hemimetaboly

it was already may, he realized, when the wind hit his face and it wasn't cold in the slightest. a pleasant breeze, really; one that made uncut blades of grass sweep back and forth, imitating waves on a calm sea.

he thought about how much time had passed, how much had happened in such a short window. it all made time and space seem less real, more fabricated, uncontrollable.

the venue was outside. harry prayed that the weather would be compliant, and it was. perfect, really. better than he could ever ask for.

it was small, but larger than the first gig. there were people there for him, who knew that he was performing and decided to come. the thought alone was daunting yet terribly flattering for the boy, and just put more pressure on him to do well. this was the first time the world would be exposed to his album, as it was going to drop as soon as his performance ended. strategic marketing at its finest, he thought.

he and louis had to get there a few hours before he was actually scheduled to start, just to set up some technical things, like speakers and mics. harry spoke briefly with his band about some procedural bits before warming up his voice and running through the set list. louis finally was able to get plenty of time to sit and admire the boy, never having had the luxury before to simply peacefully observe him while he was being all professional with red-lipped beauticians pawing him and fixing his hair and adjusting his clothes.

what was there to fix? louis remembered thinking, even after the first gig when harry had mentioned the makeup that'd been caked all over his cheeks.

and it wasn't exactly fixing any of his features rather than emphasizing the beautiful shape of his face, he grew to realize, further accentuated in the better lighting that the sun provided as it shone onto the stage at an angle, pleasantly soaking through the plains which the stage was erected.

he sat beneath a willow tree beside the stage, and the branches held themselves heavily atop the air, wind suspending the leaves before letting them droop again. these days made it especially easy for words to pour out of his pen. he could feel the stillness ensnaring him into its embrace, and by the time he returned from the deepest orifices of his mind, more time would have passed than he'd prepared himself for.

"lou!" harry called from the stage, probably a hundred or so meters from where louis was. his mouth moved emphatically and confidently, but the sound of the gale covered up his words.

when louis stood up, he realized that his legs were soft. how long had he been sitting there? there was ink smeared all over his hands; this bright red (since the only pen he could find before they had to leave was red), which reminded him of the times he found himself splitting open veins on the bathroom floor. but this time, the smell wasn't metallic or tragic—it was soft and beautiful and organic, like how the willow danced and the grasses swayed. he stumbled as his feet took him to the boy across the field calling his name, like the ground under his feet was foreign, like he never learned to walk as a child. harry was moving toward him too, silhouette growing larger and larger until the two boys finally met, colliding into each other's chests with the great force that reminded them: god, they belonged to each other.

they kissed, allowing harry's entire crew to watch from afar as they interacted wordlessly in the center of the barren field that'd soon be filled (hopefully) with people. you've got this, louis hoped was conveyed through his lips to the younger boy, i'll be here.

and it went ever better than anyone could have hoped. harry's voice carried brightly like a songbird through the air, as the bustling of the audience was lost in the deep grass and vast sky. the light and dark shades of the grass as it broke the sunlight shining through it matched harry's eyes, and louis could have sworn that there was something magical about the place, the willow tree. that maybe there was a spell cast upon them that day, that made him so free of his usual inhibitions and worries.

he felt for a second, this complete, utter closure come over him. it wasn't the usual "happiness" he sought, where he would push away all the bad memories and pretend that they hadn't happened, where he would imagine himself as thin as he wanted to be, where he would try to convince himself that he'd been living a normal life, a life which he hadn't been tainted.

but this was different. it was less denial of what happened, and more acceptance. this was something tom had tried to convince him to try in the past, radical acceptance, but it all just seemed so foolish at the time. as he sat among the crowd, all cheering and clapping for harry, he realized that he felt at peace. like something had lifted from his shoulders and from his soul; this lunacy that he didn't know he had.

harry sang and sang and sang; most songs he'd heard before from harry's room, but suddenly having them brought to life by a live band and a sound system made everything seem so much more dynamic; each note was full of color and emotion. truth be told, louis didn't know that harry could perform like that.

he had an amazing stage presence. he sang like he really enjoyed it, and interacted with the audience with so much vitality, it was like he'd been doing it his whole life, not pacing in a corner just an hour earlier and mumbling to himself about how nervous he was.

