I don't know how long I've been here, but it's now dark. I'm in a ball on the floor, Michael's arms around my middle. I haven't been asleep, but my eyes hurt from the lack of fluid in them. I'm not crying anymore, but I'm sobbing just slightly now, making sounds under my breath. I'm embarrassed at my outburst, certain that the boys downstairs had heard me. I'm slowly, but surely snapping out of it, and Michael's arms tighten around me in response. It's very welcoming, but I don't lean back into it.

"Are you hungry, Lou?" He asks, meekly, not wanting to set me off again. He gently runs his hands through my hair, and my stomach growls loudly. I haven't eaten all day. He laughs gently, but I don't laugh back. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you." I manage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm woken up the next morning to my phone text tone going off loudly, breaking the silence. I look up at my clock, noticing it's 10:23am. I must've needed that. I'm feeling much better now, my feelings well and truly locked up.

Don't let them in, don't let them see.

Stop quoting Frozen, love.

I groan, pulling myself over my bed. White light filters through the room, making the room look cold and almost grey. I'm aware that my feathery hair has stuck to my forehead in a knot from crying and it's drying there. I comb my fingers to pull it off, thinking that I will definitely have to wash.

I grab my iPhone, peering at it through one eye, and see I've got a text from an unknown number, so I unlock it. I always keep my phone pin-locked, especially as I keep old photos and texts on there from him. I don't know why I don't just delete them. Maybe I like torture.

From: Unknown
Hi.
It's Harry.
Just letting you know we've got a 'dinner date' tomorrow.
Lou will come and make you look presentable at 5. -H

Wow. My eyes won't leave the word 'presentable' and just like that the word is running over and over again in my mind, imagining every connotation it represents. It shouldn't hurt me, because I haven't cared about my image in so long.

This is going to be torture. I can't believe we're dating. A whole year. He's not even gay. He must know now that I'm gay.

I fall back onto my pillows after adding Harry's number into my phone.

Groan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ding dong.

This 'Lou' is here. I've never met her before but I understand that she styles the guys so I feel like she must know what she's doing. They all look pretty well done up when they're in the public view.

I open the door to a smiling blonde lady, and I feel myself relaxing slightly. At least I'll have a friendly face while I'm being tortured.

"Hi, love," She says, almost sympathetically, "Here I am." I move aside so she can bring her bags in. And when I mean bags, they're bloody big bags too.

"Hey," My voice is quiet. I'm not sure what to expect. "Lou, right?" I ask.

"Lou Teasdale, yeah. Nice to meet you." She takes my hand and shakes it, smiling through her red lips. She puts her bags down just to the right of our L shaped sofas, and claps her hands together loudly, immediately gaining my attention.

"I'm going to cut straight to the chase, babe. Management want you to be stunning. 'Harry only dates well dressed people'." She says, clearly quoting one of them. At the world stunning, I'm moaning out loud.

"As you could probably tell, I don't really do stunning." I point to myself, mainly to my manly tattooed arms. She smiles, and then pouts at me.

"You'll look stunning after I'm done with you, darling." She winks, gesturing to the chair. I sit down submissively on the L shaped sofas facing her, and she starts flicking my hair around, and pulling it to the sides of my face.

"Alright, I'm going to take a bit off at the ends. Not too much, as I adore the look." She says, running her hands through. "I will get you to leave the stubble, though. Something about suits you." I laugh. Wouldn't that make me more manly?

"Okay, so lets get started." She says, putting an apron around my neck, ready to cut my hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not dressed yet, but we're standing in my lounge looking at all sorts of clothes out in front of me, lying on the chairs. I've got to say, I do admire this woman. She's giving me a choice of what to wear, even though it's things she had brought with her, and it's things I would never wear.

I point to the light blue skinny jeans, noticing they are really tight compared to the ones I would usually wear. But I would like to wear something similar. She picks them up and puts them on her arms in anticipation.

Now I am stuck as all of these tops are, in my opinion, horrible. They're white, v neck and tight. I look at Lou.

"Okay, I don't know. I really wouldn't wear any of these." I run my hands through my newly cut hair, and it feels so soft and light.

"White v neck t-shirt. It's tight, and will accent your weirdly curvy body. I'm worried that it will contrast compared to your tattoos but it's a difference." She teaches me. I used to wear this sort of stuff, but never this tight. I'm starting to feel a little body conscience at the idea.

"And," She's passing my the clothes so I can change. "I've sorted out nicer boxers and you will be wearing flat high top trainers, my love." She's really trying hard not to push my patience with letting me wear something close to what I would wear, but it is because trainers are a no, since I wear TOMs. But I've signed a bloody contract. So here we go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These black trainers are already starting to hurt, but I've got to walk around in them to get used to the feeling. I haven't worn trainers in six months, and even then they were never this nice. I think Lou wants me to be small against Harry.

