Chapter 2

Home's always been a sanctuary for Harry. Growing up, his mum and Gemma provided a loving, solid foundation, letting him develop into the person he was now. And even right now, when he knew he wasn't the happiest version of himself, home, the people that were his home, comforted him like nothing else.

Sitting on the sofa, flicking through one of his mum's magazines, Harry day dreamed of paddling pools, hot summer days and water fights in the back garden with Gemma. Of Anne calling them in as the heat seeped out of the day, getting them to dry off and get changed before spoiling both of them with hugs and homemade ice cream.

He was snapped back to reality by Gemma, nudging him in the shoulder, brandishing two steaming cups of tea. She handed him a tea, and plonking herself down next to him, unceremoniously shoving the magazine to one side, and tucking her feet underneath him.

'So, baby bro, what's the latest gossip from life on the road then?' she teased. This was their normal ritual of Harry being home, Gem digging for all the most entertaining stories, and Harry indulging her with tales, mainly about Louis, that had them both in stitches.

He went to speak, to fill her in as normal, however, this time he realised there were not as many fun tales to tell. The last few months had been stressful, and he wracked his brain, trying to think of something to say.

Finally, a story came to mind, 'Ok, you won't believe it but Liam's got us a "tour puppy"! He just decided one day when we were in Chicago that we were too boring on our own, so he just disappeared, and came back with Mabel. She's lovely, a Collie, but wow, she's a handful. Liam's stuck with her now though - she's always chewing his shoes, and going to the loo all over the place!'

Gemma just laughed and waited, so Harry thought hard for another,

'Oh and Zayn, Zayn decided our tour bus needed a makeover, and spray painted the whole of the inside with manga characters! It looked cool, but he nearly passed out from the fumes. We couldn't use it for a week until the smell had gone!...So there's that!'

Again Gemma just laughed and waited. Out of stories, Harry just shrugged.

'Oh come on Harry, what about you, or Louis, you're always causing the most trouble. Don't try to deny it!'

'Well, not much to tell really, just normal stuff, you know. You know me, mostly just trying to write songs, and I spend a lot of time with Lou and Lux, she's growing up so fast, she's walking now, so that's new.' Harry hoped that Gemma would drop it now, satisfied with the stories he'd told.

Gemma smiled at that, she loved Lux. And that seemed to placate her. That and Anne shouting from the kitchen, 'Gem, your phone's ringing, you've left it in here!' which had his sister leaping up from the sofa, stopping only at the doorway, turning to Harry, and saying, with a soft look on her face, 'That all sounds lovely H, and it's really good to have you home..' she hesitated before continuing, '..but you would say, wouldn't you, if there was anything wrong. You know you can talk to me.'

And with that she headed to the kitchen, shouting about plans for a night out over her shoulder.

…

He was almost chanting it, looking into the mirror and willing himself to believe it, feel it, even though his brain was trying to tell him otherwise: 'I will have a good time, and I will not think about Louis. I will have a good time, and I will not think about Louis. I will have a…'

The knock on his door made him jump and he dropped the glass he was holding. It smashed on the hardwood floor, but he'd worked himself into such a state that he didn't feel the shards grazing his skin. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and all he felt was his own heartbeat and the blood rushing past his ears.

Gemma was there before he realised what was happening, 'Hey, you ready, taxi's here'.

Why hadn't Gemma mentioned the broken glass on the floor? that was just odd, he thought to himself. 'Ouch' he winched as he brushed the splinters off his ankles and pulled on his boots and jacket, ready to forget and enjoy.

The cab ride to the club was a bit of a blur, Gemma did most of the talking and Harry smiled a forced smile at her. They picked up some of Gemma's friends on the way, and in no time they'd got to the club.

They jumped the queue and were inside in seconds. The music was thumping and Harry wasn't really sure why they'd decided to come here at all, wasn't sure this was what he needed. But after a couple of beers at the bar, he felt a little more relaxed, although thoughts of Louis still lingered front and centre. He was sure that having fun shouldn't be this much like hard work.

