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“I mean, he's kind of just a whiny little baby, isn't he?” Nick Grimshaw said one morning on his radio show. “Like we get it, you're a popstar, but stop complaining about how you can't go outside on twitter 'cause of your fans, and suck it up.”
He was talking about Louis Tomlinson, Harry knows this. He was sitting at the table in his kitchen, munching on a cold piece of toast, listening to the BBC Radio One Breakfast Show, like he does every morning. But then Nick started bad mouthing one of his favourite celebrities. When he gets onto how Louis' weight has been fluctuating a lot lately, and how he didn't understand why so many girls went crazy for him, and the other two members of The Illuminaughty for that matter, because they weren't really that good looking anyways, Harry turned off the radio and went to grab his backpack.
All his textbooks were hidden under a disarray of sheet music, loose guitar picks, and various other musical paraphernalia in his room. When he was younger The Illuminaughty were his inspiration to become a musician, (which is how he justified the complete mess his room was) and when he says younger he means last year. For some reason when people find out that his celebrity icons are members of a pop band, he can slowly see every shred of respect they have for him drain from their eyes. Harry never understood music snobs; the popularity of an artist, or the genre, doesn't change anything in regards to how influential they are.
Harry's internal rant distracted him while searching for his books, which is why he stubbed his toe on the corner of the keyboard he never learned how to play. He'd never had to. Whenever he played songs, or recorded them he always had Niall come over to tickle the ivories, which he never seemed to mind.
But now there's a deep throbbing in Harry's pinky toe and he doesn't want to go to school. It was his last day of high school ever, and there were bound to be tearful eyes, heighten emotions, and lots of hugging. Not that Harry had a problem with hugging, it's just that he'd made it through school with minimal friends and he fully intended to see them all even after high school was done, so he wasn't feeling the whole 'being a blubbering mess at school' thing. And sure, he was ready to move on from it all, but that didn't mean he wasn't a little nostalgic to all the times he's had.
He vividly remembers the day Niall found him crying in the toilets because he got called a fag in the locker rooms, and how that was the start of their friendship. He remembers lots of silly little insignificant things about high school, but in all honestly he was done with all the hate he would constantly get, and would have to tough it out for one more day.
So he pulled a beanie over his unruly curls and ran downstairs. He hollered a quick “Bye Mom!” as he ran out the door and slammed it behind him. He just barely heard his mom call back, “Come home right after school Harry! I have a huge surprise!”
///
When Harry gets home he's exhausted. The whole day was full of over emotional teenagers, and teachers dying to impart some last minute words of wisdom, and his brain couldn't take it. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and try not to think too hard about anything, but his mother had other ideas.
“Quick, just sit here. I'll be right back.” she says as she seats him at the kitchen table before skirting out of the room.
There was a bowl of cubed fruit in from of Harry, but he really had no energy to eat it, which was saying something. Instead, he leaned forward and turned the radio on, hoping some music would relax his mind. But there wasn't any music playing. In fact, they were discussing none other than Louis Tomlinson.
“Apparently he's been seen bar hopping all day.” one announcer said. “It's not even four o'clock yet and he's just smashed.”
“I heard he punched a pap earlier.” The other announcer added.
“Do you suppose this has anything to do with what Nick Grimshaw said this morning? I mean, they used to be mates right?”
“I guess it's possible. It probably hit home to be called out like that. Anyways! Here's The Illuminaughy's latest, be sure to pick up their newest album, in stores now.”
Harry turned the radio off. His idol was on a bender and he was stuck looking at a bowl of fruit. How tame his life seemed in comparison. Or at least until his mom ran into the room wearing an elaborate and stereotypical wilderness outfit, complete with a plaid shirt, khakis, and a giant backpack.
“You're going to summer camp Harry!” Anne yelled excitedly.
“What?”
“I booked you a spot at that music camp you always wanted to go to Harry!” she threw off the backpack and walked over to him. “Since we had some extra money I thought this would be the perfect way to spend your last summer before university.”
“Mom, I'm seventeen.” Harry stated blankly.
“So?” Anne questioned, not grasping the problem.
“Mom, I wanted to go to camp pop when I was like fourteen. I'm too old now.” Harry tried to explain.
“No, I checked the age cut off, it's perfectly fine.”
Harry began to see that there was no way he was going to get out of this. He supposed he could always write angsty songs the whole time. It was a musical enrichment camp after all.
“Oh my God, I'm going to camp! I'm so excited!” Harry said feigning excitement for his mom's benefit. He threw himself into her arms for an over-exaggerated hug.
“Oh Harry, you'll see. This will be the best summer ever.” Anne soothed.
So Harry goes to Camp Pop, he doesn't really have a choice to be honest. He packs some of his favourite sheet music, his guitar, a bundle of clothes, and then he calls Niall.
“Dude, you have to come to Camp Pop with me.” Harry said before Niall even said hello.
“Well, hello to you too Harry. I'm doing well thanks for asking.” Niall replied lazily, and muffled, almost as if he was eating a slice of pizza at the same time.
“Niall please, put the pizza down, this is important. It's a whole month long and I don't want to be the only older kid there.” Harry pleaded.
“Yeah, but I have plans for the summer, mate.” Niall reasoned. Harry heard him set down the slice of pizza and gave a silent cheer; if he could get Niall to disregard pizza, well, he could make him to anything.
“Drinking your weight in beer, fucking a different girl every night, and eating cold pizza doesn't constitute as plans Niall.”
“Sure they do!” Niall hollered back. “Just because you don't wanna go alone to some stupid camp doesn't mean you can take the piss out of my pass times.”
“You're right, I'm sorry. You're my favourite person in the whole wide world, pretty please with a cherry on top come to camp with me.” Harry said in an exaggerated tone, unsuccessfully trying to butter Niall up.
“Will there be hot chicks there?” Niall asked after a short moment of consideration.
“Anything's possible. You'd better come just to be sure.”
“Ugh, fine Harry, I will come with you to Camp Lame-o, but know this, it's only for the potential hot chicks and is no way what so ever for you.”
“Good. I already booked your spot. Pack your bags pal, we leave tomorrow.” Harry smiled into the speaker of the phone. He never doubted for a second that Niall would refuse him.
///
Niall drives them to Camp Pop the next day in his beat up Jeep Wrangler. The blue paint had long since started to chip off, and Harry doubted that it would make the trip there. Yet somehow after countless hours of belting out Miley Cyrus' newest album, among others, they pulled up a gravel road right under a brightly coloured sign that exclaimed that they had reached their destination: Camp Pop.
To say it was pandemonium would be an understatement. There were people everywhere. Every other person carried a guitar strapped to their shoulder, and Harry was sure he heard someone busting out a dismal cover of “Wonderwall” somewhere. He was surprised that for a 14-17 aged camp there were a lot of kids his age there. He supposed he didn't need Niall after all. He had expected a lot of younger kids struggling to even play an instrument, let alone have a serious attitude towards it. Harry also spotted a limo off the side, barricaded off by burly security guards. Harry assumed it must belong to some sort of snobby higher up camper, like a distant relative of Mick Jagger's or something.
Harry and Niall by-passed the crowd and went to sign in. It mostly consisted of them choosing the classes and workshops they would partake in (Niall's were mostly instrumental and song-writing orientated, while Harry's were based more on guitar and vocals) and then they went to go dump their bags in their assigned cabin.
That's when Harry started to hear whispers. It started by him just catching someone saying the name “Louis Tomlinson” as they walked by, but then someone said they saw Louis and the rest of The Illuminaughty in a limo by the mess hall, then a rumour that Louis was seen walking into one of the cabins with a month's worth of baggage, and lastly that Louis would be a mentor at the camp for the summer.
Harry couldn't breathe.
“Niall I can't breathe.”
“Shit mate,” Niall said, panicked. “Need your inhaler?” Harry just nodded.
While Harry sat down on a log just outside their cabin Niall threw his bags down and began rifling through Harry's to find his inhaler. Once Niall retrieved it, Harry took a couple of puffs and his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“You alright?” Niall questioned.
“Niall, you threw my underwear into that tree.” Harry stated.
Niall had indeed thrown Harry's underwear in the tree behind him when he was frantically digging to find the inhaler. They were too high up to reach and the tree wasn't stable enough to climb: Harry's underwear would just have to stay there.
