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Chapter Text

Manchester Central  July 10, 2010 03:47 p.m.         

When an indefinable stain could already be seen in front of the toilet, Harry didn't even want to enter the room, but his nervousness thwarted his plans. He had originally just wanted to escape the pressure of winning this show, but on the way to the bathroom the pressure made itself felt in other ways too.

So, against his better judgment, he gave in and pushed the handle of the bathroom door down.

At his first step into the room, he was met with a large crowd of people. There were probably just as many boys in the small toilet as there were in the queue to sign in and collect their numbers. They seemed all pretty nervous too, he thought. Harry could see the sweat drip down their face and their hands begging to shake. He understood their feelings all too well—if it weren’t because of the nerves before the audition, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

He was trying to look for the path to the urinals somewhere behind the number of people. As he managed to scoot a little through, he saw that the way to the urinals was blocked down to the last centimetre, so he began to push his way through the mass of men waiting in front of the washbasins.

When he saw one free urinal on the left-hand side of the room, he took advantage of the path that had just become free to wriggle through perfectly. There were two other boys next to him, but in this toilet situation there would probably be no other—and no better—option.

After a few seconds, the toilet became more and more crowded, and another man, who had been pushed out of the queue for the washbasins, stumbled into Harry and pushed him quite harshly. To avoid losing his balance, he put his right foot forward and turned a few degrees to the left. What he had forgotten was that he hadn't quite finished peeing—and so he hit the shoes of the boy to his left.

‘Oops!’ he said sheepishly, as his face began to turn red. Harry looked down at the mess he created, ashamed—that wasn’t a good first impression…even if he wasn’t the one to blame.

‘Hi,’ said the boy, and laughed. He seemed not startled at all by the occurrence, to Harry's surprise. Speaking of the boy, he looked around Harry's age— maybe a bit older , Harry thought. 

Harry wanted to apologize but before he could form a sentence, the guy zipped up his trousers and walked away. Harry looked after him before he did the same and joined him in the still full queue to wash their hands.

Harry stands next to him in an, for him, awkward silence—it’s not the kind of situation he’s used to being in, after all.

‘Sorry, someone bumped into me,’ says Harry, looking anywhere but at the boy next to him. ‘It's okay, mate, at least it was you and not one of the other guys here,’ replied the guy, unbothered. The situation really didn’t seem to affect him at all—maybe the nerves before the performance just overshadow his judgement?

‘Speaking of you-’ the boy begins, taking a look at Harry's audition number, and Harry follows his gaze.  ‘You're a candidate too. You definitely have the looks for it,’ the boy says, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he looks at Harry. There's a slight pause before he takes the word again. ‘Can I take a photo with you? I bet that’d be pretty valuable once you're famous.’ Harry is startled by this question, but does not refuse the boy's request. ‘Sure, if that makes you happy.’ 

Harry slowly moves closer to him, the side of their torsos touching. The unknown guy moves his arm around Harry’s shoulder and rests it there. Harry just accepts his fate—being touched by a stranger is a better happening than what the guy had just gotten. Besides, Harry is slightly interested in the way this boy's mind worked. He wouldn’t mind trying to figure it out.

They take a selfie together and pull apart. The guy looks down at his latest possession in his phone and smiles—lines appearing at the corners of his mouth—until he looks up at Harry questioningly, as if realizing something. 

‘Wait. I never asked you your name.’ 

‘Oh— it's Harry. Harry Styles,’ Harry replies, he had forgotten about that as well. He normally asks about names in a matter of seconds— this encounter was different from others.

‘Harry Styles, huh? Wow, you even have a name for a rockstar. I'm Louis Tomlinson. Nice to meet you.’ Harry smiles at the compliment, ‘No need to flatter me,’ He chuckles. ‘Just being honest, mate,’ Louis replies and looks towards the now free washbasins. ‘The line went by faster than I thought.’ 

The two boys finally wash their hands and leave the still crowded bathroom together. 

‘Man it reeked in there,’ Louis breathed out. ‘You would think it would be cleaner, considering how well this place profits,’ Harry replied. A moment of silence falls between them. Now that they're outside the bathroom, Harry can actually look at Louis for the first time. 

Louis' medium-length brown hair falls naturally over his forehead, swept to the side in a slightly messy yet intentional way. It’s thick and frames his face, softening his features. His light-colored button-up shirt is neatly tucked under a slim, dark tie that hangs straight down, adding a touch of formality. Over it, he wears a gray cardigan, left open, draping casually over his shoulders. 

There’s an unspoken charm to Louis’ style, and Harry can’t help but be drawn in, wanting to know more.

‘When are you up?’ Louis asks and looks at Harry, pulling him out of his train of thoughts. ‘Uhm- In about thirty minutes. Why?’ 

‘I just wanted to know at which point I’d finally have to pay attention to the other competitors. I need to see if you really got the voice for a rockstar after all,’ Louis teased. Harry laughed under his breath. This guy really knows how to keep him on his toes. 

‘Don’t have too high expectations of me. I just end up disappointing you.’ ‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ Louis says warmly and begins to take a few steps away, ‘Good luck, Harry,’ he added before disappearing into a crowd of contestants and family members, leaving Harry standing alone in front of the bathroom. He really needs to figure out this guy.

______________________________

05:03 p.m.

The lobby of the Manchester Central is not as crowded as it’s been hours prior. People make their way out, one after one. You can read on their faces all kinds of emotions, from simple disappointment up to deep regret and anger but also huge pride and relief. It makes the atmosphere special somehow, now it feels even more like everyone is in the same boat. But it also makes Harry feel somewhat uneasy, he has watched many of his opponents auditions and seen them get turned down while he’s now standing here being in the next round, maybe it’s pity, self doubt or just sympathy. But he feels awful. 

He is happy that his journey didn’t end, it’s everything he wanted. But still how can he be grateful and bursting with pride when every second he sees a person with crushed dreams walk past him.

Harry really just wants to get home now, being away from here could let him actually feel the excitement he’s missing right now. Hopefully his family returns from wherever they got stranded again as soon as possible.

Harry’s getting approached by a familiar face, but it’s not what he hoped for, is it?

‘You did great out there. The judges made the right call by letting you through,’ Louis says with a smile as he walks closer to Harry. It’s impressive really, how Louis just says exactly what Harry needed to hear.

