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Chapter Text

No eighteen years old should dream to conquer “freedom” at night; and yet, Harry did all the time. He remembers the chaotic turn of events as he is welcomed by his enormous team of stylists, lead by the one and only Harry Lambert. One of the big guys on the management team, who happened to be there, had grabbed him by the shoulders just as the cameras got switched off.

“Why the fuck did you say that?” he had inquired.

“Say what?” Harry had played the cocky boy he heard he was supposed to be right there. Oh, sweet 2013…! What a time to be alive!

“You know ‘Freedom for love and peace’. As if you weren't a millionaire pop star who could get any girl he wanted!” He had repeated the words in a mocking voice, and with such superiority, with such pride… Harry would give anything to travel back in time and get away from him, that is for sure.

“The question was ‘If you could wish for anything money can't buy what would it be?’ What did you expect me to answer?” He spat.

“You know those larry fuckers won’t let this go.” the big man grunted.

Don't call them that! I don’t expect them to, nor do I want them to stop…, Harry replied in his head. He had not dared to say it out loud, of course, that was something he often did when he was younger: have full conversations with a fake Simon Cowell he eventually convinced to let Louis and him be free. Because really, what is the worst it could happen? Lose a few homophobic fans they did not want anyway?

That is how this younger Harry saw things: life was black or white, or they supported him or he didn't want anything to do with them; or they let him out, or he would not have a career… Not this Harry, though… Twenty nine years old Harry Styles had tasted the sweet feeling of performing on stage too much and was now addicted to it; there was no other way for him to be happy professionally speaking, so he would take it. He already had, he and Louis had borne the unbearable and still did… The stakes were too high for them to defy the industry in such a way (“too much gayness, boys, too much. Rather bad for business” old Simon would say).

So yes, Harry did seek freedom of love and peace more than anything else, even though he was often overcome by guilt for doing so:

You are an eighteen years old pop star millionnaire, he used to tell himself on repeat, people have it much worse, teenagers and young adults are rejected by their own families for who they are every day and meanwhile, you have a supporting boyfriend, loving parents, an awesome sister, tone of friends, money… and yes!, a couple of fake girlfriends and some lies to keep! You´ve got nothing to complain about.

But it is not true and, as he hugs his stylist, he realizes it once more.

“How are you? Nervous?” Harry L. asks him.

Louis links their hands as soon as he feels his uneasiness.

“Terrified,” he confesses, “I'm nominated for an Oscar for a movie about a gay man who is forced to hide who he is… I'm terrified and really, really excited.”

“That's normal, love.” Louis assures him “But it will be alright, you´ll see. You are gonna fucking win.”

“Lou,” he teases him, “you cannot slip a curse every two words! It doesn't work like that.”

“Can't I? Fucking watch me.” Louis teases him back.

“Hmm, hmm!”.

Lambert tries to catch their attention, a long tunic in hand.

“What is this?” Harry squeaks.

“The dress is inside, you silly thing!” He assures him while laughing.

That was it, his last chance to chicken out. They could still go for option 2 (a gucci suit from his own collection full of glittery angry bears), the entire outfit was ready just for him to say so, as Harry had requested his team to bring both with them just in case, but man… the dress was even prettier than he remembered.

Once he has it on, the entire room goes silent. Harry notices how Louis tries desperately to absorb his own tears and approaches him. He kisses him, knowing that everyone in the room has previously signed an NDA and they are in no danger whatsoever.

“Why are you crying? ” he asks him softly as he wipes his tears.

“Dresses really make you beautiful.” Louis states, but Harry knows it is so much more than that; he knows, after so many years, how much that night would mean for his personal and professional journey, and how proud Louis was of him.

And Harry, once again, travels to his past, to that interview in 2012 in which they offered him everything he had never been brave enough to ask for himself since he was a child and he dared, at first, to politely decline. They had been, back then, free enough to be themselves and the truth behind it was no chess game: Harry and Louis, like most people on this earth, had not broken into their bosses' office one day holding hands and announced their relationship, just to (you know) keep them updated on their personal lives.

They had, instead, continued to flirt via Twitter just for the sake of making each other blush and in person as well, interviews and concerts being the perfect opportunity to do so.
And well, one day, somewhere in 2011, way before said interview and after this “Larry Organisation '' Louis' mom loved to reply to on Twitter got big enough for interviewers to catch up on it, they were summoned. It was as simple as that, one question they had expected them to answer with a irrefutable negative (Simon had even implayed fake gay ships were good for business and would attract ‘the queers’) had turned out to be a big, big YES.

