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Jeff was standing outside, a tight frown on his face as he checked his phone, flashing Harry a look of annoyance as he finally walked up. Harry gave him a curt nod, and they entered the room.

It was large, sleek and modern, with glossy black desk, two leather chairs in front of it. The room opened up, though, and he saw a short man in a suit, turned away toward something by the wall. He turned when they entered, holding a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Good morning, you must be Mr. Styles,” he said in a thick Doncaster accent. “Good morning, Jeff.” He nodded to the man standing behind Harry. “Coffee?”

Harry smiled tightly, “No, thank you,” looking further around the room, Jeff saying “Yes, thank you.” Walking past Harry as if to greet him first.

The man nodded, gesturing towards his desk and saying, “Feel free to sit down, I’ll be right over.”

He turned away to pour a second cup, Harry found himself watching the sharp outline of his back. He sat down in the chair, frowning at how comfortable it was, Jeff talking in his ear about the promotion for his next album. Harry nodded politely, knowing it was nothing new, sales, tickets, vinyl variants. The man finally came back, two mugs of coffee in his hands, placing one in front of Jeff.

“My name is Louis Tomlinson; I am your marketing manager for the upcoming album release.” He said, sitting down in his own chair. “Jeff and I have spoken about the general audience we want to attract, but I would like your input on some of the details.”

“The same way you did your island, and the door website.” Jeff added, “though this time without the uncertain messaging.” He leaned back in his chair.

“They were clever,” Louis interrupted, “which is why we need your input. Your fans want something elaborate and exciting.”

Harry just nodded, absently, fiddling with the rings on his finger “okay.”

“I had Jeff come to our first meeting because I want to get a good sense of the direction we want to go.” Louis said after a pause, opening a blank notebook page, taking a sip of his coffee.

“First? You’ll be meeting again?” Jeff asked.

“At least twice, with something so specific we would need to review it.” Louis smiled politely, taking another sip of coffee, shuffling through the documents Jeff had forwarded ahead of time. “You still have final say over all the promotional material, and I will oversee everything is within the contract.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his temples. Harry awkwardly watched from his side, knowing the exact limits of his “creative control,” and how much he could get away with, even with additional supervision. He started zoning out, as Jeff reiterated the importance of keeping his image “clean” and Louis reiterated he understood this and has done this before. Nearly fifteen minutes later, he finally snapped out of it, both Jeff and Louis repeating his name to get his attention.

“Harry, what ideas did you have?” Louis asked finally, pen in his hand, something scribbled at the top, the page split down the middle.

“Oh,” Harry paused, “a game, but one that starts before anything is announced. I want them to find it themselves and put it together.”

Louis nodded, encouragingly, “Like the You Are Home website.”

“Yes, but this time instead of ads, I was thinking we could use previous merch orders to send out a few mysterious invitations to a ball.”

“You’re going to mail them this?” Jeff asked from his chair next to him.

“I’ve been inspired by Bridgerton, and Pride and Prejudice, and other period pieces. I think it will make a good visual theme for the album.” Harry explained, sitting up a bit straighter, “Sending them an anonymous invitation seems exciting and personal.”

“So, a fan receives a vague invitation?” Louis trailed off, jotting things down.

“I want it to be very extra, with wax seals and calligraphy. And you can’t send them to influencers, there can only be a few invitations.” Harry clarified.

“Okay, why only a few?” Louis folded his arms.

“Well, if we play it right, they’ll think it’s me, post about it, and put together a little puzzle that leads them to a website.” Harry explained.

“Okay and what kind of website, are we building a fake world like with Eroda?”

“Kind of? It starts slow, and you have the option to link your twitter. The first few days you can just “rsvp”, and we can monitor social media to slowly release the next updates.” Harry paused for a second, “I want it to be a game website.”

“How are video games related to Bridgerton?” Jeff turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I thought, one game could be “designing your dream ball” and you would save that as the background of your account. You would unlock an avatar and dress them for the ball. And the games would slowly get more obvious that it was for my new album.”

“You want to make a dress up game website?” Jeff scoffed.

“Among other things, the theme is to plan the perfect ball, but as the fans start to catch on, we add more promotion for the album. Have them choose the perfect song with instrumental snippets of some from the new album. And for the very last game they get to dress up Harry Styles.”

And Harry realized he sounded a little insane, describing an early 2000’s tween girl website to promote his album, but Harry had a vision, and he knew it would be perfect to set the scene for his newest project. Especially considering he could easily sneak in a masquerade theme, lean into the idea of forbidden love. It would also tie in with Bridgerton plot, which he only threw out because it was relevant and Jeff would like it, though now he was bound to get a terrible merch collab from it.

If he had it his way, he’d be doing a quick cameo. Playing a visiting Prince that turned the Ton in a frenzy, with a few funny quips to say beside Nicola Coughlan and Simone Ashley, and a quick charged moment with Jonathan Bailey, so Anthony and Benedict had something to bond over.

“This sounds like something with a lot of moving parts, I’d love to schedule a meeting in the next few days so we can make a comprehensive list of all the details.” Louis said, opening a large daily planner, and looking through the schedule. “Does tomorrow work for you, I could fit you in during my lunch hour. 1 o’clock”

Harry nodded, mentally penciling that into his day, needing to rearrange his lunch and vocal training.

“Alright,” the man nodded, scribbling something down in the book, “and while we have this open, what timeline are you looking for?” He looked towards Jeff.

Harry tuned the rest of the conversation out.

When he finally got home for the night, around 8 pm, he was ready to go back on hiatus and never return. And he hated it, because he loved touring, and he loved signing, and he loved being able to share his music. But he was always reminded that his dreams had a price, the last meeting he went to discuss the public narrative they would present for his newest album.

It was always surprising to him, how they managed to construct the narratives, with most of his songs being about loving in secret and a longing for freedom. How it made sense that those songs were about the heavily publicized relationships he’d allegedly been in? He wasn’t sure. But it always worked, and their newest choice was that he was heartbroken from his previous long-term relationships, and taking a pause from dating, until he’s “ready to settle down.” In human language that translated to them reverting back to his slutty image from before, after their attempt at a long term pr stunt ended in an out-of-control mess. The con was that he absolutely hated being portrayed like that, but the upside was he was mostly not needed to spin their stories, outside of a few extra industry events after parties to make him look like he’s on the prowl.

It was incredibly annoying, and genuinely hurtful, but Harry was just grateful he’d have a minimal role in it.

When he met Louis the next day, the energy in the room was palpably different. He was sitting on the couch, his feet crossed on the leather armrest, a bottle of beer in his hand, a laptop pulled across his lap. He waved when Harry came in, telling him to make himself comfortable, and pointing to the mini fridge if he wanted a beer.

And it was stilted at first, as Harry described the details of his idea. He knew he wanted the invitations to go to a specific side of his fans, despite having no good way to explain that without stating the obvious. He wasn’t sure about the hints for the website, weather they should unscramble it or solve riddles. He knew he wanted to slowly release each mini game, and he had many ideas for them, but he also wanted real artists to illustrate it and it genuinely was a lot of work. Each game would have a reference to the album, with song titles, or quotes hidden around the games. A day before the album was released, everyone that finished all the mini games would be sent an invitation, with a pre-order code.

“So, why the old english theme?” Louis asked, once Harry finished his long-winded explanation of the design, the same notebook from yesterday resting next to his thigh.

“Well, I don’t know. I really liked the concept of a masquerade ball ending at sunrise, and everyone taking off their masks. And I hope that’s how the album makes people feel. So, a ball felt suitable.”

“I listened to the album,” He said casually, “you without the mask…”

“Okay?” Harry asked, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“It was good,” He shrugged, still barely glancing from the laptop. “I don’t know how you got away with it, to be fair, it’s shockingly gay, so I see where this mask metaphor is going.”