“Well shit.” Niall said dismissively. “You alright though? No need to have a panic attack about Louis Tomlinson there Harry.” He joked.
“Do you really think he's actually here?” Harry questioned.
“Maybe. Heard on the radio he's been through hell with the media lately.” Niall responded. “Do you think the rest of The Illuminaughty are gonna be here too then? I mean, Liam doesn't do much for me, but Zayn on the other hand...”
“Niall, you're straight.”
“Yeah but, like, it's Zayn Malik. If a guy isn't at least a little bit gay for Zayn something's gotta be wrong.” Niall replied.
“Couldn't agree more.” a voice that wasn't Harry's (but yet was all too familiar) replied. “Are those your underwear?”
Louis Tomlinson was standing in front of them. Louis Tomlinson had spoken to Niall. Louis Tomlinson was looking at Harry's underwear. Harry thought he might need his inhaler again.
“Uhm, yeah. Well, they're his, not mine. Don't really go for stuff that flashy meself.” Niall (wonderful, lifesaving, question answering Niall) replied when Harry couldn't find his voice.
The underwear in question were bright red, actually one of Harry's favourite pairs, and their loss would be mourned greatly. Harry caught himself just then. Why was he thinking of a hypothetical wake for his underwear when Louis Tomlinson was standing in front of him wearing a deliciously tight t-shirt and sinfully tight pants?
“Well I like 'em.” Louis replied. He began to speak again but got cut off by a shrill shriek. “Ah, well, see you around lads.” He said shooting a quick, but noticeable, wink towards Harry, and then he was running away.
Harry was only momentarily confused, but understood when a pack of girls wearing exclusively Illuminaughty merch ran past right after Louis.
“Louis Tomlinson saw my underwear.” Harry said to Niall.
“Forget that, you didn't even talk to him, ya big wimp. You really left me hanging there.” Niall smirked. “You gonna try and get it with him this summer then?”
“Niall, Louis Tomlinson saw my underwear.” Harry said blankly.
“I think you're in shock. C'mon, let's get some fluids in ya.”
So they throw their bags haphazardly into their small two person cabin and head to the mess hall. It's chaos. All Harry wants is some water and yet it seemed like the whole camp had unanimously decided to congregate there to discuss the newest addition to the camp: Louis Tomlinson.
Niall sat Harry down at a small table by the window and then went to brave the crowds in order to find beverages. So Harry people watched.
He saw the group of girls who chased Louis earlier, and they were all shooting proverbial daggers at him with their eyes. Niall would say it was jealously that Louis had spoken to them, but it looked more like blind hatred to Harry.
Harry was just starting to think about how it was possible that the next huge pop sensation could be at this camp right now (After all, this is where The Illuminaughty had met two years ago, and now look at them) when Niall returned with two bottles of water.
“Oh man, you won't believe it. This camp is the best thing that's ever happened to me.” Niall gushed.
“You talk to a hot girl?” Harry questioned as he twisted the top of his water.
“How'd you know?” Niall asked, genuinely confused.
“Because Niall, you say that every time you talk to a hot girl.” Harry said after chugging back more than half the bottle, effectively chasing away his celebrity induced asthma attack.
“Okay, but this time I mean it.” (Harry didn't interject that he said that every time too). “There's a girl in the kitchen. She gave me these water, and man, let me tell you. She's a ten, easy. Too bad you're gay, but like, you'd get it if you saw her, I think. I mean she's no Louis Tomlinson but...” Harry cut him off.
“Niall.” Harry said.
“Yeah?”
“Please stop.” Harry didn't want to talk about the “ace chick” in the kitchen, but mostly Harry didn't want to talk about Louis (and likely how many times Harry's wanked to his picture, because that's something Niall was bound to bring up eventually).
“Yeah sure mate, don't worry I'll have her by Final Busk anyways.” Niall replied offhandedly.
“Ah, fuck. I forgot there's a Final Busk at this thing. What should we do for it?” Harry sighed.
“Dude, it's literally a month away. Calm down.” Niall answered. “Plus you've got all those songs. Not all of them can be utter shit.”
“Thanks Niall, you know just how to cheer a guy up.” Harry muttered sarcastically.
Just then the camp coordinator entered the room, and all conversations skittered to a halt. Because it wasn't just any camp coordinator. It was James Corden, Louis' uncle.
“Hello everybody!” he greeted the group excitedly. “I hope you've all gotten settled in because it's going to be a busy month for us.” James went on to go over the camp rules and eating times, until he'd covered everything except the obvious elephant in the room. “Okay, now on to what I'm sure you're all wondering about.” There was an audible sigh of relief. “My nephew, Louis Tomlinson, is in fact here, and will be mentoring you lot this summer.” There were a few shrieks and one girl might have fainted, Harry wasn't sure.
“You gonna go down next Harry? Let me know so I can catch ya.” Niall joked, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Shut up Niall.” Harry hissed.
“...want you to respect his privacy and treat him just as you would all the other instructors. If you make a fuss I'll not hesitate to send you home, sorry, I don't make the rules. I hate when I have to be uncool, so don't let it go that far, and we shouldn't have a problem.” James continued. “There's an open mic tonight around the campfire, and hell. If you all want to sing we'll just have to stay out there all night.” Harry laughed. There was no way he was going to sing in front of all these people, not on the first night anyways. “So wash up, dinner's at half six, and then campfire at nine. Welcome to Camp Pop everyone!” Some people cheered at this but Harry was distracted by movement in the doorway behind James.
And if Harry saw a pair of blue eyes and fringe peeking around the corner, well he pretended not to notice.
Niall ended up performing a song he wrote last summer at the campfire, and it was a hit to say the least. People raved about his rendition of “Summer Love” for much of the night, and Harry was a little jealous. He wished he had the courage to perform one of his songs. So he vowed to start writing and practising whenever he had the chance, this was a music camp after all. It was his duty to become a better artist.
Classes started up the next day after breakfast, and Harry's first was a singer’s workshop. All the best singers in the camp were there, and he was intimidated. But intimidation soon turned into pure dread when the instructor walked in. Because fate must be cruel, he would not only have to sing in front of the camp's elite, he would also have to do so in front of Louis Tomlinson.
“Alright, settle down, settle down.” Louis smirked as he walked in. “If you don't know, I'm Louis Tomlinson, and sadly you're stuck with me for a whole month.” Harry was nauseous. “So basically, this was a personal favourite class of mine when I went here, so Uncle James thought it would be good for me to teach it. Not sure how true that is though.” The class chuckled with him.
There was a buzz in the room though; everyone was talking in small side conversations, and Louis had only just caught on.
“Is there some sort of problem back there?” Louis addressed the group at the back speaking the loudest. Harry was seated near them, and tried to avoid Louis' pointed gaze. “Any questions, perhaps?”
“Is it true you're only here because your management didn't want your bender to continue?” one of the girls who introduced herself as Jesy to Harry earlier asked.
“Does it have something to do with Nick Grimshaw?” a smug boy who people called Max yelled.
“Where's Zayn and Liam?”
“What does this mean for the fall tour?”
“Are you judging the Final Busk?”
“Is it true you had your stomach pumped?”
“Why are you really here?”
The endless string of questions hit Louis and he slowly sat down on a stool in front of the group. Once the room fell silent, the last question still ringing in the air, Louis took a breath and smiled, almost as if he has suspected this assault might happen.
“I think all you need to know is that I'm here to teach you to the best of my ability. I will answer that yes, I am judging the Final Busk, I hope that puts your hearts at ease. Now, if we're done with the questions could we maybe get started?”
Louis was judging Final Busk. Harry was definitely going to puke.
“Would anyone like to volunteer to sing? Let me know what I'm working with?”
All hands shot up except two, one of them being Harry's. Louis surveyed the room, and after flitting his gaze quickly past Harry (with a smirk on his face) he chose the other boy who hadn't put his hand up (Harry sighed in relief, it could have easily been him).
“You.” Louis said pointing at the ginger boy with his hand down. “You've got a guitar there right? Care to play us something?”
The boy shrugged and went up to the front to stand beside Louis. “What's your name then?”
