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Louis didn't know how he ended up here. On the X-Factor, again, a place that held far too many memories for him. Mostly good ones, mostly really amazing ones, like singing on stage, getting put into one of the biggest boybands in the world, or hey, meeting the love of his life.
But now, sitting in a tiny office backstage with the other judges, listening to a production assistant recite a long list about rules and contracts and what was allowed, he felt way too reminded of a time when he had sat in a different office, not far from this one, being handed the very first actual real contract of his life. He was giddy after he signed it, full on bursting with happiness. This is my future, he had thought. He wasn't wrong.
It wasn't like they made him come on the X-Factor again, as he heard a lot of people on Twitter speculate. The band was on a break and Louis loved working with new singers, loved seeing their raw talent and he wanted to give them a chance. He wanted to see people like his 18-year-old self and he wanted to tell them how good they were, he wanted to tell them not to listen to Simon or the media or anyone. He wanted to give them someone who believed in them.
Back then, he had needed that someone so badly and sometimes he wondered what he would have done without Harry constantly telling him how well he was doing.
You are enough, Louis, he would whisper into his ear during rehearsals, in the beginning, later he would kiss it into his skin, Fuck them, they don't deserve you, while they fell apart in each other's arms.
The offer to come back as a judge had been there since he was on as a guest judge last year. Louis supposed a position as a guest judge was not as big of a deal as the offers from big record labels, that came through for Harry again and again, that wanted to have him as a solo artist.
Harry always laughed them off, “I'm never gonna leave you, you know that,” he would say mockingly, but it was always with a serious edge to his tone, always laced with I would never leave you, Louis, you know that and I know that you lost your best friend last year, I'm sorry for that, but I'm so much more than that and I would never.
There had been a few snarky articles from the press (“I don't know why you'd wanna have Tomlinson as a judge, he's the least popular member of One Direction”), but other than that his fans were mostly glad to see him again every week, so Louis considered it a win, mostly.
That was, the part that was actually coaching the contestants, offering them advice, helping them pick out songs and watching them get better every week.
Not so much the side he was experiencing right now, the firm business people, the contracts, the lies. It hit a little bit too close to home, being back in that world of non-disclosure agreements, it reminded him too much of thousands of similar meetings he had been a part of over the years, the last one with their new management team only a few weeks ago, still fresh on his mind. “We're gonna let you come out sometime over the break, but it has to be strategically placed, we have to profit from it, the album sales could -” and at that point Louis had blocked them out, drawing circles on Harry's hand instead. Not yet. It was always not yet, had been not yet, for almost six years now and Louis was so tired.
He felt the same way now, as the production assistant of the show went on about “keeping up the banter to create some tension” and “not be too shy with criticism, we want to entertain people, don't we”.
Tomorrow was the day of the first live show and Louis was in charge of the boys. It didn't help that he had become way too attached to all of them already or that he saw himself or Harry or Liam or Niall or Zayn in all of them.
There was one boy, Max, younger than the rest, born for performing, but not really knowing what he was doing yet, and way, way too nice for the showbusiness. He reminded him so much of Harry that it hurt to look at him sometimes and he wanted nothing more than to send this boy home, to tell him to open his own bakery and to stay the fuck out of the music industry, because it would eat him alive. There was one last rehearsal – after this horrible meeting was over – and Louis felt himself getting more and more nervous about his boys performing tomorrow. You're so stupid, you can't get attached to them, you're literally in a meeting right now that's about using them like puppets, Louis scolded himself, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to protect them.
When Louis finally left the room after another hour of going through every single second of the live show and plans about how it could be “spiced up”, he ran straight through the backdoors, lit a cigarette and then dialed Harry's number.
“Hey Lou.” Louis allowed himself to breathe for a few seconds, just letting Harry's familiar deep voice rush over him and calm him down.
“Hi.” He still sounded a bit shaky, and Harry immediately picked up on it.
“What's wrong, love?”
“I just... I had a meeting about the live show tomorrow and how we're supposed to act and what is and isn't allowed to say and fuck, Haz, I knew that it was this way, I was a part of it, for fuck's sake, but these candidates are being talked about like fucking objects and I can't fucking listen to it, I hate it.” Louis paused to calm down again and Harry just hummed quietly and understanding into the phone, giving him time to breathe.
“Did you know,” he continued more calmly, “did you know that Max told them he was gay?” Louis let out a shaking laugh and he could hear Harry suck in his breath on the other end of the line.
