Chapter Text
Good god, Charlie, you’re the worst actor I’ve ever seen.
James puffed up his chest, unreasonably proud of the fact that he’d spotted Charlie sleeping at a picnic table from what was likely over a hundred metres away.
Charlie was slumped over on a picnic bench, and James’ perfect, incredible, very keen eyes (thank you, oh, no, you’re too kind-) began to take in the serene look on Charlie’s face as he ambled closer.
James noticed Charlie wore the soft green jumper that he saved only for desperate times, and the folded school sweater sitting primly on the tabletop, tucked away so as not to wrinkle it.
As he got a bit closer, he noticed- no. Hang on- James wasn’t walking towards Charlie. Why would he? James had places to be, and people to see, and it just so happened that he noticed Charlie dozing off amongst the soft green foliage of a patch of schoolground forest.
Yes, James was far too important to care what Charlie was doing, or if he was okay, or why he was asleep. He was walking closer…
He was walking closer because, obviously, Charlie was STILL being a creepy little stalker, and James wouldn’t stand for little nobodies spying on the renowned James Hardford, nooo sir. Does Charlie ever get tired of stalking me? What’s he doing, pretending to be asleep when he’s secretly watching me?
Of course, James’ logic was infallible and undeniably correct, because he was famous and he said so, and therefore (ooh, a big word for James Hardford!) it was the truth.
Charlie was certainly pretending to be asleep to stalk James.
James pressed out a pfft before beginning to stride imposingly towards the picnic bench that was so well-shrouded in schoolground foliage.
Really, what is Charlie thinking? Pretending to sleep at school, just for my attention? If I was any less of an incredibly skilled actor, I wouldn’t have known that he was just pretending.
Those were the only thoughts going through the (normally empty) mind of James Hardford when he came upon the definitely very asleep Charlie. James leaned in close, ignoring the way sunlight filtered through Charlie’s hair, making it shimmer with a honey-like halo, and ignoring the way Charlie smelled softly like the pain au chocolat he must have eaten for le goutêr. James’ face veered close enough that, with a jolt of regret, it became at once obvious that Charlie was definitely, very, absolutely asleep.
No, no- he HAS to be awake. He must be so excited right now that his idol is this close to him. I’ll just let him know that I know that he’s awake, and then he can stop stalking me. I’m such a good person.
Armed with this flawless logic, James glanced to his left, then to his right, before jabbing Charlie sharply, once, in the shoulder, with his pointer finger. There was absolutely no response- Charlie was either dead as a doornail, or a very convincing actor. You’re sly, Charlie. James poked again.
And like that, Charlie’s eyes snapped open, his head shooting up from the picnic bench, smashing James squarely in the jaw, before, weirdly enough, scrambling nimbly onto the picnic table, like some skittish squirrel, where he turned to shout accusingly.
Now that James thought about it, perhaps Charlie actually had been sleeping. Hmm.
“What the hell?” Charlie spat, a hand pressed firmly to his forehead where he’d smashed into James’ chin. James took in a sore eyeful of harsh eyebags, dark circles, a pale face, and shaking hands before remembering dimly that he surely didn’t care about Charlie’s wellbeing (or lack thereof) and began to hiss some choice words through gritted teeth.
Charlie, from his vantage point on top of the picnic bench, seemed to be having further issues, having landed squarely in a beam of sunlight. As he raised a nearly skeletal hand to block the overly-cheerful rays, he took a small step forward, his foot teetering precariously on the edge of the table.
James, on the other hand, was suffering immensely. He was CRITICALLY WOUNDED, for god’s sake! This little creep punched me!
“Holy shit, what the-” James’ indignant and enlightening response was cut short as Charlie began to sway forward. James couldn’t tell if it was from severe exhaustion, the sun in his eyes, or the no doubt horrific headache that Charlie was experiencing, but as Charlie began to lilt forward, James happened to shuffle closer.
