Chapter 2
The bigger the band got, the less they interacted with fans. It made sense. The rest of the boys wanted more interaction with the fans, wanted a chance to thank them. They were selfless, good people. It made Louis feel terrible for wanting to be as far away from the fans as possible.
His anxiety was never worse than it was when he was interacting with their fans. He had to worry about what someone would say, knowing he would have to talk to them. He couldn’t be shy and sweet when fans came up to him; he had to be larger than life. And that was hard for him. It wasn’t who he was; he was never a people person. He liked staying in with the boys, lying on the sofa playing FIFA. Simple and scheduled. Nothing could go wrong.
But today, he had to be the Louis that his fans thought he was. Goofy, mischievous, and full of energy. With the release of their new book, their management had scheduled them a book signing in LA. Why not milk them for all they were worth while they had the time?
American fans were always something else. Louis wasn’t sure what made them this way, but he knew from four years of touring the United States that they were brash and unashamed. They would interrupt private dinners, sneak through laundry chutes to get to their hotel floor, and throw whatever they could get their hands on onstage. The other boys found it funny and endearing, but it caused Louis nothing but great anxiety. He liked having things planned out, knowing exactly what was going to happen. But with these fans, there was no way of knowing that everything would go according to plan. He could only hope that it did.
He was sitting in the backroom of the bookstore on a couch, waiting for the signal from Paddy for them to walk out. He didn’t realize that he was tapping his leg so incessantly until he felt a soft hand placed on his thigh.
He looked up into warm brown eyes, blushing at being caught.
“You good, Lou?” Liam asked, concern evident on his face. Liam was the worrier, the leader of the group. He wanted to make sure that everyone was okay all of the time. He was such a stereotypical dom, a textbook’s dream, if Louis was honest. Louis was the object of his worry a lot of the time, the man somehow knowing that Louis had a harder time getting through the day than the others.
Liam attributed it to insecurity and anxiety, traits that were rare for gads, but still existed in the classification from time to time.
“Yeah, sorry,” he blushed further, “just nervous. You know how signings make me.” He looked down, not wanting Liam to see how red he’d gotten. Sometimes he thought it was a miracle that no one had figured him out, especially in the past few months. He made it so obvious. He couldn’t help but hope that there would be a look of knowing in Liam’s eyes, finally putting all of the pieces together. So he could end this, so he could finally stop pretending.
“No worries, Lou,” Liam crooned in his calming voice, “it’ll be over soon. Just sit next to me and tap me if you need anything, yeah?”
Louis nodded in assent as he stood up, the boys getting the signal to walk out. Niall, Zayn, and Harry ran in from outside, each wanting to get their last breath of fresh air before being crammed in between bookshelves for two hours.
Harry walked up to him, curious eyes landing on the gauze that covered Louis’ left arm. He says nothing, just rubbing up and down Louis’ back once as if he knows he needs it. And he does. Louis breathes deeply before following Liam out to face the screaming crowd of fans.
The beginning of the signing goes well, fans being just as flustered as Louis himself. It gives him a sense of relief that they’re just as nervous to talk to him as he is to them. In the back of his mind he knows how ridiculously silly it is to be scared to talk to people who paid to see him, but he can’t shake it.
A few girls in he felt a pressing pain in his bladder, and he willed himself not to think about it. He knows he can’t get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of an event, he’ll just have to hold it. Like a grown up.
He smiled at girls as they come up to him, making him blush at all of the kind things they had to say about him. It’ll always be something of a wonder to Louis, the way that the fans react to them. They hold them in the best light without even knowing them, marveling at every little thing they do. It both amazed him and scared him, the power that they held over the lives of these girls.
His hands started to get shaky when he could see the line ending, his muscles no longer wanting to cooperate. He began to panic, never having to deal with symptoms of his classification before while in a public place. He grit his teeth, knowing that he only had a few more girls to get through.
He heard a loud, animated voice talking to Harry who’s to his left, a girl of only 15 or so who was already coming into herself as a dom. It was easy to tell; doms always brash and assured, subs were quieter, and gads were a bit of both. This girl was a dom in stature and in tone, asserting herself in conversation with Harry as though he wasn’t one of the richest and most famous people on earth. Louis was in awe of her.
She made her way down to him, barking out his name as they made eye contact. He smiled at her, taking her book and flipping to a picture of him that he wanted to sign.
“What are you doing?” she asks, seemingly angry. He looks up, confused, nervousness boiling in the pit of his stomach at her harsh tone.
“I want you to sign the cover, God, why would you sign one that the rest didn’t? Common sense, Louis, don’t be an idiot,” she laughs at her own words. The rest of the boys have stopped what they’re doing at this point, seemingly waiting for his reaction to her.
