#between the audience and what's actually going on onstage and then the trousers

[heatherfield]

This is a disaster, but I have to go to this show. Kat’s saving me a seat.

Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story, Episode 4 “The Star on the Stage” [x]

Bonus:

[crjupdates]

A Little Alone Time with Carly Rae Jepsen

Ahead of her new album The Loneliest Time, Jepsen celebrates love, loneliness, and making it to Radio City Hall at long last.

Vanity Fair • Delia Cai • September 29, 2022 • Photos: Nesrin Danan

Mercifully, it only took half an hour into Carly Rae Jepsen’s sold out New York stop of her So Nice Tour on Wednesday night for that telltale strings intro to activate not a few core memories of every starry-eyed millennial in attendance: “I hope you’ll sing this next song with me, it’s the law!” Jepsen pronounced; and so, almost exactly eleven years after “Call Me Maybe” infected the world, the Canadian pop chanteuse, glitzing in a feathered tube top and bejeweled mesh pants whose hip cut-outs threatened to eat any Euphoria character’s lunch, gave the single the full Radio City Music Hall treatment it’s been due.

“When I first came to New York City, it was with my performing arts college in Canada,” Jepsen tells me when I call over Zoom the morning after to debrief on the concert. “We would do this 11-day trip and see some Broadway shows, talk to other artists. We didn’t actually get to go into Radio City, but we were told about it and the iconic history of this place, and I remember we all took a photograph outside of it while bundled in our Canadian winter clothes. From the inception, that was my first introduction to this place—it had this magical tone to me, very hush hush, like you couldn’t get inside.” The way Jepsen tells it, Radio City (but also, she remembers, the M&M store—“what an indulgent idea!”) was a perfect symbol of that ineffable New York magic. The chance to perform before those hallowed velvet seats has dogged the 36-year-old star ever since, and she’d even come close to ticking it off the dream list for Dedicated tour, until, you know, the world shut down.

In honor of the long-awaited night, Jepsen gave Vanity Fair an exclusive look into her getting ready process backstage, where she donned a celestial dressing gown that matched the oversized stars and clouds of her stage set—not to mention the giant talking moon who initially greeted the audience by introducing herself as the “ambassador of love” and “mirror of truth.” (The moon, I learned, does not have a name, but it’s definitely a she: “This idea of a man on the moon doesn’t make much sense to me,” Jepsen says). For the show itself, Jepsen worked with her long-time stylist Hayley Atkin for what she calls her “red firebird outfit,” later swapped out for a black suit jacket, bra top, and drop-crotch trousers: think conductor party girl, an outward manifestation of the way Jepsen sees her relationship with her notoriously devoted fans, who she credits for making her feel safe onstage:

“I feel like my responsibility is less about how I look and if I sing perfectly, and it’s more about being present and taking in the room and allowing other people to experience the night,” she explains. “So I feel more like a conductor of a fun night than anything else.” It’s definitely a much more chill ethos compared to the earlier eras of her career, Jepsen admits. “It’s funny, Jack [Antonoff] and I were talking about what it is, the difference between touring in your thirties versus touring in your twenties and teens, how you know yourself better and become more comfortable—what is the word?” she stops and ponders for a minute. “My boyfriend has a really good phrase for this, it’s basically total self acceptance for all the flaws and everything about yourself. Radical acceptance? I don’t know if that’s exactly it.”

And while Jepsen stuck mostly with playing homage to her existing hits—for the encore, she brought out Isabella Boylston, the principle dancer with the American Ballet Theatre, to pirouette across the stage to “Cut to the Feeling”—in just a few weeks, her next studio album, The Loneliest Time, will hit the airwaves on October 21 (yes, that October 21), and we both have to acknowledge that it’s a pretty leading question to be asking, in 2022, about any global or personal inspirations for putting out an album about solitude.

Carly Rae Jepson [sic] wearing Cheng Huai Chuang while performing at Radio City Music Hall, in New York City on September 28th, 2022.

“I think even before COVID hit, we were kind of forced into our own little worlds of isolation to a degree,” she says. “I definitely was battling my relationship with loneliness as a touring artist. My job requires this really extreme sort of lifestyle where I get to be in stages, and I get to kind of be around people, but it's a really isolating feeling because you always kind of feel a little, you know, unseen.” Jepsen continues: “When COVID happened, I was forced to really look at my life choices. I was sort of like, ‘I have so much of a career going on, and I really love that it fuels me, but I haven't put a ton of energy into my personal life, and haven’t put a ton of energy into even the home that I have been living in.”

The resulting introspection led Jepsen into a fascination with the concept of sitting with oneself and working, of course, on the most important relationship of all. This is the pop star behind hits like “Party For One,” “Solo,” and “Your Type,” of course, so making loneliness sound kind of romantic has never not been the brand. As Jepsen reminds me: “I think loneliness can spark you to join a club that you'd never go, or join a dating app that you'd never use, or rekindle a friendship, or try a relationship on that might not necessarily be what you thought you needed, but maybe is exactly what you need. It really is like loneliness that leads to deep human connection.”

Which leaves just one question left: if we’re all listening to Carly Rae Jepsen when we’re a little too solitary, to whom does one of our generation’s preeminent queens of heartbreak herself turn to when she’s alone?

“A lot of jazz,” she says. “It’s calming, it’s beautiful. I had somebody asked me the other day, ‘Do you do it on purpose when you try to make sad things beautiful?’ I think that's what I'm attracted to, what Billie Holiday does so well. She can sing about the craziest, most heartbreaking thing—whatever it is, she finds a poetry to it. If that is not the plight of every artist, to find the poetry to the painful things in life, then I don't know what the point of our job is, really.”

[cherryblossomtease]

In The Fairest Season ~ Part 1

18+ only- oral sex, strong sexual content see Masterlist for full warnings

~ ~

LATE SEPTEMBER

The field of pale long grass dotted by wild flowers, bends and sways in time with the distant waves far below the cliffs, its waters cold and black, its peaks bright white. There is no distinction between the sound of the wild, hidden shoreline and the wind whipping through the blades of grass which spread out like that wide sea far into the distance. This place is untamed, and completely unbothered by her.

She is sitting, still as a stone in its middle, like a fixed spot in time.

She, is soft morning beauty, and quiet, contemplative grace. She should seem out of place along the lonely Sokovian coast but instead it is hard to imagine her any where else but here.

She is the vision of life and love and a second chance at both, and she, is you.

The Baron is watching as you take a deep, slow breath of the country air, so clear and easy to inhale that it makes you a little sad to know that this has been here all along and you are only just beginning to explore it.

The city was wonderful in so many ways when it was all you’d ever known, but out here you realize just how shut in you’ve been, living between the press of stone and steel, breathing in the thick smoke of industry.

When the Baron first asked you to come, you’d feared leaving the excitement, pollution or not, but one look into his eyes and you’d been persuaded. You would do anything just to see them shine and his love had burned as bright as the sun when you said yes.

“Are you hungry? Breakfast is ready.”

Helmut’s voice is soft as the morning wind that lifts your hair and strokes your cheek. You’d felt his presence but only now do you turn to look up at him and find the man gazing down at you in his morning finery. A jacket and vest, the gold chain of his pocket watch catching the faint sunlight, his boots black and shining in the grass. Even at this hour he is every bit the Baron.

You feel next to naked in the white nightgown you’d snuck out in, but you wanted to feel the air on your skin and the earth beneath your feet. Sokovia should be experienced with all of the senses. You’d decided this the moment you arrived, and while your unrefined ways will be the talk of the servants quarters, you could not care less what they whisper about. This is your home now and you wish to know it.

“I am actually.” You answer and do little to hide your smile as you think to yourself that after last night, you could eat him out of house and home, but you’re too shy to say this out loud. However Helmut is an astute man and reads your face easily. He knows what you’re thinking of which draws out his own smile and he extends his hand to help you up.

When you are on your feet and at his side, he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you close to lead you back towards the stone wall that separates his land from the fields and cliffs and sea.

“You’re feeling well?” He asks, eyes fixed ahead though you can hear his sweet concern for you. You know why he’s asking, and a shiver of pleasure shoots through your belly as you shut your eyes remembering.

He held your wrists tighter as he thrust into you, faster, harder— it is overwhelming, but you love him— you cling to him, awed that this works, that he fits. A tear streams down the side of your face as you gasp wanting to scream from the sheer joy of it.

“Perfectly.” You answer opening your eyes and feeling a flush as you glance up. The memory makes your breath shallow as you speak. “I’ve never known such a perfect morning.” You hope he understands how deeply you mean it. The absolute only thing that compares, is the feeling of euphoria that washes over you while onstage. It happens just as you’ve completed an aria and the audience sits in silence, too overcome by your voice to react until they finally break out into applause. That, is what loving him, and being loved feels like.

As you walk together he leans over to kiss the top of your hair, still wild from sleep. He feels the same sort of untethered joy in this morning as you. The way he inhales your scent makes your heart flutter.

“I realize” He says walking upright again. “I don’t know what you like for breakfast, so I’ve had the cook prepare a little of everything for you to try.”

Your eyes dart up in the direction of the house. From here you can only see the east tower peaking up over the crest of the walled hill. “That’s so much trouble! I only need something small, an egg, a piece of toast.” You shrug.

Helmut laughs and shakes his head at you. He reaches and lays the hand not wrapped around your waist against your face bringing you close so that he may kiss your cheek. “A small breakfast may have been enough for you, the singer. But not you, the Baroness.” He says playfully, lips still touching your skin.

You melt against his warmth and think that while he may be right, it doesn’t matter. You like eggs and toast. “And as the new Baroness, I’ve decided on eating what I always have.” You say with your best voice of authority. “Wait.”

He halts the march towards home and looks down at you, his brow raised as he waits.

“I’d like some jam too actually. Mmm Raspberry.” You sigh and shut your eyes.

Helmut truly laughs now stepping around to block your path just before the break in the wall. “You can have all the raspberry jam in Sokovia. Please, Voljena, darling girl allow yourself to enjoy this life, it is yours for as long as you draw breath.” He says softly with his hands on either side of your face. “I know, it will take time to adjust, but I only want to see you happy."

You hold onto his wrist, sliding your hand over the back of his larger one. “Helmut… Happy is such a simple word, it’s a shame there isn’t a better one. I feel so many things all at once. But I promise I will say the words I feel in my heart as soon as I know them.”

His worry melts away to a look of content and he leans in to kiss you.

When his hands migrate down to your shoulders, his thumb stroking the soft line of your collar bone, he pulls away and glances down, chuckling softly. “As beautiful as you look out here in your nightgown, perhaps a coat next time?”

You laugh and blush embarrassment. “I like the cool air. And I thought I could come and go before anyone noticed I’d gone.”

He shakes his head and holds the back of your neck, “I knew. I felt the bed empty.” He says, his gaze slowly moving across your face, lingering on your lips.

You feel your knees go a bit weak. He does know how to make a woman feel wanted with the simplest of words. “I’m sorry I woke you.” You say, secretly happy to know that your absence was enough to rouse him.

“No, no don’t apologize. I’m pleased to see that you want to know my homeland.”

“Yes, but its mine now too, isn’t it?” You ask glancing out at the beautifully moody landscape.

Helmut nods and looks you over as though the love he feels physically hurts in the best of ways. “Yes, all of it. Everything I have is yours moja ljubavi” He whispers and kisses you again.

My love. Each time he says it you feel your heart swell.

He pulls you close in a way that sparks more memories of last night. They flicker, quick as a candles flame —his elegant fingers turning to fists as he pulls your nightgown over your head leaving you naked and vulnerable. But Helmut is kind and gentle as he touches parts of you that have been aching for this. He kisses and strokes, grabs and pulls until you lay on the bed nearly begging for him— you had not known that you could want something you’d never had so badly until last night.

When he takes your waist in hand now and turns you around so that he can walk you to the wall, your back finds the stones and he kisses you with a renewed enthusiasm. His mouth dragging from your lips to kiss along your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

You shut your eyes and run your fingers through his thick hair as he makes his way to your breast, your nipples pushing against the thin cotton of your shift, their color showing through the nearly sheer fabric and even you can see how badly they long for his attention.

“I want you here.” You breathe, pushing your head back against the wall, moaning from the anticipation.

Helmut glances up at you. The heavy look of desire in his eyes is a reflection of your own. He takes your left side in hand, lifting to suck your sensitive flesh through the material and you bite your lip, little moans and shivers your uncontrollable response to his mouth on your covered breast.

Releasing your nipple which now feels cold without his attention, Helmut reaches down and gathers your shift, raising until your lower half is exposed.

Your eyes meet.

Helmut's smile so often walks the thinnest of lines, you imagine he could so easily go towards darkness especially with what you know him to be capable of. But you are drawn to this and to him like a moth to the flame.

Holding your breath, you wait. Wanting him, completely unsure and a little afraid of what it is he will do. And then you feel his hand, warm and strong rub down over your mound of silky  hair to the soft skin below; the gold ring on his little finger is cool against your skin.

He strokes a small circle with his fingers pressed close together, much like he did in bed, watching you to see your reaction. You try to hold back but even this simple stimulation feels so good that your mouth opens with a sound you thought you could only make under the cover of night.

