Archive of Our Own ^beta

Harry had never seen blue quite like this.

His eyes were glued to the small window of the plane as it slowly began its descent from the sky. The Caribbean Sea below glimmered in shades of cerulean eternities. The fading traces of daylight reflected in the crystalline water, and it seemed to invite the newcomers, the enticing coolness a relief from the stifling heat inside the plane.

Harry’s eyes were transfixed on the distant shimmer of the ocean as the pilot announced that they were about to land. The hustle and bustle of the flight crew preparing for touchdown could be heard, but the noises were drowned out by the roaring boom of the engine.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Saint Thomas. The weather today is clear and sunny and local time is 5:38 pm. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened…

Harry was in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

The preceding sleepless twenty-four hours had led Harry to grow irritable, not convinced that he would ever arrive at his destination. As Harry found himself on the brink of sleep, he absently thought that the entire experience was beginning to feel like a dream. His energy levels were so low that he couldn’t muster the meagre energy needed to pinch himself.

As the aircraft glided across the tarmac, Harry sat back and closed his eyes. Sadly, he wasn’t here for a rejuvenating holiday. He wouldn’t be spending the day by the beach, drinking colourful cocktails and… His menacing mind seemingly wouldn’t let him forget that he was here to work.

Once the doors opened, passengers stood to grab their belongings and vacate the plane whilst Harry unlocked his phone and disabled airplane mode to check his messages. There was a text from Nick: “a red-haired teddy bear covered in tats” would be waiting to pick him up.

Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

From the moment he had emphatically accepted Nick’s job offer, all he had managed to think about was the rush to pack his bag and catch his midnight flight. Sixteen hours had rushed by since then.

Now that he’d finally arrived, his thoughts could wander beyond flight departure times and which gate he should walk to. Instead, the weekend ahead and its implications clouded his mind. This was his first big job in the film industry. Granted, it was a music video production, with only two days of set, but still. This was Harry’s first chance to make meaningful connections and show them what he was capable of.

There was just one simple hitch.

Nothing but a tiny little problem. A tiny little problem with a charming smile and soft, tan skin; with eyes that glimmered under the moonlight, with beckoning hands to invite Harry to a quieter place. And Harry followed. He followed him to a place where they would whisper into each other’s mouths and trace their bodies with the tips of their fingers; make them writhe with the tips of their tongues. Until the night was over and the only trace of it left was its sour aftertaste.

Harry shook his head as if there was any way he could rid his mind of the memory. He adjusted the knapsack on his shoulder and his eyes followed the line of passengers that lead towards the baggage claim area. His steps didn’t falter as he passed the group waiting for their checked baggage. Instead, he headed straight to the exit.

His eyes searched through the unfamiliar faces in the crowd, searching for the man that resembled Nick’s lovely description. He sighed once he spotted a ginger-haired man with hunched-up shoulders leaning against the wall in the corner. A piece of paper was held up in his hands, “Harry Styles” scrawled messily on its surface. The man yawned as Harry hurried to cross the distance between them.

He waved shyly at the man, pointing at the sign. Their eyes met and the guy’s face lit up, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it in a bin nearby.

“Hey, man,” he said, stretching his hand out to Harry, shaking it once. “I’m Ed.”

“Nice to meet you, mate. I’m Harry,” he replied. “Uh, clearly,” he added awkwardly.

Ed chuckled easily and beckoned Harry towards the nearest exit, “How was your flight?”

As they stepped out of the terminal and into the parking lot, Harry resisted the sudden urge to tilt his head up and bask in the last few rays of sunlight. Alas, he begrudgingly continued to walk alongside Ed.

“All three of them were delightful,” Harry joked. After a tireless fourteen hours of flying and layovers since leaving the LAX, he was drained. So much so, that the back pain he had hardly felt since he’d began doing yoga and going to the gym had even made a comeback.

“Yeah, it’s quite a journey, innit,” Ed said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to rest for a bit tonight.”

They stopped in front of a charcoal grey Volvo C30. Harry waited as the other man fished the car keys from the pocket of his trousers. After the doors were unlocked, Harry stepped in and relaxed against the backrest.

Once he plopped onto the driver’s seat, Ed said, “Don’t get too comfortable, though. Tomorrow we start at 6.”

Harry groaned. He knew that the hours would be long. It would run from dawn to sunset to take advantage of the daylight and would definitely take some time to get used to.

They drove out of the parking lot and onto the peaceful road headed towards Trunk Bay. Sunlight filtered through rustling treetops and danced on the asphalt as the car rushed past it. Ed slid a pair of sunglasses on to protect his eyes from the sun’s harsh glare as it lay low in the sky. Harry couldn’t help himself as he pulled out his phone and recorded the journey.

He was absent-mindedly sending the video clip to a group chat with his Mum and sister as Ed’s questioning voice reached his ears, “You’re the new assistant camera, right?”

Harry nodded and locked his phone, “Yeah. Nick called me last night to fill in for some guy who apparently is in labour?”

Ed snorted, “His wife is, yeah. He just got the call last morning. It’s lucky you were able to help us out on such short notice.”

Harry didn’t know whether it was wise to say he had no experience in shooting films or not. He had moved to Los Angeles a month ago and hadn’t been lucky in finding a gig until now. It was difficult to keep that piece of (probably crucial) information to himself, however, as honesty had always been his forte.

“This is my first job in the industry, actually,” Harry said, his eyes glued to his lap.

“Yeah, Nick told us. You worked for National Geographic for years, though, right?”

“I did, yeah. Until a couple of months ago.”

“I checked some of your stuff online last night. You’re wicked good,” Ed replied. There was a reassurance laced in his tone that Harry appreciated.

He was definitely not blushing at the compliment.

“Thanks, man,” Harry mumbled.

“I mean it. Can’t wait to work with you.”

Harry frowned. He’d been sure until now that Ed was one of the production assistants. Although he knew very little about how film productions worked, he doubted a fellow photographer would be chosen to pick him up from the airport.

Before he could ask, however, Ed continued, “And Barbara can’t wait either. She’s the DP. We saw your portfolio together and she loved it, man.”

Harry’s eyes popped out of his head, “Barbara Palvin?”

Ed nodded in reply.

“Fuck, I’m a huge fan. She’s so brilliant,” Harry said.

She really was. Still in her twenties, Barbara had already won many prestigious awards for her work as director of photography and was rumoured to be on Scorsese’s next project along with Rodrigo Pietro.

Ed turned to him with a frown, “Didn’t Nick tell you everything?”

Harry snorted, “Barely. He mentioned the basics.”

Ed laughed, “Nick’s a riot. Good producer, though. Feel free to ask me anything, then.”

Harry jumped on the opportunity without thinking twice.

As they drove across the island towards the Red Hook Ferry Terminal, Ed filled Harry in on all the missing details Nick had failed to mention the previous night.

“I’m the camera operator, actually,” Ed was explaining while they waited in the dock. A car barge would take them across the sea to the island of St. John. He continued, “Jesy didn’t trust the PA’s to pick you up in time.”

“Oh. Jesy?”

“Another producer. She’s basically in charge of everything.”

“I thought that was Louis,” Harry blurted out. The name rolled out of his tongue as though it had been there all along, expecting the perfect moment to make an appearance.

Louis Tomlinson. Harry allowed his mind to wander back to him, despite that being a dangerous idea. He knew Louis would be directing the project. He also knew that he was a close friend of the artist of the music video, Niall Horan, and that they had come up with the concept together. Harry had known all of this before he had picked up Nick’s phone call last night, because Louis himself had told him. When they were in bed. Less than three weeks ago.

“Oh, yeah. The director makes all the creative decisions,” Ed said. “Jesy runs the set and make sure the shooting runs smoothly. She and the assistant director, Leigh-Anne.”

Harry blinked. What were they talking about? Oh, yes. The crew.

“Oh, I see. Got it. Okay. Sorry you have to walk me through everything,” Harry mumbled. The more Ed talked about each department and their roles, the more the young photographer realised how out of his depth he was.

A hand clasped on his shoulder.

“Mate, we’ve all been there. It’s okay.” Ed’s tone was soft.

Harry took a deep breath and shot him a genuine smile, “You’re right.”

The pink hues in the sky washed away like watercolour, disappearing behind the velvet black of the night veil.

Even at night the islands were breathtaking.

