Chapter Text
The interview took place at New York, on a beautiful Sunday morning who was both sunny and cold as hell. The light blue American sky seemed smiling down at the five boys who were used to do interviews by then and even if they were angry for things they could not say, they didn’t feel any pressure anymore. Harry caressed the window of the black car who just took them from the hotel in which they arrived just five hours before. His green eyes were lost into the blue of the sky: it was the kind of sky with no clouds, only light blue enlightened the whole world and it was crazy thinking that, under the same sky, somewhere it was probably raining or snowing. What a mystery the sky was and that was the mystery filling Harry Styles’s head right in that moment, as if he was Hansel lost in the forest not just the most famous boy about to get an interview. His band mates looked at him and smiled, someone mocked him and Louis just hit his hands and laughed saying “C’mon Harry, don’t fly into some other world!” and Harry sighed, following his mate advice.
After all, Louis knew him more than anyone else and even if he was smiling, Harry knew that, in his heart, that blue eyed boy from Doncaster was worried about his mind floating around and doing something Harry should not have done. As the black car with dark windows turned right and he almost felt Louis falling on his left shoulder – damn you, physics! – he got back on planet earth and looked down on his mates. Liam was laughing keeping his right hand on Zayn’s left knee and the other hand around Niall’s neck and was talking about some bullshit with both of them; Louis on the other hand took his hand and held it tightly while watching him, a little bit worried. Harry smiled at him and returned the grasp, trying not to hurt the other boy’s hand with his enormous rings: one had the shape of a skull and had two huge black plastic gem in the place of the eyes and the other one was simpler, just a ring with a double border but in the inside it hid a secret, a secret Harry always held strongly onto his heart, so much he bled for it many times.
But the time of pain was over, even if maybe he would have made someone else suffer for his choices and when he thought about it, he suffered. Anyway, the time had come to make things right, to think a little bit about himself and not about the others: he had thought about other people for all of his life. It was time to do something for himself and he would have done it, sure as hell.
Niall opened the car window to say hello to some fans in their way to the live interview and the car filled with girly screams at which, they smiled and laughed – everyone but Zayn who whispered an angry ‘shit’ and hurried to hide his joint. Niall laughed because he did it on purpose and Liam laughed because it was funny but Zayn did not laughed and when Niall closed window and left the screaming on the outside of the vehicle, he threw some candy wrapper at the Irish guy and threatened him to not let him taste any of his reefer. Louis made a gesture that meant the suffering that threat would have meant to the boy and added a spoken sentence. “That burns!” he said, Mr. Doncaster.
The car slowly parked near Central Park, near a lot of people who seemed unable to do nothing but scream. They were used at it, by the way and Harry most of them all while he shook the hands he could reach and helped some fans to take a photo with him. A blonde girl – must have been something around fifteen or sixteen – almost cried and he gave her a paper tissue from the security man. She thanked Harry with a red face and trembling hands and he winked at her while he reached the stage at the centre. The security men where making space for them, guarding the barriers and in the front row, some of the management stood there, being the bars of the prison that held the curly English boy. Liam shouted an ironic “Ehy girl, I can give you the tie if you want, but I don’t think I can give you my neck.” and Louis laughed just as he escaped from a sixteen years old girl who was trying to rip a piece of his shirt.
When they finally were on the stage and the interviewers introduced themselves – a nice black woman who had the most American accent Harry ever heard (named Nicole) and a nice thirty year-old white male (Keith) who, according to Harry’s ears, was probably from Maine – they got to sit down. Harry was the first one, the nearest to the journalist, and then there were in order: Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn and on the chairs there were the names so they didn’t get to choose where to sit, one again. That was one of the reasons why Harry felt relieved and not guilty about what he was on the edge to do, on the edge to say. He looked at Louis that was trying not to look back and so let the eyes went on Niall who joked with him with the hands and suddenly – both smiling – they tried to hit each other.
Nicole smiled and held their hand telling them to stop so they did and the crowd cheered. Keith took word and he introduced them as if there was need to do so. “So, you just arrived in the United States for this massive tour that follows the publication of your fourth album, how does it feel to come back here?” usual question, usual answer given by Payno.
“We feel very lucky to be here right now and we owe it all to our amazing fans who are here even if it’s so cold!” he said smiling at the crowd and Zayn nodded, adding the always golden hit “We love you so much guys!” and still they screamed.
Nicole nodded to the guys answer and made her own question. “Yes, of course. You are very polite, guys, so British!” she laughed and so everyone did. There must have been a joke between American and British attitude, it was like the Revolution never ended but it was cool. “Anyway” with the classic charisma her work required she kept talking “we were wondering if you guys miss home. Or miss someone from home…” she left the sentence floating for a purpose, so her colleague could finish the question “…like you, Zayn. Don’t you miss your fianceé, Perrie Edwards?”
Harry thought it was the perfect question to do what he intended to. Suddenly, he felt like a rock had just fell upon his stomach or maybe his butterfly tattoo weighed suddenly too much, like the Ring of Power that felt its destruction was near. In a moment – precisely between the Liam’s puppy look and the fast answer Zayn gave – he was suddenly unsure about what he had planned. Suddenly, New York felt small and the light blue sky felt heavy, suddenly there was no certainty but it was now or never and he knew that. Nicole was taking the microphone back to ask another question but Harry raised his and smiled. “Actually I have to say something” and suddenly he felt it: he felt every eyes watching him, he felt all the cameras on him and he felt the betrayal to his best friends ripping his heart part to part. But it was too late to think it back: he had to do it.
“Have you someone you miss?” Nicole asked.
“Yes well, my mum!” he joked and waved his hand to the camera “I love you mom!” he said and felt the audience awing under him, and he felt the Modest! Team relaxing, so he stroke right in that moment.
“But I don’t miss any love interest, and how could I? He’s sitting right beside me.” And suddenly, silence fell. The thrill that was in the air could have been touched, so intense it was. Keith felt the scoop into his hands and quickly asked: “Who Is he, Harry?” and out loud, right into a microphone, right in the middle of Central Park, right before a thousand of people watching – both live and on streaming – he said it.
“Louis Tomlison.” He said.