Chapter Text
Harry:
“And the winner of X-Factor 2010 is…”
There are thousands of people in the crowd, Harry figures. The announcer gave an exact number somewhere near the beginning of the show but to be quite honest, he wasn’t listening. Even now, he can hardly hear past his heartbeat and the rush of blood past his ears and it’s been that way since he’s walked out on stage.
Harry wonders if Allison is as nervous as he is. She’s probably only a little bit irritated that he’s squeezing her hand so tightly-she’s never really been one to be easily angered, even after that time he switched her dry shampoo out for spray on hair dye as a prank and she had to be a redhead for a show. She stands now, blonde and decidedly not redheaded, beside Harry. They were the two youngest performers this year and now the only two left, her with her guitar slung over her shoulder like some British Taylor Swift and Harry quivering like the scared kid he is. He loves her though, of course he does, and she deserves this just as much as she does. Maybe more than he does.
And yet here he is. Little Harry Styles from Cheshire, finalist on X-Factor.
From where he’s standing he can just barely make out the shapes of his family, his mum and Gemma holding hands and screaming, a few of his friends with them including of course Niall and Zayn, but he can’t hear them. The blood rushing past his ears hasn’t let up and he can’t even hear the host beside him speaking.
It hits him right about then that this is all he ever wanted, more than he could have asked for, and well past anything he ever could have dreamed of. He’d expected to be cut out during bootcamp, expected it even more when he was in the bottom two a few weeks back. It’s kind of insane to think about how much can change in a few short weeks.
Harry used to practice his autograph at school for fun whilst busy not paying attention to his lessons, but now what used to be just scribbles in the margins of his maths homework are now gracing the covers of phones and t-shirts belonging to the girls who wait outside the gates for him everyday. Having fans is mind blowing, to think that anyone could love him enough to want his signature is enough to get him by the rest of his life whether he loses or not. It’s surreal.
Suddenly there’s a bright light shining down on him and confetti falling from the ceiling. Like an idiot, he looks up because he hasn’t heard a thing. Allison starts shaking his shoulders and hugging him once his ears finally stop ringing and he can finally hear past his heartbeat, finally register the sound of her voice.
“You did it Harry!” she yells into his ear. “I’m so proud of you love, congratulations!”
Harry pulls back, looking around wildly in what he belatedly realizes will be a moment for everyone to replay and laugh at tomorrow. “Wait, I won?” he laughs. “Oh my god, I won!”
His song is a complete disaster. The instrumental is playing but he’s too busy trying not to cry in front of the cameras to sing properly. Any hope of fixing it is lost when the other contestants come running on and he’s quite literally tackled. Harry starts laughing and gives up, hugging everyone back and accepting their congratulations. The host asks him a few questions and he spouts of half-assed answers while his new friends laugh into his neck and push him around jovially.
Everything is perfect at that moment, for just one moment everything is as it should be. Then one of the older contestants comes up to give his congratulations and with a hug, whispers something into the boy’s ear.
“It’s all downhill from here, kid.”
Harry had no idea how right he would be.
Louis:
“He’s so little, this one,” Louis comments, tipping his glass towards the television. “Only about thirteen I’d say.”
Liam rolls his eyes at his best friend, and then smiles. “You think he’s fit, don’t you?”
“You are disgusting,” Louis gasps dramatically. “He is a child, I am appalled at you Liam Payne!”
Ignoring the comment, Liam turns the volume up just as the boy on screen looks around and mouths, “Wait, I won?”
That’s enough to make Louis burst out laughing. The boy’s an idiot, apparently. He probably should have been able to tell, considering the fact the kid’s been staring off into space since the show started. Liam quite likes him for some reason though, and Louis guesses that reason would be his cereal bowl dimples or his voice that’s way too damn deep for his body.
“He’s sixteen, two years younger than you.” His best friend speaks up again with a fond and knowing smile.
“Huh,” Louis leans forward to look closer at the screen where the boy-Harold, he thinks his name is-is being swallowed by people. He shrugs. “His curls are nice, I guess.”
“You guess?”
Groaning, Louis throws himself back against his couch and reaches for the remote. Liam grabs it before he can change the channel and instead turns the volume up even louder so they can hear all the screaming and crying. X-Factor has never really been Louis’ thing, but he tolerates it for Liam like the fantastic best friend he is. Honestly, if you were to ask him to name three of the contestants past and present he wouldn’t be able to name more than Cher Lloyd.
“He’s not going anywhere you know,” he declares. “None of these winners ever go anywhere, and don’t start with your Leona Lewis bullshit, okay? We get it, you’re in love with her.”
Liam smirks, well used to Louis’ strange sense of humor by now. “I think you’re wrong.”
“Do you?”
Harry makes eye contact with the main camera and waves, his cheeks dimpling in. He certainly looks like the kind of boy Louis would find plastered up on Lottie’s walls, or maybe even Liam’s walls he seems enamored enough with the boy. As does the rest of the country, actually now that Louis thinks about it.
“Yeah I do,” Liam says with a nod. “I think you’re really wrong this time. I think he’ll be famous.”
Louis shrugs a bit, and then smiles snidely, never once taking his eyes off the boy on screen. “Bet you a tenner.”
Liam laughs and thankfully turns the channel. “Shutup, Lou.”