Helmut smiles wider and nods for you to take the hem of your shift. “Hold it up.” He says. You quickly grip the night dress tight against your stomach as he goes to his knees —lord, in his beautiful trousers, you grin— and looks up at you, but not at your face.

The way he stares boarders on sacrilegious. He kneels before your alter of lovely folds and glistening skin like a man seeking penance before the only true thing he believes in.

His thumb strokes, parting you just enough that he may tease himself with the view and you hear him humming a deep moan. He takes hold of your ankle and moves your leg out so that your thighs are farther apart before using both hands to spread you, exposing your most intimate places to the wind and you toss your head back, holding onto his shoulders as he dives in to praise you as you’ve never felt before.

This did not happen last night.

You gasp loudly—shocked and resistant— but he grabs your thighs, sliding his hands up and around to your backside, holding you tight, burying his face in the heat of your center until you fear he won’t be able to breath… and then he starts to move his mouth and you think, let him die if this is how he goes.

Laughing as you moan, your eyes roll shut, feeling his tongue swirl and lap, exploring and playing as much as he is working towards something.

You’ve heard of this? Heard the other theatre girls laughing about the skill of the different Lords who see your kind as fair game, but you’ve managed to avoid their honeyed words and empty promises, instead dedicating your life to your singing.

But this man… every word from his lips has been as true as his tongue.

He starts to suck at that place only you have ever touched before last night and when the perfectly crude movements combine with the trust and love you cary for him, you realize what it is he wants to make happen.

It almost did before, but you were so overwhelmed and nervous. It was incredible to know that you could make him climax, powerful even. But how would he ever be able to do the same for you when you needed more than he did.

Now you understand.

With your hands full of the shift and his hair, you feel the pressure begin to mount. Opening your eyes you look out past the field to the distant water that looks as calm and still as the sky. Helmut is rolling his tongue around the peak of your clitoris slowly, so slowly you can’t stand it. It makes you want to scream and you feel your chest tighten as you tilt your hips forward urging him to never stop.

So this is what it feels like…

You dare to look down, watching his head move which makes you smile with a rush of love and appreciation for his efforts. A gasping laugh rushes from your lungs as he runs his tongue from opening to peak, and you catch a glimpse of his mouth wet and shining when he pulls back to take a breath.

You involuntarily moan his name and pull at his hair, needing more with an urgency you will be ashamed to admit to when this is over, but for now it’s all you want.

You feel him chuckle against your skin before continuing. He sucks your clitoris into his mouth and batters it with his tongue until you can only cling to him and let the wind carry the loudest of your cries away from the keen ears of the servants just behind the wall.

The rise begins again, and though you've known it before—alone in your bed, quietly sighing into the dark— this is new and as your body insists you feel it not only there but seemingly everywhere, you succumb to the wonderful shock of your first given orgasm.

Pulsing against his mouth, your eyes fixed on the sea as you come, you fight the urge to fall to the ground as your thighs flex against his face while Helmut laps at your tight entrance. He swallows your sticky sweetness as though it is the elixir to long life.

When he does finally pull away, you drop your shift and wrap your arms around his neck and head, thankful for his strong and steady arms that hold you up.

Helmut lets go with one arm to run the back of his hand across his mouth with a smile. He looks up at you, and suddenly the strongest urge to taste yourself on his lips takes hold which surprises you. But the moment you bend and kiss him, you understand why.

There are so many levels to the connection between the two of you. Of course it is not new, this sort of love, but it is the first time you have ever felt it.

You inhale as you kiss and the sense of there being no start to him or end to you is intoxicating. There is only this single union that your love has formed.

Of course I’m happy— you think back to his heartfelt request before you’d both forgotten about breakfast— I am loved and satisfied. I am your wife.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Batty 'bout THE BAT: Battendum

I’d just written the last “Batty ‘bout THE BAT” post when I stumbled across this delightful remembrance by Jess Oppenheimer via his son, Gregg Oppenheimer.  I’ll let Gregg and Jess take it from here:

When my father was writing I LOVE LUCY, the question he got most often was, "Where do you get your ideas?" Some actually came from his own experiences. For example, "Ricky Thinks He's Getting Bald" grew out of Dad’s early experiments with baldness cures, including the mechanical "scalp agitator" that Lucy uses on Ricky. Dad even included a personal note about it in the script’s stage directions (see photo).

At a key moment in “Lucy and the Dummy," Lucy is unable to detach herself from a "Ricky" dummy during her performance at a studio party. This was inspired by something that happened to my father as a young stage actor in the 1930s. I'll let him tell the story:

"One of my most notable performances was in a play called 'The Bat,' in which I played the hero. In the last act I was revealed as a detective, and I was supposed to pull out a pair of handcuffs, snap them on the villain’s wrists, turn him over to a policeman to lead away, and proceed to carry on a torrid love scene with the leading lady, during which there were two full stage crosses. To add to the realism, we had borrowed a pair of real police handcuffs from the cop on the beat. I had them tucked into my trousers. When the fateful moment arrived, I revealed who I was, informed the other fellow that he was under arrest, snapped one of the cuffs on his wrist, and went to put the other on him. Some strange force was holding it back. The handcuff had somehow gotten locked around one of the belt loops on my trousers. The two of us, captive and captor, stood there vainly trying to get it off, pulling, tugging, trying to break the loop, but to no avail. After several minutes of this, the director stuck his head in through what was supposed to be a third-story attic window and growled, 'Get on with the play!'

"What followed was probably one of the strangest love scenes ever played. The only way the leading lady and I knew to play the scene was the way we had rehearsed it, but now here was this third party with his left hand attached to my trousers. If I crossed the stage, he crossed the stage. He did everything in his power to appear natural—ignoring us, looking around as though he were at a museum or about to measure the room for curtains. But when I took the leading lady in my arms, he was virtually between us. At the same time, the actor who played the policeman didn’t know what to do, because he had always made his exit early in the scene, with the criminal in tow. He couldn’t figure out a way to get offstage gracefully, so he stayed onstage, hoping he wouldn’t interfere with the action. Unfortunately, because he had always exited with the prisoner, he had never watched the rest of the scene being played. He inevitably managed to be standing just where we wanted to go. He spent the entire scene leaping out of our way.

"The scene was unbearably funny to the audience, particularly because we rose to the occasion, remembering all the good schooling and discipline our director had instilled in us, and played the scene exactly as rehearsed, ignoring with intense seriousness this human appendage we dragged through the love scene with us, to say nothing of the uniformed jumping jack. The director later told us that our discipline under fire had made him proud of us."

–from LAUGHS, LUCK...and LUCY, by Jess Oppenheimer

  © Gregg Oppenheimer

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 2 | Opening Night & The First Note| 7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

warnings: mentions of anxiety. 

Read Part 1 Here

Masterlist 

--------

St. Jakobshalle is busy when Aurora arrives at the arena that afternoon. Crew members she met in London were buzzing around doing just about exactly what they were doing there, but now in Switzerland. It’s a bit trippy for Aurora because though she may be in a completely different city, in a completely different country, the arena looks and feels almost the exact same. She has to remind herself several times that she’s in Switzerland and that today really is the 1st night of the tour. Everyone is called for at the stage at 2pm. Harry makes a small speech again and thanks everyone for their hard work. Boxes of reusable water bottles, branded with “Treat People With Kindness” are passed around as well and they match the sweatshirts a lot of people are sporting today. They take a group photo in the elevated seating closest to the stage and there’s a chorus of cheers when Jeff tells everyone to go back to work and that there’s 5 hours till curtain. They haven’t even completed the first show of the tour but the atmosphere and energy between everyone already feels like a family of sorts. When Aurora catches a glimpse of Harry as she heads to the dressing rooms she can’t help but feel overly endeared by the bright smile on his face and crinkles at his eyes. 

Aurora heads to the band’s dressing room to set up their clothing for the night. She’s steaming Adam’s suit when Sarah walks in. 

“Aurora!” She exclaims walking over to her and hugging her after she’s set the steamer aside. “Flight alright?” She asks after pulling away and sitting down on the couch.

“Absolutely! I slept the entire time,” she goes back to steaming while talking to Sarah. “and what about you?” 

“Too excited to sleep,” she chuckles. “Flight was still good though.” 

Sarah stays with Aurora while she steams the all of the pieces for the band. Aurora really likes

Sarah and her calm energy is nice in the excited and busy arena. 

“So who have you toured with before?” Sarah asked as the 2 of them find their way around the arena in search of some snacks before Sarah has to get to sound check and Aurora has to prep Harry’s suit. 

“Oh,” Aurora is surprised by the question, “I’ve never done this before. I-I graduated college last May.” 

“You’re joking right? I mean, you were in New York with Lambert for the album release, yeah?” Aurora nods. “So you had to have a good recommendation or experience before that to be thrown into the hustle and bustle that comes along with working with Harry.” Aurora chuckles as they round the corner and walk into the room where Craft Services is. They both start to fill a plate and Aurora fills up a coffee cup as well. For Aurora, coffee is the answer to everything.

“No seriously, Sarah. Keep this on the DL but I legit have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.” Sarah laughs along with Aurora. “I met Lambert while I was studying abroad in London. Got my internship with him from there. And now magically I’m here.” 

“Maybe a little magic involved, but you’re talented, Aurora. You know what you’re doing and from where I’m standing you look like a seasoned veteran on this crew.” 

The jet lag is without a doubt kicking Aurora’s ass already and it was only day 1 of the tour. She made a mental note to google some ways to beat it. Aurora treks her way to a dressing room that’s labeled ‘Creative Crew’ - a room just for her, Ayae, Helene and a few others she barely has met. She set her bag in there when she first arrived that morning and remembered a couch that sounded like the best thing ever to her right now. She finds the dressing room empty and she’s thankful for it. Plopping down on the couch, she dozes off immediately. 

15 minutes later her alarm goes off. She knows herself too well and always, always, always sets an alarm for a nap because she will sleep for hours on hours otherwise. She slides her shoes back on and grabs Harry’s wardrobe notebook from her bag and makes her way to Harry’s dressing room to get his suit set for the show. She’s steaming Harry’s black button down when she lets out a yawn, desperate for another coffee. She thinks the nap might have done more damage than good. 

Ayae joins her in Harry’s dressing room only a few minutes later to start setting up her things to refresh Harry’s hair and what not. Ayae and Aurora talk through their excitement for the show that night, Aurora realising that she gets to witness the show every night. She had always loved concerts, Broadway shows, plays her friends were in during college, anything. She tells Ayae how she’s never seen a performance she truly didn’t like. Their conversation is cut off when Harry walks through the door right after the 15min call for the opener went over the intercoms. 

“Right on schedule, as always,” Ayae remarks to Harry, who has a fresh t shirt and shorts on, and his curls hang in wet heavy ringlets. “Soundcheck go alright?” She asks. 

“Mhm,” he hums making his way fully into the dressing room. “And I even brought coffee for the both of you.” He hands Ayae hers before turning towards Aurora. “Heard you snuck in a nap earlier…” he comments after Aurora takes a sip. 

“How did you-?” Her jaw drops slightly before she starts to question him.

“I have people, Ror,” he chuckles before sitting down in the chair set up in front of Ayae’s products and the large vanity mirror. “Don’t give me that look... just drink your coffee, love.” He’s making eye contact with her through the mirror and Ayae is quietly giggling at the 2 of them. 

Aurora busies herself with the steamer and doing some finishing touches on Harry’s pants, and of  course drinks her coffee. She grabs the new pair of his Gucci boots and takes them out of the box.

“You need socks for these boots or are the ones you’re wearing okay?” She asks while setting the boots near the couch that’s adorn in Harry’s own Gucci throw pillows. 

“I’ve just got Nike socks on right now, do you have any actual trouser socks?” 

“Yup! That’s all I’ve got, actually.”

A few minutes later she’s handing him his trousers off the hanger for him to change into. Just like a few days ago in London, he drops his shorts revealing his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs before Aurora can turn around again. She lets out a small “oope” as she turns. It’s not until now that she realises her and Harry are the only 2 left in the room. 

“Are you blushing, Ror?” Harry’s voice is soft but Aurora heard it loud and clear. She chooses to ignore it and picks up the coffee he brought her and lets out a hum. The coffee in her hands keeps them busy and still as she turns back around to him. He’s buttoning his trousers now and slipping off his tshirt. “Hmm?” He gives her a questioning look. 

“What?” she asks now giving him his shirt, coffee still in one hand. His eyes meet hers and the eye contact starts a buzzing feeling in her finger tips. The green in his eyes are lighter than she’s seen before the gaze is so intense that she can’t look away. 

“Nothing,” he breaks eye contact with a chuckle and takes his shirt from her. Aurora whispers a soft ‘alright.’ Once he buttons up the shirt he turns towards the full length mirror that’s attached to the inside of the open wardrobe case. He’s fumbling with the long pieces of fabric that almost touch the floor. There’s a slight furrow in his brows as he attempts to tie the fabric into a bow. “Aurora, could ya help me out?” he asks while still fumbling with it. “Pesky, little, fu-” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says with a smile and motioning with her hands for him to turn towards her again. She ties it on the 1st try and is pleased with the look of it. “There,” she steps back slightly and then tilts her head at him. “Ohhh actually looks a bit tight,” she steps closer to him again and is slips her pointer finger between the collar and his neck trying to move it a little bit, “yup, that definitely won’t do.” She notices the goosebumps that arise on his neck and quickly removes her hand. She unties the bow to start over. 