He laughs weakly, tossing out a quick sorry as an apology. He grabs the sharpie with a shaking hand. He couldn’t be more mortified with everyone watching him fail to get the lid off.
Harry leans over, “you cold, Lou? You’re shaking like it’s 10 degrees in here!” He grabs the lid off of the marker easily, allowing for Louis to scribble his name as best he can.
Looking at his signature, the girl laughs. “Are you two years old?” she asks, “My little sister could write her name better than that and she’s five!”
Louis looks down, willing the tears in his eyes not to fall. He’s grateful for Liam as he engages the mean girl in conversation, taking her attention away from him.
He signs a few more books before the session is over, getting up from his seat as fast as humanly possible. He raced to the backroom, politely making his way through the swarm of 1D personnel to get to the bathroom. He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it in time; having seen increased bladder problems over the past month or so. It wasn’t that he was having accidents all of the time; it was that he was cutting it too close, beginning to go in his pants right as he got to the bathroom. He'd only had a few full fledged daytime accidents, and he couldn't even think about them without wanting to bang his head into a wall. He was losing control, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He didn’t allow himself time to think about the girl’s harsh commentary. He didn’t know what the boys thought of her words, but all he knew was that it hit too close to home. He was no better than her five-year-old sister, not being able to even write his own name in a legible manner. He breathed deeply before walking out of the bathroom.
Harry stood outside of the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He had a worried look on his face that he tried to school into a neutral expression when he saw Louis step out.
He walked over to the smaller man, looking down at him intensely.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” Louis answered as casually as he could, “why wouldn’t I be?”
Harry gave him a look as if to say, you think I don’t know you better than that? Louis crumpled under his stare, looking down at the ground.
“I’m fine. Just a fan being a fan? It was funny, yeah?” He asked, looking up and giving Harry a halfhearted smile.
He shook his head, curls whipping with fervor. “No, it wasn’t funny. She was making fun of you, and of littles. Two things she has no right to talk about like that.”
Louis raised a hand as if to say, no, don’t worry about it, I’m fine. But Harry knew him better than that, he always had.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Louis? I’m just a bit worried about you. You seem off,” Harry asks.
“I’m fine, promise. Just a little hurt by her comment, but it’s my fault. I should have signed what she wanted me to sign. It was deserved.” Louis looked at Harry one last time before walking away, removing himself from the conversation that he didn’t want to have.
If he were to look back at Harry he would have seen him sputtering, unsure of how Louis had moved from point A to point Z so quickly. On no planet did he deserve to be talked down to by another person, let alone a fan of theirs. Harry entered the band as the youngest, but he never felt that way. From the beginning he had felt a deep sense of desire to protect Louis, to make sure he was okay. The Doncaster boy was insecure, innocent in a way that the others weren’t. He was very timid for a gad, but Harry took it in stride. He knew that he was a d-dom from the time he was 14, and even if Louis wasn’t a little, he needed a little protection. And Harry was more than happy to give him it.
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Louis was lying in his pitch-black hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. It was something he found himself doing a lot lately, thinking about his life in a bigger sense. He tried to think day to day, but there was a necessity to think of the big picture. Of where he’d be five years from now, still pretending to be a gad. He didn’t think he could do it; more, he knew he couldn’t do it. It was never done before.
He eventually sat up, grabbing his computer. He looked at the bright screen before typing in a website he allowed himself to go to when he was feeling particularly indulgent.
It was set up by the government, a temporary matching service with either a dom or sub in one’s subset. It was referred to as “the Quench” by people, referring to the way that it quenched one’s thirst for whatever they were looking for. It was for people who didn’t have time to date or people who were trying to figure out exactly who they were. Louis would use it as a way of getting what he needed with the discretion he needed. But he hadn’t, of course. He couldn’t use it, the embarrassment that filled every inch of his being when he looked at the website was too much. He shouldn’t want this, he couldn’t want this. But he did. He just did. He could have an internal argument as much as he wanted, but at the end the result would always be that yes, he wanted it. He wanted a daddy. He needed someone to be there to care for him, to love him, to discipline him. He ached for it.
He must have been feeling particularly miserable or bold, because he took the initiative for the first time to put his mouse over the “find match” button after typing in that he was in Los Angeles. When one turned 18, the government took the liberty of setting every citizen, besides gads, of course, with a profile on the matching site. “Just in case”, they said.
Just as Louis was about to click the bright green button, his phone lit up with a text. He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that this was a sign from above that he was stronger than using the site.
