Fine line (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 8

It seemed like hours had passed when nial regained hi seat in the audience next to me, and my blood turned to ice as I felt two figures take the sets almost directly behind us. Out of the corner of my eye, i saw Louis hold eleanor's purse as she smoothed out her dress to sit, and then wtached in terror as he sat as well.

Seriously? An arena full of thousands of seats and they were just coincidentally assigned the ones directly behind me? I was starting to think that the universe had a vandetta against me afterall.

Niall looked to me, and, judging by the confused expression plastered on to his face, I knew I was about to get my ass handed to me.

"What was that, harry?"

He whispered as to not involve our neighbors in our ever so obvious conversation.

"What was what, exactly?"

I knew niall was questioning me about my sudden departure on the carpet, but I played dumb, something I'd grown quite good at over the years.

The Blonde boy sighed in exasperation and widened his eyes as if to hint at an unknown fact.

"Oh for fucks sake, Harold," The Irish boy was whisper yelling now, "you completely dipped back there, Mate! It was pretty damn obvious too."

My eyes widened in terrified shock as I let his words sink in. It couldn't have been that obvious, could it? I mean I was unaware that they even noticed me unless... well, unless that look I thought I saw casted at me from louis was not, in fact, a figment of my imagination.

But that was a longshot.

"Oh please," I urged myself to sound convinced, "It wasn't obvious at all. I was simply rushing off to the loo, Niall, It was nothing."

He rolled his eyes at me and inched closer.

"I may be a wee bit of an idiot Harry, But that doesn't mean I don't know you like the back of my hand. You're wearing a vintage, designer suit and it's basically sewn on to you. I know you and I know your obsession with clothing, styles. You wouldn't Dare take a piss in that outfit of yours."

I flushed violently and urged myself not to burst out laughing on the spot.

"Plus," He continued, "I remember you making a promise to yourself a few years ago specifically NOT to use the loo at award shows until AFTER all awards are given out. Y'know, just incase you were to get stuck in one just as you're expected on stage."

"That was one Time."

"Not the point."

"Then what IS the point exactly?"

I felt stupid, asking him this. I already knew the point and I already knew what he was saying was true.

"The point is, Harry," His voice softened a bit, "That I thought you wanted answers. I thought That's what the point of this whole thing was."

I laughed softly and decided to deflect the conversation one last time.

"Niall, correct me if i'm wrong, but I don't believe the grammy's were invented for my pleasure only."

His eyes darkened and he gave me a death stare, Notifying me that my choice in comical banter was getting old.

"Okay, Okay," I urged him, "Go on. Im listening."

"All I'm saying Harry, is that you aren't going to get the answers you want by running away like you did back there. You should understand that better than anyone.

I felt a deep pain in my chest and cursed niall under my breath for bringing up my past. It was a low blow, sure, but it was also the only way to get me to act serious. Man, that boy really did know me like the back of his hand, huh?

My eyes faltered from his and i found myself looking down at my hands, focussing on the many rings looped around my fingers.

"I know. Its just..."

"Just what, H?"

Nialls eyes were wild with curiosity, and I understood that his interest was not only in my favor, but in his own curiosity as well.

I didn't blame him. I mean I knew that for so many years, mr and Lou's predicament had involved the other boys without their consent from the beginning.

It was utterly engulfing, what happened between us. No matter how hard we tried not to involve them, the bys were sucked in to the black hole. Even zayn, who tended to stay out of all drama in general was forced to be involved.

I felt a pang of guilt as I looked back p into Niall's eyes, wide with allure.

"It's harder than I thought It would be, Niall."

I looked down once more and felt his presence soften next to me.

"I don't think I'm ready yet. I'm sorry."

Before he could respond, the arena exploded with noise as the first performance began.

Thank you, Beyonce, for delaying one of the more painful conversations of my life.

The night crawled on at a slow pace. Awards were granted and peers and competitors applauded the winners, some with rather scornful appraisal. Most of the awards had been handed out, and with only a few categories to go, my mind became fuzzy and I became painfully aware of the presence I felt behind me.

It was if I could feel his eyes peering at the back of my head, willing me to meet them.

But of course, I couldn't.

What was he thinking? Was he as eager as I was? Was he annoyed at the proximity we were in or did he find a crude sense of comfort in it as I did? Was He even thinking of me at all?

"Harry styles!" A bombing voice interrupted my thoughts and my body froze. "For best breakout album of the year - Fine Line!"

Holy shit.

Did that really just happen?

Niall shook eagerly at my shoulders, the widest smile I'd ever seen spread across his lips.

"Get up there, Dude!"

My heart pounded in my chest as I rose and started to approach the stage, familiar faces beaming at me as I passed them.

My hands shook as I took my award, staring out into the sea of people below me. God this was intimidating.

"Would you like to say anything, Harry?"

Oh, fuck.

"Erm, yes, of course."

I stepped up to the podium and took a deep shaky breath. I hadn't expected to win, so I hadn't exactly thought of what I'd say if I did.

"First off, I would like to thank my mother, Anne, and my sister, Gemma for getting me to where I am now. I would like to thank my friends, my fans, and anyone who ever believed in me."

I caught a glimpse of two blue irises staring up at me, and for a moment, a surge of confidence ran through my veins.

"But most of all," I spoke louder now, more confident, "I would like to thank myself, or more so,the lad I used to be. I wanna thank him for always being honest in who I was and never being afraid to show it. For never being ashamed, or embarassed of what he wanted in this world. This album, Fine Line, was written about the truth in my past, regrets in my present and my hopes for the future. It represents the truth I was never able to speak out loud. So thank you, for listening to my truth. As always, treat people with kindness - and with love."

And with that, the audience exploded.