They entered a gated area and turned right on a small cobbled street that ran along the shoreline. On one side, beachfront villas lined up by the sidewalk, ashen walls and wooden doors resembling one another. On the other, a sleek building several stories high loomed over them. Harry assumed that the entirety of the region—which was the size of a small village—belonged to the resort they would be staying at.

Ed parked the car in front of one of the villas. Beyond each house, Harry could see the ocean stretching in the distance, the faint moonlight reflecting on the crashing waves.

“This is it. Nine of these villas are ours. You’ll be bunking with me and the gaffer, Lewis,” Ed said as he shut the engine down and jumped out of the car.

Harry followed him in silence, knapsack bumping against his side as he slogged forward.

Ed pointed at the cottage facing the parking spot where they had parked, “That’s Jesy’s. She rented this car.”

They walked along the sidewalk connecting the villas. Harry’s stomach grumbled loud enough for them to hear. Harry and Ed chuckled together.

“Please tell me there’s room service,” Harry said. Despite the lightness of his tone, he hadn’t eaten a real meal all day, due to the rush of the airports.

“Not really, but the hotel bar works 24/7 and the food is quite decent.” Ed pointed at the tall building on their right. “It’s on the ground floor there. Just head in and turn right. Breakfast is also served there.”

Harry nodded. He would grab some dinner there once he freshened up a bit.

Ed came to a halt in front of cottage number 25 and unlocked the door, gesturing for Harry to walk in first. The place was snug and clean inside. The air conditioning was on, for which he was thankful. Three beds lined up on the west wall opposite a wooden dresser with a flat-screen TV on the top and a large mirror hung on the left. Harry’s gaze was pulled almost immediately towards the screening door leading to the shore outside. They were barely two steps away from sinking their feet into the fluffy sand of Trunk Bay beach.

“Hi, there.” A deep voice brought Harry’s attention to the furthest bed in the room. There was a man resting on top of it, feet dangling from the mattress.

“That’s Lewis,” Ed introduced him, before plopping himself on the bed in the middle.

Harry walked towards the man and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, mate. I’m Harry.”

“How do you do?” Lewis said.

“Make yourself at home, Harry,” Ed said, taking his shoes off with his feet and resting against the silken pillows.

“I’m knackered, so I might just pass out here, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Thanks, Ed.”

Harry dropped his knapsack on the floor near the closest bed. The white linen covering the single mattress looked freshly clean and was tucked tightly in place. Not wanting to mess it up yet, Harry knelt on the floor and rummaged through his bag until he found a loose T-shirt and a clean pair of trousers. He brought them with him into the suite and took a quick shower, rinsing the grime from the journey and letting the hot water relax the muscles in his back. He breathed in the humid air in the steamed-up bathroom and exhaled slowly, noticing how exhaustion was finally setting in his bones. He knew he would be pulled under the moment he laid his head on the pillow. But first, he needed to eat.

After drying up and putting his clothes on, Harry headed towards the main building of the hotel. There were other guests lounging around in booths and enjoying their meals beneath the low lighting of the bar area. They chatted quietly amongst themselves and the atmosphere was peaceful. Harry took a seat on a tall stool by the counter and ordered some grilled fish and salad on the side.

While he waited, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and went through the messages his family had sent in the group chat. His mother was delighted that he was in such a magical island and his sister Gemma kept teasing him about having to work while he was there. Ever since the first time he had to travel for his work as a photographer, they had shown their support through constant messaging and Facetiming. Now that he had actually moved across the ocean to pursue this new path in his career, this was all they had.

Loud voices interrupted his train of thought as he was writing a reply. A group of men had just walked in and, from what Harry could tell by the deep roaring laughter he heard, causing a ruckus in the previously calm bar.

He didn’t look up at them, focusing instead on finishing his text. His phone almost slipped through his fingers, however, as someone bumped into his side. As his hands fumbled to seize his phone before it could fall on the floor, the stool stumbled in place and he lost his balance.

A hand steadied his waist.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry, mate,” he heard a familiar raspy voice from behind him. Harry turned and his eyes met, blue, blue, blue. Louis. Harry grasped the back of his chair to steady himself and ignored the voice in the back of his mind insisting the other man’s eyes were as astoundingly beautiful as the cerulean sea outside; eyes which sparked with instant recognition when Harry faced him.

Louis froze in place. He withdrew his hand immediately.

“Harry,” he breathed. He looked astonished to see Harry, his eyes wide and earnest.

“Hey,” Harry said.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Harry had to swallow the lump in his throat. Of course Louis was surprised. He probably had no idea Nick had offered Harry the job, since he would have been against this idea, had he known.

Still, here Harry was. And he wasn’t going anywhere, regardless of what Louis wanted. He might be the director, but this wasn’t up to him.

Harry straightened himself in his seat, squaring his shoulders in a defiant posture. His eyes flitted to the other men Louis had been with, whom Harry didn’t recognise, as they traipsed towards a booth in the far corner and sat down together.

“Nick called me,” Harry replied. “Barbara needed an assistant camera.”

“I thought Sandy was going to—”

“He had to step out,” Harry cut him off.

“Oh. Okay.” Louis was frowning. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, “You’ve never done this before, though, have you?”

Harry stiffened.

“I’m more than capable of—”

“I know you are,” Louis assured him. He gazed softly at Harry, “This won’t be weird, right? I mean, between us. I don’t know if you know, but I’m directing—”

“I know. Why would it be weird?” Harry blinked with faux nonchalance.

They were still standing quite close together.

Louis squinted at him, as though he couldn’t tell if Harry was pulling his leg. “Because we fucked,” he replied.

Harry choked at Louis’ bluntness. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Feeling supremely ill-equipped to confront the mixed feelings in his chest brought by the memory of the night he had shared with Louis, he coughed into his hand and cleared his throat before replying, “That was weeks ago. We’re both adults. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Louis watched him with unwavering scrutiny.

“Besides,” Harry added, “it didn’t mean anything.”

That caused a reaction. Louis snorted, “I guess it didn’t.”

The director glanced at the booth where the other men had taken a seat and shrugged as he turned back to Harry.

“Fine. I’m not worried. Do you want to join me and the guys for dinner? Oli and Calvin are the PA’s,” he said, gesturing towards the group. “The production assistants,” he clarified.

Harry had known what he meant.

He gave Louis a tight-lipped smile in response.

“Thanks, but I’m good here. See you tomorrow, Louis.”

The other man watched him for a second longer before he nodded and stepped away, “See you tomorrow, Harry.”

**

The alarm went off at 5:20 AM.

Harry groaned into his pillow. His seven hours of blissful sleep certainly hadn’t been enough for his body to restore its energy. His muscles ached in protest as he pulled himself slowly up to sitting. Across the room, Lewis was begging Ed to turn off the blaring ringtone. Ed’s unmoving shape ignored his request.

Harry and Lewis had to join forces to pull the man out of bed. Fifteen minutes later (and with a lot of grumpy protests from Ed), they headed out towards the hotel’s breakfast hall with a sluggish Ed in tow. They walked in comfortable silence, unable to muster the energy for small talk. At the buffet, they filled their plates with fruits, yoghurt, eggs, and toast slices.

Despite being a fan of green smoothies in the morning, Harry was forced to choose the strongest tea they offered instead. He’d take all the help he could get to stay awake.

The men found a table by the window and sat down together. Harry spared a quick glance around the dining hall and frowned. Louis wasn’t there. The PA’s were munching on toast in the corner and another couple of tables were occupied, but he didn’t recognise the people hunched over them.

“Morning, guys,” someone chirped. Harry looked up from his plate to find a woman about his age standing by the side of the table, dressed in a simple loose shirt and vintage jeans. He recognised her immediately. He choked on the piece of mango he was eating.

“You must be Harry,” she said, taking a seat across from him. “I’m—”

“Barbara Palvin. Holy fuck,” he managed to swallow the fruit and gasped. “Sorry, shit. Sorry. It’s an honor, I mean, I can’t wait to—”

Her sleepy features lit up with amusement.

Ed must have had pitied him, for he cut in with, “Harry here is a huge fan, Babs.”

“I appreciate it, thanks. Looking forward to working with you, too,” she said with a kind smile.

She was so goddamn polite and chilled that Harry wanted to die of embarrassment. He knew his burning cheeks were giving him away anyhow, even if his over-eager rambling already hadn’t.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he said. The voice in his head – confident and calm – was significantly stronger than the weak whimper that escaped his lips.