Harry frowned, not sure how to respond to that, instead looking around his chair, trying to get a further read on the man through his office. It wasn’t much help, completely missing any trace of personality, just like every single person he was managed by.

“What songs were you think of releasing as Singles?” Louis asked after a moment, as if the previous statement never happened.

“Track 4 and 9, and a few others that I want to have music videos for.”

“Are any of them going to include a masquerade?”

“I was actually considering doing a through-line music video series, taking place at a masquerade ball I’m throwing, with the video for each individual song being attached to something mentioned or displayed.” Harry bit his cheek, shifting on the couch.

It was something he wanted to do for a while, since Eroda. He never got the chance, and he knew that unless he had it all figured out before they started brainstorming them, he’d be outvoted.

“Okay so we could continue using the website after the announcement, include each video release, and the compiled short film. Maybe even have the album play in the background of the site.” Louis started typing furiously on the computer, “I’ll book a few graphic designers, and some video game artists, see if we can’t get a few concept sketches to choose from.”

“And you don’t plan on changing anything I mentioned?”

“No, it seems entirely on track with your public image.” Louis said, the tiniest hint of a smile passing his lips.

“Can we include a dress or two for the dress up Harry game?” Harry asked, expecting an immediate no.

“Oh, I was imagining a “Clueless Closet” version, where you model all the clothes they select for you. So, it can be whatever you want, as long as you wear it.”

The response only made him more anxious as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You mentioned a quiz?”

He cleared his throat, “Yes, a personality quiz of sorts, where the questions seem related to me, but not directly linked. Like “pick your favorite soup” and “what mythical creature would you be?” It’ll be the first thing to drop on the site after they rsvp.”

“And the results?”

“A lyric from one of the songs that seems best matched for them, without any other context.”

Louis smirked. “You’re very good at building anticipation.”

The doors opened, and one of the secretaries came in, carrying a large brown bag, which Louis quickly stood up to grab from him, muttering a quick “Thank you.”

He set the bag on the coffee table between them, pulling containers out and setting them around.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for lunch, so I reached out to your personal assistant, and they sent over a copy of your diet. It’s a black bean burger, with side of chips, and a kale salad.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, surprised that Louis included lunch at all, much less took the time to consider his food preferences.

He shrugged in return, pulling open his own box, with a plain cheeseburger, crisps, and onion rings, a pot of aioli on the side.

Taking another sip of beer, he turned to Harry, “So what is it, what happens when the mask comes off?”

Harry bristled, “What do you mean? The album comes out.”

“And when are you going to?”

“Excuse me?” Harry asked, slightly panicked.

“You’re in the closet, you clearly hate it, so how do you plan on coming out?” Louis rephrased, taking a bite of his burger.

“I can’t. I mean, it’s not in my contract.” Harry said, putting a small chip in his mouth.

“Well, surely there’s another way to do it.” He shrugged, “and its much smoother if you consider using the marketing and media coverage.”

“I can’t just go against my contract.” Harry said in frustration. As if it was as simple as doing it, when he’d been stuck and trying to get out of his contract for years.

“No, you can’t, but there are situations beyond your control.”

“You’re suggesting I get outed?”

“Well, you’d be a victim of circumstance at that point.” Louis pointed out, a crisp onion ring between his fingers.

“I’m really not supposed to put myself in those kinds of circumstances.”

Louis sighed, “I will take a look at your cleanliness clause again and see what we can do.”

“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t need to do that.”

“Okay, just consider it,” he gestured with his hand, “and in the meantime, what appearances were you interested in doing?”

“Those youtube interviews, especially the food ones they look very good.” He smiled, “and an interview with a magazine or two, though I hope they get good interviewers.”

“And about the Bridgeton? Jeff had already emailed me potential tie-ins.”

Harry chuckled, “Knew he would, what were they?”

Louis shook his head slightly, like he wasn’t going to say anything, but eventually just smiled.

“Harry Styles x Bridgerton Tea Bags”
“Harry Styles Bridgerton Remix, Instrumental Album”
“A Bridgerton themed Pleasing release”
“And, frankly, a variety of merch, from Bridgerton x harry styles tea sets, to handkerchiefs embroidered with “lady styles.”

Harry burst into laughter, Louis joining in with a chuckle.

“They are quite terrible.” He added.

“Yeah,” Harry mused, accepting his ridiculous fate, “I was envisioning a quick cameo at a ball, something more substantial than just vibes.”

“Well, I could ask a friend who works with their casting team, see if they have a dashing prince that Queen Charlotte can introduce, and be quickly thrown away by the Bridgerton sibling of the season in favor of their one true love.”

“Really?” Harry almost jumped with hope, having to talk himself down from really latching onto the idea.

“Don’t see why not, it would be on theme, generate buzz, work well with your image. But they have started filming, so if it’s a yes, it will move fast. Be prepared to open your schedule.”

He nodded, “I can do that.”

“Perfect,” Louis clasped his hands together, “I’ll work on industry events, and setting up interviews, and getting you a cameo. And if you don’t mind emailing me your files for the website idea, I’ll get the team on it.”

They finished eating in a comfortable silence, until Louis secretary came back, reminding Louis of a meeting in fifteen minutes, at which point Harry quickly finished, and left the office.

Three hours later, Harry was on the phone with Liam, discussing the upcoming release. Back in the band, Liam was the main person writing their songs, with input from the rest of them on a few, and Harry always sent him his album to hear his thoughts.

And he was as always, incredibly enthusiastic, supporting the vision, complimenting the lyrics and melody, and asking questions.

“So, the album is about looking for someone, finding them in an unexpected place, and wishing you could be honest about your relationship. Who are you dating? They plan on a womanizer narrative with that?” Liam was cooking dinner in his kitchen, the phone propped up against something as the man walked in and out of frame.

“It’s a concept album, I’m telling a story.” Harry was laying on his couch, a pillow tucked under his chin.

“Sure, and your theme for the album is a masquerade ball, that ends with the sun rising and everyone removing their masks.”

“I realize it’s a little on the nose.” He sighed quietly, really wishing he could for ever stop discussing his sexuality.

“But like, you’re finally doing it?” Liam asked over the crinkling of a bag.

“What?”

“Coming out?”

That drew a loud groan from Harry. “I cannot do that, why does everyone keep saying that.”

“Who else has said that?” Liam asked with sharp interest, popping back into frame, waiting for yet another version of an empty promise.

“Oh, just my new marketing manager.” Harry waved it off, wanting to get Liams opinion on the promotion.

“Your marketing manager?” He asked suspiciously, “I thought that was Jeff’s job.”

“Well, in theory, it’s a team that he oversees, this is the first time I’ve been directly involved with one though, they used to let me do exactly what I wanted.”

“And now?”

“Well, they hired a firm, and I have to work with them, like an additional level of supervision.”

“And this firm is telling you to come out?”

“I mean, not explicitly. But my manager asked if I was planning to and told me it’s much better if you have a pr plan in place.” Harry explained, thinking back to their previous conversation.

“He’s not wrong,” Liam sighed, “how did he act? Was he concerned over it?” He moved out of frame again, the sound of water boiling over.

“No,” Harry chuckled, “it was probably the most supportive conversation on that topic i’ve had in years.”

“Well, what did you tell him?”

“That I wasn’t allowed?” Harry shrugged.

“And what did he say?” Liam returned to the frame, pointing the phone in a different direction, so Harry could see him while he finished washing vegetables.

“That there was always a loophole.” Harry chuckled.

Liam shrugged thoughtfully, “There is.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, the same prickle of hope bubbling to the surface.

