Wear it like a crown

Chapter 4

IV.

Harry woke to a phantom hangover.

Disregarding that he'd had but a glass of wine with last night's dinner, his head throbbed in time with his heart. He'd slept fitfully, jerking upright from dreams where he'd been shot and it had sounded like tolling bells and barking hounds, like a call to the hunt.

He didn't have to do this. No one was forcing him to come out. Right now, it was a theoretical exercise. If he called Louis this very instant and told him to drop it, he'd never have to deal with the reality of it, would never even have to consider the possible scenarios. Sure, he'd seem a coward, and his mum and Gemma would be disappointed. Niall and Zayn, on the other hand, would respond with the same, "Whatever feels right to you, bro," that had been their reaction to Harry telling them he was maybe, quite probably, going to come out.

But it wasn't about others, was it?

Well, it was. In part. But also not.

Harry's brain was trying to claw a way out of his skull. Time to dig out that list of pros and cons again, then. After a shower, and tea, and checking when he’d be expected at the children's hospice to christen the new wing.

--

It was quiet around lunchtime, everyone having gone out, with Liam and Louis the only two left in the office. They’d commandeered the conference room, Louis pouring over notes while Liam tapped away on his laptop. Since it was Friday, casual Friday, Liam had decided to show up in baggy jeans and a snapback, more unbuttoned than Louis had ever seen him before, and that included their standing appointment for pints at a random pub each Saturday. Louis hadn’t bothered holding back his delight at Liam turning into a frat boy.

It was a good change, though—made Liam look younger, less like a stuffy manager and more like a twenty-something who knew how to have a good time. Maybe Louis would even compliment him on it before the day was done.

First, though, he’d have to bring some order into the mess of notes he’d taken during his earlier discussion with James.

"Your boy's on the telly," Liam said all of a sudden, and Louis glanced at the muted TV in the corner of the room.  He found Harry beaming back at him and everyone else in the UK who happened to be watching. Harry's eyes were tired.

Louis dragged his gaze away and continued reviewing the questions James had fired at him. "Not my boy," he corrected.

"He made you breakfast."

"Only because I refused to take his money for a little advice,” Louis snapped, a little harsher than he’d intended. “Did you forget the part where he's already got a supermodel for arm candy?"

Liam frowned. "I really don't think it works like that between them."

“Uh.” Louis let his pen still on the paper, shooting Liam a pointedly incredulous look. Because seriously? “Aren’t you the one who watched the video? I am pretty sure that yes, it very much works like that between them.”

“I didn't watch it.” The tinge of pink to Liam’s cheeks was impossible to miss. “Not the entire thing, I mean. Just enough to... make sure it was what we were looking for.”

Louis gave him a shark-like smile, drawing the word out. “Sure.”

“It's not what I meant anyway. I just meant they're not...” Liam lifted a hand and dropped it again. “Romantic. Or exclusive or anything.”

“Why do you even care?”

“I don't.”

"If you say so," Louis said flatly. His open disbelief was met with a moment of silence, then Liam sighed.