“Are ya gonna watch the show?” Harry asks quietly while Aurora continues to tie the bow on the collar of his shirt. 

“Yeah I’m hoping to get a glimpse of it from the side of the stage.” She’s untied and re-tied this bow several times now. 

“Know ya can watch it from the audience with this little thing, yeah?” Harry gently tugs on the tour pass with her name and face on it that’s hooked around her belt loop. “That cute little picture’ll get you anywhere in the arena.” Aurora is too frustrated with the bow around Harry’s neck to react to his comment. 

“Oh, didn’t know I could go out there,” Aurora lets out a huff dropping her hands to her side. The fabric that should be tied in a bow lays long against Harry’s torso. “Well at this rate, I won’t have to go out in the audience cause you won’t even be onstage ‘cause this bow just isn’t cooperating.” There’s a flash and click sound that startles both of them. They snap their heads to the door. 

“Sorry,” Helene squeaks out with her french accent. “Quite liked the look of the 2 of you there.” 

“Oh, hi Helene!” Aurora says reaching up to harry’s collar again. She loops the fabric one last time and gets the bow just right. “There we go!” she exclaims, dropping her hands to her side in relief. 

“Harry, I’d love to get some photos of you with your band before you hit the stage. If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that too!” Harry smiles at Helene. “Just gotta finish up here with Ror and brush my teeth, then I’m all yours.” 

“Perfect! I’ll meet ya in a 15 then?” Harry nods a ‘yes’ to Helene before she walks out. He turns around to look at the finished bow in the mirror. “Looks perfect.” 

Aurora slides the black sequined jacket from the hanger. “Here,” she holds the jacket by the top of the lapels ready for him to slide his arms into it. Harry shrugs into the jacket and Aurora helps him situate it properly on his shoulders. “Turn around for me?” Harry is silent as he turns around. Aurora is hyper aware of his silence now while she makes sure the lapels on the jacket are laying flat and his shirt collar is sitting perfectly under the jacket. She notices his change in demeanor and the familiarity of it. “I would keep it buttoned for as long as you can on stage to really show off the look, but definitely unbutton it when you’re dancing around.” She buttons the jacket closed for him. “Don’t want you ripping anything while on stage. Or a button flying and hitting someone in the eye…” she jokes. He doesn’t laugh with her which causes her to look up at him. “Harry, you alright?” He shakes his head pulling himself out of his distracted silence. 

“Uh yeah, sorry. Got it. Keep it buttoned, un button it when I’m dancing. No injuring anyone.” The words come out of his mouth much faster than normal.

“I know what nerves look like, Harry. No need to hide it from me.” His face has softened but he goes silent again. “I used to get so nervous before dancing on stage. I would come off stage and my tongue felt numb from the adrenaline and nerves and 9 times out of 10 I couldn’t remember what I had just done.” She hands him his new socks and boots. He’s looking at her with a softness in his eyes that neither of them could truly describe. 

“You’re a dancer?” She sighs at his response, finally loosening up again. 

“Used to be, yeah.” She explains how she used to compete and how her mom always made her dance costumes and that’s how she ended up studying fashion design. The story distracts Harry from his nerves while he puts his boots on. He smooths out his pants and looks towards Aurora. 

“Thanks, Ror,” his hand is at her hip and pulling her in for a hug. He’s holding on to her tightly for a long moment and she relaxes into his arms. When he pulls away he speaks up again, “for helping me get ready and ya know, just being around, I guess.” 

“That’s what I’m here for.” She smiles at him and then checks her watch. “You should probably get going, Helene and your band are waiting for you.” 

“Yeah, of course.” He’s smiling at her again, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs his small black toiletry bag and heads to the bathroom. 

“Good luck, Harry!” she shouts at him while leaving his dressing room. 

After the show, Aurora meets Harry back in his dressing room to gather his suit and pack everything back up.

“Well looks like your bow didn’t make it through the show.” It’s the first thing he says as he walks in the room. He tosses an empty water bottle into the bin by the couch. Aurora pouts remembering how frustrated she was and then shakes her head at Harry. 

“It’s your crazy dance moves’ fault not mine. That bow was perfect and you can’t deny that.” 

“So ya saw the show?” There’s a spark in his eyes and Aurora writes it off as post stage adrenaline. 

“Course I did,” she smiles back at him. “I’ve got your clothes here from earlier, didn’t know if you wanted to throw those on after the show or not.” He’s racking a hand through his sweaty, messy hair before he takes his jacket off and hands it to Aurora. 

“Uhm,” he’s thinking about what the plans are for the night. “My suitcase is still here yeah?” She nods. “I’ll change into something from there then.” He’s rifling through his case now. “Did ya like the show then?” 

“Harry, it was incredible,” she exclaims while taking each piece of clothing from him as he takes them off. 

“Sorry everythings a bit sweaty,” he giggles as he hands her his trousers last. 

“I’ve dealt with worse.” She hangs everything up individually so they can air out before they’re put away. “But seriously, the show was so so good. I loved the new songs you added to your setlist!”

Harry has made his way towards the bathroom that is attached to the dressing room with a set of clean clothes in his hand. “Thanks, love.” his smile is so big that his dimples are making a show and his eyes go all crinkly. He’s lingering in the bathroom door way. 

“I’ll come back later to put everything away,” she says as she grabs a few of her things she had in his room from earlier. “Again, amazing show, Harry. Excited to be here. Have a good night.” and with that she gives a small wave at him and leaves him be. 

Aurora quite likes life on tour. In less than 4 days she’s been to Switzerland, spent a full day being a tourist in Paris and this morning she woke up in Amsterdam. She quite likes seeing Harry every day as well. There’s only been 3 shows so far but the time her and Harry have together before and after the shows goes by much faster than she would like and unknown to her, Harry is feeling exactly the same. 

When she arrives at the Ziggo Dome in Amsterdam later that morning she drops her stuff in the green room. She’s searching for Helene when she runs into Jeff. 

“Aurora! Just the person I was looking for,” he says as he stops her. “This is for you,” he pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to her. He gives her a smirk before rushing off to take care of something that had just came over his headset before she can ask any questions or thank him.

She carefully unfolds the paper and scribbled in half cursive half all caps printed handwriting is just a few words. meet me by bstage at 12:15. I’ll bring coffee. Harry’s name is signed at the bottom. Then, (only if you want of course.) is scribbled under his name. Her jaw drops before she’s giggling at his inherent kindness. She checks her watch, 11:58. Suddenly she can feel her heartbeat in her throat and the tops of her ears are flushed. She jumps when her phone rings from her pocket. 

“Hi mom!” Aurora starts walking around the arena a little distracted by her mom on the phone and the letter that is folded up in her hands. “Mom, can I actually call you in a little bit? I’ve gotta.. uhh... I’ve got a lot to do to prep today and wanna get ahead of it before it gets crazy.” Aurora stops to the side of the hallway and slides the paper in her pocket, noticing the shoes she put on this morning. “Great. Love you most! Talk to you soon.” The sneakers. She finally decided to wear the Gucci sneakers. She sighs, a small smile creeping up on her face. 

The inside of the arena is set up for the concert already and there’s a dim glow through the whole space. She can see Harry sitting on the edge of the bstage, legs swinging slightly and his hands clasped together in his lap. When the door closes behind Aurora it echoes and Harry’s head whips to her. From all the way across the arena, she can make out the huge, dopey grin on his face. It’s one that elicits a dimple on his cheek and makes her ears flush again. She shoves her hands into the pockets of the jean jacket she’s got on, smiling back at him. When she’s closer Harry pushes himself off the stage. 

“Ror! Hi!” He looks like sunshine she thinks. Is it the yellow shirt he’s wearing? Is it the sparkle in his eye even though the arena is fairly dark? Is it that damn dimple or the crinkles around his eyes? Or is it- Her thoughts are cut off when he pulls her into a hug. Both of his arms are strong around her torso and she can tell he’s bent down a little because she is easily wrapping her own arms around his shoulders, hands finding a home near his neck. Harry has a bit of stubble on his face and she can feel as he nuzzles his head against her cheek before pressing a kiss there. “Happy you came,” he whispers against her neck. Aurora lets out a hum as he squeezes his arms around her just a little tighter, “so happy.” 

“Hi Harry,” she whispers back fighting the grin that inevitably appears. She buries her face into the crook of his neck. It seems that their hugs get closer and closer every time. A different wall of boundaries and insecurities breaking down between the two of them each time. He’s warm just like sunshine. Neither of them know who broke the hug but they slowly pull apart and Aurora’s cheeks flush as Harry’s bright green eyes locked with hers. 

They make small talk about their mornings and their flights from the night before. Aurora’s following close to Harry’s side as he walks around the arena, sipping her coffee that he promised her. He’s got tea in his cup. He reaches his free hand out to her when they reach steps that reach the farthest seats in the arena. She places her hand in his, slowly and he quickly grips her hand, pulling her along the steps behind him. 

“Harry, where are we going?” He laughs in response. “What’re we doing?” She’s laughing with him now. 

“Trust me, yeah?”

“Harry, I barely know you…” she trails off, a hint of joke in her voice. 

“But you still trust me, yeah?” he questions again. She doesn’t need to think before nodding at him with a small smile. He’s taking her all the way up the stairs and then through a door at the top of the arena. “I’ve watched a lot of Criminal Minds, Harry, I know how this ends!” she jokes at him. His laugh echoes through the hall they’re walking through now and she can’t help but let her smile grow. They go through one more door and Harry let’s go of her hand, the door closing behind them. In front of Aurora is a huge window that looks out over Amsterdam. 

“I remember finding this room back when I was touring with the boys.”

“Was that when you wore the orange jumpsuits?” Aurora asks with a laugh before she realises what she might have revealed. Harry looks at her with a smirk. 

“Ror… don’t tell me… you were a-” There’s a short moment of silence 

“Ugg yessss. Yes, I was a fan,” she blurts out. She’s rolling her eyes at herself for getting into this situation. “Makes you question bringing me up here, huh?” she jokes hoping he isn’t thinking about his invite twice. 

Before she knows it, he’s throwing an arm around her shoulder with a loud laugh. “I had a feeling.” Her shoulders drop, not having realised she tensed up at all. 

“My mom found my old posters and said I should bring them with me for you to sign.” She smiles up at him. 

“and did you?” 

“Though it might be weird if I were to bring a poster of Niall Horan on the Harry Styles World Tour,” she says with a straight face. Harry huffs and is silent for a moment. 

“Wait… are you serious?” 

“Dead serious.” Harry’s face changes. Is he jealous? She raises onto her tippy toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, well it’s more his jaw than his cheek. She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s rarely this bold, but the look on his face has turned her brain to mush she thinks. His face relaxes eventually. There’s a bit of silence between them before she speaks up again. “Why’d you bring me up here, Harry?” she asks finally. 

His arm that was wrapped around her shoulder finds its way to her waist. “Gets a bit lonely sometimes,” his fingertips dig slightly into her waist. A wash of warmth and shivers simultaneously cover her. Lonely. “It’s nice to share stuff sometimes,” he trails off, “just not with the whole world.” 

“I wish I could say that I get it and I’m sure you hear that all the time,” she lets the feeling of his hand at her waist pull her closer to his side, “but I’m happy to be here with you.” Aurora pulls her hands out of the pockets in her jacket. She mirrors his previous actions and lightly slides her arm around his waist. He digs his fingertips into her waist again and she can feel a breath leave his body, heavier than a sigh but barely audible. It isn’t till then that she realises how close their torsos are slotted together. She can feel every little movement from him and she’s suddenly aware of how she can feel the heat of his skin through the tshirt that’s draped perfectly over his body. Every square inch of her body that is in contact with his feels tingly and warm. She thinks if she were to pull away from him there would be red light where she was in contact with him. She does the exact opposite of pulling away from him. She turns her whole body towards him falling into his torso even more. She isn’t sure if it’s because she’s a little homesick or that her anxiety is making it hard to settle into the tour life, but something about Harry feels familiar and comfortable. “Hey, Harry,” she says quietly receiving a hum in response as he turns his head towards her, “uhm, I’m having a really great time on tour,” she decides to say. How do I tell him that something about this feels right? Familiar? That I’m  feeling a bit homesick and he’s somehow managed to wipe it away for the time being? She can see a smile start at his lips out of the corner of her eye. “Honestly, can’t believe this is my job,” she adds. 

His tongue clicks on his teeth, “You’re just saying that cause you’re here with me.” It comes out with a bit of a whine in his voice. 

“Nuh uh.” She shakes her head slightly before meeting his eyes. 

“Well,” he pauses, not breaking eye contact, “I’m having a good time too.” He’s smiling at her and somehow pulls her into him even closer. 

“Your shows say it all. Always look like you’re having the time of your life up there.” She’s smiling back at him, flashes of him performing appear behind her eyelids as she blinks. 

“The shows are always great, best part of my job.” His smile grows and it’s toothy and his dimples are visible again. “But I’m having a good time,” he pauses, “right now.” 