“When I hired that lawyer, he found a loophole. I didn’t end up using it, obviously,” He explained, pulling a strainer from one of the cabinets in the background. “But it’s not the most conventional option.”

“What is it?” Harry brought his face even closer to the phone in anticipation.

“You cannot be liable if you get outed as a result of an illegal act.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, “have someone leak my photos?”

Liam sighed, “No, that’s not “illegal” enough for the clause, they’ll just blame you. It would have to be while during a completely separate crime, like a felony.”

“So… how then?”

“I mean, if you were publicly assaulted by an “ex boyfriend” and the trial was publicized, or if, well, the lawyer discreetly recommended we stage a break-in into our home and have someone livestream Zayn and I… together.”

“So, the crime is the break in….” Harry followed.

“And there is no possible way for you to be accountable for something breaking into your home and violating your privacy in that way. You would only be seen as a victim.”

“Well, that’s not ideal,” Harry mumbled.

“Yeah, it would be a pretty heavy news week,” Liam nodded, “but on the bright side, your only option would be to confirm and own it, and people would call you very brave.”

Harry laughed.

Over the next several days, Harry hadn’t heard from Louis, beside the cordial reply he received after sending over his masquerade ball ideas. He’d slowly started to lose hope on the prospect of coming out despite his contract and began planning the album release as usual.

In reality, it wouldn’t work either way, Harry wanting a big coming out announcement, with excessive rainbows and sparkles and pride. He didn’t want to settle for a violating expose on his sexuality. Though he did wonder what ideas Louis possibly had to “smooth the transition.”

Still, he was kept busy, with meetings about deadlines and color schemes and tour dates, sitting through hours of logistical torture and meticulous planning. He would be lying if he said he hated it, the buzz of an album release overshadowing the more irritating aspects of his job.

He got through the week before Louis reached out again, this time with an invitation to dinner at his home, to discuss the status of his promotions.

His house was oddly bigger than Harry imagined, unsure why he pictured Louis in a penthouse flat, rather than an expansive home not far from Harry’s own residence. He didn’t know what to wear, settling on a casual outfit considering their meeting place, and he was slightly perturbed by the hour, his meetings usually taking place early in the day. Liam joked it was a date on their call earlier as Harry sorted through the closet to find a nice pair of jeans, which only turned up Harry’s anxiety further.

He decided to bring a dessert, baking a small lemon lavender cake, with honey buttercream, using springs of lavender to decorate, pairing it with a bottle of white wine, not sure if that only exasperated the “dateness” of their night.

Despite his hesitation, he had little choice in the matter, and he made his way down the street to Louis’ home.

Louis opened the door in a soft green sweater, and nike sweatpants worn low on his hips, his hair in a messy quiff, a result of constantly touching it throughout the day.

“Harry, welcome,” He smiled, stepping out to let Harry enter the home, “make yourself at home.”

Harry smiled in turn, handing Louis the cake and bottle of wine, as he turned to remove his coat, and snow-covered boots. “It’s lemon lavender,” he said, pushing the cake into his arms.

Louis made a tutting sound, turning around and walking further into the house as we called “well you didn’t have to do that,” after himself.

“It was no problem,” Harry found himself replying to the empty space around him as he left his boots by the door, following the direction Louis went.

The home was warm, well lit and welcoming, with a cozy, homey feel Harry was unable to achieve in his own house. The layout was similar, however, and he was able to navigate to the kitchen without issue.

Louis was putting the cake away in the fridge, a few boxes of pizza sitting open on the counter.

“I’m a shit cook, so I hope you don’t mind pizza.” He said from the refrigerator, closing it shut and turning to face Harry.

And he wasn’t sure what exactly did it, for him, weather it was the date-like circumstances of their meeting, or his lack of action in the relationship arena, the absence of formality, or if he had just finally taken a good look at Louis, but Harry felt completely breathless looking at him.

Out of the stuffy suits he wore, the sweater was baggy on him, pooling around his collarbone, revealing a slivery of cursive ink swirling across his chest. His hair was messily strewn across his head, looking soft and fluffy under the kitchen light, and Harry desperately wanted to touch it. And he was attractive, almost unnaturally so, with sharp, petite features, each carefully combined to resemble something of a fairy, or a peter pan, with a small button nose, and vibrant lips, and high sharp cheekbones that made him look mischievous even when he wasn’t doing anything. His eyebrows curved down in neat little arches, and he had crinkles by the eyes, as if he spent his entire life smiling, thick long eyelashes curling upwards, fluttering to reveal the most incredible eyes. Blue like a pale drop of water, the color of icebergs, crystal clear and deep enough to drown in.

And he just stood there, in his brightly lit kitchen, the edge of his sweatpants pooling on the floor, a set of mismatched socks peaking from below the fabric.

Harry had the inexplicable urge to hug him.

“Pizza is great.” He replied instead, still awkwardly standing in the entrance of the room.

Louis did an odd shake of his head, before gesturing to the kitchen island with his hands. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.” He made his way to the side of the island next to Harry, grabbing two plates from the open cabinet against the wall. He set one down in front of Harry and walked around him to sit on the green leather bar chair.

Harry pulled out his own chair, settling in, while Louis opened the bottle of wine.

“I have good news and bad news.” Louis said, pulling the cork out.

Harry watched him with an odd look on his face. “Bad news first.”

Louis sighed, reaching over to pour Harry’s glass. “Your contract is pretty iron clad, the only loophole I could find requires a felony.”

“Live streaming my sex tape? You don’t say.” Harry smirked, wondering how widely known this loophole was.

Louis made a confused expression, “You already knew?”

“My friend quit his job a while back, but before that he was working with a lawyer on his contracts.”

“Okay well, its not the best idea, not to say its impossible,” Louis shrugged it off, putting the bottle down after pouring his own glass, “but I do have good news.”

“Go ahead,” Harry smiled, reaching to open the box of pizza.

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, tracking Harry’s hand, and flipping the second one open, “This one is a cheesy spinach artichoke, and that is a vegan pepperoni pizza.”

Harry pursed his lips slightly to the side, “Aw, thank you.”

It meant a lot to him, that Louis was so accommodating of his food preferences. Harry didn’t have a strict diet, but he didn’t eat meat often, and usually only as a last resort. Plant based options have gotten trendier over the years, but Harry was used to attending meetings or events where meat was the only thing on the menu. Even the catered meetings with his label would be filled with deli meats or pastas loaded with chicken and beef. A personal meal that wasn’t previously prepared for or provided by Harry was the best he’d experienced at work, but having the entire dinner catered to him, even though Louis eats meat… it felt very nice.

Louis grabbed two slices of the pepperoni and picked out a smaller piece of the artichoke. Harry smiled a little bit more.

“Did you- did you want pepperoni pizza, but get a vegan one just in case I wanted a piece, even though you were getting me a different one anyways?” He asked, trying to keep his face neutral.

Louis froze, his head tilted up slightly, the pepperoni pizza held midair, with a string of cheese hovering between it and his mouth. He jerked it up, breaking the cheese and setting it back down while he chewed the piece in his mouth, wiping his face with a paper towel.

He held up a finger while he chewed, and finally swallowing, he said “Yes, but that’s not the good news.”

And Harry didn’t have time to think about the pizza, because he followed that statement up with “Shonda is in the writer’s room right now adding adding another plot into the “Eloise getting pushed into marriage” arc.”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“They were going to keep it small, but they’re adding some scenes after she gets back from Scotland, where the queen introduces her to a visiting prince, and she spends a few weeks entertaining you.” He continued on casually, before picking up his pizza again.

“They’re writing me in?” Harry asked again.