‘Thanks. I was so nervous about it—I think I would've quit singing altogether if they said I sucked, so I’m glad it turned out this way. I saw your audition too, by the way. Good to see that this won’t be the last time we meet.’ Louis laughs rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah, guess I get the pleasure of seeing you again, Harry. Hopefully you get as far as possible. Well not further than me of course.’ 

‘Of course,’ Harry repeats. He likes talking to Louis, it’s easy and keeps his mind off things. He doesn't know him for long yet but it feels like he could have an impact Harry can’t even imagine.

‘Louis!’ a female voice calls from behind. Louis turns his head toward it, then looks back at Harry. ‘That’s my girlfriend. Means I have to leave now. But I’ll see you around, right?’ Harry nods. ‘Yeah, definitely.’ Louis gives him a wave before walking over to his girlfriend and wrapping her in a hug. Together, they join a group of people—Louis' family, perhaps?—Harry thinks, watching them leave the building. 

And there goes Harry’s distraction…Well going back to his own thoughts then.

Harry ends up waiting alone until his family returns, finally ready to begin the journey back home—with his new acquaintance still on his mind.

______________________________

The Fountain Studios in Wembley, northwest London July 23, 2010 10:36 a.m.

Weeks have passed since Louis—as well as all the other competitors—have auditioned. And now he’s standing here with those who made it through with him, by his side, to dance? Louis isn’t stupid; he knows most famous singers are at least able to dance a little bit, but still, he completely stretched the possibility of himself having to do it from his mind. He’s not going to complain though. He’s not a born dancer, but practice paid off and made him tolerably good.

‘The judges have arrived. It’s time to show them what you’ve got,’ says the choreographer as the judges take their seats. All the remaining contestants—including Harry and Louis—make their way to the middle of the stage and line up, waiting for the music to start. Simon Cowell scans the group, watching them move through their freestyle choreography. Once it ends, he frowns slightly.

‘Wait—where’s Zayn? Has anyone seen Zayn?’ Simon calls out, looking around.

Zayn? Louis thinks. It’s true—he’s not around. It’s strange that he didn’t notice it earlier, and even stranger that Simon and the staff didn’t either. Maybe they just have a lot on their minds, just like the rest of us. But still—Louis already finds himself blaming them internally if something bad happened. He’s not one to point the fingers, but he can’t help but pay attention to the people around him, those who share the same passion. He wants them to be happy and enjoy this time they have here more than anything, because he knows that’s what he wants too.

Harry, who has been standing next to Louis  glances at him and leans closer. ‘Who’s Zayn again?’ ‘He’s the quiet one. He auditioned with Let Me Love You —with us in Manchester. I think his number was 165616 or something like that,’ Louis shrugs.

‘You remembered his number?!’ Harry asks, a mix of impressed and confused.

‘I pay attention, Harry, thank you very much,’ Louis replies mockingly.

‘I would call that more of an obsession, really,’ Harry says flatly.

Louis rolls his eyes and heads back to the side of the stage. Louis doesn’t get Harry at all, it seems like that boy always has his mind somewhere else. Louis doesn’t judge, of course. He can’t blame Harry for not paying attention to every single person around him… even if the boy seems to be doing just fine if it's a girl we're talking about.

Anyways Harry’s gonna be sticking around here for a while. Louis will get him to remember his pears and finally have as much fun as possible.

Louis shakes his head, he trailed off . Harry wasn’t the point right now. Where’s Zayn?

______________________________

It’s quiet, but also so, so loud.

The flickering from the ceiling light will give you a headache if you pay too close attention to it. And you can hear the water running through the pipes in the wall. It’s cold—maybe it’s just from the absence of people, or maybe because there’s a problem with the heater. It could be both, or it could be neither. Maybe it’s just all in his head.

Zayn’s head—the one who sits in this very empty hall at this moment, in a corner—rests on the bare floor.

It’s quiet, but also so, so loud.

If you were there, you could hear the trembling of his body or the muffled sobbing in his voice. It’s not something he should be ashamed of, but also not something he enjoys. It’s more like an old friend you run into from time to time— it always happens at the wrong moment.

It’s quiet, but also so, so loud.

He can hear the echoes of the music from the stage just behind that wall—the one he’s leaning against. The one that’s giving him all his stability, everything he needs so he doesn't fall. But it feels like he’s falling.

Zayn stepped onto a stage like this before, not too long ago, and with way more people watching him. What’s different this time? Is it the fact that he’s up there with the other contestants? Or is it the stage? Does a different stage really affect him that much?

No. That’s not it.

Zayn’s not the biggest fan of people watching him, that’s true, but—he was able to push through it. Because he can sing. He knows he can. This… this is different. He can’t dance. Not at all. Nothing is worse than stepping in front of people and showing them you suck.

It’s quiet, but also so, so loud.

Zayn can hear his heartbeat—it’s fast, but still surprisingly calm for the situation he’s in. Skipping the dance? It’s not that important—no one can get eliminated in this round anyway—but still… 

He knows he won’t get called off lightly. They’re gonna ask. And what’s Zayn supposed to say? Not being able to dance is a shitty excuse, after all. 

But what else has he got? He can’t just express his deepest fear to the people who want to see the future world stars in front of them. 

So he hides—with the knowledge of getting busted eventually.

And that moment comes, after he hears the music quiet down.

It’s quiet, but also so, so loud. 

Zayn can hear the footsteps approaching. They’re getting louder and louder by the second.

‘Zayn what are you doing here?’, Simon Cowel asks after he spots Zayn on the floor.

Zayn looks up at him—what a degrading and humiliating position. As if the situation is not bad enough already. ‘I can’t dance,’ Zayn breaths out. It sounds even more pathetic once his petty excuse leaves his mouth. ‘Doesn’t make a good reason to not show up, don’t you think?’, the man standing in front of him asks, clearly not expecting an answer.

There's silence. Zayn doesn’t know what to say. Everything that comes to mind is exactly what Simon doesn’t want to hear—and he can’t afford to give Simon another reason to dislike him. 

Zayn doesn’t have to come up with words of reasoning or a plea of forgiveness, because before he can even think of something to say, the man in front reaches out a hand and says, ‘Come on now, you can get this over with. You’re stronger than you think.’ 