There we go: a beard, stunts, this sickening womanizer image they tried to impose on him... And in the midst of it all, Harry is asked whether or not he wants to paint his nails. He hesitates, they are on camera and the color is hideous (a plain black in no way creative or colorful); the management guy shakes his head and he declines. But Louis, then, affirms “Painted nails make Harry beautiful”, gets up and supports him through it.
No matter what happens, Louis is there for him, he is there when, in 2013, they are not allowed to interact in public anymore and, even if they were broken up and not talking (although the longest time lasted barely a few months), Louis used to call Niall and urged him to go visit Harry if he thought he was unwell. And Harry likes to think he did his best with Louis (he was there, after all, when Simon announced he was going to be a ‘dad’, he supported him then and once again half a year ago, when the DNA test finally came back negative after years and years of fighting).

And there he stands, the boy who encouraged him to be himself and embrace his femininity rushes to his side and Harry fantasizes with the idea of Louis in a suit, with the image of a kiss on camera just as his name is called, with a world where he can say, plain and honestly, why Tom and Patrick’s story means so much to him and how easy was to play the bare truth, how incredibly natural it felt to be himself and to tell their story, the story of their community and all of those lost, and yet, never forgotten battles.

Louis kisses him again and Harry realizes it is all thanks to him, because Louis once told him: “I haven’t seen you in a dress before, have I?” and, if he hadn't, Harry would have never accepted Vogue's offer, he would have never worn that dress or requested it was changed to “Louis blue” and he certainly would have never been brave enough to wear this one.

“Have I told you lately how lucky I am to have you?” he asks him.

“Every day.” Louis answers.

“God, you guys are cheesy!” a voice interrupts them.

Niall Horan, the one and only, walks in shorts even though it is March and, outside, it is freezing. He wears sunglasses and does not seem too keen on putting them off.

“Nialler!” Harry exclaims with obvious delight “What are you doing here?”

“I arrived this morning.” he explains “You did not think I would miss this moment, did you?”

“By the way, H, you look amazing,” he quickly adds.

“He does” Louis seconds, looking at him with a fond smile.

“I'll stay backstage with you, Louis, if that is ok?” The Irishman asks.

Louis grins and rolls his eyes.

“Of course. We'll grab snacks and beer.”

Harry does not ask where the others are, he does not need to: contrary on what younger Harry may have believed, friendships changed over time, just as much as life itself, and, although they were still friendly and both, Liam and Zayn, had called him to wish him good luck just a few hours back, he did not expect them to take a private jet and drop their lives completely just to support him, nor should they have to.

Niall was different, though. He, Harry feels, is part of their family.

“Gemma called me, by the way.” he adds. “Apparently, you do not answer her texts and calls…”

“Oh.”

He feels guilty as he thinks about his sister and mum, probably awake in the middle of the night, back in the UK, watching the gala through a laptop screen. He could have invited them, just as he had done many times before with many other galas, but it did not feel right, not when they were replacing Louis, taking his place.

Harry wants, for the first time in his life, to attend a gala, the Oscars no less, completely alone and for that to be noticed, he wants to tell his fans he is not allowed to share the red carpet with the person he wishes he could share it with and is fighting for that to change. Many of them already know, many of them support you, he remembers himself as he takes Louis hands and thinks of their days communicating with “the larries”, teaching them about closeting, about queer history and about their own through stuffed animals. He lets out a laugh as he pictures the rainbow bondage bears in his head and thinks.

“Hey Louis”

“Mmm?”

“I know you said it was not a good idea, but imagine their reaction if we could just…”

Louis and Niall exchange glances for a few moments and their friend immediately runs to the door. What he brings with him, Harry does not believe.

“No!”

“Yes!” the other man mimics him, laughing his ass off.

He hugs rbb and sbb even though they have a picture of them fraimed back at home and see them daily.

“I missed those guys!”

“I know.” Niall smiles as he reveals a fake Oscar trophy and a mini pride flag “Anne told me she had no idea why you two didn't have them at home with two, she said maybe you found them too painful…”

“Ahh yes,” Louis nods wisely as he watches him model through the room “the painful reminder of a frustrated happy ending. Trust me, the picture of them in full display is more than enough.”

“But we are happy,” he reminds him, “and we are getting our happy ending.”

That was not entirely true, though, there was a time they thought they could be happier. Even with Zayn and the rest of the boys parting ways, Simon, although reluctant, had promised Harry a sutil coming out (hence, the “not that important” comment, alongside “don't knock it off till you try it”. Both in the same interview) and Louis a “single and NOT ready to mingle story”, followed by a regained friendship narrative that would have allowed them to walk, side by side, in public without major problems.

Honestly, it was not ideal; but, at that point, it would have been more than enough. It was also how RBB and SBB came to life when, one night after they got the first one through a fan, Louis suggested that maybe, if they pressured him just as many artists had done in the past, they would get to come out all the way.

Niall had affirmed then that they were fighting a “big gay war” and Harry had not been surprised at all when the fans adopted the same term.

“Come on, spit it out.” Liam had teased him “How did you do it?”

“Me and my larries share the same brain” Niall had bragged.

“Niall…”

“Ok, ok! Jesus!” he had admitted as he let out a fake yell “I suggested it to them on my burner tumblr account.”

“YOU WHAT?”