Louis didn’t bother finishing his chewing this time. “Oh, it’s no biggie, you’re actually how Eloise learns about lavender marriages. Its mostly just a bunch of quick scenes of you having fun together, similar to Daphne and Simon. Theres even a marriage fake out where they make the audience think Eloise is actually going to get married.”

“Oh my god, everyone will hate me.” Harry’s eyes widened as he leaned over to grab a slice of the artichoke.

Louis rolled his eyes, “No one could ever hate you. Especially not when you and Anthony share a sexually charged argument when you ask for her hand.”

“Why does it feel like I’m getting more screen-time than some of the siblings will?”

“Because people like you, and all the siblings have adequate screen-time based on their likability”

Harry chucked. “I can’t believe you pulled that off.”

“Oh,” Louis laughed, “easiest pitch of my life. All I said was “Harry Styles.” and they pulled out a whiteboard.”

After they’d both had too much pizza, Louis moved them over to the couch, where he pulled out his laptop again.

“Walk me through your vision of the album, conceptually.” He said, pulling one leg up on the couch, settling into the corner between the fluffy cushions.

“Well, it’s a story. It starts with a song about loneliness, followed by a chance encounter. getting a crush on them and having to hide it. Then there’s a song about finally clearing the air. New relationships. And it ends in a kind of bittersweet moment, where you’re happy with the person you chose, but you can’t talk about them, or share your happiness.”

“So, it’s fictional, rooted in your desires and experiences emotionally, but not real?” Louis clarified.

“Well, yes, I’ve felt all of those different stages at different points in different relationships, but it’s a collection of all of them strung together.” Harry confirmed, wondering if the fans would figure that one out.

“So… why didn’t you lean into that?” Louis asked, pulling his other leg up and rearranging himself into a criss-cross position.

“Lean into… what?” Harry asked, thrown off by Louis’ questions again.

“Well… the fiction of it all.” Louis explained.

Harry still didn’t know what he meant; his face scrunched in confusion. Louis sighed.

“Let’s recap. You managed to add a male love interest in a music video, in a completely straight-faced moment, and starred as the lead in an explicitly gay romantic tragedy.”

Harry nodded, particularly proud to have pulled it off, using various “ally” speeches claiming he was providing representation, and adding he would attract all of the male fans that want to sleep with him, which was the general goal of his label. By the third powerpoint, they gave in, letting him sneak a 10 second clip of a man in his bed.

He was even prouder of My Policeman, seeing that story come to life, a story he felt so closely, and being part of it, being able to genuinely express himself in a way he could never do publicly. The price he paid for it was well worth being seen, even if it was for barely over an hour, and he was grateful for the fans that saw through it and made the ridiculous publicity genuinely entertaining.

“So… if you lean into the “fictional story” of the album, and you play a character in the music videos… and it’s marketed as a concept album.” Louis explained, “you’re already going for a short film music video set.”

“Are you implying I could have a male love interest?” Harry asked, genuinely concerned he was being entrapped somehow.

“Well, yes.” Louis nodded, “but I figured…. Make them work for it.”

Harry made an incredulous face, trying to make sense of the man sitting in front of him.

“Why are you so… invested in this?” Harry asked, a weird rush of anxiety suddenly settling in his bones.

“I’m… sorry,” Louis said, obviously caught off guard by the question. “If it makes you uncomfortable or you don’t want to do something please let me know and I won’t push, I just thought this was something you wanted.”

Harry studied him, “and to what end?”

Louis tilted his head, squinting slightly, “well, ideally, to have you come out smoothly, with a well paced and seamless “non announcement.”” He made the air quotes, “I mean, unless you go for the sex tape, then its to make sure the tape leak is well timed and in part thematically on par with the public image.”

Harry cracked an involuntary smile, “and how exactly do you picture that?”

“Well with what I had in mind so far… lean into a seductive approach, leak a particularly dirty and gay song, make it seem like it’s part of the album. Bring back the leather from the Grammys, turn up the sex appeal. From my understanding, that is your current pr strategy, it plays perfectly into their hand.”

Harry nodded, chuckling. “That would be something.”

“It’s not… great, I know. It doesn’t really fit your actual image, it perpetuates negative stereotypes, and its much harder to control the narrative.” He paused in a way Harry felt was intended to be dramatic.

“The good news, my friend, is that you are scandal free.” He finished with a bright smile. “You are squeaky clean, and if you hadn’t noticed, everyone needs a scandal every once in a while.”

“That doesn’t feel like a desirable scandal.” Harry said.

“No, of course not. But it’s a forgettable one.” Louis insisted.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re joking.””

“No, I’m serious. Yes, it will always be on the internet, and once every three months someone will get a hit tweet about “do you guys remember when Harry Styles had a sex tape.” But in the grand scheme of things, it will be a small paragraph in your biography. You are so much more interesting than a sex tape, you have so many more accomplishments and genuinely good impacts on the world.”

Harry felt himself wanting to cry but scoffed instead. “You have an oddly positive worldview.”

“Thank you,” Louis nodded curtly, “but really, yes there will be people who will never move past that. But there were people who couldn’t move past the vogue photoshoot, or My Policeman for that matter. And those aren’t people you’d want supporting you anyways.”

And Harry understood the sentiment, he knew it didn’t really matter, that once he was out, he could live more freely, and bad press would always be a part of that. But it felt so… not him, not how he pictured it. And he wasn’t even sure what exactly he pictured, saying the things he wanted out loud felt like he was describing Jojo Siaw’s coming out. He couldn’t exactly help it, though, he wanted the occasion to be marked by pride, rather than shame.

Louis was waiting for a response, certain he was pushing to much again, not understanding himself why he was so engrossed in something he was contractually obliged to avoid.

“I just, its not how I want to come out.” Harry said finally, with a slight frown.

“And how do you want to come out?”

“I don’t mind the earlier pitch, with the fictional narrative. I’d even prefer if the male love interest was subtle, only implied and barely shown on screen until the last few scenes.”

“Your obsession with creating puzzles is fascinating.” Louis interrupted.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, “I’d want it to be depicted in a loving, human way, rather than a one-night stand.”

“Come out with a stable partner, possibly break up and date around depending on the relationship rather than public perspective, live authentically but in peace?” Louis guessed.

“One could dream,” Harry chuckled.

“Would you like my pitch?” Louis asked, gears turning in his head thinking of how to spin the idea.

“Sure,” Harry nodded, content to let Louis brainstorm at him for as long as he wanted.

“The tape doesn’t have to be dirty, the break in implies something illicit, yes, but gay sex isn’t. You could dress it as an anniversary, maybe light a candle or two, or have the “streamer” point out visibly romantic or date-like things in the room.”

“Like what? Rose petals in the shape of a heart?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“For the record, that would be incredibly on brand for you,” Louis pointed out, “but no, like a bottle of wine, or some kind of dessert to share, a bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. Maybe a box of lingerie on the dresser with a bow, not acknowledged out loud but still obvious.”

Harry wondered if Louis was aware he just described everything Harry brought over for dinner, sans the lingerie and flowers, though there were lavender stems decorating the cake.

“We can workshop it,” Harry nodded in appeasement, “now about the videos.”

Harry didn’t realize how late it was until he counted the empty bottles of wine sitting in a pile on the rug. Four, not including the half empty one on the coffee table. It was an impressive number for him, and he would usually feel much drunker if he had two bottles in one sitting, which made him look at the time. It was 1 am, meaning he was at Louis’ for almost eight hours, and there wasn’t a single moment when he wanted to go home.

They’d finished working by now, bottle two paced slowly throughout their discussion, while three and four followed quickly after, leaving them in a fuzzy, giggling haze, that made it hard to work.