It wasn't until several drinks later that Harry realised they had got in so quickly because of him. He didn't normally like the idea of celebrity, but tonight, tonight for some reason he revelled in it, just enjoyed soaking it up. It carried on once they were in the main part of the club. They were ushered to the VIP area and drinks they hadn't ordered appeared. Harry found himself arm in arm with Gemma, smiling at her and saying, 'Well it would be rude not to!'

The dance floor in the VIP area was small and heaving with bodies, Harry liked to dance, even if he knew he wasn't very good at it; all animated faces, gangly limbs, and bouncing. The throng of bodies around him didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with his flailing and bouncing though, and he was loving it.

One of the writhing bodies got a little too close and he could feel hot breath in his ear. Blanking out the contact and enjoying the hum of the music, Harry was oblivious, dancing and just letting loose. It felt good, really good.

There was a gentle tug at his shoulder, a warm touch that felt familiar. Turning, comfortably, he was shocked to see brown eyes looking back at him. Stumbling back, away from this stranger, he gasped and realised that he'd been sure, so sure, that he'd be looking into bright blue eyes.

He carried on dancing, willing that good feeling to come back - two whole songs. But it felt strange and unfamiliar. Brown eyes where there should have been vivid blue. Height which meant arms and hands were in all the wrong places. Angles and exaggerated muscles where he knew there needed to be soft curves.

Pulling away, in what he thought was a subtle way, he heard himself say on auto-pilot 'Thanks for that, that was fun, see you around yeah?' and with the words came the movement. Reeling away towards the comfort of Gemma. He was back in her arms seconds later, she loved him for who he was. Although he knew the questions were bound to come.

…

Gemma felt a bit creepy, kind of like a voyeur. She'd been watching her brother all evening, so she supposed that if the hat fit, she have to wear it.

Right this moment, Harry had - no exaggeration - more than a dozen people, men and women, surrounding him, staring appreciatively as her brother clumsily danced and enjoyed himself.

Gemma did enjoy seeing her brother let loose, it hadn't happened often enough lately. But she couldn't shake the memory of the 'lights off look' she'd seen just days ago. She needed to get to the bottom of that, but obviously, now was again, not the right time.

…

Reeling and forcing his way through the crowd, away from the dance floor and the unfamiliar chocolate brown eyes, Harry felt himself crash into something soft, that didn't falter as he slammed into it. Wrapped in a familiar embrace, he felt himself relax as he sank in and let himself be swept along, further away from the noise and the lingering dance floor confusion that he sat heavy in the pit of his stomach.

He felt broken glass crunch under his feet on the sticky dance floor, reminding him of the scene earlier in his room. He felt the dull thump of bumping into soft bodies as they moved away from all of this.

Gaining his bearings little, he looked up and saw Gemma guiding them through the crowd, pushing and making sure that they got back safely to their booth. Collapsing into the softness of the seat, he instinctively pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged himself, making himself small.

In Gemma's arms he drifted off and away, searching for the bright blue eyes that he longed for; they provided comfort, understanding and possibilities. But he knew, even in this relaxed, sleepy state, that with all these possibilities came confusion, and the knowledge of battles ahead.

His mind took him to a safe place, and he dozed in the comfort of his own head. For once switching off and enjoying the relaxing, safe feeling of being hugged, and having someone rock him gently to sleep. For what felt like forever he let the warm comfort engulf him and enjoyed soaking up the love he felt.

It took a long moment to realise that the hollow feeling in his chest was back. Even at home with his family and friends, the gnawing grind of his missing heart was making itself known. How had he really thought he could live like this – switched off from the person that mattered to him most. This was slowly eating him up inside and he needed to let someone else in.

Opening his eyes groggily, sad realisation crept in. He was being hugged, but not by Louis. He was sat, cradled in his sister's arms, in a club he wanted to be as far away from as possible. The biggest and only wish in his head screaming, Please, please come and get me and take me away from here.

...