“Calm down! They do not know it is me! And somebody has to guide all of those little… gay little soldiers.”

They had bursted out laughing in that precise moment, even though it was no laughing matter, even though they were about to fight back, to kick the closet doors until someone let them out or to die trying, to disappear in a cloud of smoke as many artists had done before. He had not appreciated, then, the seriousness of the matter just as he had overlooked how supportive Niall was, how supported he had always been of their relationship.

Because Harry and Louis were trying to shake the foundations of the entertainment industry… and what better way to create an army for two young guys in their early twenties than with stuffed animals and a dose of queercoding? Really, twenty years old Harry Styles had gladly admitted to himself that he was, in fact, dating a genius.

Around nine years later, still fighting the same war, that same Harry Styles, not as optimistic as his younger version had been, kisses his partner as they are separated into two different cars (one directed to the red carpet and one to the hidden and greedy back door) and wishes, for a fraction of a second, not to win.

“How am I to make a speech tonight, if it happens, without mentioning you?” he wonders before getting into the car, saying it out loud almost by accident.

“You do not owe me that.” Louis replies “You show me your love every day, I don't need to hear it tonight.”

But you wish you could, he is about to say, you and I both.

“RBB and SBB will announce their support to the world tonight, love.” Louis reminds him.

It is not nearly enough.

Chapter Text

It is chilly in Los Angeles, almost as much as it must be back in Holmes Chapel. Harry bets his mum is cuddling Gemma on the sofa, and maybe there is a blanket wrapping them both. He wonders what they think, he knows they would be supportive regardless, but an out-of-place conversation with Anne that morning comes to mind and he realizes she may be expecting something different from this particular night.

“Harry, love,” she had told him “we are here for you, whatever happens.”

“Nothing is gonna happen.” He had blurted out before he could control himself.

“A mother always knows best.” Anne had reminded him.

It was the same thing she had told him thirteen years ago on his X Factor audition and the exact same thing she had tweeted last july, when the program had released his extended audition without warning and everyone had gotten to see his particular version of Hey Soul Sister, a cover for which, no doubt, he would end up in hell. Simon’ s comment was what his mother had found outrageous: “Mothers don't usually know? Mothers don't usually know?” she had complained to him over the phone “How dare he? I swear that man gets on my nerves!”

Well, something is definitely happening, because Harry gets out of the car and everybody cheers for him. He grabs his dress by both sides and lets the beautiful silk rainbow gown run throughout the carpet.

Fans, waiting behind the cameras in a reserved area, gasp comically and yell like crazy.

“We are proud of you, Harry!” a fan standing in the first row shouts.

“You look stunning!” their friend agrees.

“We see you Harry!” a third person in the crowd intervenes, getting cheered by the rest of them.

That same chant had started on social media last august, after the fans saw that photo of him in Madrid with the “Help me come out” sign. And, although the words were quite old and overused by then, he cannot help but tear a little: this time, they really mean something.

Harry throws a few kisses to the crowd and follows the organisators' indications until he reaches the red carpet. He, then, stops himself in front of the cameras to let them take a couple of shoots and answers a few questions.

“Harry! What do you have to say about Olivia's statement implying you seduced her and did not let her take her work seriously, causing the movie to flop?” The first journalist asks.

Harry, although disappointed, is not surprised by the question. Let it to the media to grab any proof of my straightness as soon as they see me in a dress, he curses.

“For the sake of every little girl watching us tonight, please stop suggesting women are not able to take positions of power or that they are just silly little beings driven by desire. I find it quite sexist, don't you?” He answers, completely ignoring Olivia's presence in the question.

The interviewer gasps and looks away, and Harry feels slightly guilty, even though she had it coming. Questions like that one made their way to him all the time, ever since their breakup was announced.

Harry knows why, of course, he knows it is not really Olivia's fault (no matter how unpleasant she could be), that their teams are in an agreement to make their break-up a stunt of a sort, selling the whole thing like a circus and advertising it constantly in the media (which drives Louis insane).

“They are gonna ask you about it.” Jeff had warned him just last night “You know this way lots of people are going to run to Hbo and watch or rewatch the movie and besides, the public should be catching interest in Olivia's new project by now, if only just to see if she is able to make a good movie like Booksmart again and it is all indeed your fault.”

“Wonderful” Harry had muttered in a dark tone.

“Harry…”

“Jeff…” he mimicked him.

“It is for your own good, Harry.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” He had contradicted him for the first time ever, with Louis by his side, only after he knew for sure there was a new label waiting for him. “You know what, Jeff? Sometimes I think the fans are right and you did not try hard enough to make it work with Xander, sometimes I think you tricked me into believing I could be out and proud only to sign me in, that you never intended to do it for real.”

“You know that is not true, Harry, I am your friend!”

“Are you? Were you Britney's friend as well? I know you know our contract expires soon, the tour is done and there is nothing you can do to keep me in. And I know you've been trying to sabotage me solely because of that fact.”

