Hi guys! This is my first Larry fan fiction, and my first story on watt pad, so be nice :) I have absolutely no confidence in my writing skills but hopefully this will turn out okay, and not turn your brain to mush. This is a Larry fic, with a side of Ziam MAYBE, depending on how things turn out.

Warnings: triggering content, language, themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'.

Also, most chapters won't be this long, and I am in the process of finding a good cover.

Note: Will Bloomfield is one of the directors of Modest.

Please comment! I'd love some feedback.

The five of us take seats on the couch. Harry is pressed up against my left side despite the ample room he has to stretch out. I half smile. At the beginning, in X factor, I found his touchy-feelyness I little odd, but now it's natural, and one of the things I love about our friendship.

Our manager, Will Bloomfield clears his throat. It's rare that we have to meet with him, and when we do it usually is a sign of something big. The last time we were here it was discussing the tour, and before that it was about the album.

I start to feel nervous; my mouth goes dry. I could be over-reacting, but I can honestly think of nothing our manager could want to speak to us about. What if it's something to do with me and Harry? That's happened before. That was when Eleanor became my fake girlfriend, to cover up a relationship that doesn't even exist. I don't mind being around Eleanor - she's sweet and nice and a good friend, but it's exhausting to have to pretend to be in love all the time, and to not have the option to even look for somebody else. I suddenly feel hopeful that this meeting will end with me being allowed to 'break up' with Eleanor.

I stare at our manager with renewed interest, sitting a little straighter and feeling Harry shift beside me.

"So, boys. First of all, a big congratulations on your tour. You're on a break now, and will start recording your next album soon."

Will breaks off and slides open a draw, pulling out a stack of papers. We all watch him, waiting expectantly, knowing that he hasn't yet reached the main subject of this meeting.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to this meeting, and apologize for bothering all five of you when I really only need to speak to one." Our managers turns to me. I hold my breath and cross my fingers, hoping and praying for good news. Will waits a few seconds to continue as he leafs through the documents in front of him. "Louis." He says.

I give a nod, and Will continues. "All this Larry business is getting out of hand."

My heart sinks. This is not going where I hoped it would.

"We thought that giving you a girlfriend would help the situation, but it hasn't - not really."

Next to me, Harry puts his arm over my shoulder and I have to fight a smirk. I know he's just doing it to shit our manager. It looks like it's working; the man eyes Harry's arm and his lips tighten. He keeps going.

"We have decided that the Larry shippers need a bit of a push - something that will really convince them that you and Eleanor are really together."

"But we're not." I can't help but say.

Will just sighs. "I know, and I know that this will be very hard for both you and Eleanor, but it has to be done."

He looks like bricks are about to come out of his ass, and I know that he knows I will not take this news - whatever it is - well.

"We want you and Eleanor to release a sex tape - or rather, we want a sex tape to get 'leaked'-"

"WHAT?!" I interrupt, horrified. "No!, Eleanor and I are fake - you can't expect us to - "

"I'm sorry Louis." He says calmly, and I just want to punch him. "You hopefully won't get bad publicity if it is 'leaked', since it won't be your fault, and you and Eleanor won't actually have to have sex. We just need you to kiss for a bit, and move around and stuff, and we can edit the rest."

I shake my head, wanting to be sick. Yes, Eleanor is a nice person, but having to make out with her? And pretend to be doing that with her? With a person I feel nothing for? And have the whole world see it? I will not agree to this.

"No." I say, shaking my head violently. "Can't you just use, like, look alikes or something? Actors? And edit and stuff?"

Will shakes his head. "You know this fandom, Louis. You know that if we put in completely different people they'll know. They'll use their freakish detective skills and figure it out. After that whole debacle with the photoshopped vacation photo..." he trails off, rubbing his temples.

"I don't care." I say stubbornly. "And who cares anyway if they think elounor is fake? It's not like they can prove anything - "

"Louis," Will sighs. "Don't start this again. You know why."

He obviously takes my silence as disagreement, because he feels the need to explain, once again, the reason for my beard. (And I'm not even gay!)

"It is bad for a band - any band - to have a gay member. You know that. So many people would be alienated by that."

"But I'm not gay!"'I burst out angrily.

"No - but people think you are. And that's the problem. If we can't convince people that you're straight then we lose fans, and that will have a huge impact on your career. A negative impact."

Liam speaks up. "You're being completely unreasonable." he snaps to Will. "You can't expect him to do that with his friend. Imagine what his family will think. And if people care wether Louis' gay or not, then we don't want them as fans."

I hadn't thought about what my family would think. Thanks Liam. Meanwhile, the other lads were chorusing their agreement. I smiled at them, grateful that they'd be so willing to defend me.