The director of photography chuckled in response.

“I’m sure I won’t,” she said, bringing the steaming cup of coffee to her lips. She took a sip and continued, “And don’t worry, if you know how to hand Ed thousands of dollars’ worth of lenses without letting them drop to their death, I’m happy.”

Harry could do that.

“I can do that,” he said.

Someone cleared their throat. Another woman in black shirt and trousers stood beside their table with a clipboard in hand and wearing a headset. She levelled them with sharp eyes and a slight quirk on her lips.

“Sorry to interrupt, but please remember you are due on set in ten minutes,” she said, dainty finger pointing to the watch on her wrist.

Ed and Lewis groaned.

“Good morning to you too, darling,” Barbara said, smiling up at her.

“Good morning, babes,” the woman replied. “Seriously, though. Ten minutes.”

“But we’re still having breakfast,” Ed said.

She stared at him.

“You’ll thank me later, Ed,” she said.

“Listen to her,” Barbara agreed with a nod.

“I don’t want to breathe down your neck while you’re trying to get the shot right because we’re not on schedule.”

With that, the woman turned around and walked away.

Barbara snorted, “Trust me, you really don’t. Leigh-Anne is the best out there because she knows how to keep us on track.”

It seemed that it was time to go. Harry wiped his mouth on the napkin and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“Do you need help with the equipment?” he asked.

Barbara shook her head and rose to her feet. “It’s all in the car trunk already, don’t worry.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Ed said, pointing at his and Lewis’s half-full cups of coffee.

Barbara squinted at them. “Don’t be late, you two.”

Harry chuckled and followed her out of the hall.

**

An hour later, Harry’s hands were trembling with the effort of holding the camera still. The rising sun only made it worse, its gripping heat turning his palms slightly slippery with a thin layer of sweat. At least it was the first time he was standing still since he had arrived on set. From bringing lenses to Ed to setting up the monitor for Barbara, he had had to run around a lot. His T-shirt had already become drenched and stuck to his back while the curls that usually fell around his face were glued to his forehead.

Ed worked in silence beside him, eyes focussed on the sticky pod he had to secure to the car hood. Their biggest worry was to attach the gear without harming the Jeep Gladiator’s expensive paint. They had been there for a while.

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead for what felt like the hundredth time. The few seconds his eyes were lifted from their task were enough to find Louis. The director had just stumbled out of Jesy’s car with Nick and the artist, Niall Horan, following suit. Behind them, one of the PA’s had parked a similar car – probably rented as well – out of which three men Harry didn’t recognise stepped out. He barely spared them a mere glance since Louis pulled on his attention like a magnet. The director’s hair was swept to the side, styled in a careful way that would not last ten minutes under the unforgiving sun. The t-shirt Louis was wearing was loose around his neck and Harry gulped as he caught a glimpse of his chest tattoo; those familiar swirls of black ink he had traced with his tongue less than a month ago.

Fuck. Harry couldn’t ogle at him like that. He had to put that night past him, regardless of how fit Louis looked in a pair of dark blue denim shorts and sockless Vans.

“I know Louis is dreamy, but—” Ed said, following his line of vision.

“What?” Harry asked, startled. His eyes widened.

“…You’re letting the camera tilt to the side,” Ed finished, undeterred.

Harry blinked.

“I wasn’t staring at him,” he said.

Ed shrugged, “I don’t mind, mate.”

Harry sighed and, with determination, forced himself not to get distracted by Louis, undoubtedly enticing though he was. His grip on the camera tightened.

Niall and the other three men wandered around the set, greeting the entire crew and introducing themselves as the band to those who didn’t know them. When the singer approached Harry, he felt momentarily incapable of proper speech; the only word that seemed to come out was an indistinct “Er”. Even though he hadn’t been familiar with Niall’s music since quite recently, he had enjoyed his debut album (especially The Tide, the song for which they were filming the music video) and couldn’t help but feel a little bit star-struck. It didn’t last long, though. Niall had a natural charm that put everyone around him at ease, completely inverting the ‘conceited celebrity’ stereotype. He was not unlike a glowing star of joy, cheering up anyone too close to his orbit.

Ed ran his fingers through his hair, pushing wet strands back, and exhaled heavily. “I think we’re ready.”

Harry checked the shot in the monitor and bit his lip. He turned the screen towards Ed. “Maybe the 28mm is too wide, though, isn’t it?”

Ed frowned. “Maybe, yeah. We should get Barbara.”

Harry surveyed the crew around the set in search of Barbara. He swallowed once he spotted her. The DP stood by Louis as he talked to the band, most likely instructing them about the layout and what they might expect from the first shot. Harry knew they would drive down the road with the camera focusing on the five of them as a group. Niall would be in the middle seat in the back, at the centre of the image, as they created a semblance of a spontaneous road trip amongst friends. It was pretty simple, but many things could go wrong if everyone wasn’t on the same page.

“Remember, you don’t have to look at the camera. Just focus on one another and try to have fun as we all stare at you,” Louis was saying as Harry approached the group.

Harry waited to be noticed, not wanting to interrupt and feeling slightly incongruous surrounded by everyone else who seemed to know exactly what they were doing. He resisted the urge to fold his arms across his chest.

Barbara nodded along to Louis’ words and gave some instructions herself. They were both sharply focussed on the band. Eventually, Harry cleared his throat as quietly as possible.

Her eyes met his.

“Is the setup ready?” Barbara asked.

“It is. There might be some overexposure, though. We think. Maybe. So, uh, we thought it’d be best for you to check?” Harry silently cursed the way his voice rose in the end like a question.

He burned from the stare of icy blue eyes on him. He pointedly ignored it.

“Sounds possible,” Barbara said, patting his arm. “Get me a 35mm, will you, Haz?”

“On it,” he said.

She rushed back to the Jeep. Harry sent a timid smile to the band before running to the trunk where all the lenses were stored. He didn’t acknowledge the director.

When he returned, Niall and the others were already seated inside the Jeep while Louis talked to them through the driver’s window.

Barbara looked up from the monitor and beamed at him, “Good call, Harry.”

Ed thanked him for the lens and Harry felt quietly pleased for himself.

Harry focussed on making last-minute adjustments to the shot with Barbara and Ed. That was easy for him. His mind was clearest when he thought about composition and light. He wasn’t just good at it, he was a perfectionist, honing his craft with attention and expertise. He loved creating the perfect image. This was his natural habitat and nothing could distract him from this deep state.

That is, until he was startled by the booming sound of laughter.

Harry didn’t have to look far to find the source of it. The entire crew had stopped what they were doing to see what was going on. The band in the car cackled loudly as Louis smirked at them, looking annoyingly smug. A few drops of sweat lined the frame of his face. His tan skin glowed beneath the glaring sun. It was unfair how attractive he was, even in this weather.

The man in question raised his eyes and caught Harry staring. A frown etched itself in his brow. Harry lowered his gaze and busied himself with his work.

“Is everything ready?” Leigh-Anne said, startling Harry. She had materialized out of thin air. “We need to start.”

Louis approached the group and peered at the monitor screen from over Barbara’s shoulders.

“Is that okay?” she asked.

“That’s great, Babs,” he turned to Leigh-Anne. “We’re good to go.”

Adrenaline shot through Harry’s veins. He had never filmed a moving car before.

“John,” Louis said, addressing the bassist on the driver’s seat. “Remember to drive at—”

“30mph. No faster, no slower,” the man finished, nodding at Louis with a smile.

Louis snorted. “That’s right.”

The crew cleared the path for the car to drive off.

The record button was pressed. Leigh-Anne held the slate in front of the camera and clapped it loudly.

The shooting had begun.

**

By noon, they had filmed the car scene from several different angles. Louis had insisted on overshooting so that it would be easier to edit later. Barbara agreed that it was the safest option.

Despite the apples and bananas Harry had eaten in between shots, by the time the crew was allowed a lunch break, he was starving. From pulling the focus for Ed, grabbing lenses and filters from the car and holding up the sunlight diffuser steadily to help out Lewis when he needed, it hadn’t been an easy morning. It also had been his favourite since he had moved to America.

He loved every second of it.