Simple words. Very simple words. But the outstretched hand turns it into something more—a grand gesture. Something to hold on to. Something that offers stability. 

The stability Zayn hoped to find in the wall behind him is now right in front of him, held out like a lifeline. The words may mean nothing to anyone else, but they slapped Zayn back into reality. He can’t dance—he knows that—but he has to ignore it, has to pretend he can… if Simon Cowell is standing in front of him and telling him to.

In hindsight, this moment opened more doors than seventeen-year-old Zayn could have imagined. When he reached for this man's hand, it was like making a deal with the devil. He chose to obey.

______________________________

Harry was drinking from his water bottler, trying to cool down after the dance, as his attention get’s occupied by Simon walking back on stage—with a guy by his side. That must be Zayn, Harry thinks, watching the boy closely. He doesn't seem thrilled with his current position. 

He must've had a reason for trying to avoid this dance, and now Simon wants him to do it alone…? That has to be some kind of torture. A sick joke, or maybe just a well-intended lesson? Whatever it is, Harry’s not a fan. 

He lowers his water bottle, raises his arm, and speaks up: ’Excuse me, would it be alright if I joined him? To dance a second time—and improve myself.’ It’s a lie, obviously. As much as Harry wants to improve, he knows repeating the dance once won’t really do it. It’s just a cover up. Because if any of the reasons Simon has for putting Zayn through this are even remotely close to Harry’s guesses, then Simon won’t let him join just for the hell of it.

Before Simon can answer, the choreographer chimes in. ‘That’s a thrilling idea—the more the merrier! Come on, some of you want to improve yourselves as well, right?’ He looks over to the boys standing at the side of the stage, and a few begin to step forward, hesitant at first. Then one more joins, and another, until a small group forms, moving toward the center.

Simon sighs.

‘Okay fine, we will do a short group runthrough.’ 

That went easier than Harry expected, but he’s glad. Without another word, he moves into position. Zayn stands just ahead of him as the music begins. Harry dances just the same way he did before, keeping his attention on his own movements. Still, he can’t help but glance at Zayn every now and then, looking at how he’s doing. 

He’s not doing bad at all—of course it’s not professional, but Harry figures he probably looks exactly the same. Which only makes him wonder more why Zayn refused to dance in the first place. 

But he’s not in the position to pick his mind apart about that. Louis would probably disagree, Harry thinks with a small smile. He just hopes that whatever bothered Zayn is off his mind—for now at least.

______________________________

‘All right, good job guys. That's it, thanks,’ says the choreographer next to the jury, with an annoyed undertone.

The pressure falls like a stone from Zayn's heart and he can finally breathe a sigh of relief, thankfully it is over. He’s grateful to the guys who agreed to dance again—even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. He was especially glad that the guy in the front row who volunteered to participate got also some others to follow.

Lost in thought while leaving the stage Zayn blocks out everything around him. He isn’t aware of someone jogging after him, trying to get his attention.

'Hey, mate, can you hear me?' a cheerful voice rings out by his right ear. 

‘What...?’ Zayn's eyes widen, his thoughts visibly disappearing from his consciousness. He turns his head towards the voice, slightly confused. It's the boy who was standing behind him earlier during the dance. 

‘Hey—no, sorry, I was just distracted. What’s up?’ It wasn’t the best excuse, but it didn’t seem to bother the boy—he kept talking anyway.

'Zayn, right?' The boy's voice rose toward the end, as if he already knew the answer but still needed confirmation anyway. Zayn nodded briefly in agreement.

When the boy received his confirmation, he continued with his words.

'The blonde lady with the mountain of papers said there was something to eat in the cafeteria on the second floor,' he said with another small grin on his face. ‘I thought maybe you could join me for lunch—’ Harry interrupted himself for a second to roll his eyes, ‘Well, us . I met a guy on the day of the auditions who also got through. He's really cool and he's already waiting in the cafeteria. Took off the second they mentioned food,’ he said with a serious face, although you could see his surprise at louis' enthusiasm for the food.

"Uhm—okay, yeah, sure, I'll join you. Ehm what’s your name again?’ Zayn asks, he never really paid attention to the names of the other contestants, which he regrets at this very moment. He doesn’t really care for them anyway, why should he remember the names of people he doesn't talk to?

‘I’m Harry Styles,’ The other boy says, smiling warmly at Zayn. If Zayn recalls correctly, he overheard some of the girls talk about him sometimes—he looks Harry up and down—he could probably guess why. But he’s not gonna judge a book by its cover, like usual. 

Harry seems like a nice guy so hopefully he won’t regret agreeing to sit with him, besides he was hungry anyway.

‘Follow me, I’ll lead the way,’ Harry says, extending his arm into the direction of the cafeteria. Zayn nods and follows Harry's lead.

As they both reach the grounds of the cafeteria Harry starts to slow down, looking around. Zayn follows his gaze, eyes landing on a boy sitting alone. ‘Is that the other guy?’ Zayn asks, trying to get a better look. ‘The one and only,’ Harry replies with a smile, heading over and sitting down beside him. 

Zayn sits down, eyeing the boy across from him.

‘Zayn, that’s Louis,’ Harry says, nodding toward him. ‘He can get a bit annoying, so just tune him out if possible.’ ‘Wow, what a charmer, Harry.’ Louis grins, leaning in toward Zayn with both elbows on the table. ‘I’m not that bad—but I will talk your ear off, fair warning.’ Louis winks at Zayn, causing Harry to roll his eyes. ‘You’re impossible,’ Harry whines. ‘You love me,’ Louis shoots back, leaning back in his chair with a smirk forming on his lips.

Zayn can’t believe what he got himself wrapped up in. It’s been barely a few minutes, and he already feels like a total third wheel. What surprises him most is that they only know each other from here—their chemistry is insane. Zayn’s not sure what to make of it yet, but he’s kind of curious to see where this is all going.

‘I’m gonna grab some napkins. Be right back,’ Louis says, standing up and heading off, leaving Zayn and Harry alone.

‘So, do you wanna go into professional singing, or is it just for fun?’ Harry asks, looking at Zayn with genuine curiosity. Zayn pauses, thinking. He does like singing—a lot. But he’s never seriously considered pursuing it… until now.