“Harry, I can offer you a better deal this time, a true coming out!more money!tons of films! …”

“I do not want any of that from you,” he cut him off. “I already signed with a new label anyway.”

That was that, Harry Styles may be free to do as he wishes now, but not as much as he liked to believe. His new label, which was the same as Louis' (a fact larries were yet to move over from), had advised him against anything too straightforward but assured him they “had his back”.

“I recommend you to step back and let us plan step by step.” They had told him “It is for the best, trust us. Look at Louis and how good his second album is coming along! Besides, you still have to wrap up Love on Tour 2023 with Jeff."

“And if I do not?”

The man on the other side of the phone signed and possibly shrugged.

“As your boss, I would be mad and disappointed but…”

“But?” He felt there was hope, for the first time since Xander, since those days he spent endless hours looking at the news, waiting for something to happen, waiting pointlessly for the word “boyfriend” linked to his own name, he could look at his own future and feel hopeful.

“As a human being, I would have your back, Harry, we all would.” He had assured him.

He blinks repeatedly, remembering where he is, and moves onto the next question.

“Are you alone, Harry?” the journalist asks.

“No,” he answers honestly, “don´t you see them?”

He points at the fans and smiles.

“They are everywhere.”

“Whose wardrobe did you steal tonight? Eh?” the next journalist asks, letting out a big laugh.

The old man clearly thinks it is funny, but the people around him are not shy to express their disagreement. His female coworkers glance at him with disgust and a fan, aware of their interaction, shouts “How dare you? You old hag!! Harry is twice the person you could ever be!”

His eyes widen, he looks at the fan, and although normally he would call them out and remind them to “Treat People With Kindness”, this time he just smiles and answers the journalist calmly.

“It is specially made for me.” He cuts him off “Gucci’s treat.”

In that moment, as he enters the theater and is overcome by David and Emma´s welcoming hugs, he feels like an absolute badass, hears a fan shout at the distance “Slay!” and has to refrain himself from shouting it back.

He thinks, sitting next to his co-stars and waiting for the gala to start, about how lucky and unlucky he is. Is it possible to be both things at the same time? One should think not, and yet, Harry examines his last year next to Louis, how happy and successful they both were professionally and personally, and comes to the most logical conclusion: they were happy.

What is the problem, then? Well, Harry is no longer a kid and is not accustomed to kidding himself with riddles and lies Simon thought they´d buy if only he repeated them long enough (at least, not anymore). While he has not given a thought to that asshole in a long time and the treatment he had received by the Azofs was certainly better, he still feels trapped, he is not free yet (not as much as he pretended to be, not as much as some of his fans thought he was).
Harry cannot not walk alongside his partner in public (at least not in busy areas —they clearly knew how to be unrecognisable), he cannot hold his hand or kiss him in street… Harry, to this day, cannot mention his name in interviews or talk about how excited he is to be an uncle.

Oh yeah, the uncle thing… Lottie had given birth last august while they were on vacation in Sweden and all he could do was sending her some really expensive (and really cute) Gucci baby clothes and ignore the picture of ‘their other nephew’ the twins had distributed for some (misplaced) aunt's day.
He knew it was necessary, but still… It was painful as fuck.

And now, his nephew is seven months old and all that Harry can do is pretend he doesn't exist while, privately, he dotes him with presents and attention as much as he can. The strange thing is that Harry is an extremely private person anyways, but it is the prohibition that bothers him, you know? That, and the nightmare of a young kid on his first day of school and unable to talk about his extended family or just extremely confused about the situation.

Really, Louis´s youngest siblings were once asked to draw their family tree for a school task and all they could do was put Louis single and hope for the best (Dan had spent about a week or so convincing them not to draw “H” by his side). He did not want his nephew to go through the same thing.

So yes, Harry and Louis are happy just as Tom and Patrick were indeed very happy on that boat sailing their way through Venice (or that same night entangled in each other's arms); and yet, Harry wants so much more than that, Harry dreams with a future where they can marry for real and tweet (if they wish to do so) about it, he dreams with a house in the countryside, with children's laughter waking them up every morning and with Bruce and Cliff pics on his instagram account. It seems so simple, and yet, Harry would do anything to achieve those goals, gifts given by birthright to some but mere fantasies to them.

The gala starts, the presenter makes a couple of jokes and he forces himself to laugh even though the nerves on his stomach make it really difficult. When they announce the first of their five nominations (best director) Harry grabs David and Emma´s hands and the three of them look at their director (sat a few chairs away from them), who smiles and gestures a calming sign.

“... My Policeman!”

Harry jumps and joins the team hug. He feels so happy, so incredibly happy it is almost like being high, but without actually taking anything. The camera points at them and they wave warmly and smile.

Only after a few minutes is he able to focus on Michael's speech.