Harry was sprawled on the couch, drinking the wine from a spill-proof sippy cup, something that Louis had in his possession because he bought too many for his nieces and nephews. They changed to them after a near spill, and Louis seemed confident they were foolproof, claiming that it was Lottie who initially thought of the idea. He didn’t specify that Lottie was his sister, but Harry managed to weave through the context clues.

Now, he was laying on Harry’s chest, legs tangled with his, the steady weight keeping him from a full-fledged panic attack while Louis babbled ridiculous ideas about the album. This was a consequence of his own actions, determining that they were being too loud, (they were, they started yelling) and suggesting they whisper-yell instead. That lead Louis to announce he needed to be closer, settling on the other end of the couch so they could continue their conversation. Eventually it just…. turned into whatever was happening.

Somehow, despite the impending doom that was coiling in his gut, and perhaps with the prayer that Louis was too out of it to respond, he heard himself ask “was this a date?”

The feeling of Louis tensing against him sent needles up his spine, and after several painful moments of silence, he said. “I’m discouraged from dating clients.”

Harry let the statement settle. “I’m discouraged from coming out.”

“Touché.”

“And I can always tell Jeff you’re pressuring me to come out, and get you fired.” He added, in what he hoped was a joking tone.

“That- is actually why the dating is discouraged.” Louis replied mockingly.

They lapsed into an awkward silence, Harry feeling like he definitely made things weird, and Louis wondering if he ruined everything.

“Did you want this to be a date?” He asked quietly, unsure why his heart was beating so strong.

“Why else would I bring over the “Tomlinson anniversary sex tape special”” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you did.” Louis replied thoughtfully. “But if I’m being honest, if we were to… date, it would be difficult for me to remain impartial about work.”

“You’re already terrible about being impartial, you spent more time discussing the leaked sex tape than everything album related combined.”

“Well,” he smacked his lips, “I suppose I did.” He turned around suddenly, his face landing squarely on his chest. “What do you propose then?”

“About the album?” Harry asked.

Louis rolled his eyes, “no, darling, about us.”

“But you said you can’t…”

“I said it was discouraged, but I’m one of the partners, they can’t do anything about it if I do.”

“Ah, giving into the industry’s golden standard of improper power dynamics.”

“Well, I’m the only gay one, so I have to make myself fit in somehow.” He shrugged atop of him.

“But seriously, I understand why you can’t. And we really shouldn’t if you consider my job. “

“Dating an expert in marketing is objectively a very good idea in your line of work.”

Harry smirked.

“I guess I should go find myself one of those.”

Louis groaned, “I can’t even blame you I walked into that.”

“What would the dating entail?” Harry asked.

“Pizza, wine, coming over to each others houses,” Louis listed off, nodding wisely after each one, “kissing, I reckon, and maybe if goes really well we can just do that forever.”

It was hard to mask the small smile that curved up. “Well, alright then.”

Louis nodded cheerfully before resting his head back down. They lay in a peaceful silence for a few moments before he turned back towards Harry.

“How did you asking if this was a date end with me convincing you to date me?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Charm.”

Harry ended up leaving shortly after 2, with a smile on his face, and butterflies in his stomach. He was bid goodnight with a kiss on the forehead.

Despite the nice night they had Harry was too stressed to do much about it, the Bridgerton series rearranging his schedule and leaving him with a bunch of work that he had little time to do, so he leaned into it, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, calling into meetings about tour outfits and rehearsals.

The next several months of his life would be packed with behind-the-scenes work, in addition to the one or two public events he was doing per month. Now the Bridgerton premiere was on the books, and he thanked his stars the show wouldn’t run a press tour until the following year.

He’d already secured interviews with Drew Barrymore, Hot Ones, and a Chicken Shop Date, and he was set to schedule a few more with magazines to discuss the album along with a Vivian Westwood campaign he was excited about.

He was telling Liam and Zayn about everything at their usual pub, on a late Thursday evening; a mug of steaming mulled wine in his hands. Despite the sheer volume of activities he was participating in over the next several months, Harry had little to say about them, his mind laser focused on his interactions with Louis.

He told them about the dinner meeting at Louis’ house, insisting it was not a date, and excluding a small portion of the night during his recap.

“Man, when was this publicist when we were looking for one?” Zayn chuckled, not seeing the issues Harry did.

“I’m just worried I’m getting my hopes up.” Harry frowned, taking a sip of the warm liquid. Not wanting to mention he had two entirely different sets of hope in that regard.

“Well, it’s good to be skeptical,” Zayn said, “but it doesn’t sound like he’s making any promises.”

“No…” Harry agreed, “he’s realistic about it, though enthusiastically positive.”

“What else did he say… like is his help conditional?” Liam asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. Louis didn’t give any indication that his help would only be provided if Harry did something is return, though with the unstable foundation of their relationship, especially with how the last week went, it would be possible that he didn’t want to help Harry anymore.

“Not that I know of,” Harry replied, “he hasn’t given any conditions I mean.”

“Well then,” Liam shrugged, “you should go for it.”

“Really?” Zayn asked.

“Yeah, I know I decided to leave the industry instead of coming out, but that worked for us,” Liam glanced at Zayn. “I love writing music, but I don’t need to subject myself to a bunch of shit to do that. Harry likes performing, he likes the spotlight,” He gestured to Harry, who hesitantly nodded, “He won’t be happy or satisfied if he just leaves. And he can’t stay in a closet forever. He should take the opportunity while he has it.”

It was a good point. Pro queer management was hard to find in the industry, and Harry was unlikely to have someone like Louis managing him again.

“I just- a sex tape is so…” He didn’t know how to describe it.

“Intimate?” Zayn guessed as Liam said “Sleezy?” Both of them turning to each other with a chuckle.

“Well, both. I don’t know if I want to give up that part of myself. People already put too much focus on my sex life, I don’t want more attention on it.”

“But isn’t that it?” Zayn asked, “I mean, people already pay too much attention to it, you have girls coming to your concerts with signs saying, “I’m getting wet for you.””

“So, you’re suggesting I lean into it, and it will stop?”

“No,” he let out a breathy laugh, “they won’t stop. But at least you’ll be in control of it, rather than The Sun or Daily Mail.”

“That’s true,” Harry sighed, nodding, “I guess theres nothing for me to lose.”

“Now you just need to find someone to fuck.” Liam said with a smirk.

“Someone who is fine with being filmed and publicized.” Harry corrected.

“Yeah, that might be hard…” Zayn agreed, “I might know someone, though. An old friend, he’s in the industry, and he’s been out for a while, but his fanbase is pretty niche, and he’s on break for a while so he might agree to it.”

“That would be… nice.” Harry replied, wondering how he’d feel about fucking a stranger on camera.

When he got home that night, there was a package at the door, a large bouquet of flowers along with a wrapped present. There was no note, and while he was used to various pr packages and gifts from people, they usually left some kind of clue of who it was from.

He took it inside, putting the flowers into a vase on his kitchen counter, before turning to the box. It was pretty, lined with a dusty pink velvet, a gold bow wrapped around it nicely. Inside, under the tissue paper, there was a smaller box, a sleek rectangle, made of dark blue leather. Opening it revealed a masquerade mask that too Harry’s breath away.

It appeared to be carved from pearl, the smooth, polished surface cold to the touch. And it was rainbow, in the subtlest way, light refracting off itself, making tiny little rainbows appear. It was perfectly elegant, and well fitted for him, the rigid material unbending; but perfectly wrapping every ridge and curve of his face.

Harry knew exactly who it was from, grabbing his phone to text a thank you while flopping into his bed.

Thank you so much for the gift, it’s absolutely perfect.

Harry stayed in bed, hoping however it was would take the hint and leave, but they knocked again, and rang the doorbell for good measure. Finally, begrudgingly, Harry went downstairs to answer it, revealing Louis. He was dressed casually, a thick cream sweater and a pair of what looked like leggings, holding a box of pizza, and a bottle of wine.