He wasn’t, like, going to try and help Charlie not fall off of the bench or anything, because Charlie was still a goddamn stalker, but James was definitely moving closer so he could yell at Charlie better. It didn’t matter if the pain in James’ jaw had subsided completely- the model was no doubt pitifully injured, and absolutely pissed.
‘Why the hell are you sleeping out here, idiot?” James nearly regretted his harsh tone of voice as he noted the hazy, sleepy fog in Charlie’s eyes. Charlie blinked slowly.
“Becaus- dude, because I’m tired! That’s why! Why are you poking random sleeping people?” Charlie blinked, and James got the sinking feeling that he was being an idiot.
Strangely, James got that feeling a lot when he was with Charlie.
Quick, say something witty! Show this peasant that you’re not to be messed with!
“How’d you know I poked you, huh? Were you pretending to be asleep? Were you…” James leaned in accusingly, his eyes narrowing into thin lines of pure sass, “stalking me?”
Charlie heaved a grating, aggravated breath.
“You had better be kidding me right now. Yes, Jordan, I’d love nothing fucking more than to spend my afternoon- the one time a day I have off to finally get some rest- obsessing over Your Goddamn Royal Uselessness. Screw right off, Jonathan.” Charlie’s deeply exhausted face clashed with the sharp, angry sheen of his eyes as he wobbled unsteadily- and dangerously- on the table. The scrawny boy picked up his bag, heavy with books.
“It’s James HARDFORD and you know it. AND you ADMIT to stalking me?” James crowed, taking a wide step backward.
“I admit to you poking me out of sleep.”
“I admit to you being a jerk.”
“I admit to you being a child.”
“I’m older than you!”
“Sounds like something a child would say,”
“That’s the most- you know, I could have you expelled for insulting me like this?”
“You already tried that. At least I know Louis has my back.”
“Louis is my friend!”
“Who said I’m your friend, James?” Louis’ unmistakably smug voice drifted down from the tree above the picnic bench.
Charlie, surprised, staggered backwards unsteadily, the grin falling from his face as he seemed to use his remaining mental strength on recalling what balance was or how to use it. James had just enough time to ignore the fact that Louis just overheard James call him a friend before he swooped neatly forward to grab Charlie’s wrists as he began to topple from the table.
With the momentum that came from Charlie falling backwards, James had to pull Charlie forwards, resulting in an awkward little dance step as Charlie catapulted forwards into a death-grip bear-hug from James, before the taller of the two staggered slightly to the side and ended up sort of half-tossing Charlie to the ground.
Charlie, who had managed to land on his feet, staggered to just within James’ arms as he deftly disregarded whatever the hell had just happened and peered up into the tree above.
James did the same, staying near Charlie, weirdly still holding him close (if only to make sure that he didn’t fall again) and squinted up into the high branches of the… maple (?) tree.
I should learn more about trees, James thought distantly, before a stony glare fell over his face as he noted Louis sitting innocently, ten feet above.
“Maybe he’s the stalker,” Charlie muttered, sleepy eyes blinking as he stared upwards into the sunbathed tree.
James felt his cheeks grow warm, and it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he was currently holding Charlie close to his body protectively because he’d forgotten to move his arms after catching Charlie awkwardly, and it also definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Charlie looked kind of like an adorable, nervous ferret when he was tired.
“Oh, he's definitely the real stalker here. Just… better at avoiding legal repercussions. A bureaucratic creep.” James replied without averting his gaze. Louis kicked his dangling feet.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re my friend, not the other way around. Anyhow, I was wondering when the funniest time to make my appearance would be,” Louis mused as he swung one leg down from his tree branch, and began to shimmy down the trunk. “Like, I was sitting here, hanging out with Charlie…”
“I was asleep,” Charlie sighed through gritted teeth.
“Keeping an eye out, y’know,” Louis continued. “And then who comes along? My BEST FRIEND JAMES HARDFORD! So glad that I’m your friend, James, by the way-” Louis reached the ground and draped both his arms over James’ shoulders, as if to bring him in for a hug or to pull their faces together.