They stay silent for a little and look out at the view in front of them. Harry points out a few of things on the Amsterdam skyline, making corny jokes and a few puns as he continues on about tulips and windmills. He looks down at her again and uses the arm around her torso to turn her to face him completely, his hands clasping together at her lower back. Her hands landing flat on his chest without thinking. 

“Nice sneakers,” he smirks down at her. She presses her lips together, fighting a smile or a laugh, she’s not really sure. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. 

“Thanks, can’t remember where they’re from.” His hands shift at her back and he’s pulling her closer. He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek. 

“Damn,” he furrows his brows at the wall behind her. “I should really be getting back, I’ve got soundcheck… well I should’ve been at sound check 5 minutes ago.” She turns around to look at the clock breaking away from his hold. 

“We’ve been up her for almost 2 hours?” They both lock eyes before they’re laughing with each other. 

They go back a different way and end up at the back of the stage when they re-enter the arena no more than 2 minutes later. Aurora’s about to head to the dressing room and leave Harry to do his sound check but he pulls on her hand and his hands quickly find their way around her in a tight hug. She’s starting to get used to his hugs and his hands constantly at her waist or holding her hands. “I’ll see ya in a little bit, okay?” She nods against his chest. “Thanks for entertaining me, Ror.” He places one last lingering kiss to her cheek and before she knows it he’s on stage and his voice is booming through the speakers in the arena and she’s still standing there in awe of her afternoon. 

“Where’ve you been today?” Helene asks Aurora as she’s making a plate for dinner. 

“Oh, uhm, I’ve-” Aurora doesn’t really know what to tell her. She assumes if Harry wanted her to be hush about their afternoon that he would’ve said something. “I was with Harry,” she says quickly, adding a spoonful of hummus on her plate. 

“You were- you were with Harry?” Aurora blushes. “Aurora. Tell me everything.”

“Not much to tell.” She thinks the less she says the better. 

“Uh huh… I don’t believe you. Your cheeks are as red as the tomatoes on your plate.” 

“Okay, okay,” she says as they sit down at an empty table. She pulls the note from her pocket and hands it to Helene. She raises her eyebrows up at her while she unfolds the paper. 

“Aurora, oh mon dieu,” she voices, her french accent heavier when actually speaking French. “So you met him, then?” Aurora nods while picking at the plate in front of her. “Continue…” she urges her. 

Aurora tells Helene about her time with Harry while they finish their dinner and head back to the dressing rooms. Helene continues to ask questions about the afternoon and is picking apart every detail that Aurora has shared. They both grab everything they’ll need for the rest of the night, Helene, her camera and Aurora, her look book. Aurora also trades her jean jacket for her ‘Harry World Tour’ hoodie. 

“So you think you guys will hang out more?” Aurora is silent for a moment as they turn the corner. “Aurora?” 

“I mean, I want to but…” she trails off, “I don’t know. Not like this a normal situation… and it’s only the 1st week of tour. There’s still 4 months ahead of us.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“What if something happens?” 

“Don’t you want something to happen?” Helene questions Aurora as they enter Harry’s empty dressing room. Harry’s own Gucci throw pillows already place perfectly on the empty couch and his suitcase is set off to the corner. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. Guess I’m a bit scared.”

“Being a little scared is probably good.” Helene is setting up her camera, changing lenses and taking a few test shots of the room. “I mean, if there’s any feelings, whatever they are or may be, then it would be worth seeing where it goes. I don’t know Harry all too well yet but he seems genuine.” Aurora smiles at Helene at the comment. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful and I don’t want to scare you more but his life is much different than either of ours.” Helene can hear Aurora sigh across the room. “Just be careful, yeah?” 

“Yeah, you’re right, there’s no way to tell what will happen. Guess I’ll just take it as it goes?” 

“Think that’s best.” 

“This is also my job, my career…”

“Don’t think of your job and your relationship with Harry in the same space. You’ve gotta separate work and pleasure. Always.” Aurora giggles at that. “You good? I wanted to get some photos of the empty arena and the lines outside before they open the doors.” 

Aurora thanks Helene for letting her blab about her afternoon and is thankful for the alone time she’s greeted with once she leaves. Aurora grabs her headphones and calls her mom back as she goes to prep Clare, Sarah, Mitch and Adam’s clothes. She knows they’ll all be busy for at least another hour before they come back to their dressing rooms. 

Aurora doesn’t tell her mom about her afternoon with Harry. She does tell her that she loves tour life but is still a bit homesick. Her mom tells her about the new kitchen appliances they got for the house, some drama between some of their neighbors about grass upkeep and how they’re already counting down the days till the MSG shows when they get to see Aurora. As their conversation lingers on Aurora heads back to Harry’s dressing room. She smiles when she remembers what he’s sporting tonight. 

“Mom, I’ll definitely have to send you a photo of what he’s wearing tonight.”

“More Gucci?” She jokes.

“Surprisingly no!” She laughs along. “It’s actually a new designer, still in school too. I actually met him when I was at CSM when I met Lambert as well.” She pulls the Harris Reed ensemble out and hangs it on the empty rolling rack and taps the steamer on. “Not a classic suit in the slightest, flared pants with a chiffon insert at the flare, quite a frilly button up shirt and a cropped black vest. Pretty excited to see him perform in this.” Her mom gushes over the idea of The Harry Styles dancing around stage in something so unique. That leads her mom into questions about Harry - how is he, what’s he really like, are you friends, and does he have groups of women following him around all the time like you think a rockstar does. Aurora hushes her mom and gives her very short, minimal answers. 

“Mom, he’s really busy, I barely even see him.” She knows if she really starts talking about Harry

that her mom will be able to hear it in her voice. Her mom knows her all too well. 

Harry walks in just as she wrapping up the phone call with her mom. 

“Nice sweatshirt,” he says not seconds after she says goodbye to her mom. He smirks at her as he sits down in the chair in front of the vanity. Ayae hasn’t arrived yet. Aurora glances at her watch before tugging at one of the strings on her hoodie. She notices he’s starting to show up in his dressing room earlier and earlier each night.

“When do I get a sweatshirt with my name on it?” she asks turning back to the frilled shirt Harry will be adorned in later that evening.

“Probably never,” he says slyly. She whips her head around at him, shock written all over her face. “Quite like the look of my name on you.” He says it so nonchalantly. He’s not even looking at her when he says it. He’s messing around on his phone. She’s frozen while looking at his form sitting so casually in the chair, scrolling through his phone. She huffs in disbelief, barely able to process the words that had come out of his mouth. She was right. He lifts his head when she doesn’t say anything. When their eyes meet in the mirror she slowly turns back to her work. Little does she know that there’s a smirk appearing on his face as he goes back to messing about on his phone. 

“I had a feeling,” she boldly whispers to herself, half hoping he doesn’t hear her and half he actually does. 

“What was that, love?” he asks. He heard her she knows for sure but she plays along. 

“Oh nothing.” The room is quite silent for a few minutes apart from the noise the steamer makes once and a while. 

About 30 minutes later, Ayae finishes Harry’s hair and makeup. She’s cleaning up her stuff as Harry slides into the Harris Reed flared pants.

“Ror, I had fun today,” he speaks up once Ayae leaves. Aurora hands him his shirt. 

“So did I,” she says softly, not making eye contact. As she grabs the vest from the hanger she can see out of the corner of her eye that he’s not actually putting the shirt on. “Ya know, you gotta actually put your arms through the sleeves to get the shirt on, yeah?” she jokes though her voice is a bit shaky. Still not looking at him because she’s nervous and second guessing everything, like always

“Hey,” his voice is soft too now. She can tell he’s picked up on her nerves. “Everything alright, Ror?” She stays silent, not really knowing how to describe how she’s feeling right in that moment. She nods with a hum. Harry accepts her answer, for now and finally puts on his shirt. “Tie this for me?” He asks holding the long fabric ties out towards Aurora. 

“Course,” she says smiling to herself, predicting that this will be a common occurrence throughout the tour. He’s totally capable to tie it himself, but Aurora won’t argue with an excuse for the two of them to be just a few inches closer. “Harry,” he hums in response still looking intently at her while she keeps her focus on the fabric looping through her hands and fingers. “Uhm, you, uh, I’m just curious, but you’ve been calling me Ror, a lot,” she pauses, still pulling on the fabric around the collar, “instead of Aurora.” 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it anymore if you don’t want me to.” She can feel the heat from his neck as her fingertips brush against his throat every now and then. 

“No, I don’t mind actually. Just curious where you got it, I guess.” Once the bow is tied to her liking she grabs the cropped vest again. 

“Oh,” Harry chuckles lightly, almost like a nervous habit, “haven’t really given it much thought. Just kinda came to me as I got comfortable with ya.” Harry turns away from her and she holds up the vest. He slides his arms through and pulls on the front of the vest just as he has done with each suit jacket the previous nights. Aurora speaks up while she’s getting the shoulder seams of the vest to sit just right on Harry’s broad shoulders. 

“My mom has always called me that,” she shoots him a small smile in the mirror, “Ror or Rory.” He smiles back at her. “Really, not a lot of people call me by a nickname.” Harry turns back around to face Aurora, a hand going to her waist as a voice announces 15 minutes till curtain. “It’s nice to hear it when I’m so far from home.”

“Well, Rory,” he winks at her. “I’ve got a show to put on. Thanks for making me look the best.” 

“Harry, you’re forgetting your shoes…” she giggles at him. He places a kiss on the top of her cheek, something she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of. 

“What would I do without you?” He slides a fresh pair of socks on and then his boots, then another kiss to her cheek before he’s running out the door to perform on stage for an insane amount of people. 

Aurora watches most of the show from the audience. Half of her time is spent watching Harry on stage and the other is tagging along with Helene and watching in awe of her getting the best shots. Aurora is thrilled with how the flares look when he’s dancing around and takes a video to send to her family’s group chat and Lambert. Harry has just draped one of the many pride flags he’s acquired on stage over his mic stand just as the updated, rocky version of ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ starts. He’s not even finished with the 1st verse and the bow that she tied loose around his neck has come undone. As he launches into the next verse he makes direct eye contact with Aurora. She can feel her cheeks heat up as he grabs for the loose pieces of fabric and re ties them into a bow without breaking eye contact. The second the bow is tied he takes his mic from the stand and walks over to the side of the stage, passing Aurora. He walks back towards his mic stand while belting out the lyrics, a smile starting to sneak up on him. Harry doesn’t make it to the mic stand before he pivots back towards Aurora’s direction. He directs the mic towards the audience signally them to sing louder. Simultaneously, he looks down at Aurora who is standing next to Helene in front of the barrier, who is crouching down to get a good angle of the stage. The smile that was sneaking up on him makes a full appearance as a lopsided smirk directed at her. The only thing besides Harry’s smile that she is aware of in the arena of thousands and thousands of people is the click of Helene’s camera. 

“Gotta figure out something with those dang bows,” was the first thing Aurora said to Harry when he arrived back in his dressing room after the show. 

“Maybe I’ve gotta tone down my dancing?”

“Hmm probably a good idea to do that anyways,” she spits back at him as she takes the vest off his shoulders, “bow or no bow.” His eyes turn to slits as he grimaces at her joke. 

“Ha ha. You’re so funny, Rory,” he deadpans. 

“Come on,” she says through a yawn, “start handing me your clothes so I can get them packed up.” There’s a hint of sleepiness in her voice and she isn’t even trying to cover it up. 

Harry starts to peel one piece of clothing off after the next and handing them to her. A barely clothed Harry stands in front of her, a situation she has started to kind of - key words, kind of - get used to. She’s hanging everything up, the start of her new nightly routine. In her head she knows she’s just getting closer and closer to getting the chance to fall asleep in a huge bed that awaits her back at the hotel. 

“Ror, would you wanna come out with me tonight?” She hums and yawns again, giving him a questioning look. “A few of us are going out to get food and drink, wanna come with?” Suddenly Aurora is aware of what he’s asking. 

“Oh, Harry, I don’t know,” nerves tickle through her fingertips as she hangs up the flared trousers Harry had on, not moments ago. Go out with Harry? And his friends? Today had already been a lot for her. Aurora is overwhelmed at the thought and thankful that she has clearly shown signs of her exhaustion already. An easy excuse. “I’m really tired. Not really used to the traveling and jet lag is still kicking my ass.” 

Harry is silent before he speaks up, “Okay,” he says solemnly, “maybe next time then?” She nods at him in agreement knowing full well that she’ll make an excuse next time. She doesn’t know why, but something just doesn’t feel right with taking whatever her and Harry have outside the bubble that each arena has created. 

“Great show tonight, Harry!  I’ll see you in Antwerp.”

Hope you enjoyed !! feedback & comments always appreciated !!! 

[izzy-b-hands]

Closer to You

Inspired by this picture! I’ve had this fic rumbling around my skull ever since I first saw that picture, and finally (after sharing the idea with some friends on discord and getting some positive feedback) decided to write it! 

Poly!Queen but with a focus on Brian/Freddie. The aforementioned/linked pic occurs, and it’s delightful, but with a little Bit Extra that occurs. As a result of that Extra, it’s only natural that some playful one-upmanship of a kind should occur as well. 

As you might have started to guess, there is smut in this one, and in fact that’s...well that’s a lot of it askldfja. I have no defense either; I’m just having a good time here. 