“... and again, thank you to Bethan for writing this beautiful and heartbreaking story, and thanks to the public, because they supported a queer movie made by a queer cast and a gay director and they make me feel, after months and months of darkness in which we (as a country) took a step backwards, in which every woman I've ever loved got her rights taken from her, hopeful for a brighter and more accepting future here in America and all over the world.”

Emma and David look at him as soon as they catch Michael's words, the meaning behind what almost went undercover. A queer cast, he celebrates to himself, he said the movie was made by a queer cast and a gay director and looked at me while doing so. That was not, of course, the soul of Michael' s message, but merely a truth he refused to hide.

Harry recalls that article that came out a while ago, before the release of the film, and the conversation Jeff has with Michael on the phone in his presence.
“What is this shit, Michael?” Jeff demanded. “Because he hasn't done much, he can only play the truth as he knows it.” He quoted in a mocking voice “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Michael confirmed before hanging up “Harry is a wonderful actor, but I don't think he was really acting in a lot of his scenes, Jeff, I'm not dumb, I knew what was going on as soon as I talked to him.”

“And?”

“And?” Michael mocked him back “That I won't join this shit show you have going on, you asshole.”

It hadn't surprised Harry at all when, after telling Louis about said conversation, his partner declared Michael Grandage was his hero (along with Liam Gallagher, of course) and accepted no counterargument.

His mind takes him to the underground bar for celebrities in LA he met Michael in after following him for days in hope he would give him the chance to audition. It was one am and Harry approached the man half drunk in the bar with caution.

“Hey…” he muttered, hopefully not too weirdly.

The man did not react.

“So I heard you are adapting ‘My Policeman’ you know, the novel?”

He snorted.

“Look, kid, the auditions are still open if you want to give it a try, but I…”

Michael finally turned around and stopped mid-sentence, his mouth completely open and his jaw hanging.

“But you…?”

“I would like a full queer cast.” He babbled “Shit. Are you Harry Styles?”

Harry laughed quietly and offered the other man his right hand.

“Well, and you are Michael Grandage, are you not?” he asked, just to make sure.

“The one and only.” The director confirmed. “And what role are you interested in, Harry Styles?”

“Tom.”

“Not Patrick…?”

“No, it has to be Tom.” He insisted.

“I already have some really good offers for Tom.” Michael pressured him. “All those theatre queer kids like I was once… What would they think if I chose you?”
He knew what Michael was suggesting, of course he did, he expected it even. Harry was not out, even if most of his fans and a big part of the industry were aware of it, for all the general public knew, he was a straight cis white man.

Now, people are extremely aware of queerbaiting and the importance of good representation these days, they would not like it if he played Tom, and honestly, who could blame them? He was about to give up when he heard Gemma, with whom he had just talked that morning.

“You deserve this more than anyone, H,” she had told him “this is the story of your life. You already are representation, remember that, no one can take that away from you.”

“You don't understand,” he interrupted the other man “I am a queer man myself, I just… Everyone does not have it so easy, you know? I had to accept a role in another very straight film and a possible PR stunt just so I could be allowed to audition for Tom, you know? I just… Please! Let me try!”

Michael looked at him, pain hinted in his eyes.

“Do you… Do you know the script?”

“Yes.”

“The whole thing?” He asked, astonished.

“The whole thing. I… I am a big fan of the book.”

H shakes his head as he remembers the man's face. He hugs him, once again, after he returns to his seat and tries to clear his mind as the gala resumes its course. The surprise he felt that day was nothing compared to the one he would feel once they started shooting. Due to new covid restrictions, they had been asked to bring their partners on set, and well… Harry just had a slight inconvenience with that.

“Harry! Welcome! Is there anything you want to talk about?” He said to him once they found themselves in his office, behind closed doors.

“Yes, well, the partners thing…”

“What? Isn't Olivia available?”

“Olivia” he muttered, surprised that he had not connected the dots.

“Yes, Olivia.”

“Michael, Olivia is the pr stunt.”

“Oh… Oh! That night we met you said… Oh!” Michael stuttered.

“Yes, oh.” Harry corresponded with him, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Well, do you have a partner?” He asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good, we might have to be secretive then, I'll let security know.”

“Don't you want to know who it is?” Harry asked.

“Would I know who they are?” Michael questioned. Clearly starting to feel suspicious.

“Ever heard of Louis Tomlinson?”

The director fell onto his own chair and looked at him, completely paled.

“As in… The Louis Tomlinson? Like, ex band-mate, singer Louis Tomlinson?”

Harry nodded and Michael approached him with a completely different expression. It was not pity exactly, but more of an understanding one, more of the “I bear your pain with you” kind.

“Oh kid, what have they done to you?” He muttered “You don't know how much I longed to be wrong when I met you…”

“Yeah, well…”

“You are the perfect Tom, aren't you?”

