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The boys had been lucky enough to avoid the talk show circuit. The worst they’d had to do in the last couple of months were quick Q&A sessions that didn’t give journalists time to ask any ‘juicy’ questions. Unfortunately, that time had come to an end. They were scheduled to appear on a prominent American morning talk show, and play some of their hits to promote the tour in the States. This would normally be something they could do without a second thought, but given the circumstances, it was rather nerve-wracking.
Liam researched incessantly, watching old interviews done by the male anchor, reading comments of celebs who had been interviewed by him in the past. He was relatively sure that if they were interviewed by the female anchor, she would be respectful, especially of a topic that usually concerned women. But Liam was determined to be ready for whatever unpleasantness her male counterpart could throw at them.
Louis researched as well. Of a sort. He was frequently found on the phone to the lady lawyer that Harry’d liked so much. He was nitpicking at their rights regarding slander, and not-so-secretly trying to see exactly how far he could go before getting arrested for punching someone out.
Zayn took a much more relaxed attitude toward it all. He just hovered around Liam as he stressed, and rubbed his shoulders telling him they’d figure it out when they got there. That, as long as they were a united front, it didn’t matter what they were asked. And every time Louis got heated up, tossing threats around, he’d gently herd him away from the others and talk him down off of the ledge.
Niall waffled back and forth between Liam-ing and Louis-ing, while still spending every spare second he had Zayn-ing Harry that it would all go over just fine. Surprisingly, Harry was the most held together of all of them. One evening, while the others were on their phones to family and friends, Zayn pulled Harry aside.
“So, Hazza,” he said quietly, lifting his arm so Harry could squirm under it as they sat on the couch in the lounging area of Lilo’s hotel room. “How are you feeling about that interview?”
Harry shrugged, pushing his nose up into Zayn’s neck, snuffling until Zayn started giggling and shoved Harry’s face further down his chest. Harry grinned and settled in more comfortably.
“I’m not worried about it,” he answered honestly.
Zayn frowned. “Really? Cause the other lads are looking at it like the apocalypse.”
Harry snorted. “Nothing I experience will ever be as awful as it was. And while it was…truly horrific, it was over pretty quickly. I think the hours afterward were worse. Trapped in the hospital, being touched by more and more strangers. Sat in front of the police, in front of my friends, talking about it, trying to remember every last detail of people I’d just as soon never remember again.” He got quiet for a moment, then continued. “Having the person I love most in the world forced to scrub another man’s spunk off of my body because I was too ashamed to touch myself.”
Zayn’s heart twinged and he tugged Harry in more tightly against him. Harry looked up at him, pain in his eyes, but a small smile on his lips. “But he made it bearable. You all made it bearable. You lads’ love and strength has kept me afloat, you know. Of course, my family loves and supports me, and I’m so very grateful for that. But…I don’t know that I could have gotten up in the morning, much less continued in the band if even one of you—” His breath hitched and he paused to gather himself. His eyes were filled with tears as he glanced back up at Zayn. “If any of you had thought…less of me for what happened.”
Zayn wrapped his other arm around Harry and half pulled him onto his lap. “Harreh, we love you. We’re all bound up so tight, saying we’re family doesn’t even cover half of it. We’d walk through fire for you, just like you would for us. Nothing in this world could make us think less of you. We’re behind you 100%, whatever way you want to take this interview. We’ll sit and answer questions all polite, yeah? Or, if you want, we can tell ‘em to fuck off and go right to the singing bit.”
Harry chuckled into Zayn’s shirt and nodded. “I love you, too. All of you. So much.”
_____________________________
In the end, Management informed them that the U.S., with their love of Jerry Springer-esque gossip, were going to want to hear the whole, horrible story. And now that it was out there, the boys were obligated to share all the details that the fans wanted to know. The boys didn’t actually agree. They were pretty sure that their fans just wanted them to be happy, but Management was still hot under the collar about the dispute of their press release and Harry's full ‘confession’. So, they decided—Harry decided and puppy-dog-eyed the other boys into agreement—that they would wing the interview and hope for the best.
Again, the boys ignored the colored tape on the chairs, indicating which band member should sit where. There was no way in hell any one was going to let Harry be sat closest to the journalists, Jerry Springer or no. As a matter of fact, Louis manhandled Harry over to the second to last seat and eye-pointed Niall into blocking Harry off from the end even as he took the seat next to Harry in the middle. Zayn dropped into the seat next to him and they left Daddy Liam in the front chair to field all questions not name-specific.