It's getting closer and closer to my 7:30 pick up time, and my heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. I know I shouldn't be eating but I've raided the fridge for my watermelon pieces in the hope I wont fill up on them.

As I'm biting into my third piece, the doorbell rings and I almost drop it out of my mouth from jumping. I run to the door and then back again to put the watermelon in the bin. Then towards the door again, and then stop at the mirror to make sure I don't have any on my chin. The doorbell rings again, and I huff. Impatient, much?

I open up the door, to a now annoyingly familiar face. He doesn't look like he's tried at all with his black V neck t-shirt, tight black skinny jeans and boots. He also doesn't look pleased to be here, but there is surprise in his green eyes. Probably at Lou's attempt in making me 'stunning'. He runs his long fingers through his messy, brown curls.

"Hi. Erm- are you ready?" He asks, looking me up and down, and it's making my skin crawl. This is the exact reason I don't dress nicely anymore, so I don't attract any unwanted or unnecessary looks.

"Yes." I simply say, almost in a huff, and he moves aside, leading me to his black car. What is with this guy and black?

The whole car journey is without conversation, with a bit of background music. I'm surprised that I like a lot of his music, and that we do actually have something in common. I suppose this wouldn't be as hard as I'd imagined.

We get out somewhere unfamiliar to me in London. I suppose because I'm not rich and famous. I grumble, closing the car door.

Harry waits patiently on the other side of the car for me to join him. So here we go.

As we reach the doors of the restaurant, he gently places his hand on the small of my back, and my heart jumps as the simple gesture, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand to attention. Keep yourself together, man. He's just acting.

He leans in to whisper in my ear, red lips almost touching. "Behave yourself. Now laugh like I've said something funny." He suggests.

I'll show you acting, Styles. I laugh gently, showing my teeth and then hide my face into his chest. He does smell nice, I give him that.

"You're so cheeky, Harold," I add, looking up at him with a grin. He smirks back, happy with my attempt. He tuts, though.

"Call me Harold again, and you will know about it." He says back, and steers me through the door.

This restaurant is gorgeous; it smells divine. It is warm and the decor is very posh with accents of red and roses at every table. Large and spacious, I know I'd never be able to afford this outside of this 'relationship'.

"Table for Styles." He says to the man behind the desk. He turns to me and pushes a wandering strand of hair from my eyes. I blush at the simple gesture, and it doesn't go unnoticed. He looks away, quickly.

He's not gay, Louis.

"Right this way, Mr. Styles." He leaves the mahogany desk and leads us to a lovely table for two near the windows. I wonder if he is in on it. Everyone would see us here.

Harry brings the chair out for me to sit down on, and I thank him as I sit.

He takes the seat opposite, and the waiter has placed two menus in front off us.

"What can I get you both to drink?" He asks, hands clasped together. Harry gestures to me first. Gentleman. Or is it just for play?

"I'll just have a beer, please?" I ask Harry politely, and his mouth twitches in the corner, I believe at my manners.

"Of course. I'll have some wine. White, please." He looks towards to waiter, who nods and leaves us.

We both look back at each other, and the air is tense. Harry brushes his fingers through his dark hair, and coughs awkwardly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting this." He starts, and I feel increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze.

"What do you mean?" I say, confused. He gestures to me. I almost look down at myself.

"Dating a man." He says, with distaste. I huff out a gentle laugh.

"Honestly, it's not that bad." I start but blanch, thinking about him. Harry notices though, so I continue. "Everyone gets their hearts broken at some point, right?"

"Who's Jack?" He says, and I choke on nothing, and feel the blood leaving my face. I really don't want to talk about this.

"If we talk about him, this won't look like it's going well." I suggest, looking away. He looks unhappy that I wouldn't talk about it, but allows the conversation to drift. The waiter returns with our drinks. Harry picks food for us, knowing I haven't been here before, and I don't mind. I immediately take a sip of my beer.

"I hope it's not weird of me to say you look nice, is it?" He says, nose wrinkled, and I can't help but notice that's cute.

"It'll only get weird if you want it to," I wink, taking a sip of my drink. He rolls his eyes and takes a drink of his wine, closing his green eyes to do so. "No," I say, and he opens his eyes to look at me through his dark lashes. "I guess it's never weird to give a compliment. I don't feel like I look nice, so thank you for the compliment." I blush, fingering at the side of my beer.

"This is different for you, too, I suppose," He shrugs. "Hopefully, we can work this out so it doesn't get too difficult for either of us." He suggests. He tucks his loose strands of hair behind his left ear.

"Thank you, Harry." I smile, gently. He smiles back at me, warmly. I wonder if he is just playing for the cameras, because I am not. I'm not a good actor, and to be honest, I'm enjoying his company even if (to us) there is no romance. Harry is quite easy to talk to and I can feel myself relaxing around him.