"this next song," the silky voice said after kiwi, which had this intense, high-energy rock beat to it, "is called sweet creature. it's actually written about someone, someone whom i hold extremely dear. um, i don't want to ramble too much. you'll get what it's about when you hear it."

he bent over to set down his electric guitar, switching it for an acoustic, hair tousled by the wind. for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, louis thought, time collapsed.

he could feel the tears coming at just the first few notes from the guitar. it was a song that he recognized, that harry had sang to him on the evenings he'd break down after eating dinner, wishing to be taken by something, anything.

and his wish would be granted, but not in the way he originally thought. it wasn't the grim reaper harvesting his soul, but rather, a certain curly-haired boy with soft green eyes that he thought would consume him. "i'm here, lou," harry would say, "you're safe. you're safe. you're safe."

and he was. the familiar lyrics and melody washed over him like proteus himself had ordered the tide to envelop his entire being. by the time harry reached the chorus, singing from his heart, the tears fell uncontrollably, dripping after clinging onto this eyelashes down his cheeks and nose and eventually soaked up by the soft cotton tee he was wearing.

after the event ended, there were a few girls that stayed after to speak with harry, who had seemed so adorably flustered that louis couldn't help but just watch. the days were getting longer; from the sun setting at five-thirty to now setting at almost seven, pinks and oranges bleeding through the hills as darkness began to show itself. it was five but it felt like noon, with where the sun was in the sky, tickling everyone with its rays.

the girls left, which allowed louis to meander back over to harry, who now had niall and liam hovering over him like flies. zayn, who was originally with them, walked over to the blue-eyed boy.

"i was looking for you earlier," zayn said, "figured you were here, after all."

"yeah, definitely. i was just sitting a bit further back, where less people were. caught some shade from the tree, as well."

"how've things been going? it's been, like, six months since..." he trailed off, eyes pulled away by the sight of a bird beating its wings far abobe the two.

"i'm alright. you know. better. sorry, again, that you had to see that. that you've had to deal with me and my problems for so long."

"i care about you, louis. don't forget that. let's head over to the superstar of today, then, shall we?" zayn continued, in attempt to lighten the mood. before louis could even open his mouth to respond, he felt his hand being pulled firmly toward the rest of the group, but not so much that it was painful.

"louis!" niall greeted, "and zayn, i presume? harry told me about you."

"nice to meet you," zayn said amicably. "niall and liam?"

"that's right!" liam, the taller male standing next to niall, who harry had mentioned in several stories before, smiled. he had this softness about him; the corners of his eyes pointing toward the ground. he reminded louis of a puppy, all excited with good intentions and a milky smile. "nice to meet you, zayn. and louis. i've heard a lot about you."

"and i, you," louis retorted jokingly. it was already a good start, he could tell, if they talked like they'd been friends for years. it was comforting.

all four of them helped harry in cleaning up the stage and the field. it was more of a mess than he thought, glossy plastic wrappers and clunky cans of beers and sodas adorning the ground like ornaments.

the sky above them was streaked with warmth by the time they were done, making zayn's golden skin even more gold, accentuating niall's gentle features, shining through harry's curls and transforming them into waves of honey folding into itself, bringing out the flecks of different color in louis' eyes, which harry was completely taken by.

"let's get going now, i'm not getting any more sober dawdling around," niall chirped. "the first bar awaits us."

"first bar?" louis blanched, "there's going to be several?"

"it's a tradition of us boys," liam added, "jump from bar to bar, you know. wander about the city as life continues moving around us but we remain as the same exact people we've been all these years."

"oh, shut up. since when did you get all philosophical, payno?" harry said, "lou, we don't have to, if you don't want to. liam and niall are party animals enough, on their own. and who knows, zayn might have fun with them, too, after he gets to know them better."

louis glanced at the tanned boy, tattoos brought out by the sun. "i'll be okay," he said. "zayn's, um, not much of a bar person, i don't think. so—"

"speak for yourself, tommo." zayn interjected, "i forgot to mention this earlier, but liam and i have met. he's a barista at a café i frequent."

"hipster as ever, i see," louis laughed, relieved that the mood was lifting. "art, coffee, philosophy, avocados. how snobbish can one get?"

"says you. all you talk about is shakespeare, shakespeare, shakespeare. if not shakespeare, it's dazai or something. at least i'm not a nihilist."

the two have always had this sort of relationship; one that made everyone else, in a sense, step away and simply admire their bickering. it wasn't senseless bickering—always about some art or idea. as pretentious as one could get.