Instead, Louis grabbed James’ forearms from their protective spot curled around Charlie, and moved them in a mildly threatening way, a cold shadow passing over his face as he glanced sidelong at Charlie. Louis was no doubt assessing if his guinea pig of a friend was hurt.
“And anyways, you decided to interrupt the fun time that Charlie and I were having, and now we all get to hang out!” Louis’ face turned bright again, a light switch that had flicked back on.
Charlie exhaled sharply, and without saying anything, stepped away from James’ wreath of protection and began to pack up the bag he’d been holding, managing to stuff the small mountain of school books that had been stashed underneath the picnic table into the canvas messenger bag.
“You’re leaving?” James asked, positively appalled at the soft note of hurt that carried through in his voice. Charlie arched an eyebrow, giving a deadpan glare.
“Yeah. My shift starts in 20.” Charlie methodically began to arrange his books- good lord, that boy carries a LOT of books- in his backpack. “Why- do you want to come? I’m sure Isaac would love it if you tried to poke him awake, too.” His scornful voice jabbed at James’ conscience.
“Maybe I do. So I can keep an-” James’ voice faltered under the scathing look that Louis drilled him with. “Whatever. See you around.”
/
Charlie pressed his lips into a thin line as he read the headline off of Louis’ phone, wrinkles forming on his forehead, which was still bruised from his collision with James’ jaw. James took his shaking hands off the steering wheel and wiped the clammy palms on his incredibly expensive pants. Why was he nervous for Charlie’s response? No, no, no- he wasn’t nervous, he was upset. That was the rising knot of some intangible feeling that buzzed in his blood like carbon dioxide coming to poison him- it was anger. Who had taken the picture? Who had dared to post something like this?
“This isn't real. It can’t be.” Charlie said simply, handing the phone up to the passenger seat to Louis. Louis looked paler than usual- as much as he loved drama, James could tell that both of them knew that this was bad news.
“It’s… very real,” Louis said, strangely faintly.
“No. Things like this don’t happen to people like me.” Charlie said, through gritted teeth. “Well, actually- no, this is exactly the kind of shitty luck that follows me around.”
“Can’t you be worried for me, too?” James asked, hating the sound of the hopefulness in his voice. Why was he so eager for Charlie to give a damn about him?
“No. You can deal with that. Your reputation is not my problem. I have a job and a brother and a scholarship to protect, never mind my own peace and sanity, which is completely in jeopardy if your fans catch wind of this.”
James, for once, had almost no words. The article on Louis’ phone, the one posted to an extremely popular celebrity gossip magazine, was currently spreading like wildfire through their school, town, region, and beyond by the internet-addicted celebrity-gossip bloggers and fans, was enough to mess everything up. Everything.
James felt like he was floating. He’d been loosely engaged in a few almost-scandals before, rumors about his love life or what schools he was going to or who he was friends with, but this was a different level. He knew that as soon as he turned on his phone, it would be flooded with texts and calls from his agent, company, and… his family. For once, he was grateful to be sitting in his car in a Carrefour parking lot with Louis and Charlie. At least they could tell Charlie, who was chronically offline, the news.
The headline of the article screamed a violent red. James Hardford secretly dating mysterious boy, it read. Underneath, the subtitle added some extremely unhelpful context. James Hardford was photographed in an intimate embrace with a mysterious boy on Monday. Is Hardford gay? What’s the story behind this photo? Who is this elusive boy, and how long have they been together? Hardford yet to respond.
Beneath the headline was a picture from the day Charlie had fallen off the picnic table and James had caught him. Whoever the photographer had been, they’d managed to capture the moments after Charlie’s fall, when James had held Charlie close until Louis had moved James’ arms. The result was a high-quality photograph- which looked, honestly, quite professional, as though James and Charlie had been posing- of James wrapping his arms around Charlie, whose conveniently-hidden face was half buried in James’ sweater. The unfortunate fact was that while Charlie’s face was certainly obscured, the messenger bag that dangled from his hand clearly had the logo for their school on it. Further, his unfortunately very recognizable stature and haircut were plain to see.
