Chapter Text
There’s something going on and.. he’s got to figure what the fuck it is.
It all started a few nights ago in Houston when he came back to his hotel room. Louis just wrapped up his show for the night and the whole band took a late dinner in the boss’ suite. He got word that Oli ordered an array of fresh seafood from Margaux’s Oyster Bar before the show ended, and inside the bus, Louis had told everyone to go hang out in his room before they all went to sleep. Michael was actually tired to be honest. He’s been feeling homesick for the past few days and he misses his mum, dad and friends back home.
This actually happens all the time. Every year when his voyage of 365 days around the sun is about to end, he feels somewhat bleak, almost lonely. He had never talked about this to anyone, not even his parents. But he is quite certain they knew, probably for a long time now, and that maybe it’s not just them that knew how he gets, because whenever this particular day is about to happen, he’ll be barraged with text messages, calls, even invitations to brunch, dinner, and late night drinks from family and friends. He would always say no, but these people would always find a way to find him, lure him out of his depressing mood to eat and hang out somewhere. But there were also moments when they weren’t there, and Michael had to get somebody to come with him, even if it's a casual friend, probably even a stranger, to sit beside with, maybe have drinks, sometimes go back to his place, not to talk about mundane stuff about life, or maybe even his anxieties, but be that warm body beside him on his bed to make him feel something.
“Hey, Mikey! Are you coming out of the bus or what?” Matt asked after he banged on the wall of the bus, knocking him out of his thoughts. Michael looked around him and saw he was all alone inside and that the bus was already parked at the basement of the hotel.
“Yeah. yeah, just grabbing my stuff, mate.”
He hurriedly pulled the strap of his backpack, and swung it over his shoulder then ran out as quick as he could. Matt snickered when he saw him, patting him on the back as they walked side by side to the lift.
Louis’ suite was on the twenty second floor, room 222A. There were only two rooms on that floor, both on each side of the building. He could already hear loud music from the hallway, Mac Miller’s Dang! smooth beat percolating on the quiet air. The sounds would get louder, for sure. With a few pints of beer or vodka in them, they would definitely get rowdier, more looser. Words that are supposed to be left unsaid will start flowing out from their mouths, their bodies that are normally stiff, rigid would become uncoordinatedly coordinated, even their usual boundaries with each other would undoubtedly be crossed in so many ways, that it would become awkward the next day when the morning comes and when the alcohol dissipates in their systems.
Michael knocked on the door twice when Joni suddenly opened it.
“Mikey, what the fuck took you so long?”
“Am I late?”
“Yes, and we’re all starving.”
Joni pulled the door wider for him, then turned his back, walking towards what he thinks is the kitchen.
He scanned the room once he got in. It has an open layout where you can see everything and everyone in one whole space, except for the smoked glass panel that separates the living room to what he guesses is Louis’ bedroom. There are two sets of sofas in the vast space, several empty Stella Artois bottles and a half empty bottle of Ciroc are already scattered on top of the center table. Three medium sized crystal glasses with clear liquid filling one-thirds of the cups were found in different locations on top of the table, with a lone sock hanging on the side.
Michael muses to himself, that lonely white sock, clinging for its life on the right corner of the two-feet high, large square black table is most likely Louis’, and god forbid somebody calls him out for leaving that item out for everyone to see.
On the second set of sofas are Zach and Steve, laughing loudly, each with a beer bottle held loosely from their hands. It looked like they were slightly buzzed with the faint tint of rosiness on their cheeks and the louder tone of their voices while they chat.
At the kitchen counter, he found Matt, who was fiddling with the label of his beer bottle as he talked animatedly with Joni and Oli who were pulling out the containers of the take out food from the fridge then placing them one by one on the table.
There were twelve take out boxes sitting atop the dining room table at the moment. The lids have already been taken off, and the smell of food was emanating all around. His mouth began to water that he quickly audibly swallowed, making Oli look at him.
“Dude, those look awesome.” He exclaimed as he walked closer to the table with the faux intention of helping out but actually secretly planning on snagging a piece of shrimp in one of the containers. He got distracted with his plan. “Shit, he ordered lobsters?”
“Yeah, man. You know Louis likes to try authentic shit food when he goes to new places.”
He feels a tap on his shoulder.
“You see something you like, Mikey?”
He froze. Michael stood motionless for a few seconds, the blood from the tips of his toes rushed up to his head. He knew he was probably turning red, with the way he felt his ears going warm.. very warm.
