Chapter 1

He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He was angry and ready for a fight. He had explained to Simon what would happen, and he hadn't listened - thought he knew better. Well it had happened, he hadn't known better. Harry was crumbling away in front of them.

Louis felt like he'd sold himself out, sending tweets he wouldn't normally tweet and forcing their relationship away from the path they had decided to take. And for what.

He and Harry had talked at length before the tour. And they had agreed that the best approach was to be themselves - they both hated the thought of being anything else. However, to an outsider looking in, them being themselves looked very much like two people in love. The adoring looks during interviews when they didn't realise they were on camera, the gentle touches they couldn't help, the fond they just couldn't contain. It was so hard to hold it in.

Over the summer on tour, Louis knew they had grown even closer, leaning on each other when they needed support, bouncing song ideas off of each other, just being there for each other. They were far more than friends, more than best friends, but somehow not sure where to go with it next.

In the end - at the start of the tour - that card was played for them. Simon in his great wisdom decided that putting some distance between Louis and Harry would work all round. It would keep speculation at bay, and would also preserve Harry's 'lusted after' status.

So event after event, Harry would be there, and Louis would be there, and they would grudgingly make sure they were never seen or pictured together. It was tiring, so, so tiring.

The more forced it felt, the more forced it became. It broke Harry's heart when he was told he wasn't allowed to tweet Louis on his birthday, and even whispered words from Louis in hotel rooms after sold out shows didn't mend Harry's heart that now felt paper thin, or ease Louis' wounded morals.

But days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and it became normal. Distance started to feel normal. In fact, Louis struggled to remember the intimacy and the flush in his cheeks when he looked into Harry's eyes. These days it felt like Harry had left the building, leaving only a shadow of himself behind.

Louis knew the damage this was doing, he just somehow needed to tell, show, Simon before it was too late for Louis, Harry and the band.

...

Harry felt the tears roll down his face; he was heartbroken, ashamed and conflicted. Simon hadn't even asked his opinion - he knew that he knew it. He hadn't wanted to hear it, so he hadn't asked.

He felt like he'd been kicked in the ribs, winded, with an ache left where his heart and his sense of self should have been.

They'd had a plan. And all over the summer they had become so close you couldn't have separated them for anything. Even the ache in his heart when he thought of Anne or Gemma hadn't taken Harry away from Louis. His friend, his more than best friend, his - it was too hard to work out what it was. His Louis.

He felt conflicted, because in all honesty he felt he owed Simon. He would still be at the bakery, or maybe just at university if it hadn't been for him.

Harry knew that deep down, talent on its own wasn't enough, and he was a needle in a haystack of talented people. Without support and powerful people in your corner talent meant nothing. Simon had seen something in him and given him a platform to thrive.

He owed him for everything. One Direction, meeting Louis, giving him three other bandmates he considered brothers - none of this would have happened without him. But god, did it come with a price.

...

Staying away from Louis on stage was torture. He found it incredibly hard to rein back his feelings for the boy.

When he had first met Louis, he'd felt something like gravity but so much stronger. More like magnets being drawn together, without knowledge or control. Just a pull. And it was easy at the beginning, the fans loved it, their team either loved it or hadn't noticed it. They gave in to it. Being locked together was normal, and it felt good.

Harry hadn't remembered ever feeling quite so content before. But he had understood where Simon was coming from, that they needed to switch it off, tone it down, it was what needed to happen, it made sense for the band.

They'd been in back-to-back promotional interviews for six hours straight. He felt like he was doing a pretty good job, a good impression of being normal, no one had asked him if he was ok, or if anything was wrong. He'd been doing this for weeks now. So he was doing a good job of being Harry. Heart or no heart.

The distance and the separation between them wasn't so raw anymore, and he still got to see Louis pretty much every day, so really, everything was fine. The fact that the little inside jokes had stopped and that off camera they didn't see each other that much anymore wasn't so much of a price to pay for everything he got in return.