“It's Ed.” The boy relied. He didn't look scared, and Harry didn't see any signs of perspiration. Harry determined that Ed must be from another world to not be affected by Louis' presence like he most certainly would have been. “And uh, I guess I'll just play something I wrote then?”
“Sounds great Ed, whenever you're ready.” Louis said as he moved off to the side to be out of the way. He leaned against the wall near Harry's seat and Harry used all his self-control to not look at him.
Ed played a few practice strums, experimentally trying to put his guitar in tune, and then he quickly transitioned into playing a version of his song called “You Need Me, I Don't Need You”.
When the final note rang out the class was shell shocked. Harry was in awe and would buy Ed's album in heartbeat. He determined that was enough to justify asking him if he wanted to eat lunch with Niall and him today (and possibly forever).
The first person to clap was Louis. He broke the class out of its trance and soon everyone was on their feet applauding Ed. Harry swore he even heard a few people chant “We're not worthy!”.
Louis went up to the front and clapped Ed on the shoulder (still no signs of perspiration, Harry would have melted into a puddle of sweat and curly hair at this point). “Excellent job!” Louis exclaimed. Ed smiled and went back to his seat quietly.
“We're gonna have a fun month, that's for sure. Alright, I want you to break into groups everyone.” Louis beamed.
Everyone tried to pair up with Ed, so Harry just sat there, waiting to pair with whoever was left over. Which is why he was shocked when Ed approached him and said, “Hey, wanna partner up?” So Harry just nodded.
Louis explained that they were to put a song together and present it at the next campfire. Harry thought he could probably just get away with playing guitar while Ed sang, but Ed had other ideas.
“So, I mean, I have this song right? Wrote it for a girl a few years back, but I thought we could edit it a bit, and go back and forth with it? You play guitar?”
For the remainder of the hour Harry and Ed edited Ed's song “Little Things” and Harry sort of fell in love with it a bit. Harry really didn't sing much as they practised, he just hummed along with the guitar, until Ed called him out on it.
“Come on mate, just sing it. Don't really care what your voice sounds like, s'long as you can carry a tune.”
“Is that what you said to yourself when you first started out?” Harry asked.
“Basically, yeah. Come on, let's take it from the top.”
So Harry sang. He closed his eyes and pretended he was back home in his room, and pretended that no one was around, but most of all he pretended Louis Tomlinson wasn't within earshot.
When the song concluded Harry thought it was still a bit rough, but Ed thought it was perfect.
“Mate, that was amazing. Even Tomlinson thought so. He was scanning the room to see who it was.”
“Did he see it was me?” Harry asked.
“Nah, he couldn't pin-point it. But he liked it, his eyes kinda glazed over, the way they do when you hear really good music, ya know?”
Harry did know. Harry also knew that he really liked Ed.
///
So at the next campfire Ed and Harry performed “Little Things” and it was beautiful. Harry saw Niall cry a bit (even though he denies it) and more than a few girls (and a couple boys) slipped Harry their phone and cabin numbers. So it was a success. Except.
Well except Louis wasn't there. Harry was confused because it was for his class, and well, shouldn't he have at least been there to see his students sing? So Harry was a little peeved.
The morning after the campfire Harry woke up early (even after staying up late ranting to Niall about how inconsiderate Louis is) and snuck out to go for a walk around the lake that the camp was based off. He thought about taking a picture of his pigeon toed feet on the lip of the water’s edge to post on Instagram, but he didn't want to be that guy. So instead he sat down in the sand and pulled out his journal and wrote.
He didn't know how long he was like that for, but when he looked up from complete song about catching stars that burn a hole in his hand, the sun is a lot higher in the sky than it was before. He surveys the area and sees a mop of brown hair peeking out just above one of the canoes to his right.
“Hello?” Harry calls out.
The fringe pops up and he's greeted by Louis' face. Except he's wearing a baggy old Marvel t-shirt and has bags under his eyes. Harry thought he still looked better than most people do when they put actual effort into their appearance.
“Uh, yeah, hello there.” Louis replied smiling.
“Were you...” Harry paused to internally laugh at himself for how ridiculous the question he was about to ask was. “Were you spying on me?”
“Well somebody's sure full of themselves.” Louis stood up and brushed the sand off his grey sweat pants. “And even if I was,” He said as he walked over to Harry. “You really shouldn't let it go to your head or anything.” He spoke quietly as he got closer to Harry, and eventually sat down next to him. “I didn't want to disturb your creative process.”
“Creative process?” Harry said questioningly.
“Yeah, well.” Louis smirked. Harry tried not to pay attention to how close Louis was and how good he smelled (and failed). “You're writing a song right? That's what I'd call a creative process.”
“Yeah I guess so.” Harry said as he slowly slid his journal under his thigh so Louis wouldn't grab it and read it, or worse see his little scribbles all other the cover (because let's face it, they're totally judge-able).
“You're underpants are in that tree by the shower house right? In front of your cabin?” Louis giggled. He actually fucking giggled. “The red ones?”
“Yeah, not my finest moment.” Harry chuckled.
“No, I think it's hilarious. I laugh every time I see them.”
“Glad to be of service.” Harry replied. The conversation hit a bit of a lull, but Louis picked it up quickly.
“You're also in my singer’s workshop.” Louis said quietly. Harry didn't know how to respond so he just nodded. “Heard you and Ed killed it last night.”
“You'd know it a little better if you were actually there I guess.” Harry mumbled.
“Oh man, I wish, but Zayn had a quiff crisis, and called me in a huff about it. Couldn't get rid of him.”
“Zayn had a quiff crisis?” Harry asked skeptically.
“”Yeah...” Louis trailed off.
“I thought Zayn just cut most of his hair off thought? He did that design shit in the sides?" Harry prompted, smiling. He knew he had just caught Louis in a lie.
“Okay!” Louis shouted, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I admit it! It was me, I was the one with the quiff crisis.” Harry couldn't help but laugh. “Oh, you think it's funny do you Curly? Not all of us are blessed with naturally perfect hair like you. Some of us have to work for it!”
“And how long did it take you to do your hair this morning?” Harry asked.
“Oh very funny. I bet all your friends just rave about how funny you are, am I right?” Louis replied. “Don't you think I know it looks like shit?”
“What?” Harry thought it looked fine. Better than fine actually. Louis normally had it up in a quiff, but now it was down in a fringe covering his forehead. Harry liked it.
“I showered in cold water, and I'm out of hair product. I might as well just shave my head.” Louis said adjusting his fringe to the side.
“I think it looks good.” Harry replied honestly. “You should wear it down more often. Quiffs are over rated anyways.”
“Sure, whatever you say, thanks mate.” Louis laughs off.
“No problem, pal.” Harry retorted. Louis giggled again.
“Anyways Curly, I've gotta run.” Louis stood up. “You know, important things to do, classes to teach, young minds to inspire.”
“Of course. Go ahead.” Harry smiled up at Louis. As Louis did an awkward wave and started to walk away Harry called out, “Louis? I really meant what I said. Your hair looks good down.”
“I'll keep that in mind.” Louis hollered back. And just like that he was gone, having turned the corner around a mass of trees.
Harry had just had a conversation with Louis Tomlinson. Harry had to tell Niall.
///
The next week sort of passed in a blur for Harry. It was full of harmonizing with Ed (and not thinking about Louis) and writing songs (that weren't about Louis) and prepping for the next campfire that Harry was determined to perform solo at (and hoping Louis wouldn't be there to see it).
Harry vaguely remembers Niall saying something about the hot girl in the kitchen, but he was concentrating on his songs and sort of tuned it out (really Harry was a terrible friend). He wasn't oblivious to how Niall's helpings at meal times were always doubled and sometimes arranged in cute faces though.
So Harry had a song prepared. And his name was on the campfire performance list. But he was anxious. The dread that came with performing solo filled him up and he hated himself for it. He puked twice before he went outside to join the other campers. He had his guitar on his back and tried not to look anyone in the eye in fear that they would just know he had just spent the last hour on his knees in front of a toilet. But he tried to put on a brave face as he stood in line and waited his turn to approach the small stage that was built in front of the fire. That is, until he saw Louis.