Harry, to this day, does not know if it is true, he had done his best certainly, but when it came to adaptations… Well, there was not a perfect Tom nor a perfect anyone else, was there? Not unless they could get them out of the book. He muses over the idea as he waits for the next nomination to happen: it still feels surreal for him, the thought of Harry Styles, the boy from Holmes Chapel who worked in a bakery on weekends, winning an oscar. He may not win, of course not, but just being nominated is a huge accomplishment.

When My Policeman does not get the “Best adapted screenplay” award, he cannot help but feel sad, although Emma soon warns him this is how the Oscars are.

“You did not expect us to win every nomination, did you?” They ask kindly, “That's impossible. Just chill and wait till the actors awards. You and I are for the win.”

“You really think so?”
Emma looks at him and winks.

“I really, really think so.” They assure him.

When the time for Emma comes, he is not ready. He fights the urge of biting his own nails and ignores the pounding of his heart: he is just as nervous as he would be if the ‘Best Actress in a Leading Role’ award was for himself.

“And the winner is… Emma Corrin for My Policeman!”

Time slows down for a few seconds. He watches Emma kiss their girlfriend with a dumb expression and, by the time they wrap the rest of the cast in a big hug, Harry feels completely numb. Suddenly, he does not want to win, he prays for his name not to be called because, if it does, Harry won't be kissing his partner that night, he won't be thanking him for his support on stage even though Louis deserves it more than anyone else and he can't even address a possible partner because now that he is ‘single’, he doesn't have any.

His friend sees his expression, he knows they do because they stop mid-sentence and turns their head in his direction, making that gesture of theirs everybody loves.

“No,” he mutters, “No. You'll be sued.”

They shrug.

“And lastly,” they say “I want to dedicate this award to all my friends unable to kiss their partners in public, to all of those here tonight who are not allowed to do what I just did because a bunch of wealthy white men think it is bad for business and to all of those who spent years in bearding relationships they never wanted in the first place only to have a career.”

They raise the Oscar and raise their tone of voice as the crowd shouts and turns crazy.

“We see you! We hear you! We are with you and we won't remain silent!” they yell “Fight for all the modern day Toms and Patricks because I assure you, they are everywhere, and fight for all the Marions who are told the only way to succeed is through a stunt or a bearding relationship: Girls, you deserve so much more than that, you are so much better than that.”

“Thank you.” They conclude sweetly and walk off the stage.

He doesn't know how the gala goes on, only that he feels every eye in the room set on him. Emma return to their place and wipe tears he didn't even notice he had, Michael approaches him quietly and taps on his shoulder in a reassuring way.

The presenter announces the ‘Best Actor in a Leading Role’ category, his category, in the worst possible moment. Harry just stares at the screen as his friends wave and throw some kisses to the camera. He does not come back to reality until David nudges him.

“And the Oscar goes to…

Harry Styles!”

He stands awkwardly and lets the rest of the cast hug him. There he is, surrounded by people he loves, and yet, so far away from home.

Chapter Text

Louis had already drunk three beers by the time the gala started. He wouldn't usually drink this much, but he was nervous and Niall did not seem to mind, he was used to assuming that parental role all responsible friends bore at least once in a lifetime from their days on tour.

“He is gonna win.” Niall had insisted “There is nothing to worry about.”

“You and I know that's not true.” Louis had soon cut him off.

They had watched, together, how Harry answered the journalists' rude questions calmly, with the experience of someone media-trained to never fail. Still, Louis was barely able to contain his anger when they mentioned Olivia, and let's not speak about that shit of a journalist who had mocked his boy's dress, because Niall had actually had to refrain him from walking up the stairs to “have a chat with him”.

Nevertheless, once the gala actually starts, everything seems to be going  just fine. My Policeman wins its first award and Louis watches Harry celebrate it with the rest of the cast with a tender smile on his face.

God, he was absolutely gorgeous.

“You are smitten.” Niall teases him “I cannot believe, after so many years, you guys are still on your honey-moon phase.”

“Shh!” Louis shushes. “The great Michael Grandage is about to speak, show some respect.”

“Tell me again why you adore him even though you've barely met the guy?” Niall questions.

“You'll understand in a moment.” Louis promises.

He is not wrong, as Michael states the movie was made by a queer cast and looks at Harry immediately after.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims “I have to log into tumblr! The larries will be already talking about it.”

“Don't tell me you still do that.” Louis demands, absolutely astonished and feeling low-key second hand embarrassment.

“Of course, don't tell me you've quit.”

“Well, I moved into twitter,” he confesses “life is wild there, but I feel like it is the best place to catch all their little theories, you know? But still, this is my closeted relationship, what is your excuse?”

Louis lets out a big laugh and Niall joins him. Meanwhile, on the screen, they see a few categories My Policeman is not in, nothing they pay special attention to.
Life is good.

“I care about you guys.” Niall finally says “Besides, those fans of yours are worse than the FBI, we better stay tuned, you know?”

“Oh, come on! You love them!”

“Maybe.” He admits.

They start dressing the bears, just because Louis insists the photo should be published just as Harry's name is called.