But that hollow feeling in his chest would just not go away. When he lay in bed, night after night he felt the now familiar feeling that something was missing - deep, deep down, Harry was really not sure that it was a price worth paying. He wasn't sure his heart - stored away in a safe but lonely place - could take it.

...

Simon loved what he saw. He knew the fans thought he was driven by money, and protecting his own reputation, nothing more, nothing less. But the little moments he saw between Harry and Louis were magic. He felt a paternal pull to Louis, and seeing him happy was wonderful.

But the business side of him knew that Louis was Louis, and Harry was Harry, and lines could not get blurred. And even if it hurt them, he needed to keep them separate. One Direction was his first priority and they couldn't compromise the success of the band, especially while trying to break the US.

They had been in interviews for six hours straight. And for Louis, every minute of it had dragged and itched like a raw wound. It had been like this for weeks now. He'd had enough and knew something had to change.

Harry wouldn't, or maybe couldn't look him in the eye. The only time he saw him was on stage when 'Performance Harry' appeared. Louis missed Harry. The real Harry, from all those months ago.

They had spent all day in group interviews together. But Harry may as well have been back in Holmes Chapel or London; he certainly wasn't present. He'd switched himself off, and although he looked the same, and said the right words, all that was left was a shell. Alongside this the fans had finally noticed the distance between them, and were going into meltdown too.

Louis cared about the fans, or course he did, and he was aware of how worried they were. But ultimately he cared for Harry so deeply, and he could see that this was tearing him apart. Something had to change and soon before Harry was gone entirely.

What were they? What did they mean to each other? Louis was in turmoil. He cared so much, cared about getting hurt, and even worse, about hurting someone else.

All his life he had felt confident in himself, but as an outsider, always looking in, slightly removed. In Harry he felt like he'd found someone just like him, to look in with him from the outside. And to create their own little world where everything made sense.

Louis had to get him back. And Louis would be brave and show him that he cared, no matter what he had to risk doing it.

...

Why do I feel so guilty? Louis looked at himself in the mirror and didn't like what he saw. He looked the same on the surface, but he felt terrible about everything and it showed. He studied himself and he looked, well, like a dulled down version of himself, ashamed. No one else would notice, but it was the only thing he could see.

Brave words had been easy in the comfort of his own head. He'd felt sure that he knew what he had to do to get Harry back. But now, in his house, alone with his thoughts, he felt guilt and nothing else. It'd been two weeks since the day of interviews together, the day that had broken his heart and convinced him he had to do something.

But he hadn't done a thing. And he hated himself for it.

They were on a break in the tour, and it provided welcome relief from the long, tiring days and the uncomfortable tension he felt. He spent most the time playing computer games and writing songs, watching movies on his own and going to dinner with his mum. And sleeping, sleeping a lot, or at least trying to. Lately he struggled with an empty feeling in his chest. He didn't quite understand it but he knew it had started when he and Harry had been forced apart. It was fine, really it was fine. he tried to convince himself without much success.

Fine wasn't enough and he knew it. The days dragged, and all day every day he felt the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of the future. The difficult decisions and conversations he was going to have to have. He physically squirmed at the thought of how awkward it was all going to be, but it was too important, he had to do it. How though, why is everything so complicated?

He missed Harry, he needed him. Missed him as what exactly he wasn't sure, but it couldn't go on like this.

The break also meant that Harry was back home for nearly a month with his family and the rest of his friends. Louis knew it was what he needed right now. Some space and downtime from the pressure cooker that was One Direction.

Friends and family were good for Harry's soul; they were who he was. He always came back to the band content and full of energy after seeing them. They knew him like no one else. Talking to himself in the mirror, almost a wish, Louis muttered 'They'll see how much pain he's in, they'll make him open up.'

Open up to what he wasn't sure, and Louis didn't like not knowing what that would mean. He liked to be in control - he'd always been in control. Well, until now, when the lines between his career and the rest of his life were getting so blurred.

He's worth fighting for, Louis looked in the mirror and was determined this was the last time he would see a man he was ashamed of looking back at him.

