November 1st

Simon Cowell rolled his eyes as he watched the two boys gallop and frolic around their new flat. The first fifteen minutes, he thought the actions of the nineteen and seventeen year old were quite simply adorable. But after 2 hours and forty five minutes of them screaming things like,

"Look at the toilet! It's so clean!"

and,

"Our fridge is empty—we are going to starve!" Simon felt he had had enough.

"Boys!" He cried from the foyer.

Within a blink of the eye, the two boys were at his side, grinning from ear to ear, shaking their hair out of their eyes and their chests pumping with excitement. "Yes, Simon?" Louis grinned, raising his eyebrows.

Simon looked from one boy to the other and walked forward towards the kitchen, motioning for the two to follow him,

"This is your new home for the next year. I chose you two to live together specifically because you are on two ends of the age spectrum." He gave a knowing look to Louis, who stared back at him with a new serious look on his face. He nodded sincerely and looked back to Harry, who was looking all around the room in a childish manor, still trying to take in everything the new flat contained.

"Furthermore," Simon continued, smirking slightly as he watched Louis smack Harry on the back of the head to get him to pay attention, "I expect you two to enjoy yourselves, but I also expect you to be responsible and hold up to your duties."

Louis and Harry shared a look and nodded at Simon, who spoke again, "So there are obviously rules to living here—living with each other," Simon corrected himself and rolled his eyes as the two boys shared groans, "The first rule: You must refrain from walking around the house in just your knickers, or completely naked—the press know you are here, and we don't want any accidents or tabloid photos," He stared directly at Harry, "Now do we?"

Harry only threw his hands up in protest, "Why do you look at me when you say that?"

Simon narrowed his eyes and gave him a look, "Well, who should I be looking at?"

Harry looked down and fiddled with his hands, mumbling his response, almost as if he were embarrassed, "Me."

Simon smiled, "Exactly. Now, the second rule: No girls." He whipped his head to look at Louis, whose face was shell-shocked as Simon directed his attention towards him, "I mean it."

Louis put his hands on his hips, "Why do you look at me when you say that?"

All Simon had to do was raise a conspicuous eyebrow, and Louis considered his implication, "Alright, fine—no girls."

Harry's gasp for air forced both men to look at him—he was holding his chest and his face was red, almost as if he couldn't breathe. Louis ran over to him as he crumbled to the ground, and Louis caught him before his face hit the hard wood floor.

"Harry? Harry? Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Louis cried as he shook the younger boy. He pressed his hands lightly onto Harry's toned chest to check to see if he was still breathing. He moved his face down towards Harry's nose, to see if he could hear any type of inhale or exhale. As he did this, he subconsciously let his hands wander down Harry's leg and he rested it on his upper thigh, squeezing it lightly to see if he could get a reaction out of him.

To most, and in this case Simon, this was again, a normal act between the two. But Louis had…other motives.

But he'd never let anyone else know that.

"What happened? Do I need to call a doctor? What's his mother's mobile number?" Simon asked question after question, reaching for his phone in his back pocket and rushing to the kitchen to see for a glass of water and a washcloth.

Harry moved to face Louis and Louis leaned his head closer to see if he was breathing.

"Harry? You alright?"

Harry shifted again, and his lips parted, "No. I'm not. I need...I need…"

"What do you need, Harry?" Louis whispered cautiously. He was scared as hell—his best friend was lying on the ground and appeared to be having a hard time breathing. He didn't care about the press, or the gig they had next week, or even if Harry could perform—all he cared about was his best friend and if he was going to be okay.

The boy in Louis' arms smiled softly and whispered, "I need girls!" Louis rolled his eyes, groaned, and dropped him onto the floor; not bothering to care if Harry cracked his skull. Harry, on the other hand, burst into a fit of laughter, which earned a smack in the head from Simon,

"Ow, Simon—!"

"Don't you pull a stunt like that ever again! You had me worried sick! Can you imagine what would have happened if we brought doctor's over and you were simply alright! It would cause a cluster of a mess, Harry. This is what I mean, Louis!" Simon turned to Louis, who was rubbing his face in agony. He looked up from his hands and sighed,

"I know, Simon, I know."

