify as masculine.”
“How about Third Gender?” Harry asks a few days later. Niall, Liam and Zayn all look up curiously from their pizza and Niall pauses FIFA.
“That sounds fake,” Louis says. “Are you just making these up now?”
“Third Gender is actually kind of common in some cultures,” Harry insists. “It’s not so known or identified with in Western cultures, but that doesn’t mean it’s not valid.” He sort of sounds like he ate a gender identity textbook and Louis can’t help but love him a little for that.
“So what is it?” Liam asks.
Harry pulls up something on his phone. “Hold up, lemme get this right. Okay, it represents an intermediate state between men and women, a state of being both.”
“So, the opposite of androgynous?” Louis asks.
“I think so,” Harry says slowly, face pulling into his ugly, frowning, deep-thought face. “But Third Gender can also mean the state of being neither, the ability to cross or swap genders or another category entirely independent.”
“Well, I’m definitely male,” Louis reminds Harry. “But, I dunno. You said it can be a state of being both? Can I be female at the same time as being male? Because I’m really positive that I’m male.”
“Maybe that’s not it,” Zayn said. “Harry will keep looking.”
Thankfully, Harry waits until they’re alone to bring up the next one. Louis doesn’t know how he would deal if Harry started grilling him in front of the rest of the band about Louis’ sex drive and sexual attraction and desire and all that.
“Definitely have a sex drive. I’m definitely sexually attracted to women. I’m, uh, not entirely sure about guys.”
At this point, Harry has stopped wearing feminine clothing in solidarity with Louis, which Louis is sort of grateful for. He thinks Harry
only wore that stuff in the beginning to make Louis comfortable with wearing it, and now that Louis has taken to putting that stuff on whenever he wants without Harry’s encouragement, Harry has stopped raiding Louis’ closet for feminine clothing.
“If you’re not sure, you probably are,” Harry says as if he knows (to which Louis says rather rudely “How d’you know you twat?”). “I’m attracted to both, too, remember. Technically, I’m pansexual, though, which means I just like people for who they are. Gender doesn’t matter to me.”
Which, yeah, that sounds exactly like Harry.
~
Just a week before they start touring again, Harry sits them all down and has a big smile on his face.
"Everyone needs to read this article, I just emailed to you,” he says but doesn’t explain anything more while the guys all pull out their phones. And no explanation is needed, because from the first line, Louis is hooked.
“The night before Susan and Rob allowed their son to go to preschool in a dress, they sent an e-mail to parents of his classmates. Alex, they wrote, ‘has been gender-fluid for as long as we can remember, and at the moment he is equally passionate about and identified with soccer players and princesses, superheroes and ballerinas (not to mention lava and unicorns, dinosaurs and glitter rainbows).’”
And further down, Louis sees the words “gender-nonconforming” and “gender fluid” and “middle space.” And he knows that Harry has figured him out, because Louis feels something release in his chest and he actually says, “Oh,” out loud, but it comes out more like a giant exhale.
He can’t even finish the article, which is incredibly long, because suddenly Niall and Liam and Zayn are all hugging him, because they know. They know that he knows. Liam has his hand on the nape of Louis’ neck, just sort of squeezing in a way that Louis really likes and makes Louis feel safe, happy and loved.
Harry joins the hug and he’s grinning at Louis through the other three.
“Hey, Lou,” he says.