...

The red eye home from LA was always a killer, tiring and brutal at the best of times. But even so, as he caught sight of his reflection in the window he'd been dozing against he was shocked at the person looking back at him. God, I look awful Harry thought to himself.

In all honestly, he probably didn't look too different to anyone else. But as he studied himself he was unnerved by what he saw. He looked, well, kind of dull, grey, inanimate. That was how he felt too, and it scared him. Maybe keeping his heart under lock wasn't such a great idea after all.

'I'm just tired, sixteen hour days would do this to anyone' he said, too quietly for anyone else to hear, trying to convince himself.

The next month would be just what he needed. Back with his friends and family, just some time to relax, have fun and not think about work. He loved his job and the other opportunities it opened up to him. But sometimes he did feel thin, stretched paper thin. He wanted to put his all into everything but it didn't leave much in reserve. He felt tired and hollow.

One of the perks of being a 'celebrity' - he squirmed at the thought of the word - was travelling business class. He wasn't used to it, but at least it meant he had been able to get some sleep. Well, as best he could with that missing feeling gnawing away in his chest.

'Excuse me sir? Can I get you anything?' Harry looked up and smiled a tired smile at the hostess; she looked almost concerned he thought. That's their job though I guess. 'Just my pillow from my bag would be great thanks; a pane of glass isn't quite the same as far as comfort goes' Harry replied with his best impression of a charming smile.

A minute or two later and she was back with the pillow. Harry hadn't packed his own bag; he'd been in interviews until late. The pillow his assistant had packed was the one he took from hotel to hotel. He was picky due to his persistent back problems. As he snuggled down to try and get some sleep, a faint scent of the pillow had memories he couldn't quite place coming back. They focused and became clearer, snippets of movies and conversations about comic book characters. The missing feeling grew and twisted in his chest. He didn't need his heart to feel this; Louis was in each and every cell in his body.

He missed him so much. But it was hopeless.

...

'This is not good, not good at all' Jay muttered as she bit her nails, a nervous tick. She had been in Louis' twitter looking at his mentions and direct messages. She did this every morning, even when he was away from home, she had his back, and knew that he couldn't always face going on there himself.

A cross check on Tumblr – which even Jay found a scary place – confirmed her fears.

Louis' phone rang in his jean pocket, struggling to get it out before it went to voicemail, he got there just in time, 'Hi mum, you ok...Tea sounds great; I'll pick you up in half an hour'.

Jay might have been his mum, but she was Louis' best friend too, and they had no secrets. She knew about the distance Harry and Louis had to endure. She worried for them as she saw the distance become normal.

To be honest she'd never really understood the thinking behind putting this distance between them anyway. She knew Simon had his reasons, but what, other than money they could be was a mystery. But Louis hadn't wanted her to get involved, so she supported and was a shoulder to cry on to for her son but nothing more. Until now.

They drove to a local cafe and grabbed their drinks, but as Louis went to take a seat, Jay kept hold of his hand stopping him from sitting 'Not here, let's go to the park'. Slightly confused, Louis followed alongside in comfortable silence during the five-minute walk to the small park.

It was 2pm on a Tuesday, so the park was virtually empty. Still, Jay walked them to a bench furthest from the entrance. Sitting down with a serious look on her face she chose her words carefully knowing that she would hit a nerve, she needed to hit a nerve, 'Louis, why are you agreeing to go along with all of this? What exactly is it that you are so scared of losing?'

He knew exactly what his mum was getting at and it hurt to have it pointed out. Consciously or unconsciously he was scared of losing everything. The band, his friends, his career, and Harry. But more than anything he was terrified, terrified because he wanted it all and he couldn't see how he could keep from losing something.

He knew he was being a coward, digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole, but he just couldn't have this conversation now. Not even with his mum.

He looked her straight in the eye and lied through his teeth, 'I have no idea what you're talking about'.

...