Gemma took that opportunity of hugging Harry to really properly look at him, she was shocked at what she saw.

Looking at her baby brother, she saw; dark circles under his eyes, hair longer and shaggier than it should have been, clothes looking like they needed a wash and an iron, the list went on. Her brother needed help, and even if she didn't know what the problem was, she was sure as hell going to help him find a way out of it.

She gently stroked his hair to try to wake him up. She didn't want to make him jump. Trying again, she squeezed his arm, still nothing. Getting a bit worried now, she shook him, still gently, and said quietly 'Harry, wake up, let's get us home.'

'What the...Louis...where am I?' he was to all intents and purposes still asleep, but to Gemma it was like a light bulb going off. She knew what the problem was. It'd never been clearer. But what to do about it. She'd never seen Harry like this before. How was she going to break in and get him to open him up without making things even worse.

...

'Ouch, what's that?' his eyes felt like they were on fire, he could see heat and red through the inside of his eyelids. He moved tentatively to feel his eyebrows and eyelids, everything was normal. Squeezing one eye open the light hit him and his eyes snapped shut again.

Staggering across the room, eyes shut, he felt for the curtains and grabbed around blindly, managing to close them. Stumbling back to the direction of the bed, eyes closed even in the darkness, he tripped and fell. 'What the...?'

Falling onto the bed he finally opened his eyes, and after a few seconds of trying to focus he saw Gemma.

She was silently moving on her hands and knees, dustpan and brush in hand, sweeping up tiny shards of glass from the night before.

'Hey little bro, you ok?' Gemma said, realising Harry was properly awake now.

'Erm ok I think...at least I can only see one of you now, not five. That was scary. One Gem I can almost handle, five is too much for anyone.' Harry chuckled.

…

Lying on the bed, Harry with his arms over his eyes to block out the residual light, and Gemma next to him, now seemed like as good of a time as any to sow the seeds of her plan to help her brother.

'Baby bro, I feel really bad asking, but I need a favour...'

Harry, shifted position, intentionally jabbing Gemma in the side playfully, 'Go on then Gems, what is it…'

Gemma sighed for dramatic effect before continuing, 'Well you know I want to get into music journalism, and Holmes Chapel isn't exactly the place to be..', staying calm up until that point, the rest came out in a nervous rush, wanting this plan to work '…how would you feel about me coming on tour with you for the next leg? I could make some fantastic contacts, and maybe blog about life on the road with my baby bro. What do you think?'

Almost before Gemma had finished, she was enveloped in the biggest, tightest, most love-filled hug, with Harry speaking into her shoulder, 'That would be fantastic Gems, I have so many people I can introduce you to. And you'll have so much fun, I'll make sure.'

For the first time since picking him up at the airport, Gemma saw her brother's genuine smile, with just a flicker of light back in his eyes.

And lying on the bed, still nestled together with his sister, Harry mused to himself that having Gem's on tour was going to be a good thing, a very good thing. He felt like having his big sister by his side was just what he needed right now.

…

Waking up with a stiff neck and something damp and sticky pressed to his face, it took Louis a long time to realise where he was, and even longer to focus and take in the familiar surroundings of his home.

Shit, why is everything so blurry…Blinking hard and rubbing his eyes with his palms didn't help, in fact it made it worse. A bit more awake but still in a blurry, soft focus place, Louis sat up and peeled something off of the side of his face.

Unravelling himself from the awkward position he'd been in, stretching and crunching as he stood to his full height. He'd been asleep on the sofa for god knows how long, and it felt like longer. Ouch, how did that happen? Trying to recall last night through the blur and haze, the last thing he could recall was listening to Paint It Black, and being swept along by a tidal wave of emotion…

'Oh', he felt himself sag, shrink and crumple a little as the memory formed and woke him up further. There was no other explanation for it; he'd cried himself to sleep. That was why he could barely see. Last night, the shock of the memories and feelings the music had evoked in him had been too much and he'd crumbled. Crying himself to sleep, listening to Harry's copy of one of their favourite albums. He sighed as he realised he had it bad, worse than even he had acknowledged up until now.