Harry led the way to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and grabbing wine glasses and plates, while Louis set the food on the table.

“How was your week?” He asked, taking the glassware from Harry so he could get the wine opener.

“Exhausting,” Harry replied, “Bridgerton is making everything so much tighter.”

“You know you don’t have to do it.” Louis pointed out.

“Are you kidding? No, I’m so happy, thank you so much for this.” He turned to Louis; eyes wide. “I couldn’t be more excited.”

“Well, good. Then what else are you busy with? Maybe I can take something off your plate?” He asked, pulling out a slice of pizza.

“Don’t you have work?” Harry came over with a chuckle, uncorking the wine.

“I’m a senior partner, my work is big client meetings, and I have maybe two a month that I actually need to prepare for. Your project would usually be handled by someone three tiers lower, and even now I pass everything down to them.” Louis brushed it off. “My job gives me a lot of leeway.”

“Must be nice,” Harry nodded, pulling an empty wine glass towards him.

“It is, which is why you should let me help you, so you can have more leeway.” Louis smiled, adding another slice of pizza to his plate.

“It’s not even something you could help,” Harry sighed, handing him the glass and grabbing his own. “Half of it is bullshit meetings and the other half is just me training, vocal lessons, choreography, working out…”

“Well why don’t I come with you for some of the training stuff, not as a manager but as a,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second, “friend.”

“Well, what do you want to come to?” Harry finally sat down in the chair beside him.

“Not working out, for sure. And vocal seems kinda private, so how about choreography? Need a dance partner?”

Harry smiled, “Sure, I have ballet class tomorrow at 7 am if you want to join.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday,” Louis frowned, ending the sentence in a whine.

“Well after ballet I have ballroom… and if I want to be free the rest of the day,” He nodded,” I have to get it over with as soon as the day starts.”

“I would have scheduled them at like 9pm so you could go straight to sleep after,” Louis looked slightly alarmed by Harry’s reasoning. Voluntarily scheduling something that early in the morning was entirely incomprehensible to him. But he was determined. “I reckon that means bedtime as soon as we finish the pizza.”

“You’re gonna go?” Harry said skeptically.

“Maybe,” Louis shrugged, “if you wake me up…” he trailed off suggestively, “but I’m not pleasant before 10. I read somewhere that that is when your brain is fully awake and ready for processing.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” Harry said, “But again, you don’t have to. If your brain doesn’t wake up until ten, i’ll be home before it does.”

“Fine.” Louis nodded seriously, “but actually text me this time, so we can have a proper date.”

“You’re leaving?” Harry frowned.

“Not this second, but yes,” Louis chuckled, “you need sleep.”

“Well, you could just spend the night and wait for me here,” Harry threw out, not sure what was going through his head. “I have several guest bedrooms.”

“I live a five-minute walk away,” Louis smiled, “The only reason I’d need to sleep at your place is if I was in your bed.”

“So… you do want to stay over?” Harry smiled back at him.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he shrugged, “I just don’t want it to have… expectations.”

“You ghosted me for a week,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I have no expectations.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Louis whined, “I knew you had a busy week, and I didn’t want to be an added stress.”

“I know,” Harry conceded, “I forgive you. Phone works both ways.”

Louis nodded once, before looking around the room. “Did you notice our house layout is almost the exact same?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “so you should have no problem finding a bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“Okay, what do you want to so before bed?”

Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe cuddle a bit with hallmark romcom in the background.”

“Sounds perfect.” Louis smiled.

Louis met him at his house a few days later, coming over to help prepare for a Christmas party Harry was throwing. They were sitting on the couch, Louis had his legs spread so Harry could fit inside them, stringing popcorn on thread to make a garland.
The 100 was playing on the tv, neither of them paying much attention, besides Louis calling out a character every so often.

“H, what’s wrong?” Louis asked after an hour of silence, noticing the clear lack of emotion from the boy beside him.

“Hm?” Harry turned his head toward him, eyes still on the needle in his hand.

“I can tell something is bothering you.” Louis said, gently pushing his shoulder.

“Oh,” Harry sighed, “um. Yeah.”

“Okay, what is it?” Louis set down the bucket of popcorn he was holding.

“I don’t know.” Harry sighed, sitting up and rubbing his face in his hands. “I want to come out.”

Louis nodded in encouragement.

“I mean, sex tape is better than another 15 years of misery, but it’s hard.”

“Well, what are your concerns about it?” Louis asked.

“Just, it’s the same thing. I leak a gay sex tape and to avoid a scandal I’m essentially putting myself into another pr relationship. Sure, I’d be out, but I’m still not free to date who I want, you know?”

Louis nodded, thinking it over slightly. “Well, and I don’t mean to be presumptuous. But at least for me personally, I wouldn’t mind you having a fake public boyfriend.” He paused for a moment, unsure how to say what he meant. “I know we’re in this awkward stage, and I know we don’t want to commit to anything until after we finish working together, but I think it would be possible for you to have a good life like this. We could even use the leak as reason for a breakup, say that you guys were together for a while but because of the violation and your fame, it couldn’t work.”

Harry hadn’t considered that strategy, but then, “So what a few days later I’m suddenly dating my PR manager and that’s not obvious?”

Louis chuckled, “Yeah, okay fair. I’ll keep workshopping.”

Harry nodded with a small smile, turning their attention back to the popcorn, “What if you’re just… the one with me.”

Louis didn’t say anything for a moment, “In the… sex tape?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re uncomfortable of course not, but I don’t really want a… stranger.” Harry shrugged, suddenly feeling cold.

Louis smiled at him. “If you want me there with you, I’m there. I couldn’t care less about the camera.”

Once the fans figured out the marketing, everything blurred, appearances, interviews, shoots, and meetings increased, making the days feel endless. The buzz online was electrifying, and while Harry could feel excitement bubbling in his stomach, the break in he and Louis were going to stage loomed ahead.

They’d asked Niall to do it… having him hang out with Lewis Capaldi over break, so they could release the photos later as an alibi. He’d be wearing a mask, a fake muscle suit under his clothes, black and baggy, and Louis discreetly asked Oli to buy a pair of custom boots with a several inch lift, to make him appear taller. He also got a jailbroken iPhone from Canada, wiping it and buying a few hours of internet. He’d go live after they left the restaurant, “coming across” Harry’s house, and breaking a window to get inside. He’d walk around, Harry made sure to leave around evidence, Louis’ hoodie on the couch, a few pairs of shoes by the door, a bottle of wine with two empty glasses near the sink. For the first time ever, he had to tell Louis not to pick up his clothes from around the bedroom, and purposely left the bed unmade on both sides, water and other small but obvious knick-knacks on the nightstands.

It didn’t look staged, just a slightly less curated version of their usual, a bit messier, with a bit more presence. Somehow that made it feel slightly less invasive, even if it looked natural, he knew their home looked different, both of them stress cleaners, which recently meant their home was spotless. And they could still keep that. Louis’ fans would believe it, considering he’d managed to separate his messy rockstar persona so far from his management one, it was actually not known by most of the industry. Though that was mainly its own fault, spending time with Louis made him realize just how underappreciated he was, absolutely dripping with talent, bursting with a passion for life Harry never realized was possible. He wanted everything, but moreover, he fought like hell for it, and it was so infectious Harry couldn’t imagine being anywhere but by his side when he succeeded.

They sent Niall the text, Harry breathing out anxiously as they waited for their driver.

“Say the word and we scrap the whole thing. Even if it all gets out,” Louis said sharply, “This is the easy way, not the only way. If things go south, I will personally dismantle this entire city brick by brick.”