Louis was standing on the other side of the stage watching each performer with a careful eye. And his fringe was down, not that Harry would delude himself into believing that it was because of what he said. It was in the moment that Harry realized he couldn't perform. His song sucked. His guitar playing was messy and uncoordinated (and slightly out of tune if he's being honest). Who names a song “Truly Madly Deeply” anyways? He's trying to be a musician, not some sorry excuse for a popstar trying to make girls swoon. He needed to get off the list.
So he bee-lined straight for James, and tried not to vomit on his shoes on the way there.
“James I need to take myself off the list.” Harry pleaded upon reaching his camp coordinator.
“What? Harry your performance last week was great! Lots of people were looking forward to hearing you, not naming any names.” James replied, sneaking a sideways glance at someone who Harry assumed to be Louis (not that he wanted to think about the possible implications of that right now).
“I know but,” Harry tried to think of an excuse. “My song isn't actually very good, and my guitar is out of tune; actually I think one of my strings is broken and my throat has been hurting lately and I don't have my inhaler or my sheet music and...” James cut him off.
“Okay Harry, okay, take a breath.” James looked at Harry with pity. “You're off the list. Now go wash your face or something, you look sweaty.”
As Harry walked away he tried to ignore the comments of the boys who were right next to James. But they still bled through.
“Yeah Harry, go find your inhaler, maybe call mommy while you're at it.” The boy from his workshop named Max said.
“Don't want you throwing up in stage and infecting us all with your stage fright germs.” another named Jay said.
“He probably didn't want to look like a fool in front of Tomlinson. Proper fanboy he is.”
Harry was just out of earshot when James scolded them with a “that's enough boys.” but Harry was already running, and he made it back to his and Niall's cabin in just a few minutes.
He altered between writing angsty songs and sobbing into his pillows until Niall came back. The campfire had ended and Niall said Louis left shortly after Harry had run off. Niall patted him on the shoulder.
“Don't worry about what those guys said. They're just jealous they aren't one of the Camp's Most Wanted like you are. I mean, girls still come ask me about you since the “Little Things” shit went down.” Niall pulled out a bag of pretzels from under his bed. “It'll blow over trust me.”
“Niall where did you get those pretzels?” Harry asked as he dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a few.
“Got an in with the kitchen, don't I?” Niall smirked.
Harry was going to ask him about it, but his eyes hurt and it was lights out, so he let it slide and muttered a “night mate” as he pulled the covers of his sleeping bag over his head.
///
Harry woke up disgustingly early, yet again, but this time with sore eyes and a bruised ego, so he dressed quickly and went back out to the beach with his journal, hoping to write something he would actually have the guts to perform.
Except Louis was already out there leaning against a canoe with a guitar in his lap and a pencil in his mouth. Harry didn't want to disturb his “creative process” so he stood behind a tree and tried to stealthily peek to see Louis. That lasted for about three minutes.
“I can see you, you know that?” Louis called out.
Harry sighed. “Sorry...” he stumbled out from behind the tree and over to Louis. “I didn't want to disrupt you.”
Louis laughed. “A distraction is actually welcomed. This song is giving me a headache. Just can't get it to sound right.”
Harry sat down next to Louis, his back against the canoe. “You could, I dunno, play it for me?”
“Oh you think so?” Louis grinned. “How's that fair? I came to that campfire thing last night to see you perform and you didn't even go on! And now you just get a freebie by hearing me?”
“You came to watch me perform?”
“Yeah, don't let it go to your head though, Curly.” Louis looked back at his chicken scratch sheet music. “You really wanna hear it?”
Harry leaned forward to look at the title. “They Don't Know About Us? That sounds personal.” he observed. “So, yeah naturally I want to hear it.” He smirked.
“You fucking tosser.” Louis mumbled. But none the less, he started playing.
Now Harry wouldn't say he cried, not exactly. But he definitely teared up and hoped Louis didn't see, because the things is, well the song was beautiful. And even if Harry was a little biased he thought it was perfect.
“Oh my god.” Harry stated when Louis was done.
“Is that a good or bad 'oh my god'?” Louis questioned, looking up through his eyelashes (which Harry tried no to pay attention to how they were an other-worldly length).
“It was perfect!” Harry exclaimed. “I mean, yeah it was good.” He tried to compose himself.
“Thanks a lot Curly.” Louis smiled, and his face scrunched up a bit. “But it's missing something right?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Harry thought for a moment. “Oh, you know what it is?”
“No, by chance I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?” Louis replied sarcastically.
“It's ‘cause this isn't a song made for guitar, Louis, this song was made for a piano.”
“Oh my god, you're right.” Louis said as if he was in disbelief he didn't think of it himself. “Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.” Harry tried to brush it off. “So, can I ask you something?”
“You just saved my song, you can ask me whatever the hell you want.” Louis said as he erased something off his sheet music.
“If this is the kind of music you write in your spare time, why isn't this what you perform?”
Louis sighed, and put his pencil down. “Because it doesn't sell I guess. Zayn, Liam and I, I mean, we try and write our own music but the label doesn't want our dance/pop image to fade.”
“Well then your label's fucking crazy.” Harry replied.
“You're telling me.” Louis said sadly.
Harry was going to ask him about it more, but the breakfast bell rang out.
“I, uh, I have to go.” Harry stood up and wiped the sand off his pants. “Thanks for playing me your song.”
“You know,” Louis said looking up. “I don't even know your name.”
“It's Harry. Harry Styles.” he smiled.
“Harry Styles. I like that. It's a good name for a rock star.”
Harry walked away and smiled as he went to breakfast.
When Harry reached the mess hall Niall was already there; he was sitting with Ed, and four girls Harry hadn't spoken to too much, but they were all in his singing workshop. He knew the one with the dip-dyed blonde hair was named Perrie and the busty one (that Niall was more than just looking at) had introduced herself as Jesy on the first day. But other than that the other two names were a jumble of J's and L's in his brain. Niall saw him approaching and smiled brightly.
“Look, Harry! We made friends!” He exclaimed loudly. Much of the mess hall openly laughed at his outburst. Harry blushed and went to sit between Ed and Niall. “These ladies are all in my songwriter’s class, and they were talkin' 'bout you Harry. So naturally I jumped in to defend ya, but...” he was cut off.
“But then he realized we were bad mouthing those guys who were making fun of you last night.” Perrie said.
“Yeah, they kept going on about it even after you left. Like, we get it, we all have stage fright sometimes, but they were just going too far. “Jesy continued.
“I mean they were probably just jealous of how well you did at the last campfire, right?” One with pixie like features said.
“Well it doesn't really matter.” Niall interjected. “They’ll be kissin' our asses after the Final Busk performance anyways. Right Harry?” He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah for sure.” Harry mumbled as he nibbled at a piece of toast.
Niall jumped into an elaborate story about the Kitchen Girl and how they had snuck out last night and hi-jacked a canoe and paddled around the lake. Harry would give Niall a warning to be cautious, but he looked too happy (if not a little tired) so Harry decided against it. After all, if he wasn't exactly having the time of his life here, someone should be.
///
Time passed strangely at Camp Pop. The days were long, and there weren't a lot of clocks so most of the days flew by without much notice.
Harry would look forward to the mornings after campfires (which he never attempted to perform at again) because Louis was always out by the canoe's those days. It became sort of a ritual for them to meet out there; sometimes Louis would have his guitar and sometimes he would just be sitting there, seemingly waiting for Harry to show up.
Sometimes they worked on songs together but mostly they just talked. Harry loved talking to Louis because where Louis spoke quickly, Harry would drawl on slower. Where Louis was sarcastic and quirky, Harry took a more soothing tone. Their clashing personalities almost complimented each other in a way Harry couldn't explain.
“You know Curly, I've never heard you sing.” Louis said one day.
“Sure you have. I sing all the time in class.” Harry rebutted.
“Yeah, for group song, you never volunteer for solos, and you always stand in the back. It doesn't really count.”
“So what?” Harry asked, looking at Louis. “You want me to sing for you? Right now?”
“No, I just...” Louis trailed off. “I guess I'm just curious.”
“Well, I'm doing Final Busk with my mate Niall. I suppose you'll hear me sing then.”
“Niall, is he the blonde straight one that would go gay for Zayn?” Louis asked.
“Yeah, yeah that's him alright.” Harry laughed.
