Better Days.

Queer. Faggot. Disgusting. Immoral. The cruel words rang through the silent hotel room, forcing Harry to involuntarily squirm underneath the sheets. He could take criticism and being in the band for nearly three years now, he could take the blunt opinions of the public. But it was nights like these where his much larger body was curled around the sleeping figure beside him, his arms lazily draped around Louis's waist and his eyes watching the slow rising and falling action of his chest when everything hit him.

It was only a week into it - the big unveil. Shock, awe, flash, gasp. Article after article was printed about the situation; some being supportive of the boys' decision to finally be honest with their fans and the rest of the public, others attempting to demean the band's success simply because two of the members had admitted to being gay. As if liking someone of the same sex was enough reason for people to tear down everything the boys had worked hard to achieve.
There were many people who truly were happy with the honesty Louis and Harry had finally given them. Most of their fans would gush about the relationship, not a single care in the world that they were talking about two boys rather than the typical boy and girl scenario. But some ate at Harry's heart and mind - accusing him of betrayal because they had waited so long to speak and had hidden behind forced relationships for years.
As many knew, Harry had always been prone to seeing what other people said about him, despite the fact that he wasn't able to shrug off the rude comments as easily as the other boys. And this instance was no different. People couldn't seem to grasp the fact that the "infamous womanizer Harry Styles" was actually no womanizer at all, but a boy who simply preferred the feeling of his hand intertwining with the toned hands of another man over anything else.
Harry hadn't always known he was gay - in fact, initially, he enjoyed all the women attention. He liked experimenting with different types of women, from age to hair color to nationality. In the moment, Harry was just like any other nineteen year old trying to find his perfect type of woman. But then there was Louis.

It was just another night in their shared apartment; Harry's long legs were lazily draped over the arms of the living room couch, his head barely turned to let his gaze fall on the beaming television screen. Louis had left over a half hour ago to pick up dinner and Harry's eyes would pull from the television and turn to the door every few minutes, eager to spot the door cracked before opened entirely to present the elated brunette.
About ten minutes into whatever show was playing across the screen, the front door of the apartment was thrown open, revealing a grumpy looking Louis with several bag straps beginning to indent into the skin of his forearm.
Harry was quick to push himself off the couch and make his way over to the other boy, his large hands easily taking the extra weight from Louis. A small smile of gratitude twitched along Louis's lips as he slid into a dining table chair, pushing the hair from his face in an exhausted manner. Harry placed the bags on top of the table, immediately pulling the different cartons of food out and settling them in front of the older boy. "Why do you look so grumpy, Lou?" He asked, setting the rest of the bags to the side.
"I would have come home earlier, if not for the big glob of people." He grumbled, opening a carton of Chinese food and scooping a forkful into his mouth. "People have no consideration for lines anymore, you know. They just walk up to the counter like they own the place." Louis shook his head as he leaned further into the back of the chair. "Despicable," He muttered.
And Harry laughed. He laughed that loud laugh that made his free hand clap over his mouth and his green eyes widen because that laugh rarely left his lips. He had no idea where it came from half the time; it sounded so genuine and jolly, so happy. And it was only whenever he was with Louis that he laughed like that. The boy didn't even have to say anything funny - like in this moment - and Harry would still laugh with no real reason as to why. Maybe it was because of the proud smile that would cross Louis's face once he realized the look of amusement crossing Harry's face, or maybe it was how hard Louis would laugh along with his head tilted back and the crinkles by his eyes executing his true happiness.
This time, Louis raised an eyebrow at the curly haired boy, inquiring, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, Lou," Harry murmured as he scooped a decent amount of food onto his plate. Harry set the half empty carton onto the table, his eyes glued onto the motion of his fork twirling the noodles before shoving the utensil into his mouth. His eyes stayed down until he knew Louis had gone back to eating; his gaze then averted to the boy sitting across from him, the corners of his lips sliding upward to form a smile on his face. Harry bit at his lips to keep the smile from stretching any further but instead caused the dimples to indent further into his cheeks as he barely shook his head.

In reaction to the flashback, Harry tightened his grip on the boy beside him and buried his face into the crook of his neck. His lips brushed along the curve of Louis's neck as he did so, his breath sending shivers down his spine with every exhale. Louis fidgeted under the sudden touch although he remained still once he opened his tired eyes, his gaze falling on the shivering boy wrapped around him. Sluggishly, Louis moved his left hand to run soothingly through Harry's curls. "What's up, Haz?" He murmured, his lack of sleep evident in the ruggedness of his voice.
Harry's eyes snapped up to meet Louis's stare. "Didn't mean to wake you, Lou. Sorry."
Reiterating his last words, Louis asked again, "What's up, Haz?"
Rather than replying verbally, Harry's fingers curled around the end of Louis's shirt, his index finger scratching at the fabric as his eyes cast downward. There was a wave of guilt in Harry that he couldn't seem to shake since that morning last Wednesday, when the truth was stated aloud to a mall full of their fans. The crude comments were beginning to get to him, but admitting that to Louis would only make Harry feel more inferior than he already did. Again, he'd be giving people another reason to label him as the baby.
Feeling Louis's stare boring into him, Harry let out a low gruff. His fingers were still fumbling with the hem of Louis's shirt when he finally mumbled, "Is it gonna get better, Lou?"
"Of course, Haz," he responded without hesitation. Louis then pushed himself to sit up, Harry following suit. He grabbed the younger boy's hands into his own and because Harry's were much larger, the feeling of his fingers curling forward to rest on the back of his hand was a sense of security Louis couldn't find anywhere else. "We already did the hardest part. We're gonna be okay." Louis gave Harry's hands a small squeeze as he added, "People are going to learn to accept it eventually. We just have to give them some time to let it soak in. And if they don't, who needs them?"
"But what if the fans leave?" Harry asked, his voice clearly shaken now. Their girls had given them everything they needed; they gave the boys the hope they needed to thrive through the competition and the music industry, the support they craved to win all the awards and number one slots, and the numerous hours of devotion to simply catch a glimpse or get an autograph. Harry owed everything he had to their fans and upsetting them was the last thing he ever wanted to do. "What if management was right and they stop listening to our music or buying our records or going to our shows because we let them down? Because we didn't tell them sooner? Because we were too scared? What if we hurt them, Lou? What if we can't regain their trust back?"
"Shh, Haz, it's not gonna happen like that," He murmured, slipping one of his hands from Harry's grasp in order to rest it on the side of his face. Louis's thumb gently caressed the younger boy's cheek, a sincere smile peeking across his lips. "Our real fans are going to be supportive of us no matter what. Whatever management told us before was just to put fear into our heads so we wouldn't tell the girls the truth." Louis's blue eyes lit up in the darkness of the room as he added, "Have you not seen all the comments? Stupid question, I know you have. People are boasting about how we're going to rule the world and they've never seen us happier than we've been this past week. And they're right, Haz. At least for me - I've never been happier in my whole life." Louis slipped his hand back into Harry's grasp before concluding, "Don't let this stupid stuff keep you up at night, alright, love? It'll all blow over in a week or two. And if it doesn't, you've got me to protect you." Although reluctant, Harry nodded his head before sliding back underneath the covers, curling his legs up to his chest. Louis did the same, his body following the curve of Harry's as he draped his arms around the boy. His face buried into Harry's curls as he murmured, "I love you, Harry."