“He fucking told them, and they just said 'That's okay', but not as in 'That's okay, you can tell people', they meant 'That's okay' as in 'We can cover it up for you'. And Harry, I, I can't watch him... He's just so much like...” “Like us,” Harry finished quietly.
“Yeah,” Louis exhaled. “But mostly he reminds me of you. He's just... He never had anything bad happen to him in his life. I don't want to... I mean... I couldn't protect you.” Great, now his voice was definitely shaking. “I couldn't protect you from them, because I didn't know how to, but I have to... I have to protect this kid, H.”
Harry stayed silent for a long time. When he answered, his voice sounded thick with emotion. “I couldn't protect you either, Lou. I know, you think this was all your responsibility, because you were older, but you were a kid as well. They took that away from you too. Don't forget that. You weren't the only one that had to watch someone get made into the media's puppet.”
Louis didn't know what to say to that, so he just focused on calming himself down. He let it rush over him, how much Harry loved him, how much love there was between the two of them, that they survived all of that.
“But Louis,” Harry continued, “if you want to protect Max, you should. In whatever way you want to. Fuck them.” Harry didn't curse often, but when he did, he really meant it.
“I love you, did you know that?” Louis replied instead of actually answering Harry's statement. He heard him chuckle at the end of the line. “Yeah, love, I know. Go make me proud.”
Rehearsals went well. Louis thought all of the boys were talented, even if, realistically, he knew that only one or two had a chance of actually winning this thing. Max was one of them and Louis didn't know how to feel about that. The bigger part of him wanted Max to get seventh or sixth and then sent back home, having had a lovely time, but not enough to get offered a contract. Louis kind of didn't want anyone to get offered a contract by Syco ever again.
“Mr. Tomlinson?” he heard a timid voice behind him and Louis turned around to find Max staring at him slightly nervous.
“Oi, how many times have I told you that I'm not old enough for that yet. If you don't start calling me Louis, I'm gonna choose something horrible as your next song,” he threatened jokingly.
“Okay, erm, Louis, I... Erm, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Max started, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. The other boys had already left, so it was just them in the studio.
“One of the producers, erm, they said I should change my song. Because it was sung by a girl and there... there aren't even any gender specific pronouns, they just think it gives the wrong impression and I was just wondering what I should do, because like” - at this point his voice got higher and faster - “I don't want to give the impression that it's too much work for me, I can totally learn a new song, even if I have to practice the whole night, it's just that I really like this song and I...” he trailed off, clearly having no more arguments prepared.
Louis felt himself getting angry, because this kid in front of him was not Harry, this kid could still be saved from all of that. “Okay, listen to me,” he said to Max, trying to sound as soft as possible, to not let any of the anger slip into his voice.
“You're not changing the song. You're not changing anything. You are gonna go out there and be yourself, as much as possible. I know they told you to act a certain way and wear certain clothes, but I am telling you to ignore that. Be yourself. As your mentor, that is an order.” Max nodded with wide eyes, clearly picking up on Louis' distress.
“Was it ever... When you were a contestant. Did they tell you what to do as well?”
Louis let out a surprised laugh at that. There were so many bitter and sarcastic comments he could say in reply to that question, he didn't even know where to start. He settled on a simple “Yeah, they did.” Changing the subject, he continued, “Now go, get some sleep, and remember what I told you. Ignore everyone who tells you anything else. There are certain things in your contract, but I think I remember a line about respecting the judges' decisions. This is mine.”
“Thank you,” Max whispered. For a moment he looked like he might hug Louis, but then thought better of it. Before he could leave, Louis stopped him. “Max. I know they said you couldn't, but... If this wasn't about contracts or anything, if it was just down to you... Would you want to come out?”
Max didn't even hesitate before he nodded. “I haven't been in the closet since I was thirteen. Feels weird to go back there.”
Louis nodded, not saying anything else about the subject. “I'll see you at the show tomorrow.”
Max went to leave, turned around just before the door, smiled wildly at Louis and then skipped through it. Louis couldn't help but laugh at that. Harry had skipped through doors as well.
The live show was as hectic as Louis remembered. He thought sitting on the same chair the whole time would make it easier, but it wasn't easier, maybe it was even more difficult this time, now that he knew what the “dream” they were all talking about entailed. The clip they showed before each contestant showed a little drama this week, two girls fighting over something stupid, when in reality, Louis knew that they were getting along just fine. He was so sick of all of it. He wished Harry was there.