He grabbed his phone, heart simultaneously dropping and soaring when he saw whom the text was from. He was confused, wondering what he could have done to receive a text from Nick Grimshaw.
In private, he allowed himself to think about the man, but only when he was alone. He made him nervous, that was a given. The way that Nick had looked at him since he was 16, thrust into this life of fame and public scrutiny was a way in which no one had ever looked at him. He looked at him like he knew Louis’ secret, even before it was a secret to keep. He talked to him differently than he talked to Liam, Zayn, and Niall, treating them like old buds, his sarcasm and sharp wit in full effect. He had been with Harry for two years now, since Harry was 17, before he’d even presented.
Everyone who had the chance to be within a 1000-foot radius of the couple knew that they were sickeningly in love, absolutely perfect for each other. It was hard for Louis to watch them most of the time. It wasn’t because of the fact that they were in love, no, that’s not what Louis needed. It was the way that they had the chance to be themselves, to give into their nature and not be judged for it.
Louis tried to avoid Nick as much as possible, paranoid that the man did know what he was. If Louis was thinking realistically, he’d know that he couldn’t, there was no way for him to know unless he told him himself. Classifications were classified information, for lack of a better term. There was no way anyone could find out unless Louis told him or her himself. His mother was the only other person who knew, and there was no chance in hell she would tell anyone, ever.
He remembers every interaction that he has had with Nick, the way that the man makes him feel. If he asked Zayn to describe Nick he knows he would say that he’s a bit mean and takes joy in making fun of others, all in the name of making his listeners laugh. He was the host of BBC Radio 1’s Breakfast Show, and the whole of the UK loved him.
The first time that he realized that Nick treated him differently was their first time attending a red carpet premiere. The boys were at an after party, his bandmates were wasted, off in different corners of the room schmoozing whatever celebrity came up to them.
Louis was sitting at the bar, doing his best to breathe and not panic. Social situations were a bit much for him, too many people, too much drinking, and music that was too loud. He was tired, having to pinch himself to stay awake. He’d always had an early bedtime, something that came with being a little. His internal clock was wired differently than most people’s, requiring a nap every day. It became hard to fit one in with their grueling schedule, leading him to be absolutely exhausted at the end of most days.
He looked at the bartender, wanting to get his attention. He caught his eye, and shyly waved him over.
“H-hi,” he said nervously, not really sure how these interactions worked, “can I please have a water, sir?”
The man laughed, shaking his head good-naturedly. “Such good manners, not something you see around here often. A water, that’s a riot. What can I get for you? Vodka and cranberry sound good?”
“Just a water, please?” Louis asked again, unsure of why his request was being treated as something laughable.
“Are you sur-“ the bartender started to ask.
“Just get the boy a bloody water, not everyone wants to ruin their liver with your concoctions, Matt” a loud voice interrupted.
Louis looked up to see Nick Grimshaw settling himself in the seat next to him. He blushed profusely, giving him a small smile before looking down.
The man behind the bar handed the glass of water over to Nick who carefully set it down in front of Louis.
“There you are darling,” Nick said in a soft tone, completely different from the way that he’d addressed the bartender.
“Thank you,” Louis answered quietly, giving him yet another grateful smile.
“No problem, Louis. You look like you’re about to fall asleep, why don’t you head home soon?” Nick questioned.
“I’m not really sure how to leave. Harry usually makes surewe end up home, I’m not sure where he ran off to.” Louis truthfully answered as Nick looked around the room for his boyfriend.
“A social butterfly, that boy. He’s there and gone in an instant. Would you like me to get you a ride home?” Nick asked, feeling pity for the boy. He wasn’t sure why he felt such a need to protect Louis, but he did. Maybe it was the way he seemed like he was always trying to curl in on himself, making sure that no one would notice him. Maybe it was the way that he would see Louis interact with his bandmates, always looking to one of them for praise, to see if he was singing well or saying the right thing. For a gad, he was absolutely precious, Nick could admit that.
“Would you really? That would be great, thank you. I feel so out of my element right now, this isn’t really my scene.” Louis said, looking up at Nick gratefully.
“Of course, let’s get you out of here and back to your warm bed,” Nick said in an enthusiastic voice, drawing a small giggle out of Louis.
And that was why Louis was wary of Nick. He treated him more like a little than anyone he knew, and Louis craved it. He knew that he was safe with Nick, and he loathed the way that he felt so comfortable around him. It made things so much harder.
He finally typed in his passcode on his phone, going to look at the text from Nick. As soon as he opened it he started to cry, unable to keep his emotions at bay.
Hope everything is okay after the signing. H told me what happened and that you seemed upset. Not that my word means much to you, but you aren’t stupid. I hope you know that. You’re a smart and lovely boy.