The only downside of the shoot was Louis. Harry needed to hate the man, and he did, he really did, because what Louis had done was despicable and unforgivable. Still, it took some effort to remind himself of that, because Louis was simply too kind to everyone. Harry couldn’t believe the same man who was equally firm but gentle as he instructed the crew, whose posture was confident, who guided everyone on set with openness and understanding, was the same one from three weeks ago. Granted, Louis had also been the sweetest then, a shameless flirt with a quick sense of wit, but it was clearly just a façade. Harry knew better. He could see through Louis’ attentive eyes and charming persona. He wouldn’t be fooled again.

He would at least try. As hard as it was to connect these two versions of Louis, Harry needed them to stay linked in order to keep himself from falling deeper. His mind was in check, with his rational thoughts grounding him, but his heart was the problem. When his eyes slipped and found Louis across the set, his tattoo-covered arm around Niall’s shoulders, eyes crinkling with laughter as they chatted, the strings in his heart were pulled. The sweetest voice whispered from his chest that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong. Maybe Harry had misunderstood. Maybe Louis was as good a person as he appeared to be.

He couldn’t risk it, though, and made sure to stifle this voice with a metaphorical pillow.

The crew was driven to a nearby restaurant for lunch. Jesy had made reservations for everyone there and double-checked that there were dairy-free options for those who were allergic and meat-free dishes for the vegetarians.

Harry took a seat between Ed and Barbara on one of the tables reserved for them. The women from the Art Department and Leigh-Anne joined them, while the rest of the crew were spread all across the restaurant.

In between bites of his food, he caught himself casting a glance at the opposite corner of the ample dining area, where Louis sat with the PA’s and Niall’s band. He knew that he wasn’t being completely attentive, distracted as he was by the raucous laughter and talking at Louis’ table.

A loud clatter brought his attention back to his own group.

Nick Grimshaw had placed his tray in front of Harry. He had a Cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Staring at Louis, are we?” Nick said knowingly. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not likely.”

Nick kicked his foot under the table. “Don’t lie, darling; it doesn’t look good on you.”

Harry would beg to differ. “Everything looks good on me.”

Nick cackled while Ed hummed, “I believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t you stare at Louis, though? He’s cute,” Barbara said.

Fuck. Harry knew that he shouldn’t bring his personal issues onto the set, especially considering that Louis was the director. What had happened between them wasn’t a piece of gossip for his colleagues to argue about.

“I was joking,” he tried to amend.

Nick arched a sly eyebrow.

“So you were staring at him.”

Harry stammered, “I mean, he’s not terrible to look at, now is he?”

Ed snorted. “You’d know, you keep doing it.”

Barbara punched Harry’s arm lightly, “You have a crush on him!”

“Do not!” he said, affronted. His voice was higher than normal. Shit.

He was saved by Jesy approaching the table.

“Nick, we need to talk about the beach concert tomorrow—”

Nick glanced up at her with his hands joined in a begging gesture, “Please, can it wait? This has just got interesting.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Fine,” Nick sighed in defeat. He rose to his feet with his tray in hand and followed her to another table.

“How’s the food, then?” Barbara asked, changing the subject.

Harry sighed in relief.

They finished eating and, before long, it was time to return to the set. When some of the crew went outside to relax under the shade of trees, the three photographers were the only ones left at the table. Barbara took advantage of this to pull out the sketch book where she had carefully drawn the storyboard of the music video. Harry traced the colourful lines in awe.

“That is such a nice concept,” he mumbled.

The page he admiring detailed the next shots they would film. It would be set in the village and Niall and his band would have free reign to interact with each other and the locals as much as they wanted. All the storyboard focussed on was on framing and lighting.

Barbara and Ed stopped amid their conversation about which Steadicam they would use this afternoon and turned to Harry.

“What is?” Barbara asked.

“The entire music video. It’s so natural.”

“I mean, we are on an island.”

Harry snorted at Barbara, “Yeah, I know. That’s not what I meant.”

Ed tilted his head to the side, “You mean with Niall.”

Harry turned the page on the sketch book and nodded, “I mean with Niall. It’s like Slow Hands, but more staged, I guess.”

“Slow Hands is great,” Barbara said.

“It’s so intimate and genuine, you know. People will love seeing how charming he is around other people,” Harry said.

“He’s kind of like a social butterfly, isn’t he? He thrives in company,” she said.

“That’s what Louis wants to show,” Ed said.

Harry swallowed.

“It’s brilliant,” he said. His voice was hollow and distracted, even to his own ears.

“You should tell him that,” Barbara smirked at him.

Harry’s cheeks burned with the mere thought of doing so.

“I’d rather not,” he said.

“Nick’s right, you can’t lie for shit,” Ed said chuckling.

Harry grew impatient at that.

“I’m not lying. I’m just not interested in sucking up to the director. He’s not even that great.”

Ed raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, “That’s harsh.”

Barbara gasped. Her eyes, wide and alert, were trained at something behind Harry. She elbowed him on his side and pointed over his shoulder.

Harry’s heart plummeted to the region of his stomach. He gulped and, from the look on her face, Harry knew what he would see before he turned around. Louis had just walked past their table. Harry barely managed to catch a glimpse of his familiar shape disappearing through the bathroom door a few feet from them.

Fuck. Louis must have heard him.

Harry sagged in his chair. Barbara had a pained look on her face. Ed shook his head sadly.

“Maybe he wasn’t paying attention,” she said. Her suggestion sounded weak, as though she herself didn’t believe it.

Harry groaned. “I’m an arse.”

No one disagreed.

After Louis left the bathroom, he didn’t spare a glance in the group’s direction. Throughout the entire afternoon, Harry expected Louis to retaliate, perhaps shout orders at Harry or criticise his camera skills, but there was nothing. Louis barely even looked at him. It shouldn’t have bothered Harry as much as it did.

They filmed Niall and his bandmates around the village. Niall enchanted the locals and the crew alike with his charm and charisma. Even in between shots, Niall was the life of the set as well.

As soon as the sun set below the horizon and everyone started putting their equipment away, Harry threw himself on the grass to breathe for an instant. Ed and Barbara joined him a second later.

“We still have to dismount everything and put it back in the bags,” she complained.

Harry hushed her. “Let’s just rest for a second.”

He couldn’t feel his arms. His muscles were sore from sharing the weight of the Steadicam with Ed.

A tall figure loomed over them. “Hey, guys.”

It was Niall.

Harry grinned at him. “What’s up, Ni?”

After shooting with him the whole day, Harry would say he was entitled to a nickname.

“Nick got me a huge cabin, so I thought it’d be nice to have the entire crew over for dinner. I’m ordering pizza. Are you in?”

Ed cheered. “You can count on me, mate.”

Harry giggled. “Me too.”

Barbara nodded in agreement.

“Cool. See you guys at eight,” Niall said, before walking off with Jesy and his bandmates to be driven back to the villas.

Part of Harry hoped he would be able to talk to Louis there. Guilt had gnawed at him the entire day and he felt frustrated that he had lied so blatantly about Louis just because he was feeling self-protective with Ed and Nick teasing him about his crush on him. Even if he had been honest – which he hadn’t been, considering Louis was, in fact, a brilliant director – Harry knew that he shouldn’t have badmouthed him on set. Or anywhere. That’s not how Harry’s mother had raised him. He needed to fix this. This casual get-together with the crew would luckily present him with the opportunity to approach Louis and apologise.

**

It was not a casual get-together – not by a long shot. That much was clear to Harry before he had even arrived at the villa. As he walked up the steps leading up to the front door, he could hear pop music booming from the speakers. The uproarious sound of chatter and laughter reached his ears before he had even knocked.

When no one opened the door, Harry let himself in.

The place was packed. He saw some familiar faces from the crew, but half of the people there he had never seen before. He searched the living room for Ed and Barbara, but he couldn’t spot them anywhere.

Because Niall’s villa was huge.

The living room itself could fit fifty people comfortably. Its high ceiling opened up the space and let the cool night breeze breathe air inside. Beyond that, from the shiny surfaces to the sleek design of the room, every lavish detail looked expensive—even more so than the Red they had on set, and that camera was not cheap.

Harry crossed the glossy hardwood floors with tentative steps, eyes flitting from face to face. He recognised Lou and Lottie—the hair and makeup stylists from the crew—by the couch. Jesy and Leigh-Anne stood on a circle on the opposite corner of the room, chatting with Perrie and Jade from the Art Department. He desperately wanted to join them (if only to have someone familiar to talk to), but his feet halted in place. Something tugged at his stomach.