They could see Management gnashing their teeth on the sidelines, but even the pre-interview was taped and Louis took great pleasure in baring his own teeth at them in the most ridiculous fake smile he’d ever given. As he pressed his shoulder against Harry's in support, he could feel the younger lad’s body trembling. He glanced over in concern, but Niall was already moving to tuck Harry's hand into his own. Neither one seemed overly concerned that fans or cameras or Management might see their hands twined together, and Louis’ fake smile became a bit more real.
Good. If they came out today, Louis silently promised them both, he’d break the world to keep them together.
The host--Matt? Mike? Mark? What the hell was his name again? Niall really wished he had been listening during Liam’s rants—gave the boys a smarmy smile and went right into an onslaught of insipid questions. “How are you liking the States? Are American girls the hottest? What’s your favorite venue been? What’s your favorite American food?”
Niall could have answered these in his sleep. He was pretty sure he had done the first time the band came round to America. There was a period of time--when they were young and wide-eyed and easily manipulated into doing press junket after meet and greet after party until they were barely functioning zombies—where he lost about three months. Some of the pictures from that time were like looking at a stranger living his life. He couldn’t identify half the people he was papped laughing with, nor half the places he had memorabilia from.
He felt Harry tense up beside him and frantically drug his attention back to the journalist. Definitely Mark. Or Matt. “Well, you boys have had quite the scandalous upheaval these past few months,” the host chuckled. “You’re very popular with the media these days. How do you feel about what people are saying?”
Niall felt Harry shrinking back into his seat as an uptick in murmurs came from the crowd. Fuck it. Whatever his name was, it was Muppet now.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it an upheaval,” Zayn, of all people, answered in his slow drawl. Niall watched Louis narrow his eyes at Zayn’s profile. “I mean, I asked the girl to marry me, I should expect her to include me in the planning. It’s not her fault the time zones are murder on a sleep schedule.”
The dead silence was a thing of beauty.
Then, Liam ruined it all by snorting a quiet laugh. He cleared his throat and excused himself, but the moment was gone and the fans lost their minds. Laughter, screams, whistles and applause shut the Muppet up for nearly a minute and a half before he regained order in his kingdom.
“Ha, that’s quite funny, Zayn,” he grit his teeth in a pearly white, media smile. “But I think we all know, that’s not the upheaval I meant.”
Zayn shrugged carelessly. “Clearly, you’ve not been woken up three days in a row at 4 a.m. to be asked your opinion on bubbles vs. rice.”
Louis barked out a laugh and hooked his elbow around Zayn’s head. He pulled him in and gave him a big, smacking kiss on the top of his forehead. That set the fans off again, and the Muppet’s face began to redden. He glared off camera to Management, but the lads pointedly refused to make eye contact with them.
“Fine,” the Muppet’s smile looked much more like a sneer. “Let me be very specific. Harry, what’s it been like performing after your rape?”
The crowd exploded again, this time in fury. Hundreds of angry, screaming girls threw themselves forward against the barriers. The crowd control officers glanced up at the stage in a panic as they worked to keep the wave of incensed fans away from the stage.
The stage itself didn’t look much better. Louis threw his microphone down, causing a sharp whine of feedback, and launched himself to his feet almost instantly. That spurred Liam and Zayn to drop their own mics and lunge from their seats to try to prevent the almost assured murder of their host. Liam went high, grabbing Louis’ shoulders and planting his own feet against the enraged smaller man. Zayn went low, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pushing forward to slow his momentum. His anger was so great that, between the two of them, they barely had him contained.
The Muppet had stood up and backed away cautiously, wide eyes moving frantically from the crowd to Louis. Niall tossed his mic down and jumped to his feet as well, but Harry refused to let go, and so he was left with rooting Louis on and throwing in his own occasional insults.
Harry held tightly to Niall's hand, his face pale and his heart beating far too quickly. His previous confidence in handling this interview was tanking messily. Barely holding onto a thin veneer of professionalism, he tugged Niall back to him.
Niall glanced down, frustrated that Harry would pull him back from getting his own piece of that bastard. When he saw Harry's near bloodless face and pinched lips, he dropped his pursuit of revenge and knelt down in front of his boyfriend. He pulled Harry's mic from his hand and set it on Louis’ chair. “Hazza? Love, you alright?” he asked quietly, frowning.
Harry shook his head tightly, then closed his eyes and nodded. He opened them and tried to blink away the tears. “Please,” he begged, his words barely making it over the crowd’s roar. “Please don’t. Please, make Louis stop.” His wet, wide green eyes broke Niall's heart and, although he wanted to help Louis remove the man’s gizzard, he nodded.
