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The first time Louis sees Harry back on stage, he’s so overwhelmed with love and pride he can barely breathe.
Harry has been filled with nervous energy ever since he and his team entered the final stages of organising and confirming everything, and Louis is pretty sure he’s seen Kate more often in the past month than he has the entire time they have known each other. He and Harry haven’t had much time for each other exclusively because of the whirlwind of constant activity and stress, and as luck would have it, Louis had to fly back to London for a few days during the worst of it. He had come back to Harry being almost sick with exhaustion, barely awake and frantic, curling up in Louis’ arms as soon as he stepped inside, like all Harry wanted was to just stay there and disappear for a while.
“I can’t do this, Lou,” Harry had whispered, dropping the self-assured front he’d been holding up around everyone else, the firm confidence that’d been present through all of the professional meetings. “What if they hate it?”
For a second, he sounded so much like he was seventeen again, right before their first show as a band, that Louis’ heart clenched painfully. He held and reassured him, murmured encouraging words, hoping to make any of it better. When Harry finally gave way to sleep, he stayed up for a long while, simply looking at him, at the slight frown not leaving his face even now, running his fingers through his hair.
Louis gets it, he really does. It’s been way too long since his first show on his own for him to remember the entire process and the details involving it, but he doesn’t think he will ever be able to forget the feelings surrounding it, the pressure and the need inside of him to do everything right, to put out only his best, what will make the people who come to see him happy and satisfied. Louis knows that it’s a constant battle within yourself, a never-ending cycle of decisions and wondering if what you have to offer is enough, if the profitable, easily marketable changes would be somehow better. The business side of it all is never absent, no matter how personal all of it can be. That’s just how their world works, that’s the way they’re all programmed to think, no matter how much they despise it at times.
For Harry, Louis reckons, it’s perhaps even more personal than it has been for him, for any of them. Harry has grown into who he is, into the confident, beautiful man Louis shares his life with every day, into someone so unapologetically himself that it inspires everyone around him to do the same, continues to leave Louis in awe of him and everything he’s accomplished. And though it makes sharing parts of himself with the world somewhat easier, it doesn’t make it easy, doesn’t make it not scary at all. Harry’s perfectionist streak didn’t help in this case, and the fact that he was going to stand in front of a crowd of people and offer them, for the very first time, exactly who he is without any walls or excuses, has been both exhilarating and terrifying to him.
But as Louis watches Harry walk out on stage in his high-heeled boots and sparkling suit, a wide, dazzling smile on his face with only a barely noticeable nervous tilt to it, as he hears the screams that instantly greet him, he can’t help but think that it’s all been leading up to this very moment, to Harry being exactly where he belongs. That it has all been worth it.
As he listens to Harry singing his heart out, dancing around on stage without holding himself back, joking with fans and wrapping a rainbow flag around his shoulders and around his microphone stand, making terrible puns that still make everyone laugh and cheer him on, he observes Harry taking a stance, silently declaring, this is who I am and I am not going to apologise for it; take it or leave it. He observes the crowd celebrating Harry and celebrating themselves, each other, who they are and who they’re hoping to become, falling more in love with Harry with every second that passes, all over again, being inspired by him, and he thinks, me too. Me fucking too.
~*~
When Harry comes backstage for a quick break before the encore, he’s sweaty and flushed, breathing harshly and a little teary-eyed, and smiling so widely, Louis’ heart skips a beat.
He’s beautiful. He’s so overwhelmingly, breathtakingly beautiful, Louis has to grip the armrest of the sofa to stop himself from instantly getting up and snogging him senseless.
Harry seems to have other ideas, though; as soon as his eyes land on Louis, his grin seems to soften slightly, get a different edge to it. He’s full of adrenaline, pumped up on the show and the audience, and almost jumping out of his own skin, and he kisses Louis that way, too, dropping into his lap and not moving away until they both get dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
“This is fucking crazy,” Harry breathes out, as if he can’t believe any of this is actually happening. Things like that don’t happen to boys like me, Louis remembers him saying at one point, voice ever so slightly quivering with emotion, remembers his own heart clenching. He knows all too well just how much Harry has believed these words for so long, how much they have shaped him, how much spite and hurt and bitterness had been hidden inside them for most of that time. There’s nothing but gratitude now, pride and awe and humility mixed together. Louis can’t imagine anyone who deserves this more than Harry does — he was made to be on stage, to perform and entertain, to share his love and passion for music with the world, and to be appreciated for it.
“I’m so proud of you,” Louis murmurs, pushing a stray lock of Harry’s hair away from his face, brushing his knuckles against Harry’s cheek. They don’t have much time — the crowd is chanting for Harry and Louis can tell how badly he’s bursting to get back out there — and they’re not alone, the room buzzing with activity, but he leans in for one more kiss anyway, can’t help it. “I’m so fucking proud of you, H.”
“I feel like you should pinch me,” Harry says, eyes bright, “but at the same time, fuck it. If this is a dream, just let me sleep.”
Louis raises one of his eyebrows and very pointedly moves one of his hands from Harry’s hip to his arse, pinching it. Harry yelps and slaps him on the shoulder, but he’s laughing.
“You’re an idiot,” he says, but the way he’s looking at Louis is so fond and happy, Louis almost has to look away. Almost. He doesn’t want to deprive himself of seeing even a single second of this.
I love you too, he thinks, but what he says is, “Don’t rip your trousers when you’re back on stage, babe,” because he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease Harry for his dancing at least a little bit.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s just boring.”
“Alright, lovebirds, save it for after the show,” Kate tells them, but the corners of her lips are tilted up into a small smile.
“And after we’re all safely away,” Alex adds, making Clare bring her hand to her mouth to hide her amusement.
“I’ll kiss my boyfriend whenever the fuck I want, thank you very much,” Harry huffs. He does get off Louis’ lap, though, but not without pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek.
As the sound of the music starts back up again, Alex drops into the seat next to Louis.
“You’re looking all sappy and gross,” she says, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s even worse than when you were undressing him with your eyes.”
Louis snorts, pulling her into his side and messing up her hair.
(He makes her regret her words when, as soon as Harry’s off stage, Louis pushes him against the wall and proceeds to give him a congratulatory kiss that quickly turns a lot more heady and heated.
The pillow that hits his back is totally worth it.)