Titled after the Adam Lambert song because I'm a yearning gay motherfucker lmao.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

It was planned chaotically, was how he liked to say it. 

Step here, crawl there, on your knees then back up and over to Brian, arch your back in front of him (and admire the little smile it always earned him.) 

But the kiss wasn’t planned; a quick dip down on Brian’s part and said kiss that lasted just long enough to make his knees a bit weak as he bounced back up and away from Brian, still on schedule with the next bit of movement onstage. 

He couldn’t help the blushing though, and thank goodness they knew the crowds like they did (no shock or anger at such a kiss here, just giggles and wolf whistles and some shouting from the audience.) 

The show went on, and he tried not to be distracted by the thoughts in his head. 

Backstage, however...

---

“You little shit!” 

“Sorry,” Brian smiled. “I couldn’t help myself, but it was probably too bold. No one seemed to mind though.” 

“Why would they?” Roger asked with a laugh. “Think most of them got to see something they’d been waiting for; you made their night!” 

“We could have too,” John noted. “Might have been a lot for one show though.” 

“You find a way to lean over the kit without knocking it down to kiss me, and we’ll make ourselves the focus of the next show,” Roger said. “Let these two have their spotlight moment for tonight.” 

“You could have gotten me back with something,” Brian said as he packed up. “Honestly, I was shocked when you didn’t try anything.” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be doing that,” Freddie replied as he slipped past Brian to snag some of their clothing off of the racks, getting in a quick smack to Brian’s ass as he moved. “You just won’t know when until it’s happening.” 

Brian’s face was red, but his smile eager, even as John and Roger laughed. 

“Alright, bet on who makes who come while onstage first?” Roger offered to John.

“Don’t be nasty; they won’t go that far!” 

Roger shot Freddie a look. “I’d say we don’t know that for sure.” 

---

That actually wasn’t his intention. That would be far too much interruption during a show, and too much in general at that. 

But if he could make Brian’s knees weak, make him want to drag him backstage immediately after a show and tear his clothing off? 

That would be just fine. 

Part of it was just to go off the planned track of things. He started it slow at the next show, stumbling into Brian’s area of the stage more often than he might have otherwise. Bumping hips with him, singing with him at his mic (a convenient time to grind himself against Brian’s ass), just being as much in Brian’s way as he could. 

And it earned him smiles and giggles and the occasional grind back, but it wasn’t enough yet. 

“I thought you were going to get back at me for that kiss,” Brian teased him after the show. “Was that it?” 

“I did expect more from you, Fred,” Roger said. “I’m not disappointed, just surprised.” 

“He’s not done,” John smirked. “You both know that.” 

Freddie only grinned. They’d see the rest of it as it happened, even if patience wasn’t a virtue most of them could hold onto for long. 

---

He could feel Roger and John watching him now too, as he ground his way up Brian’s leg, letting his head drop onto Brian’s shoulder for a minute. All under the guise of ‘being into the music’ (which admittedly, he was), but just as much it was to drive Brian mad. 

It seemed to work. Brian’s breath was shaky the longer he lingered there, and he missed singing along with the next few lines. As soon as he felt Brian was really weak-kneed, he drifted away again. 

And then he stayed away, except for a few runs back for air guitar, but never too close to Brian. Who did try and scoot closer to him, catching his eyes once with a questioning look when Freddie bounded away yet again.

Brian only shook his head and laughed backstage, but there was a delightful tension in his eyes every time he caught Freddie’s gaze. 

Almost there.

---

He pulled that move again at the next show, more than a few times. Truthfully, his legs were almost less tired than usual, purely because he spent so much time bracing himself against Brian. 

Grinding on his thigh, barely resisting the urge to let a hand pull Brian’s hips back when he bumped up behind him to sing with him at his mic, and otherwise draping himself all over Brian as much as he could. 

He knew for sure he’d done it when Brian broke, and reached for him one of the few moments he bounced away to cover the rest of the stage. 

There was no hiding that, from Freddie, from Roger and John, from the road crew watching, from the audience. 

Which had to explain why he didn’t hide it backstage either. 

“Please take this,” Brian commanded, politely (and if that wasn’t just adorable too) of the guitar tech that followed them backstage. “Quickly, now!” 

The tech only laughed and raised a brow when he caught Freddie’s eye. The road crew would be staying away from their area of the backstage then, at least. 

John and Roger’s laughter could be heard, but they dipped away into the other green room, and suddenly he realized why they’d insisted upon making use of both rooms at this venue. 

He giggled himself as Brian nearly dragged him into their green room, slamming the door shut behind them. “You alright?” 

“I-” Brian hesitated. His fingers went on a journey, undoing his zipper, only to switch to the buttons of his arrow-covered tunic, then briefly reaching to yank down part of Freddie’s leotard. “There’s too much to try and take off here.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh fully at that, draping his arms around Brian’s neck as he kissed him. “We can’t fuck here anyway, you know that.” 

“Do we know that?” Brian protested weakly. “There’s no law. Well. Public decency laws I guess, but I think the door locks...” 

“You’re so fucking adorable,” Freddie sighed, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder. “But I’m going to make you wait until the hotel.” 

“That is...absolutely cruel,” Brian murmured. 

“Mhm, but you don’t hate it, do you?” Freddie teased, giving him another quick kiss before moving away and working his leotard off. “How much will it kill the mood if you help me pull this off of my legs?” 

“It won’t,” Brian smiled, and waited for him to sit down in the nearest chair before kneeling down to help tug the material off. 

“Oh yes, because this is incredibly erotic,” Freddie smiled. “Dragging sweaty lycra off of your boyfriend, what more could you ask for?” 

“I’ve got ideas,” Brian replied, and leaned down to press kisses to Freddie’s bare thighs. 

It was his turn to shiver at that, with the touch of Brian’s lips and the almost ticklish feeling of his curls on his skin. 

Brian glanced up at Freddie’s cock, hard despite the restraint of the dancer belt he’d worn underneath the leotard for the night. “I thought you were going to make me wait for the hotel?” 

“Shut up,” Freddie sighed. “I’ll be fine to make it there, thank you.” 

“And you’ll hide that how?” 

“I could ask you the same,” Freddie replied, gesturing to the bulge in Brian’s tight trousers. “We’ll just have Roger and John walk in front of us.” 

“And what if they’re over in their room doing this too?” 

Freddie rolled his eyes playfully. “Then we give anyone watching us leave a show!” 

---

They didn’t, though it took noticeably more time to get ready to leave (not his fault that he got distracted by thinking of kissing the freckles all over Brian’s chest, anyone would fall to the same thoughts while helping him out of his tunic.) But that was almost better, as many of the fans had gotten understandably tired of waiting, and had left. 

“I can admit I would have lost my original bet,” Roger said as they walked down the road to the blessedly close hotel. “But I think I could make another one now that I know I’d win...” 

“Too bad you’ll be too busy with me to make bets of any kind,” John teased, and Freddie realized that Brian clearly hadn’t been too far off in assuming how they’d spent their time in the other green room. 

But that worked fine. There were nights where all of them squished into the same room, the same bed, and nights where they paired off instead. Both were good, and he certainly didn’t mind if tonight was a night of pairing off and potentially raising separate noise complaints from any nearby guests. 

Roger and John were at one end of the hall, himself and Brian at the other, and right about now he dreaded that they hadn’t argued to take the room at the closer end. Because while Roger and John slipped away into their room, there was still a long hall to walk for himself and Brian. 

But like he’d figured, there would be no making it all the way to their room without pause. 

That it came in the form of Brian, suddenly and apparently not caring about being seen, pressing him against the wall, holding his arms in place above his head, a thigh gently shoved in between his legs, made it a very good pause indeed. 

“The room is maybe five feet away,” he teased all the same when Brian finally stopped kissing him to take a breath. “Shall I carry you?” 

Brian smiled, and before Freddie could get another word out, pulled him up into his arms. 

“Brian!” he hissed it, even as his legs wrapped around Brian’s waist. “Someone could walk up here-” 

“Good,” Brian interrupted. “Let them.” 

“You are something else,” Freddie whispered, cradling Brian’s face to kiss him as Brian did his best to carefully walk them to the door of their room. 

“Yeah, but so are you,” Brian said. “We match.” 

Match they did, as Brian fumbled the door open, finally forced to put Freddie down as they stumbled inside. Matching hands reaching to push the door shut, to try and lock it quickly, then to flick on the light switch. Matching feet nearly tripping over each other as they made their way to the bed while matching fingers tugged at street clothes to pull them off and toss them to the floor. 

Normally, they might have paused now. For a shower, and to see if they really had the energy to keep going (there was the high of the show, and then the crash after, and sometimes it utterly killed any other plans they had for the night.) 

Instead, it only slowed. 

Which was both better and torturous, as far as Freddie was concerned. On his back on the bed, shirt gone, trousers open but not yet pulled off, while Brian straddled him. His head was bent down, pressing kisses to Freddie’s chest, the light touch of his curls making Freddie squirm. 

He couldn’t keep his hips from bucking up against Brian, who lifted his head and grinned. 

“Have patience!” 

But he bucked his hips again, and smirked at the groan it earned him. “What was that about patience, Bri?” 

“Oh shut up,” Brian moaned, sitting back up and leaning back to roll against him. 

And that was a picture that Freddie tried to take a mental snapshot of. Brian leaned back, his bare chest a sinuous sight that he wished he could reach and lick his way up. His trousers undone just enough that Freddie could reach forward and palm at Brian’s hard cock through his pants. It made Brian shudder beautifully, grinding himself down even harder against Freddie. 

“Patience is overrated, at times,” Freddie murmured. “Don’t you think?” 

Brian nodded, and climbed off of him long enough for the rest of their clothes to be pulled off and tossed away from the bed. 

He’d put condoms and a bottle of lube into the drawer of the bedside table as a just in case, and he was incredibly glad he had now. He could grab them without having to move away from Brian’s lips and hands, that wandered happily over his skin. 

Brian’s hands did stop to take the lube from him though, eager fingers working himself open while Freddie watched. 

Brian groaned as he worked, and Freddie shook his head. 

“Don’t you dare make yourself come. Not unless you think you can keep going after.” 

Brian only smirked in response, eyes still closed. 

He took the spare time to get a condom on, to steal the lube back for a moment and slick it over his cock. 

Another moment, and Brian was in his lap, slowly working himself onto his cock, thigh muscles shaking as he did. 

“Good?” 

Brian nodded and swallowed hard. “Think I’m going to make kissing you onstage a habit, if this is what it gets me.” 

Freddie leaned up, smiling at the moan the movement elicited from Brian, and kissed him hard. “I’d like that.” 

“So will the fans,” Brian giggled, then shivered as Freddie thrust gently. 

There was no more room for talking then, lips focused only on kissing and leaving marks at each other’s necks and chest, while Brian readjusted his legs to wrap around Freddie. 

He only kept them like that for a bit more, conscious that Brian’s knees would start to hurt the longer they stayed that way. Just as good was switching to put Brian on his back, slipping inside of him again to a happy moan, fucking him hard and leaning down to pull at his curls (carefully, mindfully, lovingly) until he felt Brian’s cock twitch and jump between them, his come warm as it hit their skin. 

He started to slip out of him, content to pull the condom off and jack himself off onto Brian’s stomach, but Brian’s hands held his hips down. 

“Keep going,” Brian’s voice shuddered. “I can handle it; you feel so fucking good, please just keep going.” 

He let himself lean back down, thrusting hard, erratic (because fuck did Brian feel good, warm around him, legs around his waist to hold him as close as possible.) 

Brian’s voice was in his ear, half wordless happy mumbling, half moaning his name, begging him to not stop.

That was all it took, and he let his eyes close, head dropped against Brian’s chest as he came hard. 

Brian’s fingers lingered in his hair, playing with it as Freddie slipped out of him, panting and pressing kisses to his collar bone. 

The need to get up and grab a towel so they could clean up was there in his mind, but he couldn’t bear the thought of moving. 

“Give it a few minutes,” Brian murmured. “I can’t...” 

“I know,” Freddie sighed happily. “Can we just stay here maybe? I think leaving bed is as overrated as patience.” 

Brian kissed his forehead, and he felt like he was glowing. “It might be. But I’ll get up eventually. Get us cleaned up. Least I can do after you fucked me that well.” 

They settled into soft giggles and gentle making out, and all he could think of was Brian kissing him again onstage. 

Sure, the fans might enjoy the bit of extra show too. As would John and Roger, and that was lovely. 

But at the end of it, it was truly all for him and Brian, and that was what made it perfect, and made his heart feel so wonderfully full it might burst. 

[damianalbarn]

BLUR ANSWER YOUR QUERIES: 3 of 3

If you knew you were going to get abducted by aliens, what three things would you each bring on your journey? (Jessie Jessup, California)

Graham: “A flame thrower, a recordable MiniDisc player…”

Damon: “I think I’d bring with me what I’d bring on any interstellar journey. Lots of drugs.”

Dave: “A toothbrush. Some useless effects.”

Alex: “Space noises.”

Graham: “Binary code. And a gorilla.”

Alex: “‘The Great Escape’.”