“Uh...”
“C’mon, I’ll round up the boys” Louis said then squeezed his arm and continued, “Heard the food from this place is awesome.” winking at him as he passed him by.
Louis clapped his hand when he got to the living room then shouted, “Time to dig in lads.”
It took them an hour and a half to finish half of the food and he just can’t eat anymore. He declared to himself that the Chipotle Bourbon oysters were his favorite and he can’t wait to tell his mum this when he gets to call her later. Woolsey suggested they call housekeeping if they wanted leftovers but Louis said that would be ridiculous. He would just order food for housekeeping and the staff before they leave the hotel. That is more appropriate to do.
By one in the morning, after four bottles of vodka and more than several bottles of beers, Michael told them he’s heading out. It’s not that he’s smashed or anything, maybe just a little buzzed, but definitely not drunk. He’s still far away from that. Six pints of beer and four shots of vodka would not make him spill his secrets nor make him feel like dropping some moves. He’s totally fine. Really fine.
Steve said he’ll join him, thinking it would be wise to stop now since he still had to talk to Mark about the set for St. Louis. They both said their goodbyes, with the guys jokingly saying they’re the granddads of the band, like that ain’t true. It’s just that he promised his mum he would call them in the morning and he needed to hear their voices right now.
The thing is, time zones confuse him at times, maybe a lot to be honest. He has never been out of the UK for long periods of time, maybe just a day or two but not like weeks, which eventually would turn into months if he’s being real about it.
This is why promises should be kept, and he told his mum that when the clock struck twelve, Houston time, which is six in the morning London time, that he would be calling his parents for them to greet him Happy Birthday.
29. He's going to be 29 in a couple of days. Jesus.
Michael turned his head up when he opened the door to room 364 after swiping his key card on the door lock. The room was already lit up, he saw two pairs of high top Vans sneakers lying haphazardly beside the sort of decent sized closet just beside the bathroom. The said closet had a sliding door, which was ajar with the several bags, gear and stuff cramped in the small space. He cocked his head to the side, lifting his left shoulder, wiggling it a bit, until the strap of his backpack dropped to his arms. His right hand reached for the looser strap on his left arm, hooking his fingers over it, lifting his right elbow until he could unhook his arms off the strap, making it easier for him to swing the backpack to his front, then let the bag drop on the carpeted floor.
There were only two hangers left on the steel rod, he decidedly grabbed one of them then took off his jacket, wrapped the garment over it, hanging it inside the closet. He bent down and carefully unzipped his boots, kicking it inside, hearing a soft thump as it hit the small safe situated at the corner of the tiny space. Michael attempted to slide the door shut but failed, since the already cramped up space has gotten more cramped with the teddy bears, fan shirts, signs, and gift boxes that the fans gave him after the show. They all knew his birthday was coming up, and many gave Woolsey and Joni their gifts for him knowing they’ll pass it to him one way or the other. And they sure did, probably asking the housekeepers to send all of them to his and Steve’s room after the show. He tried one more time to shut the door, giving another kick on the multiple bags, sneakers and his boots inside the closet, making sure that his old, worn out shoes won’t get anymore scratches, like it would matter.
Steve was sitting almost at the edge of the queen sized bed near the window, his eyes firmly fixed on his phone when he asked him without turning his head, “You like cupcakes right?”
“Yeah mate.” He says, jumping on the other queen size bed beside the bathroom, laying sideways with his body facing Steve. “My mum used to bake me those every Sunday morning. Why?”
“Nuthin’, just asking.” responding to him quickly as he stood up from the bed, snatching his towel, change of clothes and phone as he walks to the bathroom closing the door behind him.
He shrugged, turned his back then fell face down on the soft mattress, his legs hanging off the bed. Michael pursed his lips, bringing his arms on the side, perpendicular to his body. He said to himself, Who doesn’t like cupcakes? Only an idiot doesn’t like cupcakes.
Michael passed out without changing his clothes or brushing his teeth.
The next morning, he got several texts from his family, his boys Duncan, Adam, Ollie and Alex, his homegirls Hollie and Twinnie, a voice message from his mum and dad, and a cryptic message from Isaac saying, “The secret is as close as breath.”
It’s past seven o’clock in Houston, his parents are probably having their midday tea outside the garden in their house in London. He decided on calling them at that moment before he ordered his breakfast. Steve was gone when he woke up, probably had gone up to Louis’ suite, with Joshua and Mark.
