Where I Am Without You [L.S]

Chapter Eleven

The moment he's alone backstage, the dressing room door closing with a soft click, he slides down against the pastel white wall. He pushes his hands, covered in the slim white gloves, into his hair and hangs his head. Taking in several deep, shaking breathes.

He'd managed to pry himself away from the numerous people who had swamped him backstage, forcing his lips to tilt upwards, yet his eyes remained empty and barren. Ny had noticed almost instantly, the moment there had been a pause between the onslaught of people she'd grabbed for his arm and led him back to the dressing room, practically shoving him inside before closing the door and leaving him with his thoughts.

He'd have to go back out soon, knew there was still an abundance of people he had to greet and speak with before he could even consider slipping away. That and the fact that there was still likely half an hour left of the actual show. He seriously contemplated in that moment staying in this very room, claiming to be getting changed till the awards were over, but he also knew he couldn't just leave Louis sitting by himself at the table, regardless of the number of people around him. They were trying to be friends after all, and Harry knew that Louis would suspect something was up with him if he hid backstage after a performance. It had always been a silent signal between them, when one was simply too tired to go back out and face a crowd of people, socialize as they'd been so trained for and just needed a quiet night away. They'd go back home, or to whatever hotel they were in, wrap themselves in one another and stay like that till morning.

Bracing his hands against the wall, the pushed his way up from the floor. Delicately removing the white gloves from his hands and begins to unbutton the lace. He wishes his mum were here in this moment, so he could curl up beside here like a child and tell her everything that was on his mind. But that was the thing, he wasn't sure he even knew exactly what he was going through, what he was truly thinking about all this.

Sure, he was still drawn to Louis but it was so unclear whether it was because they'd spent five years deeply in love with one another and he missed that connection he'd once so dearly cherished, or because he'd spent so long alone and the sparks he felt whenever he was with Louis were just fooling his mind. It was all just so... confusing. Confusing and bloody infuriating.

He was about to spend months touring with Louis, the least he could do for his own sanity would be to sort out his emotions before they would spend months on end in close proximity together.

By the time he's at least structured those thoughts he's pulling his trousers off and folds them neatly onto the chair. Grabbing for the suit he'd arrived him he hastily throws it back on, not taking the time he had done only a few hours ago to put it on so carefully, aware of tearing any of the hand stitching.

He pauses as he runs his gaze over himself in the mirror, as if checking for any visible physical signs of his torn inner emotions. He's greeted with the same powdered face, hair perhaps a little more disheveled than it had been earlier, and dull green eyes. It'll do, he thinks. The media doesn't particularly take much notice of his state of mind, they'll never know the difference. The fans will. The thought enters his mind before he can stop it but quickly pushes it to the back of his mind and turns, heading for the door.

There's no one in the short corridor when he steps out, closing the door once more behind him and he begins making his way back out into the main seating area, following the signs on the wall.

There's a speech going on whilst he slips back to his table. Fumbling his way through the rows of tables and chairs in the semi darkness. He shoots off a quick smile to Ed when he spots him, the ginger haired man catching his eye and flashing him a big thumbs up. I'll see him later he tells himself as he finally spots the raven-haired woman that he remembers is sat with on his table. And on the other side of the table is Louis, half turned in his chair to listen to the presenter on stage.