He didn’t belong there.

What was he doing? Look where he was. He had never set foot in a fancier place. Everyone around him seemed to navigate the scene with ease. Harry was very much the opposite. He had just plunged into a sea of strangers and he didn’t know how to swim. The sound of crashing waves echoed in his ears. He suddenly felt very short of breath, his eyes scanning the crowd around them, desperately searching for a nearby exit. He couldn’t breathe. He felt completely overwhelmed, his breathing coming in shallow, erratic pants.

“Harry! There you are,” he heard. The voice was close to him. He recognised it.

His body pivoted towards the sound. He regained focus, eyes narrowing in on red hair and a frowning forehead. It was Barbara.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He forced himself to smile. Focusing on Barbara proved to be easier. “Peachy.”

“You must be starving,” she said. She beckoned him over to the table in the centre of the room. Its surface was covered with pizza boxes and empty bottles of beer. “I think there’s some veggie slices left.”

Harry’s stomach grumbled.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Still feeling slightly out of his depth but much more content in Barbara’s company, he chewed on his pizza and let Barbara carry the conversation. Her excitement about the shooting was contagious and her cheerfulness flooded through him until his nerves had settled and his lungs filled with air more easily.

Niall joined them some time later.

“Hazza, mate, the fuck have you been?” he all but screamed. His arms engulfed Harry in a hug so tight that Harry shrieked in alarm.

“Let him go, Niall,” Barbara said with a disapproving hand on her waist.

“Aye, aye,” Niall released him. “Make yourself at home, yeah?” He patted Harry’s back and chugged the rest of his beer down before moving on to the next guest.

Harry adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“Should he be drinking like this?” he asked, with a frown on his face.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”

Someone chuckled from behind them.

“This is all Nick’s fault,” a woman’s voice said. Harry swore he had heard it before. “He brought all this beer and invited half of the island’s population over.”

He turned around to say that Of course he had, but froze with his mouth hanging wide-open. Julia Michaels was standing in front of him in a green sundress and a beer in hand.

“What was he thinking?” Barbara replied. “Niall has to perform tomorrow. He has to look good on camera.”

“Honestly, he will,” Julia said. “He’s never hungover. The tricky part will be getting him out of bed.”

“That’s Shawn’s problem, though,” Barbara said.

Harry blinked.

“Shawn?”

She snorted, “You know Shawn Mendes, Harry.”

Did he?

“I mean, I know who he is, but—”

“Shawn, come here,” Julia yelled over Harry’s shoulder. Her gaze settled on him, then. “I’m Julia,” she offered her hand for him to shake.

Everything was happening so fast that Harry couldn’t keep up. He shook her hand and nodded several times, “It’s an honour to meet you.”

He really was stupid.

“An honour? How nice,” she joked. Barbara giggled beside him.

“Have I been summoned?” Shawn Mendes strolled towards them with a stumbling, red-cheeked Niall in tow.

Half an hour later, Harry was sipping on a glass of water while several famous people he had heard on his summer playlists bantered with one another around him. He felt distanced from them at times, but not through any of their faults. They were nice enough to include him in most conversations and he made an effort to participate, but his mind was elsewhere.

On Louis. The man had wandered in and out of the room with a couple of friends—also famous artists—without ever sparing Harry a glance. All Harry needed was a few seconds alone with him to apologise, but the other men never left Louis’ side.

And Harry recognised them. Liam Payne and Zayn Malik were both Grammy-award winners and talented singer-songwriters—they were also a publicly engaged couple who couldn’t stop sending heart-eyes at each other at the party. Still, the fact that Louis was giving all of his attention to them made Harry’s blood boil. Especially since Liam’s arm kept pulling Louis’ body closer to his.

That was so unfair. It was all Harry could do not to whine in frustration. Louis was supposed to have been a one-night thing. A beautiful man he met at a party and with whom he had flirted unabashedly because he was new to Los Angeles and he could. Harry wasn’t supposed to have loved every second of the night they spent together. He should have left right after the sex, as awful as that sounded, even to his own ears. He should have just put his clothes on and left. He shouldn’t have curled onto Louis’ side and let him run his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t have been there when the phone rang and Louis had to step out of the room. He shouldn’t have listened to Louis’ words—audible through the wall in the otherwise quiet room—which had shattered their brief, perfect dream.

He had been there, though. And he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know what he knew. But fuck. What could he do when his heart beat faster against his will by the mere sight of Louis?

Nothing, that’s what. There was nothing he could do beyond keeping his head down, working hard on set and forgetting about that night. But first, he needed to apologise to Louis for letting his feelings get in the way of his professionalism.

His eyes followed Louis out the front door again. Only Zayn joined him outside this time, with a pack of cigarettes in hand. Irrational jealousy surged through Harry’s chest.

Luckily, he was distracted by a mop of ginger hair walking into his sight on the opposite corner of the room. Ed. Harry hadn’t seen him at the party until this point. He had even entertained the thought that maybe he wouldn’t attend.

There he was, though. Ed held his cell phone in one hand, while the other tousled his messy hair in frustration.

Harry shuffled towards him and offered his beer.

“Hey, man,” Ed said, taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just on the phone with Cherry. That’s, uh, my fiancé.”

Harry brightened at this, “Congratulations, mate.”

“Yeah, I’m quite chuffed,” Ed said earnestly. “You enjoying the party?”

Harry shrugged but didn’t respond. Ed chuckled in understanding.

“I know what you mean,” he said.

They didn’t say much more after that, instead breathing in the sea air. Even though they had just met, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Harry could see them becoming friends after this weekend.

It was barely eleven when Harry yawned. His sore muscles were begging him to go to bed.

Ed levelled him with a stare, “You should get some sleep, mate. Tomorrow will be tough.”

Harry dreaded even asking. “Why?”

Ed gestured at the people around them, “All of Niall’s friends flew here to be on the music video.”

“Oh.” That’s why they were there.

“Yeah. The scenes are more complicated. We’ll have to shoot with multiple cameras. It won’t be easy.”

“Fuck,” Harry groaned.

“We’ll manage, though. Don’t worry. Just, you know.”

“I might just head out now, then,” Harry rose to his feet and stretched. There were a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table next to them. He picked them up.

“I told Cherry I would call her again before going to bed. I’ll meet you back at the cabin, yeah?” Ed said, reaching for his phone again.

“Sure.”

Harry could use the solitude in his stroll back to the cabin. Perhaps the wafting ocean breeze and the serenity of the night sky would help him clear his mind. He recycled the bottles and said goodbye to Barbara and some other people from the crew.

One glance around the room was enough to notice that both Niall and Shawn were missing. He supposed that he could thank the host the next morning.

Harry stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The cool touch of the night breeze soothed him straight away. It swept over his curls and breathed fresh air into his lungs. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing a few strands back and out of his face. When he turned around, his eyes fell on Louis.

He was standing on the porch deck and leaning against the banister with a lit cigarette dangling between two fingers. His eyes gleamed with mirth and his lips were curved up in a gentle smile, directed at someone beside him. Zayn. They were talking to each other in quiet voices and hadn’t noticed Harry yet. Below the low light of a nearby lamp post, Harry caught the exact moment when Louis’s eyes found him.

The porch was plunged into silence.

Sharp claws gripped Harry’s heart when, at the sight of him, all traces of joy left Louis’ expression.

He nodded in greeting and lowered his head to walk past them as quickly as possible. A rushed apology in front of someone else wasn’t something Harry thought would help.

Before he could reach the last step down to the sidewalk, however, Louis’ voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I heard you.”

Harry’s heart caught in his chest and he swallowed. He turned slowly to face Louis, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

Zayn put out his cigarette in the ashtray and walked back inside the villa, casting a glance at Louis before shutting the door behind him.

Harry focused his attention back on Louis and his feet moved of their own accord. In a slow, almost cautious pace, he made his way back up to the porch.

“Back in the restaurant,” Louis said.

Oh.

“You weren’t supposed to,” Harry mumbled.

Louis snorted and brought the cigarette to his lips. His cheeks hollowed as he took a long drag, the tip burning embers.

Harry averted his eyes.

“Clearly,” Louis said, blowing out the smoke.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Louis, I didn’t mean any—”

“I’m not offended, Harry, I just don’t get you. I thought we had fun that night.”

“It was fun.”