“Happy morning, birthday boy.” his mom said then made kissing sounds on the phone making him smile. “Are you out now? Please tell me how warm it is now in Texas cause darling, it’s just horribly cold here in London. Your father’s arthritis started flaring up!”
“Yeah, it’s,” he checks his phone for the conversion of fahrenheit to celsius, “about 22 degrees right now.”
“In fahrenheit? That’s pretty chilly, baby. Don’t go out without your jacket.”
“No, that’s already in celsius mum.” He snickered, bringing the phone closer to his ear. “The weather here is like in Italy. It’s actually fairly warm.”
“That’s good then. You boys can tour the city with no problem. Today’s your day off right?”
“Yeah, but in a few hours, we have to leave the city for St. Louis so we can make it before midnight. I’ll ask Matt and Isaac later if we can do brunch then check out a guitar shop for a souvenir.”
“A true love story. You and guitars.” He can literally see his mum shaking her head, “You doin’ good honey? Sleeping well?”
“Mum.”
“I know how you get when your birthday comes.”
“I’ve got the boys here, mum.” Michael bit his lip, knowing he’s about to lie to his own mother. “I’m fine.”
She sighed and said, “Alright. Whatever you say.”
Michael heard a muffled voice from the other side of the line, his mother covering the speaker of her phone. “Mick, your dad wants to speak to you.”
He slowly inhaled a breath then closed his eyes. “Sure.”
“Michael.”
“Yeah, mum?”
“I miss you and I love you, baby”
He stills then raised his right hand over his face, “I love you too.”
Michael rubbed his knuckles on his closed eyes. On his skin, he felt a bit of moisture. He cleared his throat before he spoke, “Is Dad beside you?”
“He is. You want to speak to him?”
“Of course. Or else he’ll leave a ton of voice messages if I don’t.”
“He worries about you. You know how he gets.”
“I know, mum.”
“He’ll be brief. He knows you guys have to leave soon.”
“Yeah.”
It was not a quick conversation with his Dad. His father was mostly doing all the talking. He told him that a few days ago, they went out for dinner with his sister Kathryn and her husband Thun at Seaham Harbour and talked about how they all wanted to go back to Thailand once he’s done with the tour.
Kathryn and Thun had flown over from Vietnam for the holidays in mid-December of 2019 and never got back because of the lockdown. Once everything eased and the United Kingdom opened the borders for incoming and outgoing flights, they finally flew back home to Hanoi and saw all their friends, especially Thun’s family.
Michael listened to his father talk and tell tales of their usual lives back in London, his home, which instantly made him less homesick. He knew his Dad wanted him to know they were okay, and that once he gets home, everything will still be the same, all will be familiar again.
“You always wear your masks out there, okay? Don’t listen to those loads of bollocks you hear from the telly that’s it’s alright to not wear masks outside.”
“Yes, dad.”
“I don’t want to hear that you’re all sick and still saying to people you’re fine.”
“I know, dad.”
“And don’t go out and bring some ladies in the hotel and not use protection. You be careful out there, you hear.”
“Dad!” He said half shouting. He snorted, pinching his lips shut so he wouldn't start giggling.
“I know, I know you’re already 29 years old. And that you know what you’re doing. But you’re my only son.”
“That’s.. I love you, ‘kay.”
“I love you too, son.” He heard his dad sniffle, “Call me and your mum from time to time, alright?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Okay. Your mom is already in the kitchen warming a kettle for afternoon tea. Tell Louis thank you for the phone call.”
“What?”
“Arthur!”
“Oh blimey.” Michael heard muffled voices again then his father came back on the line, “So yeah son. Take care and we love you. Bye.”
The whole day was actually uneventful. He texted Matt and Isaac if they would want to go out for lunch, but both didn’t message him back. They’re probably still passed out since he knew they stayed behind when he and Steve decided to go back to their room.
Michael decided to go out by himself. He actually is still moderately unknown to many of Louis’s fans. Him wearing a snapback and a different style of clothes would certainly give him the anonymity that he needed to move around the city for a bit. The first thing he did was get into a local Taco Bell and ordered a breakfast burrito, a couple of cinnabon delights and vanilla iced coffee.
He kept his head down all the time while eating, and didn't even take off his sunglasses while chewing his food. Nobody noticed him walk in and out of the joint, no screaming fans or people secretly snapping a picture of him.
His phone dings.
Michael wiped his hands with the paper towels and pulled his phone out of his sweats. He swiped his screen up and saw a text message from Zach.