"alright, alright. you guys can talk about romeo and juliet sometime else. let's get blackout drunk!" niall exclaimed, screaming at the sky like it would respond by dropping liquor on them all.

louis relished these moments. it'd been so long since he'd spent time with people like this, it felt surreal, but amazing in the same way. he forgot about how it felt to be outside, and truly outside, not just wandering about aimlessly. people-watching in antique cafes had its own charm, but this was different. he wasn't alone.

they were a very odd crowd. if they were still in high school, louis imagined, he'd be the type to be bullied by niall and liam and harry to no end, for being such a doormat. even during high school, he and zayn didn't get along for the first year and a half, until they finally faced each other and realized that they were essentially the same person in several regards.

the first bar was right in the heart of london, assailing everyone who entered with flashing purple lights. it reminded louis eerily of that party on new year's. he felt his resolve tremble for a moment before he clenched his teeth and his fists. get through this. just get through this.

he felt an electric clap to his back and was shortly met by a chortling niall. he jumped, feeling his insides shift, as if preparing for some sort of violent penetration. "loosen up, tommo! here, have some booze," he said, handing louis a large glass of beer; tan and foamy and a fresh, crisp cold in contrast to the sweatiness of the room. it was like he could see the calories that the drink held, down to its molecular makeup. he couldn't help but shudder from disgust with himself, for even thinking about consuming something like that.

"no… no, i—" he inhaled sharply. "i'm alright. thanks for the offer, though."

harry had been whisked to the side by a dark-skinned woman in a golden bodycon dress, gently stroking his arm and smiling seductively. louis felt prickles of jealousy before he scolded himself. let him do what he wants, scum. or maybe, tonight, he'll leave you after realizing that there's so much more to the world that someone like him.

"aw, harry's been snatched away by ladies again. how come it never happens to me?" niall pouted beside louis, downing a shot of tequila. "need to find myself a woman soon."

the curly-haired boy's eyes flitted nervously toward the two, then to liam and zayn as they caught up, presumably, in the corner. his large hands were fiddling around with the intricate rings that gilded them, and louis noticed a slight tremor in his movement. he was suppressing coughs, holding them tightly in his chest like something was wrong, louis knew, but didn't know what it was.

every instinct within him was screaming, pulling him toward the boy, urging him to take his hands and steady them and kiss them until everything else went away. was he growing overwhelmed by his environment? had louis done something wrong? or worse, did he suddenly regret everything that had involved himself with louis?

he nudged niall sharply and gestured toward the boy when he noticed harry's lips slowly turn this shade of dark blue that nearly matched the color of the lights surrounding them. at first, he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him, before the color grew more and more obvious.

"fuck," niall whispered, hurrying over to harry, nearly shoving the girl aside. louis followed suit, standing helplessly beside them. "haz, do you have your inhaler? where is it?" harry pointed toward his bag, which was sitting next to him on a stool, rasping something incoherent and soft.

louis and niall were right on it, practically throwing themselves into the black messenger bag, digging around for anything that looked even remotely like it could help the boy breathe. "found it," niall exclaimed, which relieved louis, but at the same time frustrated him. selfishly, he wanted to be the one to save the boy. he couldn't be more tactless, he thought. risking his boyfriend's wellbeing with such foolish desires, ones that he hoped would never surface again.

harry took three puffs before the color returned to his face, though his hands were still quavering. "sorry, guys," he looked toward the girl he was talking to, who was standing incredulously, in the same spot where niall had elbowed her haphazardly. "and sorry, i- i didn't catch your name."

the girl, louis realized, was even more beautiful up close, leaving this sour aftertaste in his chest, which he found also being a large source of his self-hatred. he loved harry, but he hated the person he was that allowed himself to love, he realized. "you're fine, darling," the girl said, with this melodious voice that made her even more angelic, if that was even possible. "it's deanne. i just wanted to say hi because i was actually at your concert earlier. you smashed it! but i'll give you some space to relax for a bit. you look like you need it."

before harry could interject, niall insert himself between them again. "thank you, and we're so sorry."

"no worries," she chimed was she turned tail with her vibrant drink and left.

it fell silent between the three until harry cleared his throat. "thanks for helping me. i was trying to figure out a way to wiggle myself out of that situation, but it was pretty hard," he laughed.

the irish boy fell stern, sobering up (in every way). "be careful, haz. you have to pay attention when this sort of thing happens."