“But like, at that precise moment?” Niall asks.

“Yes! You said it yourself: Harry is gonna win, because he is amazing, and then, just as he grabs the Oscar… Boom!The photo is up!”
“From what account, though?”

Louis stops, he had forgotten about it: he was supposed to reactivate the rbb and sbb twitter account (which they had never erased) a few minutes ago.
“Oh, right.” He hands the bears, the mini pride flags, the fake oscar and the mini pride dress to Niall in a hurry “Take this, dress Harry.”

“What?”

“I have to get the accounts ready!”

“Shhh!” Niall interrupts him “My Policeman is in this category.”

They turn to the TV set, the bears in hand. Louis curses when My Policeman loses but is not surprised (they can't win everything, can they?). What he is, though, is worried about Harry (he catches his disappointment on camera and wishes he could be there, more than anything else). However, at the end of the day, the distance only makes him persevere in his task with the bears.

He gets the accounts ready and corrects Niall's mistakes.

“What are you doing?” He complains “They look really dumb in this position!”

“How would you know?” Louis interrupts him “You've never done this before!”

“True, true.” Niall finally accepts “They are all yours.”

He grabs his phone and his face lightens.

“Look!” He cracks, pointing at the screen “They are having a collective heart attack! Between Harry's dress and this… Louis, I don't think they're gonna be able to make it. Bless their little hearts.”

“Niall! Let me focus!”

He examines the final result with care: the two bears are taking each other's hand, sitting at the wooden table, and while one has a pride dress on just like Harry's and an Oscar in hand, the other just waves the pride flag Louis was never able to touch during his world tour.

He thought it would feel dumb, because he is thirty years old, because they may be quite old for such games; but, somehow, it feels so much more than that. Maybe it is the rebellious teenager inside of him the one who crackles in that moment, maybe this is what the boy whose only crime was behaving too flamboyant at a gay bar, the boy who signed a ten years restrictive contract in order to protect his boyfriend expected. He knows, at least, what this feels like, he knows, as dumb as it may seem, that it is a step in the right direction.

You've achieved so much, he reminds himself as he takes the photo, there is no beard anymore, you don't have to pretend you have a son and they are letting you come out. You've achieved so much, even if a public and normal relationship is still no part of that.

Everything hadn't been so easy for Louis: he had spent months seeding little clues to the fans only for his own team to spoil the surprise and allow Amazon to release the pre-sale (along with the tracklist, the title… everything). He was so sad when it happened, especially because he had trusted BMG, he still did, and that move had disappointed him to say the least.

It had turned out to be a good thing, of course, people started talking about the album early, they were in every newspaper and the response of the fans was mostly positive; but it was just not how Louis liked to do things, he would have loved to tell the fans about the album himself. And then, a few weeks after the album was released, those pap photos they had taken of him in the LA courtroom were finally published and it was made public that Louis was applying for full custody.

It had obviously been a scam, Louis just had to present his negative DNA test and baby gate was done. However, it would not be until January when his break up with Eleanor was announced, making him a free man.

Those were the events that had allowed him to forgive his team despite the leak of the album, he felt they deserved his trust and hoped he wasn't wrong.
“Louis! Look!” Niall calls him “Emma, Harry's friend, has won!”

“Woohoo!” He cheers “Oh my god, Harry is next!”

The room turns into chaos as they celebrate. Louis watches them kiss their girlfriend and Niall swears he looks like Harry's twin outside of the screen. He doesn't know why it catches him by surprise, it is a normal thing people do, isn't it? Maybe it is just Louis the only one missing from his seat, although he doubts it: he knows they are not the only couple trapped in abusive contracts, they are just more vocal about it and, at that point, quite veterans in the fight.

“You'll kiss him once he gets back,” Niall reminds him with a pained expression “Besides, the bears are gonna congratulate him, remember?”

It is clear to Louis that he is just trying to lighten the mood, but it does not work: He cannot help but imagine himself sat next to Harry, his name being called and Louis giving him a perk on the lips (on maybe a full kiss) without it being a big deal. It must be wonderful, Louis thinks, to celebrate such an important moment, to just be proud and express oneself as such.

After a few minutes, Emma start their speech. He uploads the photo and all there is left is to press one bottom for them to be out when the ambience changes drastically.

“And lastly, I want to dedicate this award to all of my friends unable to kiss their partners in public, to…”

Louis stares at the screen, dumbfounded. What the hell is going on? He tries to listen to the Oscar winner, but it all feels like a dream. Niall sits by his side and hugs him, just like they did when they were boys, scared eighteen years old boys getting out of their homes for the first time ever to go on a world tour and live their dreams, fantasies tainted by reality, spoiled by the brutality of the industry.

Emma finishes and the room is chaotic at best. The public is indomitable: most of them, Louis imagines, have suffered the abuse of the industry in some way or another, even if not in their own skins.

When the time comes, he is not ready, not at all.