The other man inched closer to him, until their chests stood only inches apart. Harry ached to close that distance.

“Then, what the fuck happened?” Louis said in a low voice. His eyes burned with anger and something else. Something like hurt.

Harry lowered his gaze. He thought about bringing up the phone conversation. What he had overheard that night.

He swallowed his words and shook his head instead.

“You can’t have everything, Louis.”

Louis huffed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Harry bit his lip. He should step away. He had had a long day and his strength had been sucked out of him. There was almost none of it left to keep him from spilling out everything to Louis.

He still owed him an apology, though.

Harry inhaled a long breath and slowly let it out, “What I said was fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let something personal cloud my judgment like that.”

Louis took a step back. The ice in his blue eyes matched his hollow laugh.

“Harry, I don’t care if you think I’m a shitty director.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Then what is it that you want from me?”

“The truth, maybe. You said that night didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t,” he said, his voice wavering.

“Then why are you acting like I’m the bad guy when you were the one who fucked off without so much as a goodbye?”

Harry cowered, feeling like a sheepish, cornered animal. He opened his mouth to reply but the sound died in his throat. He couldn’t muster the energy nor find the words necessary to express how he felt.

Louis pressed close again. The heat of his body against Harry’s chest made his heart beat faster. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. It was too much.

Louis squinted at him, “I don’t know what your problem is, but—”

Before Harry could stop himself, he blurted out, “It’s you.”

Louis frowned, “What?”

“Right now, my problem is you. I came to this island to do my job. I’m sorry I overstepped and said things I didn’t mean, but I apologised. Please, can’t we move past it?”

Louis looked taken aback. His eyes searched for something across Harry’s face, but eventually lowered in resignation. He put some distance between them.

“If that’s what you want.”

Harry nodded, feeling a strange paradox of relief and dissatisfaction, as though he had made the easy choice, but not the right choice. “It is.”

“I’m sorry I pressured you, then.”

Louis turned his back to him to put out his cigarette. His fingers pressed the butt against the ashtray with more force than necessary.

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another. He didn’t know what to do. He knew he had been too harsh. Had he been honest, maybe they could have mended the situation – maybe even become friends. Perhaps there was some piece of the puzzle that Harry was missing and clearing things out would have helped.

He couldn’t risk it, though. Louis was his boss on some level. He could tarnish Harry’s chances of ever finding another job in the industry. Were he to decide that the photographer knew too much and should be sent away, Harry’s career in Los Angeles would be over.

Louis faced him again.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said. Harry watched as the other man opened the door to the villa and disappeared inside.

Harry stood there for a couple of moments before heading back to his own cabin, exhausted and unhappy. Part of him wondered whether he had done the right thing.

**

The second and last day of shooting was just as backbreaking as Ed had promised it would be.

Since the cast had grown in numbers—with Niall’s friends joining him and his band in the music video—every shot demanded more time to prepare and coordinate everyone.

Barbara and Ed were both shooting with different Steadicams, in order to capture the same moments from different angles and to allow the scenes to flow more easily. While it was arduous for Harry to assist them both at the same time, by the time lunch rolled around, they had already filmed the entire beach sequence. Niall and his group of friends played footie on the sand, sat in a circle to have a barbecue and jammed together. Harry was distinctly impressed by the result, which had a natural, sincere feeling to it that he hadn’t expected.

During the lunch break, Barbara brought her laptop and sat with Louis and Nick on a table in the corner to play back the footage from that morning. Harry watched them from his own table with curiosity and futilely tried to tell himself that the only reason he was so intent on watching them was because he cared about the outcome of their work. He would never admit that each time Louis’ eyes crinkled with pride at the screen, it warmed his heart against his will.

Tonight this would end, though. Harry tried to repeat this to himself, as though it would quell the strange, yearning feeling in his chest. It was this comforting thought that pulled him through the day. After they wrapped, Harry would fly back to Los Angeles and focus on finding another project to be a part of. He wouldn’t have to see Louis again for a while. Even if they were to work together again, it wouldn’t be as strained as this had been. The immediacy of seeing Louis after their one night stand had brought Harry’s upset and tender thoughts back far quicker than he had anticipated; with time, he knew that his wounds would heal. Until then, however, Harry would need to avoid Louis for his own state of mind. Harry believed that with all his heart because he would get over his feelings for the other man and Louis would forget that they had ever known each other in a non-professional way. Hopefully, he would remember Harry solely as the young photographer he would love to work with again someday.

Unlikely as it was, Harry held on to this flickering hope.

The last part of the music video was an evening performance on a stage set up by the beach for the local people from the village. Niall insisted on it being a free concert, to thank the locals for letting him set his music video on the island. Harry knew that a production team had been hired for the sole purpose of setting up the venue to be ready by sunset, but they had so little time to arrange everything else that the entire crew was highly-strung with worry and on edge.

Barbara, Ed, and Harry spent the afternoon setting up the cameras they would use and rehearsing their positions and angles. A drone would capture wide shots of the stage and the audience from high up in the sky, while the photographers would cover the close-up shots and the B roll footage of Niall and his band.

They were under a lot of pressure, considering they only had the one concert to pull off great shots for the music video.

Harry was grateful for the distraction. He plunged into his work and only emerged from it when Leigh-Anne’s voice, emitting from the headsets, warned them that they had a mere half-hour before the concert started. Harry’s heart raced in his chest and he tried to calm his breathing, quick and anticipatory. This was it.

The loud thumps of his heart galloping in his chest were almost enough to drown out the crowd standing outside by the stage. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another and waited for further instructions.

His eyes found Louis.

With so many last-minute decisions for the shooting coming up at him at a fast speed and from all directions, the director had barely spared a glance at Harry throughout the day. Though Harry was grateful for this because it had given him the opportunity to fully commit to his work, Louis’ distance made him strangely conflicted.

Arms folded against his chest, Louis studied the monitor in front of him, where he could flick the screen from one camera to another and make sure the shots would work. Despite the tense set of his shoulders, Louis radiated confidence.

As Harry watched him from his position backstage, his breathing slowed down. Instead of worrying about the fact that this was his first time shooting a live concert, he focused on the way Louis’ feathery hair was so long it couldn’t be hidden beneath his navy-blue cap and how his five o’clock shadow made him look older.

Above all, however, Harry thought about how desperately he wanted to soothe the crease in his forehead with the soft pad of his finger.

As though sensing to be under observation, Louis lifted his eyes from the monitor and locked them on Harry.
He furrowed his brows in a questioning look. Despite feeling the warm blush on his cheeks at being caught, Harry held the other man’s gaze.

“You okay?” Louis mouthed.

Harry bit his lip and nodded.

Another warning from Leigh-Anne startled them and the fleeting, heart-stopping moment was over.
Harry had to go outside and take his place by the audience, beneath the stage. He threw one last glance at Louis before leaving the backstage area.

Inhale slowly. Hold. Exhale.

He couldn’t let everyone down.

Static buzzed in his headset. A tinny voice echoed in his ear, “Good luck, everyone. If we pull this off, Niall promised to post a picture of his dick online.”

Harry snorted at Louis’ attempt to lighten the mood. Niall’s laughter could be heard in the background.

“I fucking did not,” the Irish singer replied.

“Too late, now, Horan, you can’t back out. We’re all counting on you.”

“Enough, Louis,” Jesy said through the headset as well. “People are trying to focus here.”

Her tone was amused, though.

Silly as Louis’ joke was, it helped. Harry’s shoulders relaxed as he took his assigned place by the stage. Barbara’s eyes found his from her perch up onstage. To his right, on the opposite corner of the set up platform, Ed gave him a thumbs-up.

They waited.

Not long after that, the pink sky welcomed Niall Horan and his band on stage.

**

In another life, Harry would have liked to be up there.

He watched, enthralled, as Niall blew the audience away with his songs. His energy onstage was electrifying and Harry knew that the audience fed on it. He even had to remind himself to keep the camera steady on his shoulders instead of moving along to the rhythm of the music.

When he whirled around to capture the people in the front row, their enthusiasm translated beautifully on camera. While some of them were actual fans and shouted the lyrics along with Niall, the others didn’t look any less entertained. From young friends to large families, everyone was dancing in their places and their eyes gleamed with pure joy.

Up onstage, Niall was a force to be reckoned with.