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ he admits. ‘Maybe. I’m not too thrilled about the idea of touring, or performing in front of people, but I like the art itself. I guess… we’ll see where it goes.’ He’s not sure if that answer satisfied Harry, but it’s the truth.

‘I think I get that,’ Harry says with a small nod. ‘I really hope this works out for me, though. I’ve always loved performing—entertaining people, you know? Becoming a singer would honestly be a dream come true.’ His voice turns a little softer, like he’s lost in the thought for a second.

Zayn smiles at his words.

______________________________

Louis is on his way to the cafeteria counter, grabbing a few napkins off the pile, when he spots it. 

An accident waiting to happen.

A boy with bleached blond hair—Niall, if he remembers correctly—is walking toward him, holding a cup of Coke filled way too high. He’s completely absorbed in his phone, not paying attention to where he’s going. Up ahead, another contestant—Liam—is standing at the counter, directly in Niall’s path.

Louis opens his mouth to call out, to warn them—but he’s too late.

‘What the—no, can’t you see where you’re going, man?!’ Liam shouts, his shirt soaked in Cola. Niall stands frozen, speechless, his eyes widening in embarrassment as he takes in the mess he’s caused.

‘I’m really, really sorry,’ Niall rushes out, his words tumbling over each other. ‘This is totally on me. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to my surroundings—’ He doesn’t take a single breath between apologies.

‘Yeah, you should’ve! I can’t believe someone can be this careless—’ Liam starts, stepping toward Niall, but then—

‘Hey, hey, let’s not get worked up about this, okay?” Louis interrupts, holding up the napkins in his hand. ‘I’ll clean it up.’

Louis bends down and puts the napkins on the floor, cleaning the puddle of Coke. Liam and Niall look at him, confused. “Uhm—wouldn’t it have been smarter if we’d used them for his shirt…?” Niall asks, gesturing to Liam’s still very drenched shirt.

Silence.

‘Oh—That would’ve probably been smarter yeah,’ Louis says looking at his now empty hands. ‘I get some more,’ he leaves to the side of the counter. 

A small laugh escapes Liam's lips, ‘I can’t believe he just did that.’ He rolls his eyes, playful smirk on his face. ‘Yeah, that was pretty dumb,’ Niall replies.‘ ‘Not as dumb as you drenching me, though,’ Liam says, his tone serious but with a teasing undertone. Niall nods. ‘Yeah, true. Sorry about that.’

Louis returns with a handful of napkins. ‘Okay, here,’ he says, handing them to Liam. ‘Thanks,’ Liam replies with a small smile, dabbing at his shirt and trying to soak up as much Coke as possible. Louis looks between the two of them. ‘You guys sitting with anyone already?’ 

Niall and Liam glance at each other and then at Louis, ‘No,’ they both reply. ‘Awesome,’ Louis says, a grin spreading across his face. ‘My table still has two open spots, if you’re interested?’ He places both hands on his hips, standing confidently.

‘I’m in,’ Niall says, clearly intrigued by the offer as he glances at Liam. ‘Uhm, sure, why not,’ Liam replies, shrugging. ‘Good, good,’ Louis grins. ‘Well then, lads, follow me to the best table there is,’ Louis says, sounding like a tour guide, causing Niall to bite back a smile. Both Liam and Niall follow Louis, walking over to the table.

As the three of them come closer to the table they get the attention of Harry and Zayn. ‘Hello mates, I’ve brought some new company, the more the merrier am I right?—Anyway, Harry, Zayn meet Niall and Liam,’ Louis says, gesturing to each boy. 

Liam and Niall look at him perplexed.

‘We never introduced ourselves…’ Niall says. Harry laughs, ‘Louis knows and remembers everyone’s name. It’s his talent, for some reason.’ ‘True that,’ Louis grins. ‘You’re starting to figure me out, Harry.’ He sits down, with Liam and Niall following suit.

It’s an interesting group dynamic that just formed, Louis thinks.

He’s already starting to like it, though. There’s something well-balanced about it. Everyone’s different, with their own strengths, but still—this feels like a group that was meant to be put together. 

Louis' peaceful thoughts get interrupted as Niall speaks up.

‘Hey, Harry, I’ve got a question, if you don’t mind me asking. I’m just curious.’ Niall straightens his posture, clearly intrigued. Harry looks at him, raising an eyebrow, ‘Sure, ask away.’ ‘Well…I’ve seen you hanging around with lots of girls since day one. What’s up with that? Are you some kind of player?’ Niall asks seriously.

A Player? Louis doesn't like the sound of that.

Harry laughs awkwardly, ‘I wouldn’t call it that. Most of it is just for the show anyway…’ ‘Most of it. But not all, right?’ Zayn cuts in, seemingly also interested in the conversation. ‘Yeah, the girls look like they enjoy your company,’ Liam adds with a smirk.

Harry's eyes shoot up at Liams words, ‘You think so?’ Harry asks, his face turning a shade of pink. The rest of the boys look unimpressed by Harry’s reaction. Louis rolls his eyes and sighs. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ he says, leaning back. ‘This boy’s clearly too flustered to continue this conversation.’ Liam shifts his attention to Louis. ‘What about you then? You seem like an open guy. Got a girlfriend?’ He asks, causing the focus to completely shift to Louis.

Louis grins, clearly proud. ‘Actually Liam I do. Her name’s Hanna. She's the one who encouraged me to come here.’ ‘That’s sweet of her,’ Niall says, with the others nodding in agreement. 

Louis is filled with confidence and pride, a familiar warmth bubbling inside him whenever he talks about Hanna.  It’s a good distraction from a possible elimination—and for a moment, it gives him a false sense of security.

Of course, life has a way of spoiling any peace he manages to find.

‘All contestants, please gather back on stage. It’s time for the evaluation,’ a staff member announces as they enter the cafeteria.

Chapter Text

The Fountain Studios in Wembley, northwest London July 23, 2010 6:28 p.m.

The conversation at the table has quieted down by now. Liam fidgets with his fingers, his thoughts consumed by the upcoming evaluation. 

As he stares down, he catches a glimpse of the phone beside him—Harry’s. He seems to be texting someone. Liam leans in just enough to sneak a glance. Rebecca? Isn’t she one of the other contestants?

Liam reaches out, intending to nudge Harry and ask, but before he can, something interrupts him.

