1. The Two Devils
The day was supposed to be like any other; another concert planned and analysed down to the last detail. The two digits marked in red on a paper wall calendar gave no warning. When his eyes fluttered open on the plane nobody hit him in the arm and said "It's today." How could have he known?
Brushing his matted hair away from the sweaty forehead, Louis reached out to grab a bottle of mineral water from his bag. A glimmer of light from the window fell over the seat 148; in that very moment it was as if he was the only passenger on that flight to LA. Flying eight kilometres above the ground; the clouds were within hand reach and the sun galled skin with all its power.
Harry slept with his legs placed on the seat in front of him, muttering incoherently as his fists tightened on the colourful fabric of a plane blanket. He was so uneasy. Was he dreaming about that day? If only Louis had known… He would have run away from that city as quickly as possible, losing his breath, not looking back. He would have waded through the crowds of unaware people, far away from there; dragging Harry with him.
But he couldn't have predicted the future and now his soul will pay the price. Will it be possible to pick up its shattered pieces?
On August 23rd he could only laugh at Liam's snores and think about the clothes he would wear for that evening's show.
Screaming crowd is already waiting outside the airport's main building; posters with their faces reflect in the bright sunlight. He watches it all from behind the safety of his black sunglasses. Plastic smile lights up his face as he leads the others out of the metal gates.
They are shouting and pushing at each other, accidentally tearing apart posters and notebooks. The more passionate ones clutch onto the fans in front of them. They just want to get a little bit closer, just to get to the barriers. Quick breaths and eyes glistening with tears; bare legs and trembling hands. Tanned bodies doused in fruity perfumes, loosened hair. Daddy's girls with their iPhones and Prada bags.
And all of that just for five lads.
He just has to keep smiling and sign the papers that are being thrust into his face. Louis' lips begin to ache; when one doesn't want to smile, it's tough to convince people otherwise.
Harry walks to his left, while Liam, Zayn and Niall keep their distance three steps behind, each standing next to a different girl. Their signatures and smiles are robotic; black pens touch notebooks at almost the same time. The air around them is thick and hot, Louis' body screams for a cold shower and an air conditioned hotel room. Sweat already begins to dot his forehead. Security guards stand proudly in front of them, occasionally talking on their walkie-talkie's.
"Louis, you look amazing today," says small girl with blond hair and a tight top that looks more like a swimsuit than an actual top; her voice loud enough to cut through all the noise. Louis just nods his head, trying his best to avoid looking at the girl's face. It couldn't be a bigger lie – he knows exactly what he looks like after ten-hour overnight flights – he can barely stand on his own two feet, never mind looking presentable without any make-up on or hair done. Even he knows his limits.
A few minutes pass and Louis and Harry are lagging behind due to the enormous amount of girls wanting a hug, a picture or just a signature. The sun still shines directly on top of Louis' head, creating black spots in front of his eyes. Deciding to take the black sunglasses off, he tucks them away in his pocket. The world suddenly seems more real than it had a moment before. The cool breeze that he can feel on his face is relieving. As Louis lowers himself to sign another piece of paper, he notices something disturbing; or actually someone. There is a young man wearing a beige flannel and ripped jeans; a seemingly normal guy, but seeing him stand amongst a swarm of excited teenager girls is a tad concerning. Louis tries to keep the guy in his sight, all while avoiding signing a face or two by accident; not that they would mind, of course.
He moves at the same pace as Louis and Harry, manoeuvring between all the girls with practiced ease. Light locks of hair fall on his forehead, his face locked in a mysterious grimace. Cold shiver runs down Louis' spine – nobody ever looked at him like that. He is staring directly into his pupils, as if burning a hole into Louis' skull.
Suddenly he seems… darker.
He seems out of place, emitting a shadow as if he is from a different fairy tale. The sleeves of his shirt are too long, fully covering his hands. The weather hasn't changed, but Louis starts to shiver; tiny layers of white frost appear on everyone's clothes. When he exhales, he can see his own breaths forming small puffs.
"Lou, is everything alright?" Harry lightly grips Louis' shoulder, dodging the hands reaching out for him at the same time.
Louis' head is spinning. No, nothing is fine!
He swallows quickly, his throat parched and unable to make a sound.
He takes a few breaths before nodding, "Sure."
Louis inches away from Harry while still keeping his eyes locked on the man. Nobody else has even noticed that something is seriously wrong. Screaming fans, cameras' flashes… That is all that matters.