He ran from side to side with his guitar until his forehead was glistening with sweat and his entire face was tinged red. Harry’s muscles strained to keep the shot stabilized throughout Niall’s antics. It was no easy task. His arms burned with the effort until the back of his shirt was drenched in sweat and glued to his skin.

In between songs, the singer’s large grin greeted the audience as though they were old friends. Everyone had chosen to be there—to leave their homes and wait under the heat of the sun to watch him perform—and it was as though Niall knew and showed his appreciation through his performance. Anyone could see he was giving his all. Beyond that, though, he was having fun. They were all sharing the same experience beneath the same sky while the sun was setting in the distance and the waves were crashing against the shore.

So, yeah, Harry would have loved to be up there on stage. In another life, he would have excelled at it. However, there was something special about being able to not only witness a moment like this, but also to capture it for eternity. It made him feel like he was a pivotal part of the operation.

When the band left the stage after the encore, the roaring applause was deafening. Harry barely knew Niall, but he was proud of him.

The audience dispersed quickly, heading back to the village where a celebration would take place.

The crew gathered backstage where Niall was waiting with his band. He thanked everyone for their hard work and hugged Louis tightly after his speech.

“I know your flights back to L.A. are all late tomorrow, so you’ve got no excuses not to join the wrap-up party tonight, alright?” he said, addressing the whole crew.

Amidst the cheers of agreement from his colleagues, Harry could only think about taking a long shower and putting some fresh clothes on. Scratch that, it was too hot for layers. His body needed to breathe.

All around him, the crew moved swiftly, everyone chatting about the prospect of a cool shower and the party planned for later that evening. Harry organised the lenses and put them safely away into their holsters. Near him, Ed and Barbara stored the cameras back into their rucksacks while Lewis disassembled the LED floodlights.

Once he loaded the last bag into Jesy’s car trunk, he turned to the others and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this,” he said.

Ed smiled toothily at him. Barbara rose to her feet and pulled him into a hug.

“You did such a wonderful job, Haz.”

Harry rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. He thought back to the significance of his time working with them; how he had learned so much and made some truly amazing friends. Suddenly overcome with emotion, tears pooled involuntarily in his eyes.

“Yeah, mate,” Ed said from his spot on the ground. “I hope we can work together again someday.”

Harry grinned at him, blinking his tears away, and pulled away from Barbara. “I’d really like that.”

“What the fuck is happening here?” Nick said. He was sitting by a nearby table with his legs crossed and a half-eaten apple in his hand. Of course he wasn’t helping. “Harry, are you crying?”

Slightly embarrassed, but mostly irritated by Nick, Harry turned his back to him and wiped the corners of his eyes.

“Sod off, Nick.”

He heard the man snort. “Are you all ready, then? Apparently, I have to drive the car back to the hotel.”

Harry shut the car trunk and faced Nick again.

“All set.”

Barbara tilted her head to the side and asked Nick, “How will you get to the party?”

“Louis will drive us,” he said. “He’s back at the hotel bar going through the footage right now. Anxious little shit, that one is.”

Barbara bit her lip.

Harry knew what was on her mind. He stepped in before she could say something, “Nick, I can take the equipment back. You go ahead to the party with the others.”

Nick side-eyed him. “Why?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I need to take a shower. I’m disgusting.”

His friend didn’t bat an eye. “’S that all?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry replied easily.

Nick pulled up his phone and took a few steps back from them to get some privacy. “Let me check with Jesy.”

Barbara tugged at Harry’s arm. “What are you—”

“You’re dying to know how the footage looks. I’ll take a peek and text you.”

Her expression softened. “You don’t have to do that.”

Harry shrugged. “I really do need a shower. You go enjoy the party.”

Nick was back before she could reply.

“Jesy said it’s fine as long as you don’t so much as scratch the car.”

Harry held his arms up in surrender. He pouted at Nick. “Never in my entire life—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who cares,” he said, turning to Ed and Barbara and arching one of his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

“Nick, wait,” Harry said frantically, pulling him aside before he could leave. “Thank you. For, you know, thinking of me for this job.”

In a rare display of seriousness, his friend clasped a hand on his shoulder, saying, “You’re bloody talented, Harry. I’d be stupid not to.”

He pinched Harry’s cheek, then. “But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it.”

Harry shrugged him off and snorted. “Got it.”

Once they were out of sight, he slid into the driver’s seat of the car and laid his head on the steering wheel.

One more night and it would be over. He could do this.

His shoulders shook with frustrating laughter. Why had he voluntarily put himself in this situation? He was well aware of his reasoning behind the decision, though. It wasn’t all genuine altruism towards Barbara or innocent curiosity regarding the music video footage.

He wanted to see Louis one last time.

His head lifted from the steering wheel before it could press against the car horn just hard enough to honk it.

Let’s get this done with, then.

He drove back to the hotel and parked the car on Jesy’s spot. After a quick shower, where he was able to ease the tension in his muscles and think over what he planned to say to Louis, he put on a fresh pair of skinny jeans and a loose shirt. There wasn’t much he could do with his wet curls besides running his fingers through them until they fell nicely around his face. One look in the mirror assured him that it was enough.

None of this mattered, though. He knew that. Still, he couldn’t help but care about his appearance. About what Louis thought of him.

Harry entered the hotel bar area with far less confidence than he had had while appraising himself in the mirror.

He spotted Louis sitting at a booth in the corner and almost whimpered at the sight. The other man had clearly showered too. He was slumped in his seat, wearing a loose pair of grey joggers and a tank top. His damp hair fell over his eyes until he flicked his head to the side in a soft and swift gesture.

Harry closed the distance between them in a slow pace, expecting Louis to raise his eyes from the screen in front of him and notice Harry, but he never did. His gaze was locked on his laptop, as though he had tuned out of the world outside.

Once Harry reached Louis’ table, he waited.

The director lifted his eyes a moment later, probably expecting a waiter to have approached him, and his forehead creased slightly when he found Harry standing there. He plucked one of his earplugs out.

“You’re not Nick,” he said.

Harry snorted. “What gave that away?”

“What are you doing here?”

Harry shrunk under his heavy gaze. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He barely knew the answer himself.

“Can I join you?” he asked instead.

Louis stared at him. He stared back.

A moment later, the director scooted over further into the seat. Harry slid in next to him and accepted the earplug Louis offered him. Their fingers grazed when he reached out to grab it. Harry’s hand was trembling slightly. None of them commented on that.

“Don’t distract me,” Louis said eventually, before pressing play on his keyboard and sagging back again in his seat.

Harry allowed the sounds from the footage to draw his mind away from how close he and Louis were sat. He tried, at least. The heat from Louis’ body hit him in waves, and it was too much, too hot, and Harry still wanted to draw closer, until he was flustered and panting and nothing stood between him and this furnace of a man.

They watched a couple of the takes in silence.

Louis switched to a spreadsheet page after each take, renaming the video file and taking notes for the editor to refer to later. Harry was impressed at how thorough he was.

Sometimes Harry would add to the comments, saying “The focus is a bit off there,” or “the glare of the sun really works against Niall’s silhouette here.” Louis wrote everything he advised down. Harry tried not to focus too intently on the way Louis genuinely seemed to value his observations and comments, making soft humming noises and agreeing with Harry.

On one particular shot, Harry’s chest filled with pride. It was one of his takes from the concert. He had managed to capture a brief, but lovely moment between Niall and his guitar player in which the singer’s laughter made him glow on screen.

“You are so talented, Haz,” Louis whispered.

It was ridiculous how his words had a much more significant effect on Harry than Barbara and Nick’s had a couple of hours earlier, despite being so similar in nature. Of course it was different, though. The mere presence of the man beside him affected Harry to an extent he couldn’t understand, pulling him in until their shoulders were an inch apart and their knees knocked together every now and then. His praise was always worth more than anyone else’s.

“Thank you,” he whispered back.

Louis’ face turned towards him. His forehead was etched in a frown. Harry’s hand twitched with the urge to trace it with his fingers.

“What are you doing to me, Harry?” Louis asked in a quiet voice. As though he feared something would break if he spoke a breath louder.

Fuck. What was he doing?

His eyes fell to his lap.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t have to apologise. I just— fuck, Harry, I really like you. I do. But you’re so fucking confusing,” Louis said, twisting around in the booth and creating a bit of distance between their bodies.

The coldness in the air from the loss of contact bit at Harry’s skin.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry whispered.

“Just be honest with me, love.”