‘All contestants, please gather back on stage. It’s time for the evaluation,’ a staff member announces as they enter the cafeteria.   

All the boys exchange glances before hesitantly rising from their seats. This could be the end for any of them.

For Liam, the weight feels heavier.

Two years have passed since the first time he stood on this stage, and still—he can’t stop the way his hands tremble every time another elimination round begins. If he doesn’t make it to the final, if he has to go home now—All of it. The late nights, the sacrifices, the second chance—It’ll all feel like wasted time .

He’s not doing this for fun or treating it like some once-in-a-lifetime experience. For Liam, it’s everything. He’s dedicated the past few years to this—to music. He can’t fail now, not when he’s so close to achieving his goal.

It can’t end like last time.
Whatever it takes.

‘You coming, mate?’ Louis asks from behind him. The others have already started making their way back to the stage.

To be completely honest, Liam isn’t that fond of Louis, even if today was his first real conversation with him. He doesn’t take this seriously enough. It’s all just a game to him—just a bit of fun. Liam hates that. Still, it gives him the tiniest bit of comfort to see that even someone like Louis is shaking right now. He’s trying to play it cool, but he’s not doing a great job of hiding the nerves. Not at all.

‘Yeah. Let’s go,’ Liam replies, forcing a small smile as he follows behind.

Every step feels like he has concrete strapped to his feet. It hurts. He’s moving in slow motion, watching life walk past him. It’s just a show—but it’s not. What’s going to happen after he steps onto that stage and stands in front of Simon Cowell will change his life. Whether it changes for better or worse… Liam hasn’t made up his mind yet. But one thing is clear—if he has to leave now, he loses more than just the contest. 

Liam sets his right foot on stage, his eyes are getting blinded by the bright lights of the headlights. He puts his arm above his head to block the brightness, making himself able to see the rest of the contestants already standing by one another in a straight line.

‘Guess this is it, huh?’ Louis says from right beside him. Liam had almost forgotten he was there. He nods slowly. ‘Yeah. This is it.’

Liam gathers all the confidence he has left and finally places both feet on the stage, walking toward the spot in line where he’s supposed to stand. From there, he can see the other boys—the same ones he was just sitting at a table with. He doesn’t really care about them that much—he barely even knows them—but still, a part of him would be happy if they made it to the next round.

As he moves his eyes away from the others and looks straight ahead, he sees him—Simon Cowell. The man who holds his fate, his future, in the palm of his hands. With just a few words, Simon could destroy all of Liam’s efforts—just like he did before.

‘I don’t have to explain why we gathered all of you here,’ Simon begins, his voice steady and commanding. ‘It’s been quite some time, and many people have left us along the way. But today, we’re not talking about who’s leaving—we’re talking about who gets to stay.’ He leans back in his chair, like a king on his throne, completely in control. ‘Only a handful of you will get the pleasure of moving on to the next round. The rest… will have to take the bus home.’ 

Liam gulps at Simon’s words, sweat dripping down his forehead. Why can’t he just say it? Why drag this out? Does Simon really have to put them through this much pressure? The waiting alone feels like torture. 

‘Okay, I don’t want to waste time. Let me just get through the lucky contestants,’ Simon says, picking up the papers from the table in front of him. He scans the list, then begins reading—one name after another.

He doesn’t hear his name.

Not Niall’s.

Not Harry’s.

Not Zayn’s.

Not Louis’s.

‘Matt Cardle,’ Simon reads off his paper.

The named boy bursts into tears—tears of joy. Liam doesn’t care.

It’s still not his name. 

Still—not his own.

Every time Simon opens his mouth and calls out another name that isn’t Liam, something inside him cracks a little more.

He can’t be happy for them. Can’t even fake a smile at their excitement. He takes back every thought he had earlier—about caring whether any of his new acquaintances made it.

He couldn’t give a single fuck.

It has to be him.

No one else matters.

‘That’s all. I’m really really sorry to those who didn’t make it—you can all leave the stage now,’ Simon says, placing the papers back on the huge table.

What?

No.

No. No.

This can’t be.

This can’t be the end.

Everything he worked for—everything he was —

‘We have to get off, man.’

Zayn’s voice cuts through the spiral, his hand resting gently on Liam’s shoulder. He looks tired. Drained. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Liam nods silently, legs moving on autopilot as he follows Zayn and the rest of the unchosen contestants off the stage and into the shadows of the backstage area. 

He doesn’t even glance at the judges.

______________________________

The room is filled with muffled crying. People are holding each other in their arms, all the boys are completely shattered. 

Louis stands next to Harry, both trying to contain their tears. Louis feels somewhat empty. He can’t really explain or express how he’s feeling at the moment. He feels bad for himself, but even worse for those around him. He can see that Harry’s hopes and dreams just got shattered by the way he tries to dry his tears with his shirt.

He feels awful, the pain from the others distracting Louis from his own. 

Louis raises his hand, about to comfort Harry, but before he can lay it reassuringly on his shoulder, he notices staff members coming backstage, a camera and clipboard in hand. He drops his hand back down, looking up at the men in front of him expectantly.

‘Following contestants please return to the stage,’ one of the men begins. Returning to stage? What for? Louis is confused by the sudden request. They all just left the stage. What is the point of returning? 

The man continues speaking.

‘Zayn Malik.’

Louis glances at Zayn, who looks confused, his expression a mix of shock and uncertainty. He doesn’t seem to know what’s happening either.

‘Liam Payne.’

Liam? He’s incredibly talented—what could the judges possibly want more from them?

‘Harry Styles.’

Now Louis is on edge. What is going on?

‘Louis Tomlinson.’

Wait—what? What does that mean? Is this a good thing? Should he be celebrating? Because right now, all he feels is a wave of fear, nothing close to excitement.

‘And finally, Niall Horan.’

The man places the clipboard down, motioning toward the stage. The boys follow suit. 

‘What do you guys think this is about?’ Niall asks, looking like he might throw up any second. ‘They definitely just want to make us cry on camera. Humiliate us,’ Harry replies, nerves practically radiating off of him.

Louis places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and laughs—though it's more nervous than comforting. ‘Come on, Harry. That would be cruel. They wouldn’t do that.’ ‘You don’t sound so sure of that,’ Zayn says from beside Liam. Liam stays quiet, not joining in. This means too much to him—more than Louis could probably imagine. Harry’s fear is only adding to the storm building in his own chest.