Pianoman: Where are you? The boss is looking for you.
Michael: I’m having breakfast.
Pianoman: Dude, it's twelve fifteen in the afternoon. What the fuck are you having breakfast for? Come back to the hotel. Joni said we should be leaving by one.
He took the soft, small round donut from the paper container and took a bite.
Michael: Yeah, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll be there in a few.
Quickly, he drank his iced coffee, then wiped his mouth with the last clean paper towel placing it on top of all his rubbish on the tray. Michael stood up then walked to the nearest bin, dropping everything in the circular hole then went ahead to the doors walking out in the streets.
When he got back to the hotel, he was already in a foul mood. He didn't even acknowledged Steve as he entered their room. Michael hurriedly put all his things in his luggage and backpack, didn't even bother to change his clothes, which are the usual styled outfit he wears. He still got his gray head to toe tracksuit, a navy blue snapback, his Raybans hanging on top of his nose. He zipped all his bags then turned around, going out of the hotel room without saying a word to Steve.
As he stepped out of the room, he heard Steve shout at him, “Mikey, are you okay?” then slammed the door shut, muting whatever else his bandmate was saying.
Michael continued walking the hallway until he reached the lift. He punched the arrow pointing up and the door opened, revealing that it was empty. Begrudgingly, he took a step inside the elevator and hit 22 on the set of knobs running on the wall, the door closing slowly on him.
He knocked on room 222A.
“Hey.” Louis opened the door with a huge smile.
Michael looked at him, his face all lighted up, like there’s an invisible torch pointed at him. His eyes were sparkling, like Christmas lights. He couldn’t look away.
His mouth hangs open, no words were coming out from him even if he was trying to tell his brain to say Hi back.
“Mikey, you alright?” Louis’ brows furrowed, his lighted eyes dimming.
Fuck, no, What has he done?
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He stuttered. “I’m fine, mate. Totally.”
“Idiot.” He cheekily said, swinging the door wider, “Come in. I’ve got something for you.”
Michael dragged his heavy suitcase in Louis’ suite, making a squeaking sound as he pulled it inside. He’s got his guitar on his back and his backpack hanging off his right shoulder. Everything is heavy. He felt heavy and sweaty but less grumpy. Actually, there’s a slow moving nervousness creeping inside of him, with a tinge of excitement.
They were alone. The alone part he probably knew beforehand.
On the way to Louis’s suite, he saw Joni, Woolsey and Oli passing him by with multiple bags and luggages in their hands. Oli nodded at him, while Joni said he should hurry and go to Louis’ room because they have to leave in fifteen minutes.
“C’mon you weirdo.” snapping Michael away from his thoughts. Why does this keep happening to him? “Come sit with me on the sofa. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Michael placed his luggage by the wall, together with his backpack and guitar. He straightened his snapback, pulling the hems of his jumper down, then lifted the jumper at the center of his chest, then pulled it back down again with the sides of his shirt.
He slowly walked over the long beige sofa, and decided to sit at the other end of it, placing a huge gap between him and Louis. Why?
“So you’re sitting over there.”
No. “Yes?”
“Yes?” Louis scrunched his face, his lips pouting.
Yes? “No.”
“Okay, you tosser. Come closer. I’m not gonna bite.”
He moved closer, just enough that he could tell Louis was hiding something on his side.
“I sort of saw you going out late in the afternoon of our third night in New York. I asked Oli to follow you and try to be discreet. But he said you saw him and didn’t even ask him where he was going, why the two of you were in the same tube, same cable car even, going in the same place, walking side by side with you, crossing the street together, going inside the music store like you actually asked Oli to come with you but had forgotten about it.”
He inched closer to Michael, “Uhm..”
Louis’ eyes began to sparkle again, so brightly it was blinding him. He’s got this shy smile on his face, the apple of his cheeks slightly flushing. He can’t look away.
“So, he saw you kept going back to this aisle, where the speakers, modulation pedals and reverbs were at.”
Louis turned to his left and brought out a box, wrapped in shiny blue and silver paper, with a black bow tied around it.
That was the only time he’s seen Louis going shy, like he’s embarrassed of what he’s about to do, maybe even say.
“Okay, I know you’re very private. And you really don’t tell people what you need or want. But, your birthday is coming up and I thought..” He moved closer to Michael, holding the square box with his dainty, soft looking hands. Stop looking at his hand, you nutter!