Harry’s dropped his gaze again, finding it difficult to maintain eye-contact when Louis’ stare was so intense, so inquisitive, so hurt.

“I know about Eleanor,” he said quietly, glancing up to check Louis’ reaction. The man was frowning. There wasn’t a trace of surprise or anger in his expression.

“I don’t get it.”

“The night we slept together, I overheard you on the phone with her. You know, after.”

“So?”

“You said, ‘Eleanor, baby, calm down, don’t worry, you’re not bothering me, I’m not doing anything right now’.”

Louis’s shoulders sagged in realisation.

“Oh.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, his chest heavy with the humiliation he had felt.

“Yeah. I really like you, too, Lou, but I don’t want to get in the middle of your relationship. I already feel so shitty that you cheated on her with me that night, I can’t—”

“Wait, what?”

Louis looked gobsmacked, his brow creased and his mouth hanging open.

Harry continued undeterred, “—do this, I just can’t. I don’t care how mind-blowing the sex was. I’m sorry, but—”

“Harry, shut up for a second.”

“Excuse me?”

Louis caught his gaze, eyes earnest and imploring. “Eleanor is not my fucking girlfriend.”

Harry’s heart stopped in his chest. With one sentence, he felt almost invincible, the endless possibilities of him and Louis springing to mind. His heart suddenly burst into life again, beating loudly against his ribs.

“She’s not?”

Louis laughed airily. “God, no. I’m gay. I thought you knew that.”

“Well, I know that many people in Hollywood are forced to stay in the closet.”

Louis shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe this.”

“It’s true, though; it’s a terrible industry.”

“No, Harry, I can’t believe how wrong we both got this. I thought you fucked off that night because you weren’t interested in more than a fuck.”

“You swear a lot,” he noted, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

“Harry. Love. Fuck, we really messed this up, didn’t we?”

Harry’s heart fell to his stomach. He blinked. Dread chilled him to the bone.

“Did we?”

“I mean, yeah. What a fucking mess.”

They sat there in silence, allowing the weight of their conversation to settle between them.

Disappointment squeezed Harry’s chest and he found himself both unable and unwilling to meet Louis’ eye.

“I should go,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Louis shut his laptop closed and followed him out of the booth, “Do you want a drive to the party?”

Harry winced. He had just learned that Louis was available, yet not interested anymore. The idea of spending more time with him in a tight space sounded awful.

“I think I’m just going back to my room, actually.”

Louis nodded in understanding. “I’ll walk you there.”

They left the hotel bar in silence and fell into step together.

Outside, the sun had already set and the night sky watched them with curiosity, stars twinkling and moon peering over the island landscape.

Harry should have been relieved. Even though his chances with Louis were blown, that turned out to be the only downside. He hadn’t helped the man cheat on anyone, Louis’ façade as the coolest, nicest and sweetest man in the world was who he really was and maybe one day they could work together again. All in all, Harry should have been thrilled.

Well, fuck that. He was far from thrilled. The past few days had only made him want Louis more. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let something wonderful slip through his fingers. It wasn’t fair. For a split second, everything had aligned perfectly and he had been able to envision a future with Louis as his boyfriend as clear as day. And then, in an instant, that fantasy had been shattered. He was one second away from stomping his foot on the ground and crossing his arms against his chest like a spoiled child.

He startled when Louis cleared his throat beside him.

“So,” he said.

Harry flicked a glance at him, “So…”

“For the sake of clearing things out, yesterday, when you said I was, uh, bothering you—”

Harry’s hand reached out to grab the other man’s elbow. “God, no.”

He watched Louis’ Adam’s apple bob in his throat. His skin was warm against his fingers.

“Cool,” Louis said.

“It’s quite hard,” Harry smirked and paused, then continued, “trying to hate you.”

Louis groaned and shook his head in disapproval. He flicked his hair to the side and rested his eyes on Harry. “That was awful.”

Harry shrugged. They crossed the street towards the sidewalk leading down to the cabins. Harry could already see the faint moonlight reflecting off his door number. The hourglass hanging above their heads would run out of sand soon.

“Is Eleanor, uh—?” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“She’s my best friend,” Louis explained. His eyes wandered as he spoke, “She’s been going through some stuff. I just didn’t want her to feel bad for calling me so late at night.”

As if Harry wasn’t halfway through falling in love already.

“That’s nice of you.”

Louis didn’t say anything.

Fuck. He should have just talked to him that night. Harry felt like a royal idiot for jumping to conclusions and scampering at the mere possibility of Louis’ infidelity. He should have waited and asked.

With each second that passed, his lungs filled with salt water.

“Are you going to the party?” Harry asked in an attempt to distract himself.

Louis shook his head. “I’m too knackered.”

Silence ensued.

They reached Harry’s door.

“This is it, then,” Louis said. He had a tight-lipped smile etched on his face and looked as though he wanted to say something else.

Harry gazed at him. The starry sky gazed at them. Louis stepped back with one last fleeting smile.

He could barely watch as Louis turned his back to him and walked away. That was it. Whatever connection they had had would be put behind them and they would move on. Well, at least, Louis would. Harry wasn’t so sure he would be able to forget him anytime soon.

He didn’t move until Louis had walked down the path to his own cottage and stood by the door. From this distance, the other man looked small. His head hung low as he pulled a key from his pocket, balancing his laptop under his arm.

He didn’t go in, though.

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. His heart beat loudly in his chest, timing the seconds as he waited.

He didn’t go in.

Overcome with purpose and understanding, Harry crossed the distance between them in rushed, long strides until Louis stood only inches apart from him. Louis turned around and gasped when Harry pressed him against the wall gently.

Maybe Louis was right. Maybe they had messed it all up and it was too late. This is it, then, he had said.

“Unless,” Harry whispered, holding Louis’ cheeks in his hands. He didn’t finish his sentence, instead diving in and pressing their lips together.

Louis didn’t miss a beat, kissing him back and pulling him close with his hands holding on tight to Harry’s shirt. He could shred it to pieces for all that Harry cared. Nothing else mattered beyond that very moment in which their mouths clashed hungrily and the air was punched out of his lungs because yes. Fucking yes. He deepened the kiss and swallowed the soft, airy sound of Louis’ gasped moan. How was it possible for someone to taste this good? It was intoxicating. Harry just couldn’t get enough of him. His body agreed with him and responded to Louis’ touch as though they were back in his bed from that first night together. Every sensation was heightened, from his arching back as he remembered the painfully delicious marks Louis had left there to the electricity his fingers spread on his skin, bringing back the memories of his body shaking in between the sheets and the comforting reassurances of the other man’s raspy voice against his earlobe.

Louis pulled away, gasping for breath, and leaned his head back against the wooden door, exposing the sensitive skin of his throat. Harry didn’t waste a fraction of a second before burying his face in the curve of his neck and breathing in the smell of soap and sandalwood. He couldn’t help but nip gently there, coaxing soft moans from the man in his arms. Harry’s wandering hands finally settled on the small of his back, inching lower with each kiss he pressed to Louis’ pulse point.

“Babe,” Louis breathed out with half-lidded eyes.

Harry slotted their hips together before he could say anything else and pressed them against each other. Louis gasped and closed his eyes. Something hard knocked Harry in his ribs. Before he could make a terrible joke about it, his eyes locked on the object that had hit him. It was Louis’ laptop. His hands fumbled to grab it before it could slip to the floor.

“Oops,” he giggled once the entire weekend’s hard work was back in safety.

Louis smirked at him and shook his head in amusement. He lifted one hand to brush a curl out of Harry’s face and his smile softened.

“Hi,” he said.

His eyes were so blue Harry could swim in them. He resisted the overwhelming urge to kiss him again and took a step back, stretching his right hand out to Louis.

“Hi. I’m Harry,” he said.

Louis rolled his eyes, but his mouth quirked up in an amused, endeared smile. He shook Harry’s hand.

“Louis,” he winked. “I’ve known I’m gay since I was fourteen years old, or something.” He paused, pulling Harry in again, who stumbled in surprise and had to brace himself against the door with his free arm. Their breaths mingled intimately. Louis’ eyes flitted across Harry’s face. The blue in them glinted with mischief, “Also, I’m a hundred percent single.”

Harry’s eyes zeroed in on Louis’s lips.

“Yeah? We’ll see about that,” he said, before closing the distance between them and kissing him again.

Just like that, they started again.