‘They’re gonna make a total fool out of us...!’  Harry whines, running both hands through his hair. Louis sighs. ‘This really isn’t helping the nerves. Let’s just see what they want,’ he says, though he’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to calm—Harry, the others, or himself. Maybe all of them.

They continue making their way to the stage in silence. Only the sound of footsteps, nail-biting, heavy breathing, and quiet shivers echoing through the hallway.

Right before the shine of the stage lights hits him, Louis turns to the four boys around him. ‘Good luck… for whatever’s about to be thrown at us.’ 

The boys offer nothing more than a few stiff nods and forced smiles, unable to muster anything more under the weight of the moment. Louis gives them a small, reassuring smile in return, then turns back toward the stage—and finally steps into the light.

Four girls emerged from the other side of the stage. They, too, were clearly contestants — each of them had a number somewhere on her body, either on her leg or her lower abdomen. Had they lost too, just like Louis — and all the other boys standing nearby?

 The situation was becoming more and more surreal. What did the judges want from them? Had they changed their minds? Were they supposed to audition again — maybe in duets? Would one of them, or even all of them, be allowed to continue?

A flicker of hope stirred in Louis’s stomach — but he immediately pushed it away.

The two groups lined up in separate rows, only a few meters apart. To his right stood Zayn, his chest rising and falling under his shirt, clearly agitated — more like properly agitated. He ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling a long, exhausted breath, his eyes locked on the judges, their every move seemingly weighing on him.

To Louis’s left stood Liam, his hands visibly shaking, his breath coming in heavy, uneven gasps. His lips were pressed tightly together, but his nervous energy was evident.

‘Hey, Lad, you good?’ Louis asked quietly, glancing down at Liam’s trembling hands, trying to keep his voice steady.

Liam snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes widening as he turned to look at Louis, as if pulled back from some distant place.

‘Yeah... I’m just... trying to make sense of it all. I can’t let myself fall into the trap of hope, but at the same time, I can’t ignore it. This could be my chance — a fleeting one, maybe, but still a chance. And I need to grasp it, no matter what,’ he said, his voice soft but heavy with unspoken fears and quiet resolve. His hands tightened at his sides, as if trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of the storm inside him.

Louis gave a reassuring smile, though his own stomach was a mess of nerves. ‘It’ll be fine, trust me,’ he said, slinging an arm around Liam’s shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could offer — the kind of gesture that said, We’re in this together .

Liam gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his breath evening out a bit. The other boys, apart from Zayn, did the same, forming a loose circle of support, each of them silently leaning into the moment. The tension was thick in the air, but somehow, their collective presence made it feel a little less suffocating. They weren’t in this alone.

‘Hello!’ said the brunette in the middle of the judges' table — Nicole Scherzinger.

Louis probably knew every one of her songs. Hannah had become a huge fan that summer, and one thing had naturally led to another. On the day of the auditions, as he was chatting with Harry, she’d nearly rushed up to him, her face lighting up, that huge grin stretched across her face, just to tell him that Nicole Scherzinger had walked right past her.

When she called him over to join her and the rest of her family, Louis felt a pull of curiosity. He wanted to know what had made her so excited, why her eyes were practically sparkling. He quickly excused himself from Harry and made his way over to them, the conversation feeling unfinished, almost abruptly cut off.

He hadn’t really wanted to leave. Harry had been unexpectedly funny — in that subtle, dry way, the kind of humor that catches you off guard. Louis had felt it right away, even in the thick, sticky air of the corridor outside the Manchester Central toilets.

Back then, there hadn’t been anyone near Harry who looked like family. No one glancing around, no one waiting for him. No one seemed to miss him. It hadn’t felt right, leaving him there, alone, in that vast, empty hall — surrounded by noise, yet oddly quiet, like the space was too big for him.

Louis snapped out of his daydreams just in time, as the group almost simultaneously greeted the judges back in unison. He’d missed the lead-in, but hastily joined in on the final syllable, just enough to avoid looking completely like an idiot. This moment could very well decide the course of his life, and he couldn’t afford to take it lightly.

‘Thank you so much for coming back,’ Nicole’s voice rang out. ‘I know, judging from some of your faces, that this is really hard. We thought long and hard about it, and we thought of each of you as individuals, and we just feel that you are too talented to let go of .’

Louis’ eyes widened in disbelief. He glanced around, taking in the faces of those standing nearby. Zayn’s mouth was slightly agape, his hand running through his hair in a quick, almost instinctive gesture. He didn’t seem to show vulnerability often, but in this moment, Louis could see it, even if it was fleeting.

Liam stood next to him, his eyes wide with shock, his chest rising and falling quickly. There was something in the way he held himself, tense, as if the weight of what had just been said was almost too much to handle. It was like he had been carrying this pressure for so long and now, finally, he could exhale.

Niall was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, his mouth slightly open, eyes darting around with a nervous energy. It was like he couldn’t process everything fast enough, his excitement and disbelief mixing together in a way that made him almost seem as if he were waiting for something else to happen, something bigger to confirm that it was real.

But it was Harry who caught His attention the most. He was standing there, completely still, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. Instead, his green eyes were sharp, focused, and for a moment, Louis couldn’t help but notice the way Harry’s gaze seemed to linger on him, just a fraction longer than it should have. It wasn’t obvious, but there was a subtle shift in Harry’s posture when his eyes flicked over Louis. He wasn’t sure if it was just the intensity of the moment or something else, but it made his stomach flutter for a brief second. Harry quickly looked away, though, as if catching himself, but Louis could still feel the weight of that glance, even if it was just a brief moment.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. Louis could feel the energy shift around him — it was as if time slowed down, comparable to a slow-motion scene, everyone processing the same overwhelming realisation: this wasn’t just a second chance . It was the beginning of something bigger than any of them had expected

Nicole spoke up again: ‘We think it would be a great idea to have two separate groups.’

Silence.

Groups? Can they do that? What does she even mean by that? Are they still in — or not?