Damon: “Alex and Dave are sending a Damien Hirst spot painting to Mars. He’s doing it with some kind of reactive paint or something, so that certain elements of the atmosphere will react to the spots. It sounds quite interesting. The Groucho Club, basically, is going to Mars. God help the Martians.”

What are your favourite Linda McCartney veggie meals? (Liz Smeaton, Wiltshire)

Alex: “Sausage rolls.”

Dave: “The country pies.”

Alex: “Do you glaze yours?”

Dave: “Of course.”

Damon: “I don’t eat frozen foods. Either I cook things or I eat out, nothing in between.”

Graham: “My freezer doesn’t work. So I have to eat ice cream, constantly.”

I’ve heard Dave is interested in animation. Can we expect to see any of his work in the near future? (Duncan Genevieve, Surrey)

Dave: “It’s a painstaking business, but I am working on animation type stuff, very slowly. The world will have to wait for a while.”

Is it true that you almost split up? And do you argue all the time? (Sarah, Bristol)

Damon: “We do argue quite a bit. But not all the time.”

Graham: “I think argue is too strong a word for what actually happens.”

Damon: “It amazes me how fascinated everyone is with whether we argue or not. It’s like someone constantly going, ‘Is your nose falling off?’ Ultimately, you’re going to get a complex about your nose. People keep mentioning this one thing, and because they mention it other people mention it. Then suddenly everyone seems to think we’re going to split up, and that’s not an issue.”

Damon, do you ever want to punch Brett? (Shaun, Weymouth)

Damon: “My feeling is that it would be nice to stroke Brett’s balls. I’d rather get on with him, really. It’s rubbish. The last time I saw Brett, I had a cup of tea with him. He’s not a friend of mine, really, but he’s also not someone that I’d want to run over in the street.”

What’s the worst haircut Damon‘s had? (Lucy Hollis, Edinburgh)

Graham: “It always looks OK at the time, but you look back and go, ‘Bloody hell’.”

Alex: “The ‘There’s No Other Way Video’. They’re all pretty spectacularly bad haircuts, aren’t they? Damon had a sort of tidy bowl, with the fringe cut off.”

Damon: “My worst haircut was actually when I was at school. I used to have a mullet, with a sort of spiky bit at the front.”

Does your wealth embarrass you? (Courtney Banks, Inverness)

Damon: “Yeah, on occasions.”

Alex: “It depends who you’re with.”

Damon, is it true you’ve been working on film soundtracks? (Ingrid Eaves, London)

Damon: “Yeah. I’ve done one with Michael Nyman, which will be coming out in the summer here, called Ravenous. It’s about cannibals. A horror film, basically. A serious horror film. And there are a couple of other things that I’m working on, in the pipeline.”

What’s your favourite drink? (S Henry, Watford)

Alex: “Perfume.”

Damon: “Rum and cranberry juice, though I don’t have it very often. No, actually, to be honest, my favourite drink is tea with fresh mint.”

From the perspective of the rest of the band, what’s the most embarrassing thing Damon has ever done onstage? (Gavin M, Australia)

Alex: “When his drawers came down. That takes the biscuit.”

Damon: “I pulled my trousers, and pants down at Brixton Academy. And I then realised that the whole audience was laughing hysterically. So I fell on the stage and tried to make it look like it was all a big accident. It was like the Theatre Of Cruelty. That was on the Rollercoaster tour, probably the most alcoholic period of our entire career.”

Alex: “Remember what J Mascis said? ‘Are you gonna get your little butts out again tonight?'”

Graham: “That was the most rock’n’roll tour ever. It was the most booze I’ve ever drunk.”

Alex: “And there was that other fucking nutter from Dinosaur Jr throwing beer bottles around.”

Damon: “I remember one hitting me on the head while I was playing the piano. It was like being in a Western.”

You’ve said you don’t want to tour again, but what about the fans? (Betsy-Shane Rosenblum, New York)

Damon: “First of all, you shouldn’t refer to yourself as a fan, it’s demeaning. We are playing some places. We’re playing big festivals, and we’ve already played loads of little gigs. Over the years, we’ve done just about everything, and people have always moaned. When they’ve been little, they’ve been too little, and when we’ve played big ones, they’ve been too big. It shouldn’t matter. We’re never going to be able to please everybody all of the time. So our only responsibility, ultimately, is to make good records. That’s our main aim. And that’s what we’re going to concentrate on continuing to do.”

-

And it’s here, sadly, that we have to cease our interrogation, despite the fact that we still have a holster full of unanswered questions. Blur are a busy band, you know, and they’ve promises to keep. Damon has a meeting he needs to get to, so he’s already waving goodbye and running for a taxi. Dave is off to the airfield, where Alex will join him later. They are going to fly to Spain for a day, but first, Alex has to attend a charity function. Graham is removing his headphones and minidisc player from his oversize backpack, trying to find something to soundtrack his journey to Camden, where he plans to continue avoiding the lure of the pub.

Still, we leave feeling confident we’ve gained some insight into the Blur psyche. We may still not know what that weird noise is in ‘Trimm Trabb’, but at least we know that next time – if we really want to impress them – we should bring along some cheese sandwiches. And maybe a few monkeys.

(NME, June 1999)

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 28

Written by: Sol, ss, Allegra Edited by: ss

“So…what’d you think of that?” Paul unlocked the door to the flat and flopped down on the couch, exhausted.

“It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.” Bob hung his jacket up in the closet and went over to the couch, not joining Paul, but standing over him. He had to admit, he’d never had that big of an adrenaline rush before. By the time he got home there were still remnants of it and he wanted to ride it out.

“I had a great time,” Paul laughed. “Can’t wait to do that more often.” In the soothing, yellow glow of the cheap lights in the flat, Paul looked softer than ever. Bob had the strong urge to cuddle him, but knew he had to hold back. Even though they had shared their moments once in a while ever since the date, they had never actually talked about what their status was. So he stopped himself, even when the adrenaline was pushing him to wrap his arms around Paul and rest his head on his chest. He settled for sitting at the armrest, staring at Paul’s sleepy smile, chipped teeth and an arm draped over his face.

“You can come a bit closer, Bob. I’m not modeling today.”

Bob laughed and sat down next to Paul. “I’m just thinking about a lot of things right now.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. I’m not used to people paying attention to me… I don’t know if I really liked performing tonight.”

“Well, you did a great job.” Paul sat up and rested his head on Bob’s shoulder. “And looked great too, might I add.”

“Don’t say that…” Bob smiled as his face began to burn. He hoped Paul couldn’t see. After an entire night of other people possibly staring at him, he didn’t know if he could handle any more, even if it was from Paul.

“We all loved being onstage with you tonight. Alex told me you’re one of the best bassists he’s ever heard, and you just started two weeks ago!”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say I’m one of the best, but…”

“You’re just—” Bob felt arms wrapped around him. Perhaps Paul was high from the stage adrenaline rush too, he thought as Paul crushed him in a hug. “You’re the grounding energy we need onstage!”

“But—”

“I mean, Nick’s quite literally vibrating, Alex is up there trying to be all… flashy, I’m going absolutely crazy in the back, and… you’re just so cool, Bobbo!”

Between the pet name and the stage feedback, Bob opted to respond to the easier one. “Am I really that cool?”

“Yeah! Of course!” Paul laughed and tackled Bob, ruffling the blonde hair on the top of his head. “I mean it. I’ve seen gigs, been part of them before a couple of times too. I would know.”

Bob’s body was aching already from all the tension of performing, and now his cheeks had started to ache as well. He couldn’t contain his smile. It felt nice to be acknowledged by Paul, being pampered by compliments as he snuggled him. Everything felt nice and it was one of the rare moments that he felt fully confident in himself. In fact, he was so confident that he decided that maybe it was time that he put himself out there.

Paul untangled himself from Bob and got up. “Heading to bed, you joining?”

Bob tried to act cool. He should be used to this kind of wording from Paul. Bob shook his head. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Alright. Good night, Bob.”

“Good night.”

As Bob watched Paul retreat down the hallway, his thoughts turned back to the gig. The way he and Paul had quickly locked into rhythm together; the way Nick had bounced around the stage, more energetic than Bob had ever seen him; and Alex...everything about Alex, really. The way he managed to hit every note and chord perfectly even as he jumped and danced and occasionally ran around the stage. The way his fringe bounced against his forehead, the way he locked eyes with each person in the audience as though they were the only person in the room, the way he smiled and nodded at them...the way he had smiled at Bob, reassuring him. Bob pressed the palms of his hands against his eyelids, his heart fluttering at the memory. Alex was always so careful to make sure that Bob was alright.

As Bob reflected on Alex, he realized that if he wanted to become closer with him, he had to start being more honest. Although the thought terrified him, Bob was going to come out to Alex the next time he saw him.

--

Bob’s newfound confidence lasted all weekend, and by the time class rolled around on Monday, he felt ready to approach Alex. He made sure to get to class early to save the two seats in the back corner that he and Alex normally occupied, and began doodling absentmindedly in his sketchbook while he waited.

Alex rushed into the classroom a few minutes later and plopped down next to Bob. “Hey,” he gasped, slightly out of breath. “Thanks for saving my seat.”

“No problem,” Bob said, suddenly feeling far less confident. He rolled his pencil between his fingers. It was now or never. “Hey, Alex...I...I wanted to tell you something,” he said softly, now gripping the pencil.

“What’s that?” Alex turned to face Bob. He seemed unusually serious for 9 o’clock on a Monday morning.

Bob leaned closer to Alex so as not to draw attention to himself. “So I was talking to Paul the other day...and uh...we, I, um…I told him...”

Alex tilted his head, unsure of where this could be going.

“...I told him that I wanted our trip to Kelvingrove to be a date. Like...a date date.”

“Oh?” Alex sat up a little straighter. “You and Paul are dating?”

“No! Well, I mean, we went on a date? But...no...no, we’re not...” Bob muttered.

“Oh. But that means you’re…”

Bob looked at Alex, took a deep breath, and said the words he’d never been able to say out loud before. “Gay. Yeah. I’m gay.” The words rushed out of his mouth in a torrent. “And I just...I wanted you to know since you’re...you’re one of my best friends, you know?” He bit his lip and looked down, studying the pattern on the carpet. He jumped when he felt a warm touch on his right knee. “Well, thank you,” Alex smiled. “I’m honored.” Alex glanced around as the last few students trickled into the room - their professor would be here any minute. “Did you just figure it out…?”

“I always knew I was a little different...ever since I was a kid...but I couldn’t really put a name to it for a long time...until I was, I dunno, 14? 15, maybe?” Bob was rambling now, but he glanced up at Alex and figured that he didn’t seem to mind.

Alex nodded. “I always kind of thought you were.”

“Really?” Bob’s voice was a panicked whisper. Had it really been that obvious?

“Yeah. Dunno why, really. Just had a feeling.” Alex looked over at Bob, green eyes sparkling beneath those damned long eyelashes, and Bob felt his heart skip a beat. Alex shifted closer to Bob, leaning his arm on Bob’s desk, just as their professor walked in. “We can talk more later,” Alex said, a sly smile on his lips. Bob could have almost sworn that Alex winked at him.

As Bob went to close his sketchbook at the end of class, he flipped past a certain page with a certain drawing on it. He paused, considered it, then nudged Alex's shoulder. "Hey, I want to show you something."

Alex sat back up from stuffing his supplies into his bag. "Yeah?" Alex said, trailing off as he noticed Bob's opened sketchbook. He leaned closer. It was...it was him.

Alex laughed gently and held the sketchbook. The drawing was quite accurate, but was done in Bob’s signature soft style. Alex also noticed that it was drawn from Bob’s angle sitting next to him in class.

“Well, that’s sweet,” Alex smiled.

“Sweet?”

“Mhm,” Alex’s smile grew even wider. “You know what else is sweet?”

Bob shook his head, his stomach twisting and turning.

“You.” Alex raised his eyebrows, stepping so close to Bob that he could feel the warmth of his soft, rosy cheeks.

Bob giggled softly, looking back up at Alex after overcoming his embarrassment. Was this...flirting? Was Alex flirting with him? "You're sweet too," he said quietly.

Alex smiled at Bob, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'm going to head out now, if you care to join." He gave Bob a knowing look and left the classroom. Bob grabbed his bag, nearly spilling the entire contents onto the floor in his rush, and hurried out the door, catching up to Alex.

Once they were in the hallway, Bob looked up at Alex, searching for an answer to what was going on. Alex only grinned and pulled Bob into the corner behind the door where they hid from Dino a few weeks earlier. Before Bob could react, Alex's hands were on Bob's shoulders, steering him against the wall. There was a thunk that Bob vaguely realized was Alex's bag dropping off his shoulder and then, without warning, Alex kissed him.

Kissing Paul had been soft, careful, delicate - but this was different. Kissing Alex was fireworks and sparks and electricity, hands grabbing at hips, Alex's tongue swiping across Bob's lips. Bob instinctively parted them, his own tongue tangling with Alex's.

They stayed like that for a few moments until Alex pulled back, gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed. Bob had never seen Alex like this, but he knew he certainly wouldn't mind seeing more.

As if reading Bob's mind, Alex slipped his hands around Bob’s waist, pulling him close. “We should take this somewhere a little more private,” he murmured, giving Bob a sly smile. He slid one hand down to Bob’s arse and dragged the knuckles of the other across the bulge in Bob’s trousers.