He hopped back up to his feet and stepped up behind Louis. He reached up and grabbed a handful of coiffed hair, then yanked Louis’ head sideways so he could reach his ear.
“Enough!” he yelled in the smaller man’s ear, trying to be heard over the crowd.
Louis went for a headbutt that nearly ripped a chunk of his own hair out. Niall ducked the headbutt and yanked harder on the fistful of hair.
“Fuck you, Horan!” Louis howled both in pain and anger. “This piece of shit deserves it!”
“Maybe he does,” Niall growled in his ear. “But look what you’re doing to Harry! Look at him!” He wrenched Louis’ head around again and pointed him at Harry. A Harry who had curled into himself, arms clutching his own torso. A Harry who was biting his lip so hard to keep from crying that blood was imminent. A Harry who pleaded with teary eyes for Louis to stop.
And so, Louis did.
He stopped as though his strings were cut. The group of them actually moved several steps backward as both Zayn and Liam were holding Louis back so hard. Louis shook them off and stepped away. Niall retook his seat next to Harry and draped a protective arm around him, pulling Harry into his side as he glared at Louis.
Harry leaned into Niall, taking comfort from tight hold. He pressed his thigh into Niall's and his hands kept twitching toward Niall's leg like they wanted to wrap up in the material.
Louis took this all in with a glance and pressed his lips tightly together. He squatted down in front of Harry, trying to ignore how the younger man seemed to want to climb into Niall's lap, public-be-damned.
“I’m sorry, Hazza,” he said contritely, his hand hovering over Harry's leg. It was as close as he dared with the rumor mill ready to fly apart at the first innuendo. Before, he would have tugged Harry out of Niall's grip and wrapped him up in a fierce hug. Before, he wouldn’t have cared what anyone said about their closeness. Before. Before Larry. Before Management threw down their orders. Before Louis broke Harry's heart. Before.
But it wasn’t before anymore. It was after. After they’d grown apart. After their comfort level with one another became nil. After Louis turned to avoidance to cope…After he’d lost Harry to Niall. And he had. Lost Harry to Niall, that is. There was no doubt in his mind that the only one Harry wanted comfort from was Niall. And there was no doubt in his mind that Niall would fight to the death for the lanky young man before them. This Harry, so different from before…but still so much the same.
Harry smiled shakily at him from the shelter of Niall's arm, and he nodded. “It’s okay. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”
Louis smiled sadly. “I think you’ve earned me doing something stupid for you once in a while, yeah?” Niall's eyes narrowed as his fingers tightened against Harry's shoulder and Louis shot him a saucy wink. “But, you’re right. Punching him in the face would thrill me to death, but wouldn’t help the band in the least. So, I’m sorry.”
He gave in to his almost overwhelming need to comfort and snuck in a leg pat as he stood up, fighting to keep the smirk off of his face as Niall nearly growled at him. He plucked up both his and Harry's mics, handed Harry his, then planted himself in his chair in a lazy sprawl and grinned at Liam and Zayn. They narrowed their eyes and cautiously sank back into their own chairs, fumbling for a moment for their mics. Shortly thereafter, the Muppet gingerly retook his own seat and nervously shuffled his cue cards.
Louis looked out at the crowd and waved his hand to shush the still grumbling crowd. “Thank you for your support, loves,” he smiled winningly. “But let’s get on with this interview so we can play a little something for you, yeah?” The crowd roared again, causing the host to jump a little, and settled down as Liam and Zayn copied Louis in the shushing gestures.
“Uh…okay?” the Muppet ventured carefully.
Harry visibly centered himself, then turned a bit to face the man. “While I think your tone is quite disrespectful, and this is clearly an uncomfortable topic, I promised myself that I wouldn’t shy away from any reasonable and politely worded question about it.” He narrowed his eyes pointedly. “That would take away from the message I hope to send on this topic: that victim-shaming is reprehensible and wrong. So,” he took a deep breath. “If I can help even one person out there by acknowledging what happened to me and sharing how I’m handling it, it’s my responsibility to do just that. Please. Ask your questions.”
“All right,” the Muppet agreed cautiously. “So, how are you handling it?”
“One day at a time, honestly.” Harry glanced out to the crowd, now quiet as church mice. “I have a massive amount of support from my friends, my family. But most especially from these guys.” He gave a warm smile to each of his bandmates. “They’ve been my rock, my absolute foundation in this whole mess. They’re there with an encouraging word when I need it and are more than willing to be a shoulder to cry on when that’s needed as well.”