“You know, I'm judging Final Busk. Well, not just me. Zayn and Liam are coming down.” Louis said.
“So you're telling me this so I can start buttering up the judge now so I have a better shot?”
“No! That's not what I meant at all.” Louis giggled. “I mean I wouldn't turn down a nice buttering up, but that's not what I meant.
“And what does it take to butter a guy like you up, Lou?” Harry asked.
“Oh, you know, not much. A cup of tea, a good game of footie, just the basics.” They were sitting against the canoes because they're always sitting by the canoes but every time they seemed to get a little closer to each other. Today their legs were touching and if they moved their arms too much those touched too. It was a lot for Harry to take in because Louis was so small and warm, and smelled like sunshine, and Harry knew that sunshine wasn't actually a real scent, but when he was around Louis he really didn't care.
“You're kidding.” Harry stated, catching Louis' eye.
“No? I mean, why would it take more than a cup of tea to butter me up? Do you not drink tea or something? That's not very British of you.”
“Well, 'cause, you're Louis Tomlinson.” Harry reasoned. “You have like 14 million twitter followers, and like, a Maserati.”
“Ah, so there we are then.” Louis looked down at his lap and twisted his fingers together. “I didn't think you thought like that. I mean, we talk a lot, and I guess I thought...” he paused and caught Harry's eye again. “Well I don't know what I thought, but I hoped you just didn't see me as some spoiled celebrity, you now? Even if I do have a Maserati.”
“No. No, Louis, I don't just see you as some celebrity.” Harry fumbled. “I mean, at first it was kind of hard to wrap my head around it, but then it was just like talking to anybody else. Not that you're just anybody, that's not what I mean, I just, ugh, I...”
“Harry.” Louis interjected.
“Yeah, Lou?” Harry sighed, adjusting his curls.
“I quite like you Harry, but don't let that go to your head or anything. Or I might start to think you're just here for my sports cars. ” He smiled and with that he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips to Harry's.
Harry's lips were frozen for a moment, shocked at what was happening but as Louis' lips moved into the kiss, it began to thaw him out. Louis' small hand was bunched in the front of Harry's shirt and his body curled up into him. They nibbled and teased at each other, licking inside each others mouths. Eventually they broke away, panting.
“I can't believe that just happened.” Harry said, shocked.
“Oh calm down Curly, we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet.” Louis teased, and leaned in again.
///
Harry walked around in sort of a daze for the rest of the day, thinking about Louis' mouth, and Louis' hands, and basically just how he had spent all morning making out with Louis. He laid on his bed for much of it, debating pulling out his song book and putting his feelings down on paper. He'd kissed Louis Tomlinson. The actual, honest to god Louis Tomlinson, not just a cardboard cut-out, or a picture from a magazine. He decided to spare his journal, because not even its flimsy sheets of paper would be able to stomach the amount of sappiness coming out of Harry.
If Niall tried talking to him he probably tuned it out (really, he was a horrible friend, he needed to start working on that). He would feel worse about neglecting Niall, and his responsibilities as a friend, but in his defence he had just made out with Louis Tomlinson, so it was probably okay.
But to be fair one can only gush over someone for so many consecutive hours before they need a break. So the next day, the day after The Kiss, Harry needed to get out and clear his head. The camp was quiet, as it typically was on rest day. Basically the whole camp had a day off, which was commonly used to work on Final Busk routines, (which was just a week away now) or to catch up on lost sleep. So Harry pulled on a pair of sweats and an old shirt, and walked around the camp.
He grabbed a banana from the kitchen, dipped his toes in the lake, and basically just tried to take in the whole “nature experience” that he hardly seemed to get at home. Try as he might, Harry came to an important realization; nature was kind of boring when you had no one to share it with. So he decided to go wake up Niall, so they could go do something nature-y together.
But Harry never made it to Niall. He didn't make it because as he was stumbling down the path back to his cabin a voice called out his name form behind him.
“Harry!” Louis panted as he ran up the path. “Harry, you have to help me.”
“Uhm.” Harry responded. “With what?”
“No time to explain.” Louis said grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along. “Quick, we have to get back.”
They arrived at Louis' cabin and quickly went inside. Harry tried not to let his mind wander to things that were less than appropriate for them to do in Louis' cabin, but then he realized they weren't alone. There was a kid. There was a kid in a playpen. There was a kid in a playpen in Louis’ cabin and it was looking at Harry.
“Louis, there's a kid in your cabin.” Harry stated.
“Really Harry, I hadn't noticed.” Louis responded sarcastically. “I'm so glad I chose you to help me babysit, you have such wonderful deduction skills.”
“Babysit?” Harry gaped. “Lou, that's really not a good idea, I'm not that good with kids, and one time I stepped on a dog. I mean, it was an accident, but if I can't even be careful with dogs I really can't be expected to look after a kid.”
Louis was laughing. Not just lightly chuckling though. He was full blown laughing, the hunched at the waist, clutching his stomach, not breathing sort of laughing. Harry half expected him to start rolling around on the floor. “What?” Harry asked. “I was being serious.”
“Harry, I'm.” Louis tried to start but his laughter took off again. Harry would be annoyed if it wasn't so adorable. “Sorry, it's just you stepped,” more laughter. “You stepped on a dog?”
“Well, it was a small dog.” Harry defended. “And it was dark out.”
Louis was set off into another fit. Harry would be embarrassed that it was at his expense, but Louis' eyes were crinkled, and his laughter filled the room, so really Harry had nothing to be embarrassed about, not when he could make this happen.
Louis eventually caught his breath and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. “Oh Harold,” He sighed. “Thanks pal, I really needed that.”
“Glad to be of service.” Harry muttered. “Now who is this little guy?” Harry mostly just wanted to focus on the kid, and not Louis' hand on his shoulder, and how it made his internal temperature (if not something else) rise.
“Oh right.” Louis laughed. “This adorable little guy is my cousin Max, which is really a horribly unfortunate name considering some of the people at this camp. By the way, I'd never met the kid until ten minutes ago when Uncle James dropped him off saying he was my responsibility for that day. Like, how dumb is he? I can't even be responsible for my phone, and he expects me to look after his kid?”
“He's your cousin?” Harry questioned.
“Yes Harry, that's what it's called when your Aunts and Uncles have children. Isn't that fascinating?”
“Okay, and you're supposed to look after him today?” Harry said, ignoring Louis' last comment.
“No Harry, of course not.” Louis smirked. “We’re going to be looking after him today. You and I. Both of us. Together. Won't it be wonderful?”
“I'm really not sure about this Lou, what if something...”
But Harry didn't get to voice his concerns because Max was crying.
“He's crying.” Louis stated. “What do we do?”
“I don't know! He's your cousin.” Harry half-shouted. “You do something.”
“Harry, I really don't appreciate your tone. And I brought you here for the exact reason that I don't know what to do!”
So that's how Harry and Louis ended up shouting at each other in front of a playpen containing a screaming child. But it was Louis, and even though he had no idea how to handle children, Harry leaned down and picked up the screaming toddler and balanced him in his arms. Almost instantly, the screaming stopped, both from Max, and from Louis.
“You did it.” Louis said, shocked. “How'd you make it stop?”
“Well Lou, I don't know if you noticed, but I leaned down, and I picked him up.”
“Sarcasm doesn't suit you Harold.” Louis smirked. “Now what?”
And that's how they ended up rolling all over the floor of Louis' cabin, making a fort (or two, when the first one collapsed), eating peanut butter sandwiches out of Louis' mini-fridge, and exhausting themselves completely.
“Do you think he's asleep?” Louis muttered.
“Yeah, I'm asleep.” Harry mumbled back, rolling over in the pile of blankets on the floor that once was the infrastructure of their magnificent fort.
“Not you, you tosser. Max.” Louis said back, rolling into Harry's side.
They'd laid max down in the play pen about twenty minutes ago when he'd started to tire out, which they were both thankful for since they were both about to pass out themselves.
“Hmm, probably. ‘S not making any noise.” Harry's voice was low and gravelly, the way it gets when he's tired. His eyes were closed, but he could feel Louis brush a stray curl off his forehead.
“You sure are something else Harry.” Louis said quietly.