Bob gasped softly at the sensation. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he brushed his lips against Alex’s again and whispered back, “Let’s go.”

[prissyhalliwell]

Summary: Mr. Gold has been working for the dinner theatre company “The Enchanted Forest” for years, performing the same boring show every weekend. Nothing has ever changed, until Belle French joins the cast to play its princess.

~ Winner of Best Mr. Gold in the 2016 TEA Awards ~  

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven I Chapter Eight I Chapter Nine I Chapter Ten I  Chapter Eleven I Chapter Twelve I Read on AO3

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took forever! Like Gold, I was dealing with a lack of confidence, so I did a lot of editing and re-writing. Hopefully it turned out okay! As a treat for being so patient with me, see the notes at the end of the chapter ;)

Chapter Thirteen

The big night had come at last.

Belle paced in the wings, waiting for her cue to walk onstage. Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into fists at her side, trying to calm herself.

The show had gone wonderfully so far. The audience had been enthusiastically vocal in their appreciation for the new material, clapping and laughing accordingly. Considering how little time the cast had been given to prepare, it was amazing how smoothly everything had gone.

Unfortunately for Belle, the two parts of the night that she had been dreading the most were still in front of her: the kiss with Gold and her date with him after the show.

She wasn’t sure which she was more nervous about. If the kiss was anything like those she’d experienced during rehearsal, it was going to be completely underwhelming. The crowd would be disappointed and the climax of the love story would be ruined.

Equally as mortifying would be if Gold sulked his way through their double date. Not only would it humiliate her in front of Ursula, one of her dearest friends and mentors, but it would provoke Cruella into doing something just as embarrassing. Knowing Cruella as she did, Belle knew the costume designer would have no misgivings about berating Gold for his behavior - especially if she could do it in front of the rest of the cast while making lewd suggestions every other sentence.

Swallowing back a groan, Belle tried to look at the brightside. At least things couldn’t get any worse.

Then she remembered that Merlin was sitting in the audience, ready to grill them for the tiniest misstep in his review the following morning.

Her stomach churned. She felt nauseous, as if hundreds of butterflies were using her stomach as their own personal mosh pit. Glancing at the exit door, she calculated the time it would take her to run to her car in her full-length gown. If she kicked off her heels, she was pretty sure she could make it without tripping.

Then perhaps she could call in sick for...ever?

Lost in her plans of escape, she didn’t notice Gold until he had already walked up beside her. He gave her what she supposed was an encouraging smile, but looked a lot more like a grimace.

“Once more unto the breach,” he said, his jovial tone sounding rather strained to Belle’s ears.  

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That would sound a lot more comforting if the next line wasn’t talking about corpses.”

Gold had the decency to look embarrassed. “Ah, good point.” He glanced down at his shoes, avoiding her gaze. “So I guess we’re still on for the...um...thing later? That’ll be...fun.”

The last thing Belle wanted to deal with right now was Gold’s anxiety, especially when she had plenty of her own to distract her. She was already worried that she might forget her lines again - she didn’t need Gold to make her more flustered than she already was.

Ironically, she was much more comfortable with him onstage these days than off. Apart from the kissing, Gold was professional and easy to work with during rehearsals - it was his behavior offstage that made her so frustrated that she wanted to rip all that soft brown hair out of his head. It was almost like he had two different personalities: the confident, flamboyant Chancellor with his dramatic flourishes and the timid, shy actor who couldn’t find his voice unless he was tripping over it. She loved them both, but there was only one she wanted to strangle right now.

A terse reply was on the tip of her tongue when she looked back at Gold. He looked absolutely miserable.

Belle’s anger deflated instantly. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to come on the date because he wanted to, not because he had been tricked into it. Despite how the last few weeks had felt, they weren’t living in some melodramatic rom-com. Neither she nor Cruella could force him into doing something he didn’t want to.  

If this was ever going to work out between them, Gold needed to choose this for himself.

“Look,” Belle said, looking him squarely in the eye, “if you don’t want to go out for drinks tonight, then don’t come.”

His eyes practically bugged out of their sockets, but she didn’t wait for him to reply.

“I don’t want to force you to go on a date with me,” she said honestly. “I want you to go because you want to.”

His mouth opened but it was several moments before the words actually came out. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said. “It’s just - complicated.”

Her hope rose a bit. He’d admitted that he wanted to go out with her. That was a start.

“What’s holding you back? Perhaps I can help.”

His expression darkened. “Belle, I’m - I’m not who you think I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I swear to god, if you’re about to feed me some crap about being in the Witness Protection Program...”

“No, it’s nothing like that!” Gold looked pained, as if he’d rather be anywhere else than talking to her right now. “It’s just...you don’t actually want me, Belle. You want the Chancellor, the man who inspired you to act all those years ago. I can play him for a few hours every night, but I can’t be him, not in real life. The real me would just disappoint you. It’s better if we just...leave things as they are.”

If Belle had been annoyed at him before, it was nothing to the heat that started to build within her at this confession. She may be new to acting compared to Gold, but she wasn’t naive.

“So you don’t think I’m smart enough to tell the difference between fiction and reality?”

Gold’s eyes grew large and he took an almost imperceptible step back from her as he realized his mistake.

“No, that’s not - ”

“Or perhaps you think I’m so completely clueless that I don’t know my own feelings? I know this might come as a shock to you, but we’re not actually living in medieval times. You don’t get to decide my future for me because you’re the one wearing trousers.”

Gold’s mouth was opening and closing, but no words were coming out. That suited Belle just fine. Her anger was rising by the second, all the frustration and stress of the last few weeks feeding the flames. She kept talking, not sure what she was saying until it tumbled from her mouth.

“Furthermore, this idea that I don’t know who you are is ridiculous. I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well during the last few months. I know that you trip over your words when you’re nervous, and you’re terrible at talking about your feelings, and you’re apparently an idiot when it comes to women, but I love you despite all that and - ”

Belle stopped cold, her eyes growing wide. Gold looked just as shocked as she felt.

“I umm...” Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. “Shit.”

She turned and fled, running as fast as she could further backstage. She didn’t look back, even when she heard Gold call after her.

She didn’t stop running until she was sure he hadn’t followed her. Leaning against a wall for support, she took a deep gulp of air to try and calm herself. She had mere minutes before she would have to go onstage again. She didn’t have time for the full-scale panic attack that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Taking deep breaths, she focused on her next scene. She could do this. She could go out there and fake a smile for the audience because she was a professional actress, damn it.

Yes, Belle thought determinedly. She would act the hell out of her final scene. Gold could stumble through the kiss - the scene - she didn’t care. Belle was going to show everyone just how amazing an actress she really was.

Once the play was over, she could fall apart. But she wouldn’t give Merlin the satisfaction of screwing up again, just because Gold had commitment issues and she was prone to blurting out declarations of love.  

Her evening hadn’t gotten any better, but she was determined to survive this stupid night if it was the last thing she did.

As Belle rushed away, Gold stood there dumbfounded.

She loved him.

Belle loved him and she was...running away from him as fast as her high heels could take her. All because she had blurted the fact out accidentally, and he had been too stupid to do anything but stare at her wordlessly.

If he had any sense at all, he would follow her immediately and profess his love to her in return, but he could only watch dumbly as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

He’d always been afraid that she was blind to his many faults and would leave him the moment she realized them. But from what Belle had just confessed, she already knew all of them and loved him anyway.

His mind raced back to the previous Sunday night and their desperate attempt to save the show. Belle had said he’d always been enough for her then. He’d dismissed it as another part of the improv, but now he realized that the truth had been right in front of him all along.

How had he not seen it until now? His own insecurities had been yelling so loudly that he hadn’t been paying attention to what his own eyes and ears had been telling him. Of course Belle wasn’t blind to his faults; she wasn’t an idiot, unlike himself. She had been right to call him out on his bullshit.

Gold may never understand what she saw in him, but if he was lucky enough to have her love, he wasn’t going to squander it one minute longer.

There wasn’t time to find her and tell her now, but he knew exactly what to do. He would prove his feelings to her when they kissed at the end of the show. No more limp dishrag kisses from him! He’d pour every ounce of his love into that kiss.

Noticing the time, he made his way down to the tunnel where Ogre was waiting for him. Only the big fight stood between him and the final scene, and he was anxious to get it over with so he could make things right with Belle.

He channeled all of his frustration and enthusiasm into the fight, scaring the hell out of Killian, who had just been revealed to be the true traitor of the show.

Gold liked to think it was a sign of good luck.

He made his way up the stairs to Belle afterwards, still feeling the effects of his earlier adrenaline rush. After having lost so many bouts before, it was a heady feeling to finally win one, even if it was just part of the show.  

Reaching the balcony, it took all his self-control not to race onstage. Even then, he couldn’t keep his strides from being a bit longer and quicker than they had been in rehearsal.

Belle’s back was to him as he walked onstage. He watched as she turned around slowly, the smile on her face big enough to fool the audience, but not him. She regarded him warily and he realized, with a stab of pain, that her hands were shaking.  

There was no way they were going to make it through the scene like this. The show would have to wait. He needed to make things right with Belle now.

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed, walking up to greet him. “I was so worried - ”

He grabbed her, hauling her forward until she was flush against him and lowering his lips to meet hers.

The crowd whooped and hollered around them. A few even whistled. But all Gold cared about was the softness of Belle’s lips, the slight sigh she gave as she pressed back against him, and the rightness of being held in the arms of the woman he loved.

Belle’s eyes slowly opened as he pulled away. She swayed a bit on her feet and he steadied her.

“You - um, what was that for?” Her eyes searched his in confusion.

He paused, realizing he hadn’t practiced what he would say. There was still a crowd listening to every word they said. He couldn’t exactly apologize for being an idiot or having crippling self-esteem issues.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, hoping Belle would read between the lines. “I just couldn’t let another moment pass by without kissing you.”

Belle just stared at him. For a second, he panicked that he had screwed everything up again, until she grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling him close again.

“Don’t ever keep me waiting that long again, Chancellor.”

The joy on her face was matched only by the happiness that welled up in his chest at that moment.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, your highness.”

She yanked him down to kiss her again. He happily obliged.

Cradling the back of her head in his hands, he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted easily as his tongue stroked against them, seeking entrance to her mouth.

He barely managed to hold back a groan as his tongue met hers. She tasted incredible; why had he wasted so much time denying them both this? Cruella and Regina were both right. He was a bonafide idiot.

But no matter. He would make it up to her a thousand times over. If she’d give him another chance, he would prove himself to be worthy of her, no matter what.

“Ahem.”

He wouldn’t let her down ever again. No woman who tasted as sweet as Belle should ever have a moment’s heartache. He’d be the perfect boyfriend; he’d cook her breakfast in bed and massage her aching feet after a weekend of back-to-back shows. He’d let her hog the blankets and the remote control and -

“Ahem.”

They finally surfaced for air. Gold blinked, confused why Leopold was glaring at him.

“Stop kissing my daughter at once, you ruffian! How dare you step foot back in this castle!”

Oh yes, he remembered belatedly. They were in the middle of the show and he had just been snogging his hopefully soon-to-be girlfriend in front of an auditorium full of people.

So much for this being a family show.

“Father, you don’t understand!” Belle cried, leaping back into character and the script much faster than he was. “The Chancellor is on our side. He always has been.”

She turned to gaze at him adoringly. Gold couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, even if her actions were only a part of the script. He contented himself by hoping that she was drawing on personal feelings for her performance.

“It’s true, my king,” he said, trying to keep his mind on the scene and not the way Belle’s eyes were shining at him in the most distracting way. “I heard rumors of a plot to overthrow you, so I pretended to befriend your enemies and spied on them to learn their plans.” He gestured down at the battlefield. “I have slain the true traitor in your name, ending the plot on your life once and for all.”

As Leopold launched into a long speech, declaring his gratitude and debt to the Chancellor, Gold let his attention wander back to Belle. Her eyes twinkled as they met his and he grew lost in the blueness of them. How had he never noticed how crystal blue they were, like clear pools of water found only in desert oases, like -

The twinkle in her eyes grew more pronounced as she tried to hold back a laugh.

Gold caught on a second later, cursing his love-soaked brain for getting distracted again. The crowd chuckled, obviously taking his lapse in attention as part of the act. After all, would the Chancellor really be paying attention to the king when he could be gazing adoringly at the princess like a lovesick puppy?

He was just playing the character realistically, that’s all.

“I would be honored, sire,” he said, scrambling to kneel in front of Leopold to receive his new title as Protector of the Realm.

When he stood, Belle moved beside him so the king could give them his blessing to marry. Holding her hands in his while Leopold wished them a long and happy life together felt as natural as breathing. He could easily imagine a future scenario where they might receive such a blessing for real.

But Gold was getting ahead of himself. They still hadn’t even had their first date yet.

A date that - less than an hour ago - he had been dreading more than anything he could remember. Now, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do.

As Belle grinned at him, biting down on her lower lip in that irresistible habit of hers, Gold decided that perhaps there was one or two other things he wouldn’t mind doing as well.