The Muppet gave a short guffaw to which Louis made an aborted lunge, Zayn slapped his arm across Louis’ chest and Harry just frowned. “How is that funny?”
“Well, I…I just can’t imagine Harry Styles sobbing on anyone’s shoulder,” the Muppet replied, shifting uncomfortably as he eyed Louis’ murderous glare.
Harry shrugged. “I’ve cried on every shoulder in the band. There are times when I can go days without tearing up. Other days, I can’t make it through an hour without crying.” He tilted his head curiously. “It sounds like you think crying should be something to be ashamed of. It’s not. It doesn’t make me less masculine. It doesn’t make me weak. It makes me human.”
Another roar went up from the crowd and the host smiled thinly. “Of course not,” he agreed. “All right. Moving on. You’ve dated dozens of women in the last few years—”
“I haven’t,” Harry interrupted placidly.
“What?” The Muppet frowned, irritated at yet another interruption.
“I haven’t dated dozens of women,” Harry clarified. “I really haven’t dated anyone. I’ve spent time with friends, some of whom were women, some of whom might have even been potential girlfriends, but I haven’t dated.”
The veins in the Muppet’s neck began to bulge out. “Okay, however you want to say it,” he snapped. “Your name has been linked with quite a few ladies.” He paused pointedly and Harry frowned again.
“And? I’m not seeing a question here.”
The Muppet sighed in obvious frustration. “How can you can still feel like a sex symbol for the ladies when you’ve been with a man?”
Harry blinked. Once. Twice. Then he cleared his throat and pressed his knee more tightly against Niall's. “Well, first of all,” he said slowly, “What happened to me was a vicious sexual attack, not a wine and flower filled evening with four eligible bachelors. So, stating it as though I went out on a polyamorous date is both insulting and wrong. I also don’t see how being with a man, as you put it, negates one’s attractiveness to women. Regardless, I don’t feel like a sex symbol. I’m a musician. As long as people are enjoying my music, I don’t suppose that what people think of me sexually is really important.”
The crowd roared again, and it amused the band that amongst the shouts of agreement, they could hear affirmations of Harry’s ‘hotness’ and just how the fans felt about him ‘sexually’.
Clearly, the Muppet wasn’t as impressed as he actually rolled his eyes. “Fine. Then how do you feel knowing that your album and tour sales might drop because of what happened?”
Harry's brow furrowed. “Well, it makes me quite sad to imagine that people would judge the whole band’s music on the basis of something tragic that happened in the personal life of one of the band members. But, honestly,” he shrugged, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
The host leaned forward. “Why not?”
Harry turned to smile at the crowd. “Our fans are some of the most amazing people in the world.” Again, they had to wait until the noise died down a bit. “They’ve stood behind us through thick and thin. They love us and we love them. And, if one day they decide they aren’t fans anymore, we’ll mourn their loss, but will be eternally grateful for the gifts they’ve given us.”
The Muppet perked up, like he’d sniffed out a secret. “Gifts?” He smiled like a shark. “What kinds of gifts? What have they sent you?”
Harry shook his head and moved back under Niall's arm. “Not actual, physical gifts,” he corrected. “They gave us their time, their attention. They lifted us up when we were down, and they let us help them in some of their darkest times. The gifts they’ve given us could never have a price tag put on them.”
The other lads nodded and smiled out at the crowd. Louis blew a kiss and Liam made a heart with his hands.
“Well, aren’t you just well trained on the media answers,” the Muppet snarked.
Harry frowned. “No, I’m being honest. Which is why I’m even answering your unpleasant questions at all: to shine a light on a subject usually considered dirty or shaming.” He pushed another minute inch under Niall's arm and cocked his head. “Do you somehow think I enjoy talking about the worst experience of my life? Do you think I want to share my fears, my lack of confidence, my worries that I won’t ever get me back? And with someone like you? Someone I don’t know? Someone who’s already made up his mind about what kind of person I must have been in order to justify my attack?
“You’re asking me to emotionally strip naked in front of millions of people for your ratings, then berating me for not providing juicy enough answers. Well, let me share with you: I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for them. For those fans, and even those people who aren’t fans, who have gone through this with no outlet. I have a voice, thanks to those fans. It would be irresponsible of me not to use it in support of all of those people who don’t have one.”