It was clearly Charlie to those that knew him, but to an outside observer, it really did look like James tenderly holding a random boy in a patch of sunlight.
Wait, James thought. Why am I only worried about Charlie’s face being in the picture? My face is very obviously there. I should be worried about me and my family’s reputation! Why should I care if Charlie gets to be anonymous?
Charlie’s face was ashen. He hadn’t even bothered to read the rest of the article, though James had. It was all speculation and overeager comments about James and the “mystery boy,” as well as questions about what that could mean for the Hardford reputation as a whole, plus one utterly out-of-touch comment observing that Charlie could potentially actually be a girl with very short hair.
Charlie ran a hand through his hair, panic evident in his eyes.
“Oh, god,” Charlie muttered. “This is bad. If people at school see this-”
“I think all of France has seen it,” Louis observed drily.
“That’s NOT helpful,” Charlie snapped. “Sorry. I’m not sure what to do about this. Your fans will kill me if they figure out who I am,” Charlie added, and James didn’t miss the note of fear in Charlie’s voice.
But Charlie’s right, James’ inner voice whispered. He can never live a normal life if your fans find him. He could never be himself again. And you ruined that. Your fame and your stupid fans would destroy his life and it’d be all your fault. He’ll hate you forever.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you or Lucian,” James said, trying to sound confident.
“Would they hurt Lucian?” Charlie whispered, aghast and sounding much more terrified than before when his own safety had been at stake. Louis elbowed James hard.
“No!” James yelped. “No. They wouldn’t hurt him. And if they did, which they won’t, because they wouldn’t, I won’t let them. Not that they would try to,” James said, his voice petering off at the mercy of Louis’ scathing glare. You’re an idiot, James, Louis’ gaze seemed to say. And Louis was right. James was certainly digging himself deeper and deeper.
Charlie didn’t seem much put at ease.
“All I can hope is that nobody at school thinks it's true. It’s a fake rumor, after all. Can’t you, like, put it online that you just stopped me from falling off of a picnic table?” Charlie said, voice shaky and desperately hopeful. James and Louis shared a glance. It might help, sure, and people might forget, but it would be hard to erase that rumour from the people at school, since they were already so fixated on bullying Charlie. And, as James was reluctant to admit, there would certainly still be issues with his family. His parents would undoubtedly be furious.
“Su-ure, yeah, I’ll do that,” James said, his tone less-than-confident. “I’ll do my best.”
“In the meantime, I’ll try and get my claws into some of the media sources currently spreading this article,” Louis said darkly. “I’ll try to stem the flow of spin-off articles to stop the rumour from going too far.”
James was oddly flattered for himself and for Charlie. Louis loved drama, and him willing to give up the juiciest headline to protect Charlie (even if it was only so that Louis could keep observing Charlie like a guinea pig) was some serious dedication.
“All that aside, it’s weird that someone took pictures of you at school. Aren’t there laws against that?” Charlie said, his normal dry, sarcastic tone slowly coming back.
“There should be, but there’s not much stopping people from saying that this is just a somewhat creepy paparazzi photo. Or that it was staged, or for publicity, or that it’s just a fancam. My image is public property, and because your face isn’t in it, it’s technically not your image,” James said distantly. His stomach turned. He was in so much trouble.
Then, James’ phone began to ring.
“I thought you turned your phone off,” Louis said. “Not really the smartest move, by the way,” he added.
“Thanks,” James deadpanned. “And I did turn it off. There’s only one number that has permission to go through silent mode to call me,” he said grimly, turning his phone over to read the caller ID.
“And who’s that?” Charlie asked, leaning in from the backseat to read the name.
James sighed, and pressed the green answer button, lifting his phone to his ear. He turned to Charlie.
“My older brother.”