This is so not what Louis had planned.

The train flashes before his eyes, abandoning him on the platform. He catches a glimpse of Harry's face, all wet curls and red lips, his stare hard through the window.

A sigh escapes from Louis' lips, and he picks up the belongings next to him. This fucking date had been his idea. He really thought they could talk this through, for once.

But Eleanor had to show up.

Of course, Louis doesn't hold any grudge against her. She's a nice friend, even when the whole world hates her. But, when he was trying to talk to his lover, trying to tell him how much of a fucking arse he was for letting Harry go, she was not who he needed to see.

He had barely begun his discourse, and she kissed his cheek, and gave him a bag with his shirt he forgot at her house. Harry's face had gone from "I'm hurt but ready to try again." to utter anger and jealousy.

Which was understandable. But then again, there was no need for him to run away. Louis had never ran more in his entire fucking life, literally chasing the love of his life.

And still, he was too late to stop Harry from taking the train. So he let him go.

As if to make his remorse worse, the rain starts pouring down, hard. Jesus fucking Christ.

An hour later, a dripping wet Louis Tomlinson appears at the hotel he reserved. Even this version of himself gets on fan's pictures, and he smiles and hugs them, comforting them just as much as they comfort him. They don't know that though.

Well, that one girl with "Larry Stylinson gets me my daily breakdown" written fancily on her shirt probably does. After all, he made sure to leave enough clues for them to find out.

The next morning, he gets woken up by Steve, offering him a delicious... Avocado salad. That motherfucker.

- Hey mate, heard by Eleanor she messed up really bad yesterday. Want a hug?

A grumpy, tired Louis, begrudgingly allows him to cuddle, before lightly slapping him away. After all, an avocado fan doesn't deserve a long hug.

But. Maybe he can smile, because that's still one of his pals standing there, and this evening they're going to perform, and he's still so damn lucky for that.

A few hours later, Louis doesn't have phone credit anymore, and that is all Harry's fault. The man went away with Louis' clothes, leaving his own at the station.

So.

There's no time left to buy new clothes, and his old ones smell like an old, wet labrador. His team's all around him, expectantly waiting for him to make a decision.

As if his fucking mind is sane enough for that.

He decides to let future Louis handle the situation, and replays his songs all over instead for hours.

At eight, he discovers procrastination can not actually resolve all of his problems.

Laid out before him are the Gucci outfits Harry carefully picked out a few weeks before. Louis bets his ass would look amazing in it. He can't even see him wear it now, let alone fuck him deeply, and suddenly that's the worst news ever.

Lottie's head pops in, an indulgent smile spread out on her face.

Lou it's time to choose now. Just stay in your good old clothes, nobody's going to sniff you.

He glares at her, a few moments, before defiantly picking up the fitting pink pants and pulling them on. His butt looks fucking sick in those. Not more than Harry's would, but still.

Lottie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

- Lou, you know what that decision entails-
- Well fuck that. Fuck management.

She gives her brother one last look, before nodding softly.

And Louis tries on the pink vest, embroidered with rich, pristine flowers. The white shirt underneath hangs loosely around his belly, and he halfly tucks it into the pants, also making sure to cuff the pants with a security pin.

A look in the mirror makes him feel like a fucking god. Someone put him some makeup on, and gave a slight wave to his hair.

The smell of Harry engulfs him, even better than his strawberry shampoo.

And, just like that, Louis gets on stage. A blinding moment passes by, all spotlights, screams, pride flags and songs. Butterflies in Louis' tummy go wild because fuck, he is doing this.

A little voice in his head plays Harry's songs on repeat, and why not sing it out loud ? Why fucking not?

A short adjustment gets made, a few whispers try to take a hold on this idea.

- Louis, Harry's going to be SO mad.
- Lou, we don't even know the chords.
- What about SYCO?

Which are fair points. But tonight is not the night of worries. Tonight is letting go of closeted Louis. Tonight is opening a way in history, letting go for the sake of representation and freedom. Tonight, Louis becomes one with his love.

And Louis sings through Harry's songs, and it's fucking grand, because he is on top of the world.

" She walked her way through a cheap pack of cigarets
Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect
And all the boys they were saying they were into it
Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck
She's driving me crazy... "

Eventually, it's time to say goodbye, and Louis envelops himself in a rainbow progress flag, tells his amazing fans to be proud of who they are. Cheers erupt from the crowd, a few tears get spilled.