Harry chuckled, “You sound like a marvel villain,” stepping closer to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. “I’ll be fine, I’m not anxious about… you.”

“Babe, I know you’re not scared to have sex,” Louis rolled his eyes, “But seriously one word and Niall is cutting that shit.”

“I know, but we’re in it now. I’m committed. I’m not going back.”

Louis patted his hand gently, watching the car pull up.

They entered the home quietly, anxiety rushing through Harry’s veins, Louis making a point to check in with him in the entryway.
“Relax, baby, it’s you and me.” He smiled, gently brushing a thumb along his jaw. “Focus on me, on feeling good, forget the rest.”

Harry nodded, but Louis didn’t think it was particularly convincing, so, he improvised, pushing Harry against the door, lips hot on his neck.

“Lou,” He gasped in surprise, body thudding against the door loud enough for Niall to know they’re home.

“Gonna get you desperate for it,” Louis breathed against his neck, nipping at the skin, “Get you so hot and bothered you don’t have the wherewithal to think about anything else.”

“You can’t talk dirty and use words like wherewithal.” Harry giggled, body relaxing under Louis hands.

“I can use whatever words I want,” Louis punctuated it with a bruise right below his jaw, “I could read a dictionary out loud while I fucked you and you’d still finish.”

Harry laughed, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re hard…” Louis pressed a hand against his crotch, noticing the sudden hitch in his throat.

“Fuck Louis,” Harry breathed, pushing into it.

“Come on,” Louis smiled, slowly bringing his hands to Harry’s chest, pulling open the buttons. “Tell me you want it; he kissed the exposed skin pushing the shirt further off him.

“Wanna get me on camera fully naked from the jump?” Harry giggled, the shaking anxiety subsiding to a slight simmer in his gut, overshadowed by lust, and his trust in Louis.

“And deprive the audience of a show?” Louis smirked back, pinching a nipple, savoring the gasp that fell from him.

“Okay, let’s go.” Harry whined, arching into it, “let’s go.”

The anxiety grew as they walked down the hallway, Louis’ thumb rubbing reassuring circles into his hip, until they got to the door.
“You and me.” Louis nodded.
“You and me.” Harry confirmed, back facing the bedroom door.

“Action.” Louis whispered, crashing his lips into Harry’s, pushing him into the door, flipping the knob open as they burst into the room. Harry made an effort not to look around, letting Louis guide him to the bed, the soft mattress coming to meet him as Louis climbed on top, continuing to kiss his chest. Harry immediately pushed his hands toward his shirt, pulling it off on a fluid motion while Louis undid his belt, the focus on their movements drowning out the rest of his anxiety.

Louis didn’t care too much about putting on a show, though, as he leaned into Harry’s neck, and whispered, “Gonna fuck you into the mattress,’ pulling down his trousers and pants in one go. He pushed up to his knees, gently guiding Harry’s knee to make him turn over, letting him settle into the soft sheets. He pulled off his own trousers and grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand before climbing back over Harry, griding down against him.

He continued grinding against Harry’s ass, his cock fully hard now, the friction of his pants pressed firmly against Harry’s hole, driving him insane. He started kissing down Harry’s spine, leaving bites and bruises trailing down his back while Harry squirmed and panted against the bed sheets. His breathing was fast and heavy, small whimpers escaping while his hips rocked against the mattress, the weight of Louis body pressing his down further.

“Lou, please.” Harry whined, his hips rocking back against his, back arching, chasing the thick hardness, pushing it further against his hole, feeling the slight burn of the scratchy fabric.

“Shhhh,” Louis mumbled against his skin, “I got you.” pushing his finger against Harry’s entrance, spreading the lube.

Harry held his breath, feeling the slow prodding, Louis’ fingertips pressing into his skin, pushing him apart. The lube was cold, sticky against his skin, the scent of watermelon permeating the air, and Harry melted into the sheets below, focusing on the sensation, soft breathy whines filling the silence.
Louis pushed the finger in further, thrusting it in and out a few times before adding a second, Harry’s breathing getting harder, his stomach swooping. It was disorienting, the pleasure coursing through his body every time Louis touched him, like he was connected to a live wire. Small whines and whimpers escaped his every breath, his mind losing its train of thought with every new sensation.
Louis continued kissing his back, using his other hand to trace up and down Harry’s ribcage, sending shivers down his body. He scissored the fingers, thrusting them in shallowly for another minute before adding the third, feeling the tight heat envelope them, Harry’s hips shifting back and forth, the walls of muscle pulsating against his fingertips.

“You feel so tight baby.” Louis muttered against Harry’s back, “gonna hurt you if I just start.”

Harry shook his head, feeling how thick Louis’ fingers felt, imagining the stretch he’d feel while being fucked, “Cut the shit.” Harry breathed out a laugh/

“Impatient.” Louis mused, taking a small bite from his shoulder blade. Harry nodded wildly.

“Oh baby,” Louis cooed, pulling out his fingers, wiping them on the blanket beside them. He pulled one of his pillows, folding it, using one hand to guide Harry’s hips up, shoving it under him. Harry felt feverish, his cock effectively trapped in between it and the sheets, his ass presented for use, the anticipation of being full making his toes curl. He buried his hands in the sheets, digging his fingers into the fabric, heart beating out of his chest. And Louis didn’t help, his patronizing quips only stoking the flames, making Harry squirm against the fabric.
He made a noise in the back of his throat, Louis readjusting his position, using his hand to roll on the condom he pre-opened, squirting far too much lube on, the sticky, wet, squish making Harry shiver in anticipation. Giving it a few tugs, he slowly fed his cock inside
It was tight, almost painfully so, and Louis couldn’t imagine how Harry felt, letting out a long moan as he slowly sunk into his heat, Harry’s face buried in the sheets, mouth open and breathless.

“You feel so good,” Louis grunted as he bottomed out, pulling back with a slow drag.

The stretch felt indescribable, sliding in slowly, like a climbing fire, overwhelming and huge. It somehow burned more and less with every breath, and as Louis slowly started rocking, waves of pleasures slowly washing away the searing pain to pure, full, bliss.

His body adjusted as quickly as he predicted, molding around Louis like it was made to take him, his hips rolling in sync as Louis ground his cock deeper.

“God, you’re taking me so well,” He muttered, “fucking perfect.”

Harry was moaning almost continuously, high and whiny as Louis pulled out, devastatingly sudden as he thrust back in, his hands firmly gripping Harry’s hips, fingers drawing circles in them. Once he relaxed back into the sheets, cock sliding in more freely, Louis sped up, biting his lip with a groan, snapping his hips, fucking him harder. Harry’s hole was wet, the lube squelching, sticky and slick all over his ass, dripping down his balls.

“So wet for me baby, so good, you sound so sweet.” Louis breathed out, feeling Harry’s hips stutter at the praise.

He was getting more desperate, his cock sliding between the pillow and mattress, the friction driving him mad, his head dizzy, this whole body burning up.

“Lou,” he exhaled, “please, faster,” arching his back more, his thighs trembling.

Louis obeyed, speeding up almost immediately, pulling his hands off Harry’s waist and by his shoulders, cock pushing even deeper, Louis’ chest pressed against his back while he licked and kissed down it, Harry crying out the words “yes,” and “please” and “oh my god” over and over. He was going to come soon, he could feel himself standing over the edge, Louis scratching his fingernails against Harry’s back, the swing of his balls on each slam of hips, the tight, rough fabric stripping his cock while being fucked relentlessly.

Louis leaned into Harry’s ear, his voice low and rough, “You’re so stunning when you fall apart,” he kissed the crook of his neck, nipping the skin, “when you’re so… open.”

“Please, Louis” Harry whined, needing just a little more.