They didn't speak for a while after that, and Harry was sure Louis had fallen asleep, which would have totally been fine with Harry. But then he heard Louis sigh.
“Hey Curly, can I tell you something?”
“Course you can Lou.” Harry replied.
“It's just that, it's been kind of stressful lately and I don’t really have anyone to talk to and then they put me in this camp, and I don't know, I guess I just thought that you're here and...”
“Lou.” Harry smirked.
“Yeah?”
“Just spit it out already.”
“I used to date Nick Grimshaw, did you know that?” Louis sighed. Harry opened his eyes so he could see Louis.
“There were rumours.” he replied.
“He broke up with me though. A while ago. Don't really know why, I guess we never really properly got on. There was always this sort of tension.” Louis continued. “And then he started bad mouthing me on his radio show. Reckon you heard about that.”
“Yeah, was on right before I found out I was coming to camp.”
“Yeah well, then I kind of went a little mad I guess. Drank a bit too much.” he mumbled into Harry's neck. “And by a little too much, I mean I got my stomach pumped and spent the night in the hospital.”
“Why are you telling me this Lou?”
“I guess I just have this feeling that I can trust you.” Louis replied softly.
“Is that why you came to this camp? To get away from it all?” Harry said into Louis' hair.
“I guess. That and Zayn and Liam sort of made me.” He giggled a little at that. “They told me to try and find my muse again.”
“And have you found it?” Harry smiled.
“I think so, but don't let it go to your head or anything.”
And Harry really tried to not let it go to his head, and tried to fall asleep, even though he kept hearing the breaking of twigs and branches right outside the window. When he cracked his eye open and saw a shadow walking away from the building the better part of his told him to go check it out, but the other half of him, the tired part, let it go, and let himself fall asleep holding Louis.
He woke up again when James came in to grab Max. He gave a small wave to him as he pulled his child out of the playpen, and James returned it with a sly smile. He could swear he heard James say “remember to use protection” as he left, but it could have just been his imagination, after all, he was holding Louis in the dishevelled remains of a fort they'd built, so he didn't exactly trust reality.
But when James closed the door, it startled Louis awake, and reality suddenly became very clear to Harry.
“What was that?” Louis mumbled, still half asleep, as he shot up in Harry's arms.
“Just James grabbing Max. S’alright Lou.” Harry said back, rubbing circles into Louis' back dimples with one hand.
“Well if you say so.” Louis replied back, the sleep slowly seeping out of his voice.
Louis laid back down, this time more on top of Harry. Harry tried not to think too much about the curve of Louis' body, knowing that if he got hard while they were laying like this, Louis would definitely know. Then again, Harry didn't know if that was exactly a bad thing. After all, unless Harry was losing his mind (which was a definite possibility) Louis was mouthing small wet lovebites into side of his neck right now.
“Lou, what are you...”
“Shhh, no talking.” Louis replied.
So Harry didn't talk, he just let Louis move on top of him, leaving bruises all along his neck. He let his hands travel down to Louis' ass (that was downright sinful, Harry had no problem admitting) and gave it an experimental squeeze. When Louis let out a breathy moan again Harry's wet neck, it took all his willpower to not do it again, repeatedly.
But Harry's never been good with willpower so he let his finger squeeze Louis one more time, and was rewarded with the feeling of Louis rutting his hips down on Harry.
“Do that one more time, and we won't be carrying on much longer.” Louis warned.
“I thought we weren't talking.” Harry replied.
Louis chuckled, and the rocking of his body with laughter let Harry feel how hard Louis was against his thigh. At least he wasn't the only one.
Louis leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's lips. Except Harry didn't want to be gentle, not right now. His body felt electric when Louis touched him, which was hardly his fault. He let his hands travel up Louis' body and took his shirt off with them. Without his shirt, Louis' happy trail was visible, and Harry would be damned if he wasn't going to lick down it tonight.
He kissed Louis harder, putting more passion into it. He felt Louis squirm under his fingers when he brushed his hand across his ass again. Louis was ridiculously hard now, and his sweat pants left little to the imagination. Not that Harry was much better. And when Louis began rocking his hips back and forth, letting his dick rub against Harry's, well Harry knew it wasn't going to last long.
So Harry rolled the two of them over so he was on top. Louis looked up with wide eyes, shocked at the development.
“What are you doin' Curly?” Louis smirked.
Harry didn't reply, he just began placing kisses on Louis' collarbones, and slowly going down his stomach. His eyes flitted up to Louis when he reached the hem of his sweats. Harry could feel the start of his coarse hair on his lips and smirked. Louis' eyes were needy when they met Harry's, which took away any doubt in his mind. In one sweep, Harry peeled off Louis' sweats and underwear, leaving his cock out, turned up towards his stomach, dribbling pre come on the tan skin there. Harry wouldn't say he was salivating, except, yeah, he was totally salivating.
Harry hesitated, not because he was unfamiliar with blow jobs, but really because it was Louis and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little nervous. But when Louis' hands curled into his hair all his nerves evaporated. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss onto the tip, letting the pre come coat his lips.
“Don't be a tease Curly, please.” Louis practically begged, arching his back.
So Harry licked up the underside of Louis’ cock, right along the vein, and then took it all in his mouth. Louis was far from small, so taking it all at once was a challenge. But eventually, Harry was bobbing his head rhythmically, letting the tip hit the back of his throat each time.
Louis was a whimpering mess, to say the least. He was moaning, and pleading so loudly Harry could barely think. He had to hold Louis' hips down so he didn't choke, but it was all so hot Harry almost didn't care. He pulled off, but continued to pump Louis with his hand. “You wanna fuck my mouth Lou?” he smiled and kissed the tip again. He took Louis’ bucking his hips up as a yes.
“Oh, fuck, Harry you don't have to.” Louis whimpered back.
“Wouldn't have said it if it wasn't okay.” Harry laughed.
So Louis pulled harder on Harry's hair and began thrusting his hips up into Harry's mouth. Tears trickled down Harry's cheek, but as he suspected, hearing Louis' breathy moans made it worth it. Before long Louis' fingers were tapping on Harry's head, trying to signal that he was close, when his words couldn't. Louis came right down his throat, and Harry swallowed it quickly.
“Ah fuck, Haz, here let me do you.” Louis said trying to get up.
“You seriously think I made it through your little show without coming?” Harry laughed, thinking about the mess he had made in his sweats.
“Shit, really? It's okay, I’ll get you next time, I promise.” Louis said laying back, trying to regulate his breathing.
“I'm not worried.”
///
Harry and Louis ended up falling asleep on the floor for the rest of the night, curled up in the masses of blankets. Louis was curled up in Harry's side all night keeping him warm, so warm in fact that his internal temperature protested when they finally woke up and Harry had to go back to his own cabin. They said a quick goodbye at the door, coupled with a kiss full of promise for future events like the night before, and with that Harry was gone.
The camp was buzzing around him. It reminded him a lot of the first day, when everyone was talking about Louis. It seemed like everywhere Harry went people were excitedly gossiping about something.
When Harry entered his cabin he knew something was wrong. All of Niall's stuff was gone. Literally all of it, event his sheets had been stripped from the mattress. Harry turned on his heel, concerned for Niall's sake, but James blocked his way, with Niall cowering behind him.
“What's going on?” Harry asked, eyeing Niall.
“Come on Harry, let's sit down.” James said motioning Harry back into the cabin.
“I'm really sorry Harry, didn't mean for this to happen.” Niall said quickly.
“What happened, what did you do?” Harry asked, following James and Niall into the cabin.
James sat on the edge of Niall's stripped bed, and Harry sat across from him, waiting for an answer. Niall lingered at the door, not entering, not daring to sit next to either one of them.
“Niall is being sent home Harry.” James said softly.
“What?” Harry voiced. “Why?”
“He was caught last night in a rather compromising position with a member of the kitchen staff.”
“The kitchen girl?” Harry said dumbfound. “You're being sent home for having sex with the Kitchen Girl?” He directed towards Niall.
“In the kitchen too. If that matters.” Niall sighed. “Look it's not my fault, we just snuck in for a snack, and one thing led to another and...”
“That's enough Niall, thank you.” James said curtly. “Niall will be leaving in about ten minutes. I'll let you say your goodbyes.” He walked out and then closed the door behind him.