Author’s Note: AHHH, IT FINALLY HAPPENED! *throws confetti* So the plan has always been to keep this story pretty PG since it took them THE ENTIRE STORY TO FREAKING KISS. However, I recently came up with a fun idea for smut and was wondering if people would be interested in a separate one-shot (involving naughty role playing onstage). I would publish it prior to the epilogue so everyone could get the link when the final chapter is posted. Sound good?

[madferliam]

Liam Gallagher interview: 'Noel is a potato. He dresses like Gary Barlow'

Original Source: The Telegraph By: Andrew Perry Date: 1 October 2016

In a secluded corner of Highgate’s Café Rouge, Liam Gallagher is acting like a man half his age. And he looks the part: enviably bronzed from a recent holiday in Majorca, and irrepressibly Tigger-ish in manner, it’s hard to believe that he recently turned 44.

After three troubled years out of the game, British rock’s one true icon from the ’90s is visibly revelling in the limelight cast upon him by a new film about his first band, Oasis. Called Supersonic, it’s a timely reminder of how this garrulous, magnetic Mancunian was once a pop saviour. 

Today, he’s bang on time for our 10am summit – unthinkable in 1994, unless actually on his way to bed, gin and tonic in hand – and in buoyant mood, having kicked off his day at 5.30 with a seven-mile run on Hampstead Heath.

As Supersonic electrifyingly shows, when Gallagher first surfaced as a cocky twentysomething back in the mid-’90s, Britain was crying out for what he calls a “chin-out” rock frontman, after years of American grunge, acid house and shoegazing.

The stirring two-hour movie, which was put together by the team behind the award-winning documentaries, Amy and Senna, charts Oasis’s meteoric rise from dreary Manchester, to the cusp of world domination. It culminates with their two epochal shows at Knebworth in ’96, before a staggering combined audience of a quarter of a million people.

Gallagher describes the film as “euphoric and lovely”, accurately adding, “The majority of it’s comedy gold, man!” Certainly, their escapades on their first visit to Los Angeles, where they over-indulge in potent American narcotics, and then end up playing different songs at the same time onstage, will have viewers reeling in the aisles.

Liam does admit, however, that parts of it are, for him, “emotional – seeing us all together, starting off young, not knowing where we’d end up.” He pauses, clenching his teeth. “And then the way it ends – with me and our kid”.

“Our kid” is Liam-speak for his elder brother, Noel, with whom he has an infamously tempestuous relationship.

I first met the Gallaghers in summer ’94, at the BBC’s studios in Elstree, where Oasis were performing Live Forever, on Top Of The Pops. That day, they were non-stop entertainment, excitable about their whirlwind success. From a journalist’s point of view, there were rich pickings in the contrast between Liam, the lairy, impetuous frontman, and Noel, the thoughtful, acerbic tunesmith, who, the movie reveals, had always kept his emotional core well guarded, after suffering physical abuse from their father in early childhood.

As one insider remarks in the movie, “Noel has a lot of buttons to press, and Liam has a lot of fingers”. On this front, and every other, Supersonic is bang on the money.

“Those times were great, man, and dead fast,” Liam recalls, as we relive them together. As Oasis’s star ascended, the aftershows became big, wilder and more extravagant, with the likes of Madonna, Bono and George Michael turning up to bask in their reflected glory. I’ll always remember one bleary night in a Manchester hotel room with Liam, Robbie Williams and the movie actress Amanda Donohoe, which spiralled on until well after sunrise.

“It was just like one big, long night out,” Liam affirms “like going to loads of different parties one after another, for the first two and a half years. You never had any time to sit and think about it. I didn’t want to be on TV talking about it. I didn’t want to be on holiday with me feet up. I wanted to be f---ing there, singing them tunes, ’aving it, and then afterwards getting off me tits and trying to blow me head to pieces.” This was the essence of Liam in his “mad for it” majesty. As such, Oasis were a completely different animal from the other so-called Britpop bands they were lumped in with. “Blur, Menswear and all them,” he says, derisorily, “we didn’t dress like them. Their music was all jolly and wa-heeey [waves his arms around in a silly manner]. Our music was more serious, straightforward, classic.”

He says he never had stage fright, even as the audiences got bigger.

“Knebworth was easy, man,” he maintains. “I was only scared when it was empty. Then you thought, 'F---ing hell, a bit big, this, innit?’”

That weekend, I interviewed Noel on site. The crowds were unimaginable, unnavigable, but they bellowed Oasis’s anthems in one mass choir, so they reputedly could be heard in neighbouring counties.

Noel was predictably upbeat after the first show. “We thought we were big when we played Earls Court, then Maine Road,” he said. “But last night… Now I know what big means. All you can do is sit and laugh at it.” He went on to confide that he’d had Mick Hucknall thrown out of their family enclosure. “He was pissing me off,” he reasoned, “I didn’t want to look at his head.”

I share with Liam my memory of Noel strolling into an empty compound right behind the stage – one little guy whose magical songwriting had convened this imponderable throng of 125,000 people beyond the fence.

“He’s the Ronnie Corbett of rock!” Liam roars, referring to his brother’s diminutive stature, which hadn’t been my meaning. After Knebworth, the Gallaghers’ sibling disagreements turned into a never-ending scrap, resulting in cancelled tours, declining fortunes, and, eventually, a bitter parting of ways in 2009.

So, Supersonic concludes at Knebworth, presenting a fabulously empowering rags-to-riches tale, mostly narrated by the disembodied voices of Liam and Noel. Each reputedly reminisced for around 20 hours, often with something verging on mutual affection, though never in the same room together. Here in Café Rouge, it soon becomes clear that no hatchets have been buried.

“Noel’s far too busy to promote the film,” Liam bristles. “Apparently, he’s doing a fun album, and he’s living in the now, and he’s too f---ing busy to be going down the nostalgic route. Which is funny, because it was his management who decided to make the film.

"But he won’t be at the premiere, and he’ll come back with some quick remark, like, 'Oh, I’ve no need to be doing this, but that’s all Liam’s got’.” He thumps the table angrily. “Well, I’m doing it, because I’m not leaving it to them cowboys to do a film about my f---ing thing.”

The tirade goes on. Noel “is a potato”. He “dresses like Gary Barlow”. He “stirred up” the final argument in ’09, “because he wanted to go solo.” Noel indeed soon got up and running with his own band, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, and quickly established himself as an arena headliner, with a set mixing Oasis and solo hits. In interviews, he often states that he simply doesn’t need the aggro of an Oasis reunion.

“Anyway,” Liam adds, “his missus, Sara McDonald, won’t let him get that band back together. She wears the trousers, mate." Liam suggests that a further difficulty lies in the fact that half of the songs were written about Meg Mathews, Noel’s first wife.

Ouch, I say. Talking that way will hardly accelerate a reconciliation, let alone a reunion.

“The olive branch has been put out many times, and he’s blanked it,” Liam fumes. It’s a shame we can’t bury the hatchet, but it’s not like I’m messing with the brakes on his car, or he’s putting my windows through. It’s just banter, isn’t it, until one of us grows up.

“It is a shame. I don’t see his kids, he doesn’t see my kids, and it hurts my mum, and all that tackle. It’s all very childish and ridiculous, but there you go. I’m quite enjoying it, actually.” There’s a long pause. Liam taps a teaspoon on the rim of his empty macchiato cup.

“So yeah,” he concludes, “here we are now, twenty years later, bored out of our f---ing minds. The party is well and truly over!”

You’d never know it from talking to him, but Liam Gallagher has had a rough ride since 2009. From the ashes of Oasis, he immediately started Beady Eye, but, he concedes, “people couldn’t grasp me being in another band”, so he had to call time on it in ’13.

Around that time, his second marriage, to All Saints singer Nicole Appleton, ended abruptly, after it came to light that he’d fathered a child by an American tabloid journalist – he also two sons, one by Appleton, and one by his first wife, Patsy Kensit.

“The stuff that happened was my own doing,” he admits today, unusually contrite. “S--- happens, and I apologise. I’ve hurt a lot of people, but that’s life. I’m in a good place with my two kids, the divorce is all done, and we move on.”

He’d never use a touchy-feely word like “rebuilding”, but that’s what the Oasis hell-raiser has been doing of late. A few weeks ago, he signed his first solo deal with Warners, for an album he’s been co-writing and demoing with a raft of unnamed helpers.

“I guess it’s the last chance to dance, know what I mean?” he shrugs. “There’ll be some rock 'n’ roll bangers on there, but also some softer, John Lennon-y things. That’s who I am. You know, I can’t cook. I f---ing refuse to cook. All I can do is, do what I do.”

Even pre-release, however, Supersonic has already sparked another wave of demand for an Oasis reunion. Will it ever happen?

“At the moment, it’s a bazillion light years away,” their iconic singer summarises, as we say au revoir. “I’d love to, but obviously – it’s down to Ronnie Corbett, innit.”

[jamesbluntstn]

MUSIC

James Blunt Wants You to Know He’s Not Just a 'Timid, Gentle' Lyricist

Raisa Bruner

11:00 AM Hora

James Blunt's fifth album, The Afterlove, is due out in March, and if first single "Love Me Better" is any indication, the supremely self-aware crooner behind 2004's "You're Beautiful" is onto a whole new genre. Contributions from hitmakers like One Republic's Ryan Tedder and Blunt's friend Ed Sheeran have heightened anticipation for this new phase in his career.

"I’ve been portrayed in a particular way by a record company who put these songs out and then made it, 'Oh, isn’t he a romantic.' I haven’t really had my own voice," Blunt explains. So, in his own voice, here's what Blunt has to say about his scathingly funny Twitter presence and how he's finally making the music he loves. Watch the new video for "Love Me Better," premiering on TIME, above.

TIME: It’s been a little over three years since you released Moon Landing. How has your music evolved between albums?

James Blunt: I should probably warn you that if you’re someone who’s liked my music before, this is a little different. I am a little nervous about that, because I don’t know how people will respond. I’ve done four albums with me on the guitar writing fairly sad—miserable even—songs. And having done that, I stopped the last world tour and went away for a little while.

I’ve taken two years over this album; it’s the longest I’ve taken. Rather than the 25 songs I write normally, I wrote over 100 songs. The last albums I’ve done... I haven’t really wanted to listen to them again and again. But this one was about making music that I love.

How would you describe that difference? More electronic? More pop?

The writing is not as dated. And because I was traveling around and writing and recording on the move, it was easiest to capture it on a computer, rather than always bringing a band along. I would dash over to London to meet Ryan Tedder in the Corinthia Hotel and write a song there... or fly from Venice to Amsterdam for three hours before he went onstage for the AMAs, and then fly home. Those moments have resulted in songs that have quite a lot of energy, and a different feel to them. It’s only after I recorded them I suddenly thought I might have to worry about whether other people would like them or not.

Let’s talk about this single, "Love Me Better." The opening lines ["People say the meanest things / Yeah, I've been called a d***, I've been called so many things"] definitely seem to reference your haters. Are you speaking to that experience in this song?

Absolutely. I had a big hit. And then I had 12 years of aggression towards it. It was a strange experience. [These are] quite harsh words to hear at the top of a song, but that’s because it was quite harsh to receive that kind of feedback on a song that was just played a lot.

It seems like you’ve used Twitter to take control of what people say about you.

Absolutely. I’m just messing around on Twitter. The weird thing is, I’ve been portrayed in a particular way by a record company who put these songs out and then made it, "Oh, isn’t he a romantic." I haven’t really had my own voice, other than the songs. And actually, I’ve never really been that way—this quiet, timid, gentle person that people thought I might be, writing these sappy kind of songs. Sure, the songs were sensitive in a way, but they weren’t how people thought.

If you think about "You’re Beautiful," it’s not the song that people think it is. It’s about this guy who’s high as a kite stalking someone else's girlfriend—and should be locked up and put in prison. But people think, "Ah, he’s a sweet romantic." If you think that’s what romance is, then I think you’re pretty weird. So I suppose with Twitter, I can be myself rather than be what I was portrayed as.

Any advice for others who are targeted for their work about how to come back, or shrug it off with humor?

Firstly, I think it’s worth focusing on reality. I play every night in different places with an audience between 5,000 to 20,000 people, depending on which country I’m playing in. Yet I’m always asked about the one negative tweet; people always focus on the negative, even though there are 20,000 positives out there. And secondly, it’s worth remembering that the guy or girl—probably the guy—who’s posting something mean is sitting at home in their bedroom with the lights off and their trousers around their ankles. And they’re probably extremely lonely people, and not worth worrying about.

What’s the story behind the “Love Me Better" video?

What did you pick up from it?

I saw a pop star going through the motions—there's wild partying, but there’s a whole interior life that keeps him disconnected.

You’re right; there are a few things going on. There’s my team of cool dudes behind me, who can carry themselves with much more confidence. Whereas I might be a bit more locked in. It’s about the person who you get—the love interest at the end is the person with the biggest smile, and the biggest heart. Not the coolest, not the best looking, not the skinniest, nor the tallest, but the person with the biggest smile and the biggest heart.

Can we expect to see more of this side of you? More playfulness, less pure romanticism?

Yeah! The other part of the video is that we filmed everything so that I look really small the whole time, against all these incredibly tall people. It’s quite weird. I’ve always tried to mess around a little bit in videos. The first one I ever did was for a song called "High" and they buried me in the desert up to my neck. They actually threw cockroaches at me through most of the filming.