Will smiles a little cruelly. "You say that now, but what happens when they stop going to your concerts? Buying merchandise? Showing up at signings? What happens when they stop buying your music? You'll be out of a job." he looks at me. "And it will all be your fault, Louis. Do you really want to be the reason that your band mates lose their career?"

The band mates in question all make various noises of protest to Will's statement, but my mind is elsewhere. Is what Will is saying true? Can I really do that to my best friends? I want to tell Will how much I hate him, and how much I don't want to do this, and how Harry and I aren't even attracted to each other, let alone together, but I can't. Not with what I've just been told.

"Where's Eleanor?" I ask bluntly, interrupting the argument stirring between Will and the lads. "Shouldn't she be here?"

Our manager nods, looking pleased. He can tell he's won. "She was. I've already spoken to her, and she's agreed."

When I don't respond, Will continues. "We'll be filming this Thursday at your apartment. We'll send in a couple of people to direct and tell you what do. In the mean time, I suggest you hit the gym. Lose the tummy for the camera." he says.

My mouth drops open at the unfairness of it all. First he tells me to record a sex tape with someone who is no more than a friend, then he tells me I'm fat. I am not fat.

"Are you sure you're not looking in a mirror." I say nastily, then stand up and storm out, not caring that what I just did was hugely unprofessional. I assume that the other boys are following me - I don't stop to check until I am out of the building and in the parking lot. Paul is waiting for us, next to the large black car we came in. He averts his gaze as I approach - he knows what happened in there. I give him a filthy look and climb into the backseat. We all pile in and the engine starts. I feel the car start to move and I put on my seatbelt and slump against the window.

The air in the car is thick with tension, and no one seems inclined to break the silence. Inevitably, it is Niall that does. "So..." He says, obviously struggling to come up with something to say. I sigh and relent. "look guys. Can we just pretend that none of that happened? The recording isn't till Thursday; I have four days and I'd rather not think about this until I absolutely have to." I say.

"Technically you have three days - " Liam begins, but then quails under the look I give him. I am not in the mood for being literal. In fact, I feel like crying a little. This will be the most humiliating, uncomfortable, most painful experience I'll ever have to go through, I'm almost positive.

After a long pause, Niall tries again, this time with a little more success. "Do you lads wanna go out tonight?" He asks in his thick Irish accent. Zayn immediately pipes up. "Definitely - it's been ages since I've had a proper drink." Liam nods as well. I look at Harry, who's been surprisingly quiet. "Whadda ya say Haz?" I ask him. I don't really want to go, but if Harry's going then I'm going - I don't think I can be alone tonight. I'll start over-thinking things. Harry looks up with I vacant look in his eyes. "What?" he asks. I snort and say: "Go out tonight. If you want. Have a drink."

Harry's smile seems a little forced, but he seems sincere when he says he wants to. Niall claps his hands. "Great. I know this awesome place we can go to, it's really cheap and they do really good cocktails and..." Niall prattles on about the club, and I tune out, suddenly too exhausted to pay attention. My eyes slide shut and the last thing I feel before falling asleep is an arm, pulling me in close.

I wake up in my bed. The sheets are pulled up to my shoulders and I am sweating despite it being a cold day. I throw off the covers and check my alarm clock, which is on the table next to me. The glowing-red numbers read 4:47pm. My eyes widen in surprise. That means I have been sleeping for nearly 4 hours. For someone who basically never takes naps in the middle of the day, that is quite a long time. I feel better though, like I am no longer so overwhelmed by doubt and fear and revulsion.

I stand up and switch on the light, wondering how I got here. Maybe one of the boys had carried me? Or Paul? I flush at the thought of that, embarrassed that I had to be carried to bed. I look down to see that I am wearing the same clothes I was this morning. Striped t-shirt and jeans, like always. They still look (and smell) fine, if a little rumpled, so I decide to leave them on.

I pad out of my room, sighing and casting a longing glance at the front door. I miss being able to just go outside. These days, I need either security or hugely elaborate disguises to go out without getting mobbed by fans. I love my fans, I really do, but sometimes...

My thoughts are interrupted by noises coming from the kitchen. I hear a crash and a low, familiar voice swears. Knowing who it is, but curious to see what he's doing, I half-jog half-walk to the kitchen and push open the door. There, wearing only a pair of sweat pants, is Harry. He's on his knees, and seems to be cleaning up a broken plate that lays shattered on the floor.

"Getting clumsy in your old age, Curly.' I tease from the doorway.

Harry looks up, and his face transforms into a smile. "Sorry about the plate." He says, a tad guiltily.

I give him a look of mock severity. "I'm not sure I can forgive you." I say. "That cost a whole two bucks it did."