His boys were good. Really good, even though Simon kept criticizing Paul, the oldest of them, constantly. As a viewer, Louis would believe him, would think back on Paul's performance and think, “Huh, maybe there really were some parts where he sounded off-key,” if he didn't know that that was the plan, to make Paul look like the person who constantly got put down, but then fought through it and proved them all wrong. Or not, if the viewers relied too heavily on Simon's opinion.
The second and the third one of his contestants did good as well. Cheryl kept criticizing their performance choices and Louis had to focus on not gritting his teeth, because Cheryl fucking knew, that these were the best options he could have chosen for them, to have Adam only standing behind a microphone, because his voice was stronger if he didn't have to focus on some stupid choreography and to have Cam dancing around on stage, because he was the entertainer of the group. Cheryl knew all of these things, she even approved of them earlier this week (“You are doing fine, Louis, you know how to advertise their talent”) and yet she acted like the boys had literally gone behind everyone's back to pick out the worst performance style possible. Louis knew she was just sticking to the script, but he hated every second of it. Back when he was an X-Factor contestant, she wouldn't even acknowledge him properly. In hindsight, Louis was quite thankful for that, because he knew that on his own, he wouldn't even have made it through the first live show.
Max' performance was last. Louis was getting more nervous by the second, but he knew that he had stuck with the song from Christina Aguilera because he had heard it during soundcheck earlier.
Max' intro clip was quite boring, just him talking about finally getting the chance to live his dream, being thankful for the opportunity, the usual lines.
When he finally came up on stage, there was a small moment when the lights were still dark and the audience couldn't see him yet, but Louis could, and it was enough to make him let out a small gasp of surprise. Because Max had not only taken his advice about not changing the song, he had really taken his advice. About being himself. His clothes were brightly coloured, there was a headscarf in his hair and his nails were fucking painted. This time, Louis definitely wasn't the only one who recognized what style he was going for, because he could feel the other judges trying to stare at him without being too obvious about it. I didn't tell him to do this, he wanted to tell them, but it wouldn't exactly be the truth. This was clearly Max being himself, and with him being so much like Harry in any other way, Louis should have guessed that this was how he would choose to express himself.
But Max was good, singing better than Louis had ever heard him before. He seemed like he meant every word of Christina Aguilera's “Beautiful” that he was singing and by the end he had the audience up on their feet and cheering louder than they had for any of the other candidates. Louis was so proud of him.
He had to speak first and he tried not to gush too obviously and to keep any references to Harry Styles out of his speech, but no one could actually blame him for the “oh, and nice headscarf by the way” he managed to fit in with a little wink at the end.
The girls offered some nice comments as well – even though Louis knew they were supposed to have a more critical response, it was right there in his notes – but he guessed they didn't actually want the audience to hate them. When Simon started to speak, it started off as usual “I thought you were amazing, raw talent, much potential”, but Louis knew somehow that there was a but coming, and sure enough, at the end of his speech, Simon turned to him. “But I can't help but wonder, Louis, where did this outfit choice come from? I know for a fact that our stylists had something different for him in mind. Don't you think it doesn't quite go with the performance?”
And Louis knew how this was supposed to go, knew that he should keep up the banter and that Simon was just looking for a thing to criticize in this flawless performance, but suddenly Louis felt so incredibly angry, that his vision started to blurr around the edges.
“Well, Simon,” he started, his voice way too calm, “I told Max to choose whatever outfit he felt expressed himself the most. Because I don't believe you should treat people like puppets and I believe in letting everyone make their own decisions.”
And fuck, this was personal. This wasn't about Max anymore. He was on live television. Live. Maybe Louis should stop. He didn't. “And, you know, isn't this what this show should be about? Being true to yourself? Don't your viewers tune in to see authentic real people live their dream? Because, funnily enough, in all the time I've been here, that's one thing I've never seen.” His voice was laced with bitterness and sarcasm and the audience was quiet, more quiet than Louis had heard them all day and maybe someone should have taken this off air. No one did, so Louis didn't stop.
“And see, there's this guy I know. He is a bit like Max, and he was told by so many people again and again, that it wasn't okay for him to be himself, to wear nail polish or the clothes he wanted to, or long hair. He was told that it would make him look too girly or gay and when he answered “But I am gay”, they just ignored him. Until one day he wasn't afraid anymore, so he stopped listening to them. Because he was so, so incredibly brave. But then there was this other boy,” Louis' voice started shaking, “And he was told that it wasn't okay how his voice sounded or how he flicked his wrists or that he was too flamboyant,” he spit out the word. “And that boy never learned how not to be afraid. He still is most of the time, actually. But not tonight. So, Simon,” Louis could feel the anger build up to a finish point, “I won't tell Max how to dress. But I will continue to tell him to be himself. Because I will not let you fucking closet another kid in this competition.”