"Do you want to discuss what our limits are with this 'relationship'?" He offers, threading his long fingers together. I raise my eyebrows. We were allowed to do this?

"Will your management let you have limits, Harry?" I question and he instantly frowns.

"I have to put my foot down and some point in this." He smacks his hand down on the table, ruffling the pristine cream table cloth, and it makes me jump in my chair. He looks up quickly. "I'm sorry, Louis. I just- I don't know what to do." He looks down at his hands, moving the rings around his fingers. I take a drink.

"Right." This does feel weird as I've never had a say before. "My limits are intimately touching in public. I can understand that kissing cannot be avoided, neither can hand holding or cuddling. Even if sometimes I cannot handle either. I just hope you know it may be more difficult on some days than others." He nods his head, and he rests his chin in his palm.

"My limits are lying to my parents about this 'relationship'. I won't do that. And in response I hope you understand that I am not gay, and will find any of those things hard." I give him a thumbs up.

"I'm not one of those girly gay guys. I'm just Louis who likes football and playing g- I mean, listening to music. I hope that makes it easier. All you have to do, I guess, is kiss me every now and then." I shrug. How hard could it get? I take a rather large gulp of my beer.

"Okay, 'just Louis', I'm 'just Harry', and I love singing and new clothes," He says to me. "Oh, and going to see new bands." He rushes out. That's cool.

"Nice, 'just Harry'. Me too." I tell him. I decide we're comfortable enough now, so I decide breach the subject of why were in this mess.

The waiter then brings us our meals, and it looks delicious, so I decide not to ask yet. I have steak, potatoes and mixed vegetables, and so does Harry. I finish my beer, and the waiter has brought me more.

We're pretty silent as we both eat, and that's fine with me. I'm aware that I'm getting tipsy from my second drink, and Harry hasn't finished his first. I wonder if he'll notice. I drink nearly everyday anyway.

"So." I start, and almost stop, but he's already looking at me. "Erm. So how many girls got you in this mess, Harry?" He blanches, and I wish I never asked.

"Well, for a start, I'm not a slut." He points his knife at me, cheeks red against his white face. "Secondly, most of those girls I'm pictured with are just friends. I can't even have female friends." He's pointing the knife, jabbing for emphasis. "And thirdly, it has nothing to do with you." I swallow, not sure what to say.

"Are you bi-polar?" I ask, noticing how he is nearly tearing up from his outburst, green eyes wet.

"No." He says, dropping his knife and fork with a clatter. "Okay. If we're digging in each others lives, are you an alcoholic? Every time I have seen you, you've been drunk or drinking. And you play the guitar, are you even any good?" He has his eyebrows raised, puffing out air in aggression.

I can't believe this man. How dare he? He put me in this situation, and all I wanted to know was why we were here. And he had the nerve to dig around like that. Airing it out here. I'm aware of a traitor tear falling from my eye, and I rushing to meet it in the middle of my cheek. I drop my knife and fork.

"Right. I-I erm. Okay. I'm cool enough that I won't ruin this for you, Styles, so I'm just going to leave the table to go to the toilet." My voice is breaking, and I can't believe I'm letting myself get emotional over this. I look up to his eyes, and he look surprisingly upset, mouth open slightly.

"Louis," He starts, but I've already left the table. I rush to the toilets in here, and vomit the small amount of food I have eaten. I've stopped crying, at least, and I look at my self in the mirror. I jump a little, at the lithe tattooed man in the reflection. His clothes fit snugly, and the fashionably disheveled hair completes the look. I can't believe that's me. I wipe the spittle from around my mouth and splash my face with water.

Leaving the toilet, I find that my meal has been taken away, along with Harry's. Harry stands up to meet me, apology in his expression, but I just gesture for him to just sit down.

"I'd like to leave now, Harry, please," I sit down, and Harry sighs. "Thank you, for what has been mostly a pleasant evening."

"Okay." He stands in defeat, leaving a few notes on the table. He apologizes to the waiter as I almost rush out of the building. I open the car door, jump in the seat, and lock myself into the car seat. Harry joins me, closing the silence in the car.

The journey is eerily quiet the whole way back to my house, but I welcome it. He doesn't even turn on the music.

When we get back to mine, I get out silently. He leaves the car also. I don't really know why.

"Louis," He calls, slamming the door shut. I turn around, and he stops his pacing. "Look, I'm really sorry. I'm finding this really hard. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. What you do in your spare time is nothing to do with me." He all but bursts out. His runs his hands through his dark hair, and breathes out a huff.

"Okay, Harry," I start, and he looks a bit relieved that I'm talking to him. "I understand, and I accept your apology." I don't smile, because I'm still a little shaken. "I'll-I'll see you later?" I tell him. He nods, and does a small wave and returns back to his black car.

I watch him leave, and I'm not really sure why.