He wasn’t sure why he was crying so much, it could have been the way that Nick had the heart to text him in the first place, or it could have been the praise that he so desperately desired. If anyone else would have calmed him a boy, as if he was a child, he would’ve been indignant, but this was okay. This was Nick, that’s the way that he talked to Louis. It made him feel special, knowing that someone cared about him enough to send a message like that.
He wiped his eyes before replying to the text.
Thanks, Nick. You’re way nicer to me than I deserve, I appreciate it.
He made sure to include a few random emojis to lighten the text before sending it out. Almost instantly there was a reply of a multitude of heart emojis. Before Louis could even think about replying, there was a knock on his door.
He turned the light on before answering, not wanting whoever it was to be concerned by the tomb like ambiance of his room.
As he opened the door, he smiled seeing that it was Zayn.
Zayn walked in without invitation, settling himself on the leather couch situated in the center of the room.
“Gotta proposition for you, mate.” Zayn started, smiling wickedly. Louis gave him a pointed look, waiting for him to go on.
“You’re 21, yeh?” Zayn asked, Louis rolling his eyes as the lad obviously knew the answer, “Well, yeah. You’re 21, and you’ve never drank before. Ever. We have one night left in LA, we’re gonna live it up, Tommo. You, me, the lads, we’re gonna have a night on the town. You’re gonna get smashed.”
Louis paled at his words, not really knowing how to reply. “I don’t know Zayn, I have fun without drinking, don’t I?”
“Of course you do, but we wanna see you get drunk. It’ll be more fun than you’ve ever had, I promise. We’ll all be there watching you, you’ll be safe.”
Regardless of how stupid Zayn’s idea was, Louis knew that he was serious about watching out for him. If anything, he was serious about his classification as a dominant, always watching out for his little sisters and gad bandmates. It was part of who Zayn was.
“Come on, Lou. Have some fun, you’re always so uptight. It’s one night.”
“Fine. I’ll do it,” Louis sighed. He knew he wouldn’t actually drink, he couldn’t trust himself to. His emotions got the best of him in sober situations, so he couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he got drunk. But a drink, maybe. He’d never had alcohol before, maybe tomorrow was the time to try it.
“You won’t regret it, Lou! It’ll be the sickest night of your life,” Zayn promised, standing up and heading towards the door.
Louis wasn’t sure what would happen the following night, but he hoped that Zayn was right and that he wouldn’t regret it.
After deadbolting the door, he walked to the bathroom, making sure he went before going to sleep. It was embarrassing, having to make sure he went to the bathroom before he went to sleep to make sure he didn’t have an accident. They happened occasionally, thankfully while he was at home in London.
He washed his hands, heading back to the bed and pulling his covers over his body. He fell asleep almost instantly, a testament to how exhausted he was. He slept peacefully for most of the night, but suddenly woke up to the feeling of wet in between his legs.
“No, no, no, no,” he breathed, reaching down to feel his soaked pants and pajama bottoms. He tried to think rationally, but he couldn’t stop the flow of tears that were coming down his face. He got out of bed, getting a headache from the stench of urine that surrounded him. He walked to the bathroom, carefully taking off his pajamas and pants, throwing them to the tiled floor with a resolute slapping noise from the liquid they were soaked with.
He stepped into the shower, wanting to rid himself of the feeling of wetting himself. He had to think about what to do, never before having wet himself in a hotel. He couldn’t just leave it, that would be bad. Everyone knew he was staying at this hotel, in this room. There was no way that any reputable maid would believe it was just water, with one look and one sniff that would be doubted.
These were the times that he wished he had a daddy. They would know what to do, how to comfort him and take control of the situation. But he didn’t have one, so he had to think of the next best thing, or person to help.
He got out of the shower, changing into new pajamas while his mind raced. He cursed his body, his mind, the entire world. Whatever made him like this. It was one thing to have an accident during the day, he changed pants and jeans, it was easy. No one had to know. But a hotel room? He had to get some help.
He couldn’t go to one of his bandmates, of that he was certain. They couldn’t know, he kept this secret to protect them, and he would continue to protect them. It was best if they were kept in the dark.
He could go to Lou, sure. She has a young daughter, but she’s a gad. He doesn’t know if she’d completely understand.
He knew who to talk to, the only person he could completely trust. He walked out of his room, closing the door slowly to make sure there was no noise coming from it. It was convenient that his room was next door, making his walk of shame a little less shameful. He knocked quietly on the door, almost hoping that he didn’t hear, but of course he did. That’s his job.