Louis can’t comprehend her words — and neither can anyone else on stage, apparently. The boys next to him just stare at Nicole like deer caught in headlights, while the girls on the opposite side of the stage exchange confused glances with each other. It’s like they all just want it spelled out for them — just rip off the bandage and say it loud and clear. No riddles. No drawn-out speeches. Just tell them what’s going on. Are they in or out? Are they supposed to start screaming with joy, or should they already be packing their bags? The tension is unbearable, and Louis can practically feel it vibrating through the air, everyone holding their breath for an answer that refuses to come fast enough. Louis’s chest tightens. He can hear his own heartbeat over the silence, loud and uneven in his ears. Please, just say it. Just say anything.

Finally, Simon speaks up for the first time since they stepped on stage.
‘We have decided to put you both through to the—’

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before the stage erupts in screams.

Louis can’t believe it — they’re actually still in! This is crazy. Unbelievable, even.

Niall starts jumping around like a little kid. Liam lets out the biggest sigh of relief Louis has ever heard, smiling like a madman. Even Zayn can’t play it cool anymore and breaks into a grin like a girl with a crush. And Louis himself?

Without thinking — without even scanning for others — Louis finds himself moving toward Harry. He throws himself into Harry’s arms like they’re long-lost lovers reunited after years apart. A bit dramatic, maybe — that’s what Louis will call it later — but in the moment, it feels like the only logical reaction. 

He doesn’t know Harry that well — hell, he barely knows him — but it still feels completely natural. Especially when Harry accepts him so easily, wrapping his arms around Louis without hesitation. Louis can feel the warmth of him, the way Harry’s arms hold him steady, taking a few small steps to avoid toppling over. It’s ridiculous. It’s perfect. And somehow, in the blur of noise and light and adrenaline, it makes perfect sense.

It feels... unique, somehow.

Louis can count on one hand the people he’d ever throw himself into like that — his family, his girlfriend, his closest mates. But he’s known those people for years. Long enough to get comfortable.

So why does Harry make it so easy? Does he feel it too — that special connection?

Louis doesn’t even notice the exact moment he left Harry’s arms and started walking off stage with the others. It’s like his body is on autopilot, completely captured by the moment. It’s calm. Comforting. Nothing could ruin the peace he feels.

Until — well. It does get ruined. 

Because how can he think, even for a second, that maybe Harry feels that connection too... and then immediately be proven wrong when Rebecca — one of the girls — throws herself into Harry’s arms just like Louis did seconds earlier?

She wraps her arms around Harry’s neck and buries her head into the space between his shoulder and collarbone — like two puzzle pieces clicking perfectly into place.The way his fingers wove into the fabric of her clothes, as if trying to hold onto the moment itself,the quiet strength in his arms as he lifted her effortlessly, the fluid grace with which her legs wind around his solid frame, holding on tight, like she’s afraid to ever let go.

She’s glowing — literally. Her smile is wide and full, eyes nearly vanishing behind the deep curve of her grin. Her cheeks are flushed, touched by the stage lights like a kiss from the sun, warming her complexion and softening her features. It only enhances her makeup, somehow making her look even more put together, even more unreal.

She looks stunning. Breathtaking, even. Like she was sculpted by a goddess and dropped gently into the spotlight.

And Louis… can’t even be mad.

Her voice, earlier when she’d spoken, had the kind of melodic warmth that stayed with you. Like a favorite song you didn’t mean to learn the words to but somehow knew by heart. There was something angelic about her — her presence, her laugh, the way she carries herself without arrogance. Just… effortlessly captivating.

So no — Louis can’t be mad at her.

But it doesn’t stop the way something sharp twists inside his chest as he watches her cling to Harry.

Especially when Harry looks so happy. 

And probably didn’t look like that when it was Louis in his arms.

Maybe he misread it all. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to Harry — just a moment in the chaos.

Why does that even matter?

Harry looks great next to Rebecca. They’re smiling at eachother like idiots, congratulating each other in their own way. Louis can’t deny that Harry’s charm is undeniable — the way he’s so kind and respectful, it’s no wonder Rebecca’s reacting the way she is. Any girl would fall for it, probably even Hannah, if Louis is being honest. 

But Harry’s clearly enjoying the attention. He knows how to make Rebecca hang on to every word he says, like he’s got complete control over the situation. It’s effortless for him. And if any of the other girls who like Harry were here to see it, they’d be furious. Louis would understand them — even though he’s not sure how he correlates to them.

Louis shakes his head. Get a grip . He’s being ridiculous. He just made it to the next round, and now he has to focus — not just on the music, but on making this band work socially, too.

Still, it bothers him. Badly.

He can’t help but feel the sting of irritation, throwing a side-eye in their direction as he passes the two lovebirds on his way off the stage. He’ll ask Harry about it — not now, not here, with the lights, the shouting, and the rush of it all, but once the world around him slows down. The moment´s still there, tucked somewhere under his ribs, waiting for the noise to settle.

Before Louis even realizes it, he’s engulfed in a massive crowd of cheering teenagers and young adults, all crashing into each other in a euphoric frenzy. The joy is contagious, everyone tangled together in a wild embrace, celebrating the shared victory.

The exhilaration sweeps over Louis, too. He made it — he’s through to the next round. He’s part of something bigger now. But, as the excitement spins around him, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s standing in the middle of something he barely understands. 

A boy band. He’d seen them, sure — his sisters, Hannah — the Backstreet Boys were just one tiny corner of a massive world. But this... this was different.

Louis feels it. The excitement is real, it’s electric, but so is the uncertainty. He’s not sure what comes next. Can they pull it off? Can they really make it work? He doesn’t even know these guys — not really. Sure, they’ve shared a few moments, a few laughs. But there’s a gulf between him and the others, an unspoken question hanging in the air: Can we do this?

And yet, there’s something else. The raw talent they all share. It’s undeniable. It’s there in the way they sing, the way they connect, however briefly. Something in the chemistry that might just be enough to carry them through. Maybe they have something special after all.

______________________________

With just a few more steps, Harry and Liam reach the bench tucked into the corner. Niall’s already spread out across one end, looking far too comfortable for someone who just survived a high-stakes audition. Zayn leans back with his arms crossed, eyes half-lidded but clearly listening. And Louis — Louis is in the middle, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against his knee, like there’s still music running through his veins.

‘There you are,’ Louis says, lifting his head. ‘We were starting to think the two of you ran off together.’

‘Tempting,’ Liam grins, ‘but we figured we’d better come back before Niall claimed the whole bench. 