Gritting his teeth he fought the urge to put his phone back together and call Harry, lay it all on the line and open up. Instead he shook his head and pulled at his own hair hard, distracting himself and putting that idea to the back of his mind. Muttering under his breath, 'Only a week to go and then we'll talk. I'll make things right.'

Feeling encrusted in sleep and memories, and in a bit of a trance, he walked slowly to the bathroom. Pulling the door open, squinting hard as the bright, artificial light seared into him. He felt like a rabbit in the headlights of his own home.

The steam of the shower started to fill the room. Louis wiped the condensation from the mirror, just enough to see himself looking back. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was so blindingly, jarringly appropriate, but it broke his heart at the same time. There, for him and him alone to see in the safety of his empty home, printed down the entire right side of his face, like a stamp, claiming ownership – 'Harry's, keep your mitts off Louis!'

The irony, and hope, of the alternative reading of the statement inked on his face made Louis hesitate before stepping into the shower, looking at himself one more time.

He stepped under the scalding water, knowing, with ache in his chest, that it was washing away.

…

Jay had lost count of the number of times she'd called his mobile and his home phone. She'd also sent him eight emails – two a day – she kept it to that, she didn't want to be too pushy. Maybe he just really did need some space to think.

She knew Louis better than anyone, and this was his style with the really important stuff, ignoring it, brushing it off and trying to force it to go away.

Thinking back to the awkward non-conversation on Tuesday, Jay felt guilty. As soon as she'd asked the question - intentionally hitting that raw nerve - she knew she'd started a train of events that wouldn't stop until they were resolved. One way or another.

She had no idea what this, resolved, would look like. But she knew she'd be there for him and that he had to be true to himself.

She loved her son more than anything, she knew by pushing it as an issue she was causing him pain, scratching the top off a scab that ran deep. But knowing (and the look in his eye in the park told her all she needed to know) that he understood that it came from a place of caring, eased her guilt and strengthened her resolve.

She would see her son happy.

…

Gemma packed in a rush, trying to look calm and casual. Fuck it; I don't want to give him time to change his mind. Do I even need half of this shit? thinking to herself, adrenaline pushing her on.

Harry was sat in the corner of the room scribbling in a notebook – lyrics most likely, she wasn't sure. But it was good to see her brother engrossed in something, the lights were still on and even though he still looked tired, he looked a little more like himself. He was concentrating hard, it was written all over his face, but Gemma was still careful to give her best impression of calm, collected and nonchalant. She felt the polar opposite inside.

The mood had lifted ever since she had asked – well told really – whether she could join him back on tour. Any awkwardness between them had evaporated and every cell in Gem's body told her this was a good thing to do. The right thing to do.

….

He was engrossed in the contents of his notebook, it was written all over his face – a perfect mask. Lyrics or just random phrases, it didn't make any difference. Band life had taught Harry to be something of a multi-tasker and as he watched Gemma, and also scribbled nonsense in his notepad, he knew he had that skill down.

Having his sister on tour with him, and have her meet some of his contacts was the least he could do. Gemma had been there for him countless times growing up. Harry had got a lucky break, and helping Gem's achieve her dreams was the least he could do.

Fuck's sake Harry, you know that's not true, he scribbled in his notebook. He felt guilty as he accepted that helping his sister made him feel good, and that the thought of having her on tour made him breathe easier.

The guilt was eating him up, but he had done it for the right reasons. Pretending to be asleep in the club, muttering under his breath, he had honestly said what he'd been feeling – what he was always feeling. Louis was never off of his mind. And he did need Gem's help - he was just terrified to outright ask for it.

Harry added deceiving his sister to the list of things he wasn't proud of.

I'd do anything to save it., Why is it so hard to say it? he wrote those lines over and over filling a full page of his notebook.

And he willed himself to have the courage to act, to say what he was feeling. To have the conviction to stand by those sentiments.