Even though his head starts spinning with anxiety and unreasonable fear, he still manages to sing a few more autographs with his shaky hand. He's nervously glancing around, but the man is nowhere to be found. What the hell? That only makes Louis' heart beat faster, more rapid. He can be everywhere, even closer than Louis thought. The guards have all the same expression and relaxed muscles; it looks like everything is fine. Fine. Fine. Maybe it's all just in Louis' head, he didn't close his eyes even for a second on the plane after all…
Zayn is taking a picture with some twins. Niall is painting something on a laughing brunette's stomach. Why is Louis the only one to notice anything?! Why couldn't he calm down?! It's just one of those feelings. Something is bound to happen, like that fucking calm before the storm.
And then the whole world seems to stop. Harry's lips begin to move in a slow motion; the American flag hanging near the gates waves unnaturally slow.
Only fifty meters to the bus, fifty meters to the parking lot, fifty meters to the television SUV's. Fifty meters to the gates of tranquillity. Louis speeds up, not really caring about the crowds' begging and screaming, because at that moment his heart is beating to its own unsteady rhythm, threatening to come out of his chest. His slender fingers are clenched into fists; when - if - he gets to the car there will be only half an hour drive to the city centre. And everything will be fine again.
His eyes are fire, anger and darkness. How can a man look that way?
Paul is on his mobile as he slowly walks near the rest of the guards; he doesn't notice anything disturbing either. Is everyone blind? Only twenty meters… Fifteen… Oh God. That's him. Louis stops; the ground underneath his feet feels as if it could crumble any moment. He's drowning in a swamp, is sucked into a terrifying mass. Only now he realizes how tall and unbelievably skinny the man is – even skinner than Zayn or Niall. Pale. A ghost on two feet. There are hundreds of people all around, but Louis is alone with him – like a fly trapped in a glasshouse with a carnivorous plant.
His smile is vindictive, ironic. He's looking at Louis like he is a toy. He somehow manages to evade the crowds and stand right there, at the end of the path, between the barriers.
On the other side of the crowd an identical man has appeared. Maybe a bit smaller, but with the same cheeks and angular bones. They are together, without a doubt. Louis squeezes his eyes shut, hoping it's all a nightmare. But when he opens them again, he can only see his two devilswaiting for him at the end of the tunnel. This is the atheist's price – he's got his. Liam, Niall and Zayn hand out their last signatures and walk towards the bus; the two pale men stay still, waiting for something Louis doesn't even dare to think about.
"Harry, wait up!" Louis hears himself shout. When the men realize he could see them, they surge forward with angry expressions. Harry turns around and waits for some explanation.
"What?" he asks, not yet receiving any answer.
Louis bits his lower lip and tracks the men with his eyes. Police in the front, Paul in the front, Liam, Niall and Zayn in the front. The television guys in the front. Harry and he… are in the back. This is a cage; a trap. Screaming fans create thick bars of the cage that separates them from the security. They are so blindly in love with their idols that they can't think clearly.
"Let's go." Louis takes Harry's hand and drags him in the direction of the bus. The black haired boy shakes his head – amused – and firmly releases his hand from Louis' grip.
"C'mon Louis, there's no rush, few more pics won't harm us," he says and smiles politely to the girl standing behind Louis.
How can he be so stupid?! Louis trembles more and more, his head is pounding and the pulse quickens in his temple. Sweat begins to drip down his face, caused by fear this time – not heath. He could scream for Paul with all the air that's in his lungs, but the man still wouldn't hear him. He could give signs, but Paul wouldn't notice them – he is too busy talking to Ben. Louis could wave with his hands to the rest of the guys, but they wouldn't see him from behind the dark glass of SUV's window.
He could try and convince Harry, but the latter is too freaking kind to say "no" to the fans.
And that's exactly what they count on. Louis doesn't know who they are, but they certainly are not here to wish them "good luck". They probably even have guns. Where is he supposed to go? What is he supposed to do? In the back of his head he can already see the barrel of a revolver aimed at one of them. Loud screams of adoration would morph into the screams of panic if the shot is rang out.
And then one of them would be lying down.
Maybe let's draw straws, Harry?
Louis is stiff. He takes a few steps forward, feeling their eyes on his back the whole time. He closes his eyes again. God. When both Harry and he pass the barriers, somebody grabs Louis' hand and hits him hard in the head. As he passes out, he notices Harry slowly falling into the devil's arms as well.
They had the best security in the United States, but during those few seconds they were completely invisible to them.
Just like they wanted.