Holding My Breath ~ Larry Stylinson

Chapter 9

I woke up to a loud banging on the front door. I was surprisingly awake and got up straight away. When I opened it, there stood the one and only Simon Cowell. Ohhhh shit. I put on my best "I have no idea what you're here to talk about, I'm innocent." look but Simon's face stayed pretty serious.

"Hi, can I come in?" he asked and I nodded, letting him pass.

"Have a seat in the living room. Do you want a drink?" I asked nervously and he nodded.

"Please." he smiled. I nodded and when he turned around I darted back into the bedroom, grabbing a cushion and thumping Harry round the head with it.

"Simon's here!" I whispered and he looked up, his face full of tiredness.

"What?" he asked, his voice also full of sleep.

"Simon fucking Cowell is in our apartment and he looks serious, get your ass up." I whispered again, pushing his body out of bed. He nodded and quickly put a shirt on over his sweats.

"Morning, Simon." Harry smiled as he walked down the hall with me. I went into the kitchen and made us all some tea & coffee, trying my best to listen to what they were saying.

"I think you know why I'm here, Harry."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do. And I think you know what's going to happen.. What the consequences will be."

Then there was silence. I quickly brought out the mugs of tea and coffee, setting them down on the table and waiting for Simon to speak.

"Boys.. I need to show you something." he said, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase. He tapped on the keyboard before turning it round so we could see.

"Larry Stylinson?" Harry read the words confused.

"It's all over twitter, Facebook, wattpad--" Simon was cut off by me.

"What's wattpad?"

"Oh.." he chuckled. "It's a writing site. People can share their stories and read others. I discovered that the Fan Fiction section is FILLED with these 'Larry Stylinson' things. They know. They must know, otherwise where would they get these ideas from?"

"Simon, they're just fans having a laugh." Harry flicked through a few of the pages, reading all of these stories about us.

"Well, that's not the end of it. The tabloids managed to convince a fan to sell a photo of you two yesterday. Hugging. And looking rather in love." he put another site on the screen, a photo of me and Harry loading. Oh Jesus. There I was. Red jeans, black sweater. Wrapping my arms around Harry as if my life depended on it.

"Oh uh.." I stuttered, running a hand through my hair.

"That was just a friendly hug. That doesn't suggest anything." Harry tried to argue. There was no point, I knew what Simon was about to do.

"This can't continue." Simon held his forehead in one hand. There it was. The sentence that would make me break down.

"You can't do this now! We've just sorted things out, you can't do this!" I blurted out, my hands shaking.

"I have to. You need to break up." he nodded. A single tear fell down my cheek, shortly followed by a stream of more. Harry's hand rested on my knee, calming me slightly.

"We're not breaking up." Harry shook his head.

"You have no choice!" Simon's voice grew stern.

"It certainly isn't your choice either. It's our relationship. Not yours." Harry stood up. "I think you should leave."