As soon as the last word left his mouth, Louis realized what he just did. The red lights on the cameras were still blinking, almost all of them pointed at him. No one took them off air. Everyone saw. They were out. Fuck. The audience was still shocked into silence.
Before Louis could open his mouth to do anything, say anything that could save this situation, Max cleared his throat. He was smiling.
“Erm, thank you, Louis. So, if that wasn't clear enough, I'm gay. Thanks for your constructive criticism guys. Appreciate it!”
With that, it was as if the spell was broken and the audience went insane. There was a moment where Louis was reminded of the moment he and Harry hugged on stage at the end of their tour in 2015. There weren't as many people in the audience now and Louis didn't know if they even all knew who he was, but the noise was just as deafening.
The host came on stage then to try and keep up with the program but Louis knew it was a lost cause. He had just outed him and Harry on live television. Fuck. He needed to call him.
They cut to commercial break to give the audience a chance to calm down and Louis had his phone out as soon as they announced it. He pressed Harry's contact name with shaking hands, standing up and ignoring everyone who tried to speak to him. Harry answered on the first ring.
“Haz, I'm so sorry,” Louis started frantically. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear, I -”
“Louis,” Harry cut him off, sounding as calm as always. Sounding just as full of love as always. “Louis, I love you. I love you. Stop worrying.”
“But Harry, I -” “Louis, I wanted us to come out for five years. Thank you.”
“But there are contracts. I broke a few of them, didn't I?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered. “But the major ones have already ended, the ones that could have cost us everything. It was just a matter of time before we came out now, I don't think anyone minds that you moved it up a few days.”
There were a lot of people standing around Louis now, each more desperate to talk to him than the next. He ignored them to focus on Harry again.
“Haz, I love you. I know that this isn't how we planned to come out. I know we wanted to do it together. I'm sorry, love.”
“It's okay. I swear, it's better than okay, I actually feel so... I need you to come home really quickly so we can celebrate,” Harry said in a low voice. Louis laughed at that, loud and freely. He really, really wanted to come home.
“Hey...” Harry started again. “Is Max okay? Did you... Louis, you just outed him on national television, is he okay with that?”
Louis chuckled. “Yeah, he told me he was out since he was thirteen and never thought he had to go back into the closet. Kind of reminded me of you, actually.”
“Funny thing. I thought he was like you the whole time I was watching him,” Harry said. Louis didn't think it was possible to love him any more than he already did. Apparently it was.
“I love you. I need to go now.”
“Yeah, love you too, you sap. Now go, I'm gonna call people now and try to talk them out of suing us. And hey, do you think Ellen would do our coming out interview if I ask nicely?”
Louis just laughed at the phone, murmured “Love you” one last time and then hung up, knowing that Harry would have continued for ages if he hadn't stopped him at some point.
The rest of the show was a blurr. They continued like planned, everyone agreeing that it would be best not to acknowledge Louis' outburst until he had it all sorted out himself, but the audience kept screaming everytime he so much as opened his mouth and at some point someone actually tried to start a “Larry”-chant that the rest of the audience happily participated in.
Simon ignored him, during the show and afterwards and Louis was strangely okay with that. Simon wasn't the only person who had forced him into the closet, but he was the one who Louis had trusted at some point, who had promised that it was going to be alright. As it turned out, their definitions of “alright” differed a bit.
Max found him after the show and this time, he didn't hesistate to hug him. “Thank you so much, thank you, thank you,” he kept saying and Louis couldn't help but nod helplessly. For the first time this evening, it fully hit him what he had done, what it meant. He and Harry were now two out, gay boyband members. This was historic.
When he finally, after dodging about fifty reporters and escaping even more paparazzi, came home, he ran straight into Harry's arms. He didn't stop touching him for the rest of the evening, or the next morning, when they left the house holding hands, or when they sat on Ellen's couch a few days later and Louis wondered if it looked like he was morphed into Harry's side, as close as they were sitting.
Somewhere around that time it dawned on Louis that he would never have to stop touching Harry ever again. Because there were no more rules, no more lines they weren't allowed to cross. There was just them.