Harry plays along, and dramatically throws himself to the ground in front of me. "I deeply, deeply apologize, and beg for your forgiveness." he says, then proceeds to kiss my bare feet. I giggle and gently kick him in the ribs. He falls back laughing, and tackles my legs. We fall on top of each other in a heap of tangled bodies and squeals of laughter.

Harry manages to pin me to the floor underneath him, but using a technique I learnt... A little while ago, I reverse our positions. Harry struggles, but cant dislodge me. I triumphantly pin his wrists together above his head and pause, breathing heavily. Harry also stops moving, and I look down at him, grinning. My smile falters when I see the look on his face. There is an intensity to his features that I rarely see, and his mouth is open slightly. I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion, and for some reason I suddenly become acutely aware that Harry is shirtless. He has a nice chest, I find myself thinking absently. Harry clears his throat and I snap out of my strange, not-really-sure-what-it-was-about trance. I give a weak smile and quickly get off of my best friend, noticing how Harry self consciously crosses his arms across his body. I clear my throat to try and break the silence that has suddenly, and for a reason I am not quite sure of, become awkward.

"So what are you doing here anyway, Haz?" I ask, making my voice friendly. Harry doesn't live here anymore, and while he often comes over, he usually let's me know before hand.

"Well, you fell asleep in the car on the way back from... Y'know, and so I carried you into your apartment. And then when I got here, I figured that after... Y'know, you might want some company before we go out tonight." Harry says.

I smile, genuinely touched. "Thanks Haz." I say honestly. "You're the best." I step forward for a hug, but Harry hastily moves back. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Harry says, turning away. He is soon out of sight, and I frown, puzzled. Did I do something? He looked kind of nervous. Maybe it was my reaction to his shirtless-ness? I groan, hoping that that's not the case. He probably thinks I'm mental, and I want to explain that I wasn't reacting that way; in fact, I'm not sure why/what I reacted, just that it wasn't because of that. At least I think so. I'm confusing myself, so I decide to finish cleaning up the mess Harry made. Once I'm finished doing that, and all the porcelain shards are in the bin, I make myself a snack. I haven't had lunch, but it feels too late in the day to eat it now, and to early for dinner. I put four pieces of bread in the toaster and hit the button, listening to the low hum that fills the room.

Harry still isn't back yet. I frown. That's a long time to spend in the bathroom, and I contemplate going out to check on him. Maybe he's hurt himself, or drowning in the toilet, or stabbed himself with a toothbrush. However, before I can start panicking to hard, Harry is back with one of my shirts on. He smiles widely, and it seems he's forgotten, or at least got over whatever happened before.

"I made toast!" I say happily, just as the bread pops up. I pull out two plates from the cupboard and put two pieces of toast on each, while Harry gets peanut butter out of the fridge. We have a bit of fun spreading the PB over the bread in strange, inappropriate shapes, giggling like school girls, before we give in to our hungry stomachs.

The rest of the afternoon (really only an hour or two) passes in a hazy blur. Harry and I end up watching a movie, snuggled together on the couch. Our arms wrap around each other and our legs tangle together in a Mish-mash of red and blue denim. It's been a while since me and Harry have done this, and it's even better than I remember. I find myself paying less attention to the movie (what were we watching again?) and more attention to the warmth of Harry's chest. I grow drowsy despite my afternoon nap, and am about to fall asleep again, when there's a knock on the door.

"Coming." Harry yells, then looks down at me. "You're going to have to move, Boo." He murmurs softly.

"But I don't want to." I mutter back. "I'm too comfy."

Harry gives a warm laugh. "Me too." he says, and we lapse into silence, forgetting that there are people at the door. We are reminded by another louder, more insistent knock.

"Go away!" Harry yells, and I laugh a little.

"We're coming in!" An Irish voice yells back, and I hear my front door being opened. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and cling tightly to Harry.

I hear three sets of footsteps enter my living room and stand in front of me and Harry.

There is a long, pregnant pause. Then, Zayn's voice says: "Well aren't you two cute."

I smile, not bothering to be embarrassed.

"Yes. Yes we are." Harry says smugly.

I slowly open my eyes, and become aware of the strange looks we are getting from the other boys. I stick my tongue out of them, finally finding the will to move myself. I gently get off Harry, giving his curls a good natured rumple. Harry stands as well, stretching and arching his back. For some reason, I avert my eyes as he does this, and turn my attention to Niall, Zayn and Liam.

"Are you guys ready to go?" Liam asks.

I look down at myself. I could probably find something nicer, and more appropriate to wear clubbing than this rumpled old t-shirt, but I can't be bothered. I nod, trying to seem enthusiastic.

"I'm ready." I say. Harry nods as well.

"Great!" Niall says happily. "Let's go!"