Harry finally got up from his state on the floor and looked to Simon, "Look, I'm sorry, alright? It was only meant to be a joke! How can you expect me to follow that rule and not have any girls over? Simon," He gripped the older man's shirt, and looked at him, "I. Need. Girls. I'm a seventeen year old boy for Christ's sake!"

"My thoughts exactly!" Simon exclaimed. "You're a seventeen year old boy… In one of the most popular and successful boy bands in the country! Not only will being and canoodling with girls distract you, but we also don't need an emotional and depressed Harry Styles on the tour bus! Girls only want to be with you because of your fame, and you are naïve to think otherwise."

Harry sighed and placed a heavy hand on Simon's shoulder, an amused eyebrow raised, "Are you trying to protect my virtue, Simon? That's very sweet of you, but it is entirely unnecessary." Harry smirked devilishly at Simon, who pushed him off of his white collared shirt. Simon dusted himself off and retrieved his keys from the key hook. He turned to face them and directed his attention towards Louis.

"Louis." He demanded.

Louis looked up from his seated position on the couch. His hands were cradling his face and he looked completely dreadful. He made eye contact with Simon and nodded,

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll be seeing you next week. Remember what we talked about. And Harry—"

"Yes, captain Simon?" Harry said, smiling.

Simon just chuckled at the nickname, "Try not to drive your flat mate up a wall, yeah?"

Harry sighed and nodded, giving Louis a worried glance, "Yeah, sure, no problem."

"Well, I'm off. Goodbye, boys."

The two waved Simon goodbye and he shut the door behind himself. Harry shook his head,

"Well, he sure does have something stuck up his rear end, doesn't he?"

Louis groaned and rubbed his hands up and down his face, "He's just doing his job to protect us, Harry. He's made a few good points."

Harry frowned and walked over to his best friend and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders,

"What's the matter, Lou? Come on, talk it out." Harry patted the other boys' knee and Louis looked up at him.

"You can't pull crap like that, Hazza. It's…scary. I—I don't really know what I would do if something like that really happened…"

Harry's look of amusement turned to one of hurt. He rubbed Louis shoulder slowly, letting his fingers trace lightly over the exposed skin Louis' t-shirt gave off.

"Louis, I'm sorry. I'm...a prick. I didn't mean to scare you," He cupped Louis' cheek and turned his face so Harry could look into his eyes, "I don't want to do that to you."

Louis nodded and turned away, "I know. It's just…I feel…protective over you. If something were to happen to you, I feel like it would be my fault. You're young, and I'm worried about you."

Louis turned to look back at Harry, and he was taken aback by how worried he looked about him. Louis sighed and turned to look away from him again. He knew Harry was only joking, but just imagining a scenario in which he wasn't joking…

Well…he was trying not to imagine it.

He felt his face be pulled towards Harry again, and shivers crawled up his spine when Harry's thumb rubbed against his cheek.

"Don't worry, Lou," Harry said, pulling the boy into a comforting hug. He wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back,

"You don't need to worry—I'll be more careful. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to me."

Louis drummed his fingers impatiently on the arms of the plush white seat in Simon Cowell's office. He checked his wrist watch for the fifth time in the span of five seconds and groaned—he really did not want to be there.

Simon Cowell was a man of order and control. So while on the outside it seemed like a good thing, to the members of One Direction, it was one of the most irritating things about the man. On top of scheduling radio interviews, 5AM televised interviews and photo shoots, Simon required the boys to meet with him the first week of every month, just to "catch up on things."

And Louis, being the most outspoken one of the group, decided to take the first of every month as his individual meeting day.

On this cold, stressing first day in February, he sat in Simon's waiting room wishing he wasn't so damn enthusiastic.

It was only a few moments later that Simon burst into the waiting room, tea in one hand and a file in the other. He looked at Louis and gave him a quick smile,

"Hello Louis. You can come with me into my office."

Louis nodded and lifted himself off the couch, following suit and closing the door behind him after he entered Simon's office. When he first entered Simon's office a bit over a year ago, he was startled by how much white was in it—it was everywhere. It did make the room look cleaner, (and a hell of a whole lot nicer), but for the first few meetings, it was always distracting to the oldest member of the band.

Now, everything to Louis looked bland and dull.

He took a seat in a chair in front of Simon's desk, and watched as Simon tossed some papers around.