Louis softly coughed, “So I thought it would be nice to give you a gift that I’m 98% sure you like.” He shoved the box gently towards Michael, his body moving closer and closer to him.
Michael looked at the box which was now sitting on top of his lap, Louis’ body merely six inches away from him. He undid the bow, then tore the shiny wrapper, discarding the paper on the floor. He scratched the edges of the two-inch tape, which ran on two sides of the box. Lifting the lid slowly off the box, he heard Louis take a breath.
He completely took off the lid, then looked inside the box. In it were two Supro flanger modulation pedals. One was colored baby blue and the other was purple. He remembered looking at these items at Google and found out that there was a guitar store in Brooklyn, New York that sold these analogue, vintage looking modulation pedals that’s perfect for his amplifier.
They had a day off after the two sold out shows in the city and he decided that on that day, he would commute from Manhattan to Brooklyn, to find the guitar store and check if they had the color he liked and probably get to buy it.
He was told that it was sold out and is very limited, so limited that the first week it was released it was already sold out, and had been sold out in their shop for a couple of months. So now, on his only day off in New York City, the only time he had a chance to find it and possibly purchase it, the shop only had the baby blue ones, and he wanted the purple ones. He doesn’t like blue. It reminded him of something.
But in the box, that was currently sitting on his lap were two pedals. One was the one he liked, the other he didn’t like. At that moment, to be completely honest, he liked them both, maybe even loved them.
His eyes began to sting.
“Are those the ones you were looking for? Did I order the wrong ones?” Louis asked. Voice little, almost scared.
He was still looking at the box, his mind racing a hundred kilometers a minute.
He wanted to jump for joy and hug the man beside him who was crazy enough to ask his assistant to follow him, ride the subway like he knew where he was going, to spy on him and find out the things he liked. He wanted to kiss his cheeks, while he embraced him, his whole upper body crushing with how tightly he would hold him. He would like to taste this man’s lips who were looking at him, probably his electric blue eyes all wide and worried that his mole was wrong, that he made him buy the wrong pedals but in fact got it right, and he found out what he really wanted, that it were the modulation pedals and not the speakers that he also inquired about that day. He wanted to invite this man back to London, in Seaham, in his room in Dillon Street, on the second floor, the room beside the loo, and talk about mundane things in his life, maybe even his anxieties.
“You..” he muttered, “You are perfect.”
“What?”
“I mean,” He raised his head and looked the man beside him in the eye.
Misty Dark Sky blue on Confused Electric blue.
“These are.. perfect, Lou.” He bit the inside of his lip, trying to control it from shaking.
“They are? Wow, I genuinely thought you didn’t like them.” His worried eyes begin to change, they’re now turning amused. “Gotta thank Oli for being a good detective.”
“Thank you.”
Louis moved closer, their thighs touching. He swung one arm around Michael’s shoulder. He shivered.
“Happy birthday, mate.” Louis' eyes were all crinkly with how hard he was smiling. He squeezed his shoulder then gave him a peck on the head. “Glad you liked ‘em. Had to call people to snag me that purple one. Didn’t know that was sort of a collector's item.”
He dropped his hand from Michael’s shoulder and stood up from the sofa. “You always got great eyes on things special.” then pats him on the shoulder then turned, walking off towards the kitchen.
I love you. “Thank you.” He said as he brought the lid of the box off the floor, placing it on top of the open container, not losing his line of sight, looking at that something special. And it’s not the-hard-to-find pedals. It’s definitely something more special. He’s certain of it.
Louis pulled a black backpack behind the kitchen counter and swung it around his left shoulder, hooking his arms on the straps. His head turned to Michael, “So, ready to go?”
He must’ve looked totally gobsmacked, maybe even mad, quite possibly even constipated with how much he’s trying to control his face. Because he just saw Louis cackle loudly, that distinct big laugh that he has that makes you want to join him, even if you missed the joke. And he’s totally missed it, missed it by a heartbeat.
“Just give me a moment, Lou.”
“Alright. I’ll go ahead then, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Louis shrugged, raising his shoulders, both his hands gripping the strap of his backpack near his chest as he walked away.
He watched him as he passed the other sofa which was situated parallel from him. He watched him open the door and glanced back at him, smiling briefly as he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He watched the door of the hotel room until he couldn't hear Louis’ footsteps on the carpeted floor, until his heart was able to keep up, to join in the moment, confident that he would never miss it. Not by a second. Not even by a heartbeat.