𝒾𝒻 𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 (𝓁.𝓈.)

forty

"Harry." The voice coming out of my phone where it's lying on the coffee table, on speaker, is deep, gruff, like sandpaper. Sometimes it's alright. Most times it makes me want to cry. Luckily, I don't have to deal with this very often, only in times of "crisis" like right now.

"Jeff." I sigh. I'm sitting next to Louis on his couch, our thighs pressed together and his hand holding mine. He squeezes once, just to let me know he's there. It sends a rush of calm through me, but not quite enough to stop the panic still coursing through my veins.

"So, we have a bit of a conundrum on our hands," he starts, which is never what you want to hear from your manager, especially the one you don't like, who shoves you into closets (however glass they may be) and makes you act like someone you aren't.

"Since the girl was stupid enough to get pictured-"

"Hang on," I interrupt. "First of all, her name is Taylor, and she's a woman, not a girl. Second, she's not stupid. She made a mistake, hasn't everyone? Cut her a little slack."

Jeff sighs. "You seem to care an awful lot about her," he observes, and I feel Louis stiffen next to me. It's kind of a point of contention in our relationship, no matter how many times I tell him...

"Taylor and I are just friends. And as her friend, it's my job to care about her, and make sure people don't talk shit about her behind her back."

"Everyone gets talked about behind their back," Jeff defends, as if that makes it better. "Anyway, what I was saying before you interrupted me was that we now have a bit of a problem. However, I have a solution."

As long as his solution doesn't require shoving me further into a closet, it's fine by me. At this point, I don't see a way out of this.

"Okay, let's say after your date in LA, you went back to a hotel together," Jeff starts, and Louis stiffens again, his grip on my hand feeling like a vice. "You start talking, and Taylor asks you about the other women you've dated."

"Stunted with," I correct, and Jeff scoffs.

"Whatever. She gets annoyed, and leaves. You break up. End of story."

It's...pretty brilliant, actually. The break up part, not the reason, obviously.

"I mean, that's good, but...it makes me sound like...I don't know, some sort of womanizer or something."

Jeff has the audacity to laugh. "With the amount of women you've dated, Harry, I'm pretty sure most people think that."

"Stunted with," I correct again, this time with gritted teeth, my eyes feeling like dams with the amount of water they're holding back. Louis wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses his lips to my forehead, still careful of staying quiet.

"Okay," he says, in that same whatever you say tone that always gets on my nerves. "Well, we're going with the plan. Have a nice day."

The line goes dead, and I feel like throwing up.

All it takes is Louis turning me to face him and pulling my head into his chest for the tears to break free.

"Shhh," Louis soothes, one hand carding through my hair and the other on my lower back, grounding me. "Harry, listen to me. Jeff's a bully, yeah? That's what bullies do. He happens to be a bully you have to work with, but that doesn't mean you have to listen to him, and it absolutely does not mean he's right. He's wrong. So wrong. You're an amazing person, okay? Anyone who's looking close enough will see that."

"I want everyone to see," I whine. "I want them to see the truth."

"I know," he whispers. "Me too, love. Me fucking too."