Just being back home was good for his soul, it felt like a weight had been lifted. Harry could breathe and his chest felt comfortably full. The gnawing, hollow feeling was still there just not so prominent. It had shrunk and been replaced by a feeling of home.

He knew his childhood friends and family would be in his life forever, no matter what. And that was an excessively comforting reality, especially as the rest of his life felt so fragile.

Kicking himself for not being able to let go, Harry drifted to the look on Louis' face at the end of their group interview. He hadn't really registered at the time; he was so focused on distracting himself with saying the right things and putting on a brave face. But thinking back, he could place that look, and it tore him in half. It was the look of someone who was totally lost, looking for the other half of their whole and seeing an imitation. He was a fraud, and everything he needed was crumbling away because of it.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, jolting him out of his own head. Pulling it out of his pocket he saw five missed calls and a text message. What the...Gemma had been trying to get hold of him for the last twenty minutes. But I've only just got here... Looking at the time on his phone, it slowly dawned on him that he'd been standing in the busy airport lounge, hugging his pillow, for over twenty minutes, lost in his thoughts.

Noticing the odd look the person next to him was giving him, he mentally shook himself, grabbing his bag, escaping out of his head and towards the comfort of home, his family and his friends.

Walking heavily through the airport, Harry spotted Gemma long before she spotted him, which was weird really, seeing as she was looking right at him.

...

Louis sighed as he took the battery out of his phone. It was three days since the non-conversation in the park, and his mum would not leave him alone. He knew it was only because she cared, and he felt awful lying to her. Even worse because he knew from the look on her face that she could see right through his lie.

Shouting at no one in his empty house, he threw the phone against the wall.

If she'd wanted to hit a nerve she'd done it. All he'd done since Tuesday was think about what she'd said, and being trapped in his own head in this cell was slowly sending him mad.

'This is stupid; I can't do anything until we're in the same place anyway' he said to no one. That was, of course, another blatant lie; he could be talking about this with his mum. But somehow saying it all out loud to another person who wasn't Harry felt like the wrong thing to do. This was their problem and they needed to sort through it themselves, as hard as that was going to be. Ignoring it was just not an option. Well, not in the long term anyway. We're not going to be in the same place for two weeks; I'm going to go mad if I sit here thinking any more.

Louis loved to write music and lyrics, anyone that knew him knew that. He could lose himself completely in a song, envelope himself around the melodies, let them soak him up. He wasn't working on anything specific at the moment, his heart hadn't really been in it. But now, now he felt like it might be the right thing to do – cathartic – to take his mind off of everything.

Looking for inspiration, he picked up a tattered vinyl version of Aftermath by the Stones, put it on the record player and started to listen, waiting, hugging his favourite pillow tight into his chest. Losing himself in familiar songs, he found himself humming along, feeling the more free than he had in ages.

It hit out of nowhere. The hollow feeling in his chest exploded and contracted so hard it physically hurt. The notes and melodies suddenly feeling like they were trying to suffocate him, memories of songwriting sessions, and late night comic book reading on tour. Grabbing the album sleeve and turning it over, there in scratchy handwriting - 'Harry's, keep your mitts off Louis!'

And on to the crumpled, dog-eared album sleeve, hot tears fell. And he didn't know if he'd ever stop.

...

Gemma had to do a double take as she saw Harry slowly walk towards her. He looked terrible. Well, maybe not terrible, but not himself anyway. She prided herself on being perceptive, especially where family was concerned, and this just shouted out to her. It looked like someone had switched the lights off.

She was so tempted to say something, but it didn't feel like the right time. Instead, she pulled him to her tightly, and squeezed harder and longer than was strictly necessary. She could've imagined it but she was sure she felt her brother shaking in her arms. Something's definitely not right, she thought to herself, still holding on tight. But Harry being Harry, she was sure she'd find out all about it. Being a closed book had never come naturally to her little brother.

...

Harry pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes, hoping they hid the tears welling. He knew, back home with his friends and family, that his heart, locked and shackled away, would try to break free and betray him.