Alberto opened the door up almost immediately, eyebrows rising into his hairline when he saw the tear stained face of Louis. Over the four years that he had spent as his personal bodyguard, Alberto had grown ridiculously fond of Louis. He spent more time with the boy than anyone else did, and he had nothing but dazzling things to say about him. It took a lot for someone to put off finding a mate, and Alberto put off finding a sub for this boy.
He grabbed the small boy’s arm, pulling him into his room and shutting the door. Almost immediately he grasped him, digging his face into his guard’s stomach, bawling. It was reflexive, the quick way that Alberto picked the boy up, carrying him over to his bed and setting him on his lap. He pet his hair as he cried, letting out soft noises. A word that no one would use to describe Alberto Alvarez is nurturing. He’s a brutish dom, big and brooding. That’s why he was a bodyguard, he was valiant and had an urge to help others. And if hugging was what his boy needed, he would hug him.
Louis’ mind was foggy, thoughts no longer running through his mind, he could only focus on his emotions. He had no intelligible way of getting his words out; he could only seem to cry. And it felt so good, to cry and have someone hold him while doing so. It was the first time someone had seen him cry since he was 8 years old when his mom told him that men don’t cry and she never wanted to see him do it again.
His crying let up eventually, Alberto rubbing his back softly as he waited for the boy to explain what this was all about. Louis’ inkling of Alberto guessing what his true classification was 100% correct.. The man had always thought the boy was too soft, too innocent to be a gad. But it wasn’t his job to investigate the classification of his charge, so he never asked.
“I-I’m sorry, Albs. I don’t know what came over me,” Louis lied, embarrassed to have shown himself in such a way to another person. He tried to slide off of the man’s lap, but Alberto held him there firmly, holding him close.
“You think I don’t know you better than that, bud?” Alberto asked softly, “Now tell me what’s actually wrong so that I can help.”
“I had an accident… in my bed,” he whispered, unable to say it loudly, not wanting the shameful words to pierce the air.
“That’s all? No need to get so worked up over that, buddy, we can just get the housekeeping service up here and it’ll be clean in no time.” Alberto had answered quickly, surprising himself at how well he had reacted to the information. It was a testament to how long he had suspected that Louis was hiding something. And it seemed that he was hiding his classification for a reason; Alberto wanted to be there to help him come to terms with it, not to add to the problem.
There was no doubt in his mind that Louis was a little, not with the way that he was looking up at him, tears glistening in his wide, blue eyes. He’d never looked younger then he did at that moment, so scared and raw.
“But they’re gonna know it’s me,” he whimpers. It was one thing for Alberto to know, it was another thing for the world to find out. He was surprised at how light he felt after letting his secret out after keeping it in for so long. One person now knew the darkest and most intimate part of him, and the burden was no longer all his.
“How’s this, I call down and tell them that my daughter was up for the day visiting me and her potty training wasn’t as concrete as we thought it was. If they ask where she is now, I’ll say she’s sleeping in my room.”
Louis looked at the man in wonder, unsure of how he’d concocted an alternate story so quickly. He nodded, letting Alberto know that he was in agreement with the tale. He turned red in shame as his guard explained what had happened to the front desk, the phone conversation lasting for what seemed like an eternity.
“All done, they’ll be up to clean it in a minute, he said it’ll be as good as new in twenty minutes. You good?” Alberto asked, observing the way that Louis had his arms wrapped around his body, sitting on the far edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I’m just embarrassed. That’s something a little would do, not a gad. Thanks for being so cool about it.”
Alberto weighed his options before replying, knowing that he could gently explain to Louis that his cover was completely blown. There was no way on earth he was a gad after the way that he had reacted to the actions of the past night, let alone the fact that he peed the bed at all. Or he could just go along with Louis’ narrative, letting the boy believe he was none the wiser.
He ended up choosing the second option. Louis would come to him when he was ready, wouldn’t he? And if the stories he heard were correct, this was just the beginning of Louis’ little side coming out. It was the first of the overnight accidents, the emotional outbursts, the need for love and guidance. He would have to tell someone eventually, and based on the way that Louis had come straight to his room, that someone would be him.
“That’s what I’m here for, Lou. You can just stay here until your room is ready if you want, or you can feel free to spend the night. Your call.”
“Thanks, Albs. Sorry for putting this on you, I just… don’t trust anyone the way I trust you.”
Alberto patted him on the back, letting him know that everything was okay.
Louis stood up to leave, giving his guard a small smile before walking out of the room and back to his. It was clean when he walked in, looking like it had before his traitorous bladder ruined his duvet. He made sure to go to the bathroom again before settling down into the bed. He fell asleep for a second time, hoping that this time he would be able to sleep through the night with no accidents.