“So desperate.”

Harry moaned.

“So needy I think you’d beg for it.” He bit Harry’s shoulder lightly.

“Please,” it came out as a muffled sob, “please, please.”

“Alright, shh,” He leaned over, placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek, “I said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

Harry nodded, Louis squeezed his hip as he sat back up, pulling Harry in closer, wrapping one arm around his stomach. He angled his hips up, thrusting into Harry harder, hips snapping in place with the sound of smacking skin. Harry rolled his hips in time with Louis’, his back arched, limbs splayed out like a rag dolls.

“Fuck, oh god” Harry groaned, feeling the heat pooling in his gut, coiling against itself until he couldn’t stand it. “Oh god, oh god,”

The plea fell from hips lips over and over again, stuttering and breathless as Louis took him apart, his orgasm building and building, tears gathering in his eyes, frustration and need and overstimulation wracking his body, every muscle tensing.

Louis swiveled his hips, harder and deeper, Harry shuddering beneath him, finally falling over the ledge, body taught, and pleasure crashed through him in waves. He came on a high whine, the words “Louis,” and “fuck” repeated like a prayer as he fucked him through it, finally able to chase his own orgasm. Louis picked up the pace slightly, feeling the hot, wet pressure encasing his cock, the smooth glide in and out as he stumbled through his own orgasm, hips stuttering, Harry starting to whimper with overstimulation.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed, thighs shaking, his abdomen spasming, body tingling, his lungs barely working.

Louis slowed down, still thrusting in and out but at a gentler pace, sending shivers through Harry as he mewled against the sheets. Finally slowing down completely, Louis pulled out slowly, watching Harry’s hips finally collapse against the pillow below, breathing slowing.

They lay in silence for a few moments, panting and catching their breath, before Louis stared moving, clearing his throat.

Wipes were on standby, as well as a pair of robes. Niall was to stop the live after a bit, with enough footage out there for it to be undisputable, but not long enough for their whole sex tape, but they didn’t know when, and Louis felt weirdly unsure if he was supposed to “stay in character.”

Harry was quiet as Louis cleaned them up, the reality slowly setting in.

“How do you feel baby?” Louis asked after he threw away the wipes, covering Harry with the fuzzy bathrobe so he wouldn’t freeze.

Harry shrugged. “Really weird.”

“Bad?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, the anxiety coming back tenfold, vibrating through his fingertips, preparing for the fallout. But still he replied with a “No.”

Niall had left around halfway, just after Louis put it in, making the bold choice to keep the live going, though Harry and Louis never noticed, and they were better for it, with the footage showing the intruder get outside all while repeatedly yelling “oh my god” under his breath. He dumped the phone near Hamstead creek, Lewis waiting for him in the getaway car, posting prerecorded snapchats of them at his apartment.

It was a clean break. Louis talked Harry down from a panic attack, after which they both got an absolute earful from Jeff. They were lucky, though, considering Jeff had far more important calls to make, trying to scrub the footage like it wasn’t immediately trending worldwide. Niall did well too, and the police were expectedly absolutely useless, saying it was a nonviolent crime, and not searching past the property, simply making a report and telling Harry to invest in security- which already existed, but it was malfunctioning for months, and he had no idea. Of course, the “Harry Styles Gay?” headlines came within minutes, but most importantly, Louis was phenomenal at his job.

Amongst the obligatory breaking news, they released prewritten articles along the lines of “Harry Styles was always gay, you just didn’t notice.” Highlighting him, his pride, and how much he’s been fighting the closet, from Vogue, to the Late Night Talking video, to My Policeman. A few hours later, “unrelated” articles dropped, one discussing closeting, a few about pr relationships, Louis knew the playbook well. His name was quickly brought up, his fans recognizing him and absolutely losing it, and his phone was blowing up with messages from friends.

The next day, Harry had a meeting with his label, where they, unsurprisingly, dropped him. Louis waited in the car with a cake.

And then, the real coming out started. The kind Harry wanted. And while he knew about some things, prerecorded interviews, scheduled events, Louis knew how important this was, and he used every single contact he’s made in the last decade.

They were driving home from an interview, Louis slightly regretting planning this after hot ones, though his weird anxiety seemed less suspicious, the tapping on his feet excused by the burning in his mouth.

Once they pulled onto their road, Louis decided to tweet, showing Harry the outpour of love and support online, and writing a quick “@Harry_Styles, fancy going ballroom dancing?” Harry giggling over his shoulder and responding with “@Louis_Tomlinson I say we should old chap… away to it now??”

“You are terribly cringy.” Louis laughed, watching their mentions flood. “I have a surprise for you.” He smiled, eyes squinty.

“Oh?” Harry quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s up to you if you want it public…” Louis continued ominously.

“Um…” Harry hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to make public after all this.

“You can decide later, don’t worry. We can keep it just for us.”

“Sorry did I miss you telling me what you’re talking about?” Harry scoffed.

Louis rolled his eyes, chuckling, “When are you going to accept my little surprises?”

“Fine.” Harry laughed, “whatever you say. My mouth hurts too much to argue.”

They entered the house again, but this time, it was anything but quiet, the word “Surprise!” Heard through the neighborhood as Harry was met with dozens of screaming, smiling faces.

The house was decorated with rainbows, balloons floating around the ceiling with streamers and disco balls. His family was there, as well as the boys, his band. Emma and David, Florence. Ed, the Bridgerton cast, Gemma, everyone showed up to congratulate him, met with a nearly sobbing Harry by the end of it, heart wanting to burst at the love and care his loved ones had for him.

Louis arranged catering, roping the twins into helping him find a “trendy mini food place.” Plates of bite size appetizers littered the house, and the house was buzzing, people mingling, taking turns coming up to Harry.

It was a revolving door, people reassuring him, congratulating him, validating him, and making him feel so understood. He eventually went to the bedroom to talk with Anne, who prepared a speech about how proud she was. She pulled him into a crushing hug, Harry feeling her excitement for him, feeling the excitement from everyone… the joy.

He’d spent the last few days in a fog, the exposure no matter how intentional, still felt completely suffocating. Louis was incredible, there for him in every way, weather it was space or comfort, or distraction, and Harry didn’t understand how he wasn’t scrambling to save him own image somehow. As much as he promised to stay offline, Harry couldn’t help taking a peek every so often, and he’d already scene still of it being used as memes. He knew better than to look at press, though a few people tweeted about a few nice articles, which gave him a small seed of hope.

But standing in his mother’s arms as she told him how brave he was, Harry finally realized what Louis meant when he said it didn’t matter. It wasn’t mentioned once, the entire evening, in a way that didn’t even seem forced. People wanted to know what he would do next, what kind of creative doors this would open, how he felt, how Louis felt. No one cared that he was outed, people commented on the break in, the terrifying experience with stalkers and fans, things he genuinely did relate to despite the charade, but the outing was unmentioned, people celebrating the Teen Vouge cover spread that released a few days ago, excited for what he wanted.

By the night’s end, Harry didn’t care about the footage, didn’t care about what people would inevitably say. He cared about the future, the freedom finally in his grasp, and he cared about Louis, pressing a kiss to his temple as the final guest left. And Harry looked around, staring at the rainbow mess inside their living room, a polaroid photo left behind on the coffee table.

It was of him and Louis, huddled in their own world, a little tipsy, slow dancing to nothing with wide grins on their faces, the background full of friends, pride flags, and fairy lights.

Opening Instagram, Harry snapped a photo of it, adding Home by Edward Sharpe, and clicking post, deciding that he could remain private about his life, without hiding it. He held a bated breath as thousands of comments flooded in, closing the app, and looking back to the living room, Louis coming over and sliding a hand around his waist.