"i know, i know," his green eyes met louis' blue ones, who was still unable to say anything. "it doesn't happen often. it's been, like, six months since something like this last happened. i thought i grew out of it, is all."

harry was quick to scurry out from their circle before niall could begin lecturing him even more, joining liam and zayn in their little debacle.

"niall," louis said carefully, after they were out of earshot. "you probably know more about harry's, um- his situation than i do."

"what do you mean?" the irish boy said, concern covering up his original breeziness. "has he talked to you at all about his like, asthma and anxiety?"

"kind of. but not really. i'll get him to, though. feel like i should know more. god, i'm a shitty boyfriend."

"hey, no. you're fine. it's not your fault. he's just struggled with, like, panic attacks in the past. it kind of has bad interactions with his asthma. has he had asthma attacks or panic attacks in front of you in the past?"

louis remembered the night in the bathroom spent trying to get harry to breathe, feeling so unworthy of the boy's care, when all he brought in his wake was destruction. "yeah. once. and there have been times where he has coughing fits, or whatever. if there's a strong odor, or as a reaction to smoke, or whatever."

"he should stop smoking, that absolute buffoon," niall shook his head disapprovingly. "i mean, it's improved throughout the years. i've known the lad since secondary school. used to be awful, really."

"i'm glad that it's improved. i've been trying to smoke less. around him, at least."

"it's not great for you, either, tommo. cut the habit completely, if you're going to bother. believe it or not, h isn't the only person i've grown to care about. you need to take care of yourself, louis. you're delusional if you think i haven't noticed."

he pursed his lips, feeling his stubble press against each other so deeply that he hoped they would act as a sort of velcro, prohibiting him from saying anything stupid. "thanks, mate," he chuckled stiffly. "i'm working on it."

and it didn't feel like a lie when he said it; after all, he had been trying. this is what trying is, right? if nothing else, he was trying. right?

niall and louis finally went silent when the rest of the boys hobbled over, evidently less than sober but not exactly piss drunk. "how're you, lou?" a milky voice said, draping his arm over his shoulder. it made louis stiffen again. zayn.

"i'm alright. you've been getting along with liam?"

"i guess so. he's a very interesting person. kind of like an oriole. i admire him. i've missed him. we haven't been in touch in a while."

"an oriole?"

"yeah. a type of bird," zayn chuckled.

"a little disrespectful, isn't it, comparing someone to something as small and helpless as bird the size of your palm."

"no. orioles are strong and free and beautiful and proud. the ones that you see perched high on the trees, bright in color, singing shamelessly. fearlessly."

"you should hear how foolish you sound right now."

"i just admire him, is all. you're no different, constantly reciting quotes from literature that no one's ever heard of."

"don't compare the art of words to your lunacy," louis laughed, trying to feign exasperation, despite his happiness to bicker with zayn again seeping through his cracks.

"lunacy, huh?"

"yeah. derived from lune, or luna. people used to think mental instability had to do with the phases of the moon. i don't blame them. waking up in the middle of the night, it's hard to believe that the rabbit on the moon isn't actually wiggling its ears at you, telling you things."

"things? things like what?"

"you know. that you're completely alone. or that you're not, depends on the day."

zayn softened. "well, i hope that there are more and more days that come where the rabbit tells you that you are not alone. because it's on those days that it is right."

"thanks."

"for?"

"everything. high school. new york. now."

"you'd do the same for me, no?"

louis dug his hands deep in his pockets like he expected them to be endless pits of lonely nothing, but they weren't endless—he could feel the seams between his fingers right away and he remember the cracked hard-boiled egg appearance of the sky from just hours ago. "yeah."

"so there's no need to thank me."

louis didn't hear harry come from behind him; footsteps covered up by headache-inducing bass-boosted music and the flirtatious timbres of a variety of voices, but he didn't jump when he felt the boy's hand rest on the small of his back. somehow, he knew it was harry—maybe from the smell, or the way it fit around him like they were custom-made for each other, but he knew. it sounded stupid and idealistic and unreal, like something that he would have thought never happened in real life. trauma didn't just disappear like that. and of course, it didn't (as proven by the hours and hours of future breakdown sessions he'd spend locking himself in a cupboard he discovered while looking for more empty notebooks), but for a second, he felt safe.