‘Too late,’ Niall says through a crooked smile, moving his legs just enough to make space.

Harry lowers himself beside Louis, the bench shifting under their combined weight.

‘Everyone alright?’ he asks, not quite sure what else to say.

Zayn nods. ‘Still buzzing.’

Louis keeps tapping. ‘Feels like we’re in the eye of a storm.’

‘Don’t say storm,’ Niall says. ‘Makes it sound like we’re about to get knocked out in the next round.’

‘No chance,’ Liam replies. ‘Not with how today went.’

They fall into a brief quiet — not awkward, just full. Everyone catches their breath in their own way. And then Harry clears his throat.

‘I was thinking,’ he starts, glancing around, ‘there’s this place near me — my dad’s house. It’s pretty quiet, usually no one’s there during the day. It’s got a big living room, plenty of space, and there’s a patch of woods right behind it. We could rehearse there... and maybe even light a fire if it gets cold.’

The others look at him, a little surprised, but they don’t hesitate long.

‘Outside?’ Niall asks.

‘Yeah,’ Harry says, a little shyly. ‘It’s not far, and... there’s something about being away from all the noise. The space, the quiet... I think it might be good for us. We could focus on rehearsing — really work through the songs without distractions. And, well... we should probably start figuring out what we are, too. Not just the music, but this — the band. It’s all a bit... new, right?’

Louis stops drumming his fingers for a second. ‘That actually sounds pretty great. Get some space, practice without all the noise, and figure out how we work together.’

Liam leans forward. ‘Better than trying to squeeze in somewhere with half the building’s staff passing by.’

Zayn thinks for a moment, then nods. ‘Yeah, I could get into that. Might even help us get a better sense of what we are together.’

Harry exhales, relieved that it’s not being dismissed. ‘So... you’re in?’

Louis picks up the rhythm again, tapping on his knee. ‘Yeah, we’re in.’

And just like that, the plan settles between them. Not as a formal commitment, but as something shared — an idea to build on, a step toward whatever this band thing might become. A place to rehearse, to be away from the noise, and to figure out how they fit into this strange, new thing they’re starting to create.

After all the contestants share their excitement with one another, it’s finally time to get out and tell the world — or in other words, their families waiting outside the building.

Harry makes his way outside the Wembley Arena, eyes scanning the crowd of people in search of familiar faces. One by one, the other boys peel away from his side, disappearing into hugs and laughter, until he’s left standing alone in the middle of it all.

Still, he keeps looking, weaving through the chaos until he finally spots them.

‘Mom! Gemma! Over here!’ he calls out, waving enthusiastically as he makes his way toward them.

‘Harry, there you are!’ Gemma exclaims, practically launching herself into him with a hug that nearly knocks him off his feet. ‘Is it true? Are you actually in a band now?!’

‘I am!’ he says, laughing breathlessly, his eyes shining like a kid at Christmas. ‘I actually am. I still can’t quite believe it. It happened so fast.’

Anne—Harry’s mum— pulls him into a warm hug right after, holding him close like she’s trying to memorize the moment. When she steps back, her smile is bright and proud.

‘I’m so proud of you, Harry. I knew you’d make it,’ she says, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. ‘You’re going to do great. Are the boys nice?’. 

Harry nods. ‘They are — at least I think so. I’ve only talked to most of them briefly. We haven’t had much time to really get to know each other yet, but from what I’ve seen so far, they seem pretty great. And talented. Very talented,’ he adds with a small grin.

‘Oh! And Louis — you know Louis? He’s part of the band too!’ Harry says, visibly lighting up at the mention.

Gemma’s head snaps up. ‘Louis? The one you talked about non-stop?’ she asks, trying to suppress a laugh.

‘I did not talk about him non-stop,’ Harry says quickly, clearly flustered at the implication. ‘He’s just… cool. A friend.’

‘Never said he was anything else,’ Gemma teases, smirking.

‘Alright, enough, you two,’ Anne says, laughing softly. ‘Harry, the boys sound great. Do you think we’ll get to meet them at some point?’

That’s when Harry remembers. ‘Oh — right! I almost forgot. I wanted to ask if I could go to Dad’s with the guys. Just to practice and, y’know, get to know each other better. Is that cool?’

Anne smiles and nods. ‘Of course. I’ll call your dad later and set something up.’

Harry beams. ‘Thanks, Mom. You’re seriously the bes—‘

‘There he is! There’s Harry!’ a voice yells.

Louis, breathless and loud as ever, practically barrels toward him. Harry turns, blinking in surprise.

‘What’s going on?’ Harry asks, catching Louis’s energy but not the reason behind it.

Louis, panting, replies, ‘My mom wants to take a photo with all of us!’

Harry glances back at Anne and Gemma, who are both watching and smiling knowingly. He turns back to Louis, amused.

‘Alright, show me the way.’

Without hesitation, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him toward the waiting group, where the rest of the boys are already standing in formation — half-posed, half-lost in laughter

‘There you two are! I thought we’d end up with a photo of just the three of us,’ Niall exclaims with a laugh.

‘Not my fault — he was hiding like crazy,’ Louis says, clearly exaggerating, trying to play off his failed attempt at finding Harry. It earns a chorus of eye rolls from everyone.

Louis’s mother speaks up with a light clap of her hands. ‘Well, now that everyone’s here, get into position!’

The boys follow her instructions, shuffling into place. Harry takes the opportunity to get a proper look at the woman in front of them. She looks like a carbon copy of Louis — or maybe Louis is the copy of her. Either way, she’s stunning. Young-looking, radiant. Her warm smile lights up her entire face. She just looks like someone with a kind heart, someone who gives great hugs and makes people feel at home.

The boys settle down on a set of stairs. Harry and Zayn sit in the front, with Louis, Liam, and Niall right behind them, the three boys in back casually throwing their arms around each other.

‘Okay, now smile,’ Louis’s mum calls out.

Not that they need the reminder — they’ve been smiling non-stop since they left the stage. Joy still buzzes in the air around them, adrenaline mixing with disbelief. Smiling is like breathing at this point.

A soft click follows — the camera shutter snapping shut — and just like that, the moment is frozen in time. The boys relax, falling out of their pose, laughter bubbling up again as they regroup. The moment might be small, but it feels big somehow.