“What about Final Busk?” Harry asked. “You know I’m shit at the piano, and it's only a week away.”
“Here, I have the sheet music. Just try your best Harry, the rhythms aren't that hard.” Niall said digging into his bag. “I'll come back with your parents to watch the performance mate, I promise.”
“I can't believe you're leaving. There' so much I have to tell you.” Harry mumbled.
Niall stepped forward and gave Harry a hug. “I know, you've been preoccupied a lot with Tomlinson, and that's okay. And this sucks, me going home, but to be fair, the sex was great, until James walked in that is.”
Harry laughed, and then they broke apart. “So I guess you're what the whole camp's been talking about then?”
“What?” Niall asked. “Nah, not me. Heard a couple of people talking about Louis, but not me. Whatever he did yesterday must have been a hell of a lot more exciting than what I did.”
Harry's blood ran cold. He'd spent the whole day with Louis, and nothing scandalous had happened until well into the night, no one could have been around then.
“C'mon Niall, time to go.” James said peeking his head in the door.
“Alright. See ya in a week Harry.” Niall mumbled giving Harry another quick hug.
And just like that, Niall was gone. Harry didn't leave the cabin for breakfast. Instead he sat on the edge of his bed looking at the piano sheet music for his song, and contemplating how on earth he would be able to go on stage by himself, let alone learn the piano, in just a week.
He was contemplating the pros and cons of just leaving the camp all together when he heard quick steps coming up to the cabin, and the door flew open.
“You bastard!” Louis yelled at him. He was wearing the same thing he was this morning, and his hair was muffled with sleep, and Harry honestly had no idea what he walk talking about.
“Lou?” Harry asked.
”How could you?” Louis gaped at him. “I trusted you.”
“I don't understand.” Harry stated.
“That's probably why you're held up in your cabin, right? Too ashamed of what you did?”
“I. What? Niall just got sent home, I don't understand what you're...”
“The whole camp is talking about how I practically drank myself into a coma over a little heartbreak from my darling ex Nick Grimshaw, Harry. Now how would they get that information, I wonder?” Louis yelled at him. “Maybe from the only person I trusted to tell?”
“You don't really believe that do you?” Harry stood up and walked towards Louis. “I left your cabin no more than half an hour ago. Word doesn't spread that fast.”
“It couldn't have been anyone else.”
“Well, it must have been, because it certainly wasn't me!” Harry was getting frustrated.
“Whatever Curly, I hope you enjoyed your five minutes of playing the 'infamous Louis Tomlinson'. Well done.” Louis scoffed and turned on his heel to walk out of the cabin.
“Lou, I'm serious it wasn't me!” Harry called after him.
“You know Harry, I really thought you were different, after last night and everything. Jokes on me, right?” Louis said as he turned away for good, and jogged off down the path, and away from Harry.
Overall it had been a rather horrible morning for Harry.
Harry threw himself into working on his Final Busk performance after that for two main reasons: 1. He had little to no experience on the piano, and was determined to perfect it, and 2. Camp was hell. Without Niall it seemed too quiet, like there was an overwhelming silence without him. But Harry could have made his peace with it, if it wasn't for Louis. Everyone at camp was constantly talking about him and discussing how they'd “always known Tomlinshaw was real” and it sort of made Harry sick to his stomach.
On top of that Louis avoided Harry like he was the plague. He didn't pay attention to him in class, and didn't go out to the canoe's the morning after the final campfire. It broke Harry's heart a little.
So Harry skipped meals and practically lived in the practice hall for much of the week, despite Ed's concerned pleas. He worked on his song because he hoped if Louis heard it at the Final Busk and it was good enough maybe – just maybe – he could gain forgiveness for something he never did. It was stupid, Harry knew, but it sort of comforted him.
Not to say that Harry didn't know who was responsible. Sometime between running to and from the practice hall he got caught up with Max (the douche, not the child).
“Hey Harry!” Max called out. “How're you dealing with the whole 'Tomlinshaw Scandal' then?”
“Go away Max.” Harry said trying to push past him.
“No, c'mon, seriously. How does it feel to be a second choice? Everyone knows how you've been trying to get close to Tomlinson, don't try and deny it.” Max sneered. “I mean, sure he gave you a bit of attention, but don't let that go to your head or anything.”
Harry froze. It was Max, it had to have been. Max had been the shadow he saw out the window, and he was the one who spread the rumours about Louis. There's no other way he would know about what Louis says so frequently.
“It was you.” Harry stated. “You're the one talking shit about Louis.”
“Yeah, so?” Max laughed. “It's too late. Your popstar boyfriend won't take you back now. He thinks you're a traitor.”
Harry looked past Max, trying to channel his anger. But when he looked over Max's shoulder he saw a familiar brown fringe duck behind a tree, and Harry smiled.
“Max, you're a horrible person.” Harry said calmly, and pushed past him so he could go back to the practice hall: he had work to do.
So Harry tried to keep practising for the rest of the afternoon, but he was distracted. He was distracted by how Louis could have heard his conversation with Max, actually he was distracted by Louis in general, and even though his song was directed towards Louis, it was still impossible to concentrate. He finally gave up and closed the lid of the piano when a hoard of screaming girls ran past the window. He took it as an other worldly sign that it was time to call it a day.
He stumbled down the path, and overheard the screaming girls talking about how they'd “catch him next time” but he tried not to pay them any mind. To be perfectly honest he was contemplating going to see Louis. After all, it had been a few days since their blow out (and blow jobs), so Louis might have had time to simmer down.
Without really thinking about it his feet carried him to the door of Louis' cabin. Harry was considering the pros and cons of knocking when he heard Louis talking inside. He didn't want to be like Max and eavesdrop, not to mention that if he got caught, it wouldn't exactly help his case, but he couldn't resist. He shuffled so he was closer to the open window and strained to hear Louis talking.
“...I know that Zayn, I can read a clock.” Louis paused. “I really don't give a shit if you're tired, this is important.”
Harry concluded that Louis must be on the phone.
“Okay well, I was minding my own business as I do, and I happened upon Harry...yes that Harry, Zayn. Anyways I happened upon him having a tense conversation with Max. No not my nephew, some bully at the camp.”
Harry did a mental fist pump in rejoice. He knew it was Louis he saw.
“Anyways, I might have accidentally overheard Max say he was the one who was spreading shit about it.” Louis paused for a moment. “Yes, Zayn, by fact I do feel like an absolute knob right now, I'm so glad I called you, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.”
Louis was shuffling around the room, so Harry ducked a little lower in fear that his hair would be visible above the edge of the window.
“Yeah, yeah, I know I need to apologize to him Zayn, but we've got a bigger problem than my potential relationship status. There's a shockingly talented pianist at this camp and I have to find him.”
Harry slumped down in sadness. If Louis had already found some pianist, it wouldn't matter how hard he practised.
“Yeah, so I was walking 'round the camp today, when this group of girls that have been on my arse ever since I got here by the way, started chasing me, it was horrible. Anyways I hid behind the practice hall, and that's when I heard him. He was singing this song, right, and the chorus, it just kind of goes 'don't let me go' over and over, and yes I know it sounds lame but it’s a musical masterpiece Zayn. So naturally I go in there but the place is empty. The guy must have left right before I went in.”
Harry was shocked. Suddenly the screaming girls made so much more sense; Louis had been right there, listening to him practice. Harry didn't know whether he was going to jump for joy or vomit on his shoes.
“Yes Zayn, I'm aware of how rude it is to listen in on someone, especially in light of recent events, but this guy is gonna land a record deal, and I want to be the one to give it to him.”
Harry needed to leave. Final Busk was in three days and he had to practice. Now his performance really needed to be perfect.
///
Harry was looking at the set list for the Final Busk (which was tonight) and he was panicking a little:
-Little Mix (Perrie, Jesy, Jade, Leigh Anne) – DNA
-Ed Sheeran – Sofa
-The Wanted (Max, Jay, Nathan, Tom, Siva) - Glad You Came
-Cher Lloyd – Want U Back
-5 Seconds Of Summer (Luke, Ashton, Calum, Michael) – Try Hard
-Harry Styles - Don't Let Me Go
-(break) performance by The Illuminaughty
He was last which was horrible because he wasn't nearly confident enough to be last. The competition was steep and even though he hadn't heard them all sing before, he'd met them all sometime during the camp and there was no way he could out do them all.