The Muppet’s face reddened and he clenched his hand tightly around his mic. “Where do you get off—"
“Sorry,” Louis interrupted, not looking a bit sorry. “We came on this show to promote our tour. We have a performance to give and it looks like your supervisor is wildly waving off camera for you to cut the interview portion short and let us get on with it.” He pointed to another red-faced man nearly hopping up and down on the sidelines. “So, if you don’t mind…” He stood up and flung his arms wide. “Would you like us to perform now?” he bellowed. The responding shrieks of joy reminded everyone of the reception they had in an arena, which was especially amazing in that there were only a few hundred fans at this taping.
“There you have it,” Louis smirked. “The people whose opinions actually matter have spoken.” He dropped his arms and sauntered off in the direction of the stage. Liam and Zayn stood in short order and followed.
Niall grinned and shook his head, as always, in awe of just how much Louis Tomlinson managed to get away with. He gave Harry one last squeeze, then got to his feet. Harry was smiling out at the crowd, a slightly startled look on his face. As if, he’d said the fans wouldn’t care, but he was surprised to see it actually true. Niall's grin softened into a fond smile and he held out his hands to Harry, to pull him to his feet.
Harry's gaze switched to Niall's hands and, following his arms up to Niall's face, his smile softened, too. He didn’t hesitate to drop his mic and place his slightly trembling hands into Niall's strong grip. Niall heaved him up, pulling much harder than was needed to just get Harry to his feet. Harry's body launched up and slammed into Niall's sturdy stance. Harry came up on his tiptoes and barked out a laugh as Niall tangled their fingers together and held their arms out to the sides, keeping Harry pulled up against his body. They both stopped moving and just stared, smiling, into each other’s eyes. Long enough that the crowd started to hum with interest.
On the other side of the stage, Louis was watching with keen eyes as his two friends continued to gaze soulfully at one another. He extended his arm and slapped Zayn in the gut. Zayn turned with a frown, but when he followed Louis’ eyes over to Niall and Harry's almost-embrace, he froze. Wide-eyed, he waved his own arm vaguely behind him, getting Liam’s attention. Liam joined him at his side, grasping Zayn’s arm as the three of them waited, anticipating a world-rocking moment.
Niall bent his own arms backward to deposit Harry's arms around himself. Harry went wide-eyed and held his breath as Niall pulled away, leaving Harry's hands gently resting on Niall's hips. Harry's eyes darted out to the audience, but Niall's hands came up to frame his face and pull his attention back. Niall smiled sweetly, his thumb smoothing over Harry's jaw.
“I love you, Harry Styles,” he said softly, making no effort to hide his mouth from the cameras they all knew were focused on them.
Tears sprang to Harry's eyes and he choked on a laugh. “I love you, too, Niall Horan,” he responded. His teary smile lit up the stage and Niall gently tilted Harry's head a fraction before leaning in and firmly taking possession of Harry's lips.
The audience’s murmurs dropped to absolute silence. Which worked well, because it highlighted the other three band member’s reactions. Louis leaped into the air, whooping and punching at the sky. “Yes!” he shouted. “Fucking finally!” Liam moved his grip from Zayn’s arm to his waist, lifted him up and spun him around, grinning and cackling the whole way. Zayn had a huge smile on his face and, when Liam put him down, he pulled both the boys into a hug as they hopped in a small circle together.
The fans finally got with the picture and added their own shouts to the mix. Harry and Niall didn’t even notice. They stood, locked in a kiss that was getting steamier by the second. Louis dragged the others over and they surrounded Harry and Niall in a 5-way hug that was quite similar to their end of tour hugs.
“Break it up, lads,” Louis laughed wildly. “These girls don’t need to see where this is headed.” Both lads, flushed and with swollen lips, stepped back and cautiously eyed the crowd. When they only saw smiles and hand-hearts, and heard only whoops and cheers, they allowed themselves to beam happily at each other.
“Well, lads, looks like Harold was right after all,” Louis threw an arm around Zayn as he began walking back to the stage. “Fans still love us. He’ll be impossible to live with after this,” Louis sighed, shaking his head even as a grin spread across his face.
Zayn frowned. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who said that first, Lou. When we were telling Harreh he couldn’t leave the band. Weeks ago, wasn’t it?”
Louis perked up. “I did, didn’t I?” He barked out a laugh. “Well, looks like it’s gonna be me who’s impossible to live with!”
A gentle slap came across the back of his head and he glanced over to see Harry grinning at him. “Isn’t that pretty much every day?” Louis gasped, affronted, and pulled away from Zayn to chase Harry up onto the stage, aiming kicks at Harry's behind the whole way.
Zayn felt a new arm go around his neck and another around his waist from the other side. He slipped own arms around his other two bandmates and squeezed them tightly.
Who knew what tomorrow would bring for them? But, for now, life was good.