"Sorry Lou, things have been a bit hectic these past few months."

Louis sighed sadly and slid his cap off of his head, letting it rest in his hand, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

Simon stopped what he was doing immediately and gave him a sympathetic look, "Louis, I'm sorry, I know—I know things have been hard." He bit his lip, "Which is sort of what I wanted to focus our meeting today on."

Louis fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably, "Well, what do you mean?"

Simon sighed deeply and took his reading glasses off of his eyes and placed them softly on his desk. What he was going to say wasn't going to be easy, but it needed to be heard.

"Louis, when I first made you five boys into one group, I never imagined how big you would become; how powerful and successful you would be. But on top of all of that, the thing that surprised me the most was how close you boys have gotten to be with each other. To be honest, it's a bit sickening to see how much you boys care about each other."

Louis snorted at that. "Care" was such an understatement for the five boys. Though Louis couldn't speak for the rest of them, to him, he absolutely, irrevocably, genuinely loved them. He would do anything for them, and he liked to think they would do the same thing for him.

Simon seemed to miss his chortle and continued, "So when…everything happened 3 months ago, I was afraid for all of you," He took a deep breath, "But mostly for you."

Louis' drooped head shot up at Simon's last words, and he shook his head, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask, "Me? Wh—why me?"

Simon folded his hand, "Well, you and Harry were always…extremely close."

Louis nodded nervously, "Yeah, we all are close—"

"No Louis," Simon chuckled, "You're not. I mean yes, you are, but what you and Harry had was…special. It was different." He added with a small smile.

Louis felt his throat close as he swallowed the large lump in his throat. He really didn't like where this conversation was going, and he really didn't want to have any sort of conversation about Harry right now, especially on this day.

"And…you know you can always tell me what you are feeling, Louis. And feel free to interject if I'm incorrect, but, I always sensed something more with you two."

"More?"

"Yes, more."

Louis leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand over his face, skillfully wiping the tears that were dripping down his face as he did so. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands onto his thighs, looking down. He was afraid this was where the conversation was leading. And while he wanted to be completely honest with Simon and tell him everything—how miserable he had been since Harry died, how those fucking dreams were haunting him every night—he couldn't muster up the courage. And he wouldn't. Especially not today.

No, today was just not that day.

"Simon," He began, "I'm sorry. But I…I can't talk about this right now. It's…too soon." He muttered quietly, staring into space.

Simon shook his head, "Listen, Louis, I know this is hard, but," He took a deep breath, "It's been three months. And…I know people grieve at their own pace, and I know how close you two were—"

"You don't know Simon," He gave Simon an uncharacteristic glare; "You don't know the half of it."

Simon frowned, "Well tell me. Help me understand! Louis, I want to be here for you."

"I don't need you."

"You need somebody—"

"If Harry were here—"

"Well he's not! Louis, you need to move on!"

The words hit Louis like a ton of bricks and he stumbled back into his chair—which was odd, because he hadn't realized in his argument with Simon, he had stood up and leaned onto his desk.

As Louis collided with the chair, he found that his chest hurt, and it was also then that he realizes his eyes were wet with tears. He wiped them away fiercely and watched Simon take a seat at his desk again.

He gave a sad look to Louis and handed him a few tissues, which he took graciously, and spoke softly,

"I know you loved him, Louis." Louis opened his mouth to protest, but Simon held up his hand which stopped him, "Don't try denying it, Louis, it's quite obvious."

Louis took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. Shit.

He stayed silent and waited for Simon to continue, "And because of that, I have a proposition for you."

Louis rubbed his eyes and sniffed, his voice cracking as he spoke, "What is that?"

"I think you should leave."

Louis sat upright quickly, a look of horror on his face, "What? Are you crazy? I'm not leaving this band! What's the matter with you-!"

"No!" Simon exclaimed, "No Louis, relax, that's not what I meant. I meant something different."

Louis nodded for him to continue. So he did,

"Because of these unresolved feelings you have, and because you are reminded of Harry every day when you go home at night…"

"What are you trying to say?" Louis asked shakily, already knowing the answer. And knowing he was going to absolutely hate it.

Simon bit his lip, thinking of the perfect way to word his suggestion. Eventually, he figured he couldn't put it any other way but bluntly.

"I think you should move out of your flat."