“And the winner is…

Harry Styles!”

Louis jumps to Niall's arms and they both shout and cry and laugh, all at the same time.

“YES!” He shouts, completely unhinged “HE DID IT! MY BOY! HE DID IT! Oh my god! He is an Oscar winner! Oh my fucking god…”

Unfortunately, such happiness does not last.

He catches Harry's absolutely miserable expression and loses it. He should be happy, he should be the happiest he has ever been in his life!
"Louis, what are you doing?" Niall asks as Harry walks to the stage "Come on! Upload the photo!"

He looks at the screen, his finger touches the bottom, he is about to do it when he retracts.

"Fuck contracts! Fuck everyone!... I'm done with this shit."

Louis goes back; he selects his personal profile as he watches Harry's calculating face through the screen and thinks.

Should he write something?

"To the love of my life,
May it be the last time I cannot kiss you congratulations.
For this one and many more,
England :)"

Send tweet.

Chapter Text

Harry feels overcome by dizziness as he walks to the stage. He grabs the Oscar, kisses the presenter's cheek and stares at the crowd in front of him. Their blurry faces make him grab the stand tightly so as not to fall down, and when their cheers disappear, all there is left is the unessyness of their everlasting silence and the whistle of his own ears.

"I…, I…" he stutters.

Come on Harry, he tells himself, you can do this.

“Things like this don't happen to people like me. I always say this in my concerts because it's true: only last year, thousands of lgbt teens lost their homes here, in America, just as hundreds of queer adults lose their jobs every day. So yes, I am lucky, and, for the longest of times, I believed I had no right to complain… I couldn't, when people from my own community had it so much worse.”

Harry takes a short break and breathes. He examines the room, the stunned faces of actors and actresses sitting there and the proud look Michael, Emma and David cannot help but show. And he thinks of Louis, watching him from their dressing room backstage. The only thing he knows for certain is that he wants to make Louis proud — Louis, his mom, his dad, Gemma…

“This role… This role has given me things I cannot express with words: friendships, unconditional support, the chance to grow as both, as an actor and as a person… And, for that, I will be forever thankful to the cast, to everyone on set with us everyday, but, for the most part, I ought to thank you, Michael, because you saw something in me I was unable to see for myself.”

“I… I honestly think everyone deserves a Michael in their lives, you know? Someone as understanding, as fierce… But what every person on earth truly deserves without a doubt is an Anne.”

He examines the room in search of the camera. He knows she is watching him right now.

“Mom, I wouldn't be standing here tonight if it wasn't for you, because you raised a kid in the late 90s who was able to express himself through whatever means he wanted. Life wasn't as accepting then, and yet I remember vividly your face, full with pride and joy, as I modelled on the kitchen table with Gemma's dress on.”

“Moms, dads, let your kids be kids because I assure you, they will become something great. We don't need more Toms or Patricks in this world, remember that.”

Harry steps back, inhales and exhales. The speech is almost done and he has already done more than enough: he declared himself part of the lgbt community, for the first time ever, he is allowed to do what he kept dreaming about as a teenager, the freedom he always touched with his fingertips but never could grab long enough to make it real.

Why, then, does it feel like this is the easy path? Why does it feel like he is giving up? He knows his family and friends would be proud regardless… Heck! He would bet an arm and a piece of a leg that their fans are freaking out right now (in a good way), and god knows they can be overwhelming sometimes…!
He looks around, his eyes locked on Emma's, whose entire glance is fixed on their phone. They look up, honest surprise showing in their face, and nod.

“Do it.” They mutter although Harry is barely able to read it through their lips

“Ehem…” Harry clears his throat and finds the courage he needed. “I could not wrap this up without mentioning Gemma and my dad, because I would not be here without them. And well, of course, the boys (Niall, Liam and Zayn) and the people supporting us through everything, as they get us going when we ourselves are tired of fighting, you know who you guys are. But also… There is someone, this one person, my person you could say, who has been with me through thick and thin.”

Murmurs spread through the room, everyone there (or well, most people Harry should say) knows who he is talking about; however, absolutely no one expected him to go through with it. “Louis, darling…” He looks at the screen and smiles, this is it, this is his chance to say everything he was forced to shut down for so long… “May it be the last time our love stays hidden behind closed doors.”

“Thank you so much.” Harry throws a kiss to the air and runs backstage.

He turns on the phone, taps on the Twitter notification and smiles. He remembers the kid he was, the teen who was told he could not be himself or be with the person he loved in order to live his dreams, and realizes they could not have been more wrong: it had been a while since then, with a couple of times in the middle where they thought they were done fighting, but Harry had conquered freedom after all, and he had not done so alone.

He breaks into the room and hugs Louis tightly.

They had done it, they were free.

Harry does not return to the gala, he stays near home and expects an angry call from BMGuk that never arrives.
The silence they leave after liking Louis' tweet alongside the bears' photocall is louder than thousands of words of support.
It is more than enough.