The last act has to be the best, it's almost an unwritten law of the universe. So instead of panicking over the prospect of his performance, he searched the building for him mom, and Niall, who should have arrived already.
He found them in the mess hall, Niall looking anxious as he ate some cubed fruit. When his mom saw him she jumped up and pulled him into a giant hug.
“Oh Harry, I've missed you!” She exclaimed. “I'm so excited to see you perform! Niall told me all about your song.”
“Yeah, mate, it's gonna be a hit. Even without me on the piano.” Niall said, trying to mask his panic with humour.
Harry's mom excused herself to get some bottled water, so Harry took it as a chance to ask Niall what was wrong.
“Nothing bad, not really.” Niall mumbled. “It's just, I haven't heard from her, you know?”
“Her?” Harry was lost.
“The Kitchen Girl. Harry, come on, keep up.”
“You're still hung up on her?” Harry questioned. “You've never liked the same girl for more than a few days mate, are you feeling okay?”
“She's just different, trust me.”
Harry did trust Niall, and he understood now more than ever that the connection two people can have, even just after a short amount of time, can change you.
Harry was running out of time, and he tried to restrain himself from going to practice his song once more before the concert. Soon Niall and his mom were being herded into the audience and Harry was awaiting nervously backstage.
The girls from his singer’s workshop went first, in their group named Little Mix. Harry wondered why Little Mix? Why not Big Mix, or Medium Large Mix, but his pondering was cut off when they began singing. To say they killed it would be the understatement of the century.
Harry was still in awe when they got off the stage and were replaced by Ed. The mood in the room went from electric to calm as Ed performed his piece. Harry was still shocked at how talented Ed is as he was the first day he'd met him.
When Harry saw Max take the stage after Ed, trailed by his flunkies, his stomach dropped. He wasn't worried about being shown up by them per se, but he didn't want them to do well either. His silent wish was granted with 'The Wanted' falling all over the stage, missing their cues, and singing off key.
As Cher, another girl from his class, made her way on stage, Harry peeked around the corner and saw Louis sitting right in front, flanked by Liam and Zayn. There was an array of papers in front of them, and as they listened to Cher perform, they marked down notes.
Harry felt nauseous, how could he be so stupid? He couldn't perform in front of Louis, not with this stupid song he wrote about him. Harry ran to the toilets and emptied his stomach out. He sat on the cold linoleum floor for a while, wallowing in self-pity. He heard the 5SOS boys take the stage, and he knew he was next.
It wasn't long before he heard them call his name. It was then that he snapped out of his state. He was a performer, and in his heart he knew that despite his performance jitters, that he was meant to be on that stage. He wasn't performing for Louis, not really. He was performing for himself.
Harry swished some water in his mouth and exited the bathroom. He was met with the eyes of a very concerned James Corden.
“Harry! Are you alright?” You're supposed to go on right now!” James said, panicked.
“Yeah James, I'm fine. I can do this.” Harry wasn't saying this as false comfort, he knew he could perform.
“Kill it, Harry.” James clapped him on the shoulder and walked away.
Harry took a breath and pushed a medium sized piano out onto the stage. His entrance went unnoticed by the crowd, everyone was too busy conversing with each other in lieu of the break. Once the piano was in place, Harry looked over to Louis, who wasn't watching, but rather, whispering in Zayn's ear.
Harry took one final breath before sitting down and starting the song he had written for Louis. When he played the first few notes on the piano the audience quieted instantly. Harry looked to Louis once more as he started singing. Louis' mouth was hanging wide open, and Harry couldn't help but smile. When he got to the chorus he saw Louis smirk, and knew he must have recognized the song. Harry was beaming.
The end of his performance was greeted with a standing ovation from the crowd, and as Harry left the stage, he caught Louis' eye, sending him a sly wink.
James took the stage and explained that The Illuminaughty would choose a winner, and then take the stage themselves. After what seemed like an unbearable amount of time, Louis, Zayn, and Liam took the stage. Harry was huddled on the side with all the other contestants right between Ed and Cher, waiting for Louis to talk.
“Well,” Louis started. “This ended up being a lot harder than I thought it was going to be! I knew that this camp had some serious talent when I showed up, and watching all these performers grow over the last month made it all the more rewarding.” Louis glanced at Harry offstage then. “And there were certainly some surprises.”
Harry was glowing.
“It was a tough choice, but we came to a decision.” Zayn said, covering for Louis' loss of focus.
“And the winner is...” Liam built up.
“Harry Styles!” They all said in unison.
Harry couldn't believe it. He'd actually won. He stumbled onto the stage giving one armed hugs to both Liam and Zayn. But then there was Louis. Harry hesitated, but Louis practically jumped into his arms.
“You won a lot more than just a trophy Curly.” Louis whispered just as he let go.
Louis threw his arm around Harry's waist and handed him the Official Camp Pop trophy. “Harry here is your winner.” Louis said into the mic. “But we have a little surprise. See, before the camp, we decided that the winner shouldn't just get some trophy. So we decided that the winner this year would get a chance to open for us on our next tour!”
The crowd was erupting in cheers in front of Harry but he couldn't concentrate. His brain was on information overload. He'd won Camp Pop's Final Busk. He was going to open for The Illuminaughty on tour. He might have been able to process that on its own, but with Louis' tiny hand rubbing circles on Harry's waist just between where his pants and shirt met, it was damn near impossible.
Somehow Harry got offstage, Louis' hand gone from his waist. Louis was still talking onstage though.
“This is a song I wrote here at camp, and well, let's say I had a bit of trouble with it. But there's a person who inspired this song in more ways than one, and let's just say it's lucky that there's already a piano up here. Hope you guys like it.”
And before Harry could even comprehend the fact that Louis had indirected him, he, Zayn and Liam were performing Louis' song “They Don't Know About Us” on stage. The piano truly did change the sound and Louis played it perfectly, and to be frank Harry was a little bit in shock. But then the song was done all too fast, and the Final Busk was over, and Louis wasn't on stage anymore and all Harry knows is he has to find him.
Harry searched the camp for some time trying to skillfully by-pass everyone offering him congratulations on his win. He slipped past his mom, and Niall was busy making out with the Kitchen Girl to notice him. Eventually he got outside and found Louis sitting on the steps of his cabin looking at Harry's underwear, still stuck in the tree, just like they were on the first day.
“You know, that’s really a waste of good underwear.” Louis said cocking his head to the side.
“Louis.” Harry said breathlessly.
“I mean, they're Calvin Klein's too.”
“Louis.”
“We should really try and get them down, there are some people who can't even afford underwear and here you are, carelessly throwing a quality pair up into some tree. So heartless.”
“Louis!”
“Yes. Harry?” Louis said smirking, finally looking away from the underwear, and looking at Harry.
“I've been looking for you for ages.”
“Well I haven’t gone anywhere. It's not my fault it took you so long.” Louis said, still smiling.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Harry questioned, sitting next to Louis on the steps.
“Talk about what exactly? How I was a complete arse, and didn't believe you? Which by the way, I'm really sorry about. Or we could talk about your song. Don't lie and say it wasn't about me. Oh, or we could talk about how you're coming on tour with me. You should bring your friend, Niall right? That could be a laugh with Zayn. Or we could talk about what's really bugging me, Harry, which is your fucking underwear.”
Harry was speechless for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally he mumbled out, “Your song was about me too though.”
Louis laughed. “You got me there, Curly. It's totally about you.” Louis turned on the steps so he was facing Harry. “So am I forgiven for my arsery?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” Harry pondered until Louis playfully punch him on the arm. “Only if you help me rescue my underwear.”
“You go yourself a deal.” Louis jumped up. “Here, gimme a boost.”
So they ended up getting Harry's underwear in the end, but not without falling over each other a few times. When they finally got them Louis pulled the band over Harry's head, covering his eyes. And giggled as he kissed him gently.
“You know what Curly? I'm kinda in love with you, but don't let that go to your head or anything.” He smirked, and began pulling Harry into the cabin. “Now come on, I believe I have a promise to keep.”