Chapter Text
Day One - Friday
“Today marks the beginning of the highly anticipated Woodstock Music and Arts Fair being held on a 600 acre dairy farm up in the Catskills Mountains this weekend. Organizers were expecting, or rather, hoping, that they could get around twenty-five thousand people to show up for the event, but they’ve been arriving in masses far beyond expected. The event is already earning the attention of the nation as we watch these estimates roll in. Imagine that. Thousands and thousands of long-haired kids travelling to gather for a weekend of peace, love, and music. It’s really something, isn’t it, folks?
Thirty-two acts are scheduled to perform during the three-day festival, including The Who, Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, the legendary Jimi Hendrix, and New York’s newest rising star, Harry Styles. To start the weekend off, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Tim Hardin, and Richie Havens, among others, will be taking the stage this evening. While the forecast does not seem to be on the festival-goers side, no cancellations will be made thus far. Remember to stay dry and stay safe out there as you-”
“This is far as I can get ya’, kid.”
Louis perked his head up, freezing his right hand that was frantically scratching information onto the pages of his coiled notebook. The taxi cab had halted behind an abandoned blue van with chipping paint around the sides. This must’ve been near Bethel, the small town Louis heard mentioned many times on the radio during the long drive here. His boss was going to kill him for how big the bill he was raking up already was from only having landed in New York hours ago. And that was if he actually managed to get this story. If he didn’t, that bill would more than likely be coming home with him. Hopefully a cardboard box made a comfortable bed. Or maybe he could make some friends here and join them in their cross-country travels.
“I appreciate you agreeing to drive all the way-”
“Meter’s still running.”
“Right.”
Louis collected his pencil and notebook back into his bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and handed the driver a few crumpled bills. The driver mumbled something incoherently as Louis stepped out, then sped off to turn around as soon as the back door was slammed shut.
So unlike most of the young and eccentric people attending the Aquarian expedition, Louis didn’t show up to the dairy farm in the Catskill Mountains of New York in an old bus or beat up car full of his friends and the smell of marijuana leaking through the windows. Instead, he arrived in a cab straight from the airport with a single bag slung over his shoulder and a determination bubbling in the pit of his stomach. That, and hunger since he forgot to grab something to eat before hailing a cab. Nearly a six hour flight and he hadn’t had anything since that frozen dinner of a meal they served on the plane. Not that he had high standards. In fact, his standards were quite low. He lived in a tiny studio apartment in San Francisco, rooming with a friend from college, which meant nothing but a thin red curtain gave him any privacy. He was used to just having enough to get by.
In college, Louis studied journalism and music. Well, he tried to study music. He was good at the writing, but couldn’t commit much to the playing. What didn’t change was his passion for the art. That’s when he decided he was going to write about music. Whether it be a book or concert reviews in a local paper, he was going to write about it.
Three months before Louis graduated in the spring of ‘69, he heard about this new rock magazine that was on the horizon. Rolling Stone. He picked up a copy of the February issue, Jimi Hendrix gracing the cover, while buying his bi-weekly pack of cigarettes. On the bus ride home, he read the thing cover to cover, even missing his stop and turning the rest of his journey home into a ten minute walk. The next day, he got the address of the offices they were working from and marched right in there asking what he’d have to do to get on their writing team. After quite a bit of bargaining, they assigned him a 500 word review on a local band that was playing at a nearby theatre. He wrote 531 and got it to them by the next day. The article was published and he got twenty bucks for it, then didn’t hear from them for months.
In April was when he got the call. The magazine wanted him to do another thousand words, this time on Led Zeppelin, who were coming to San Francisco on their second North American tour. He said yes immediately. A week later, he had his own desk and coffee mug.
New York was another story. It wasn’t that Louis earned his way into this music festival, but more that he was the only one qualified. Rolling Stone was a tiny magazine, definitely not one worthy of earning a press pass for the show. But Louis insisted – practically begged, actually – that if they sent him to New York, he’d find his way behind the stage and he’d get that big story. If he didn’t get an interview, he’d pay his boss back every cent of that plane ticket, and Louis was running low on cents lately. Just to get a ticket at the gate was twenty-four dollars. He barely had enough money to pay his bills most weeks. But hey, at least he’d get to see the show.
Stepping out into the late afternoon summer sun enveloped Louis in a blanket of heat. He wondered if he should change from his blue jeans into the cut-off shorts he had tossed into his bag. While packing, he made the decision early to bring as little as possible. No tent, nothing to sleep on, just a change of clothes, what he needed for work, and a hope in strangers that would be kind enough share what they had.
One thing Louis was grateful for was the bandana he had tied around his arm so he could move it to his forehead and pull his hair away from his face. He had let it grow out just off his ears and neck, both because he didn’t want to spend the money on a barber, and because the style had grown in popularity recently.
Right away, he was swept into the flow of the crowd moving towards the festival grounds. He heard a few people chatting around him that the walk was over two miles, but there was no way to drive at this point. The streets were littered with cars and people, people in cars and people on top of cars. A tiny bird was trotting along the road next to him, then quickly flew to land on the roof of an old truck. Strange, considering how many people were around and how easily birds tended to be scared off.
A smell Louis knew all too well filled the air like oxygen. This seemed like as good a time as any to start snapping a few pictures. Along with his personal belongings, Louis made sure to bring an abundance of film in that brown satchel of his. Just as he opened the flap to start digging for his camera, two people came barrelling down the street behind him, knocking him flat onto the pavement. Thank God the camera never made it out of its case.
“You alright, man?”
Louis looked up into the direction of the sunlight, squinting his eyes so he could see the figure standing among the beams. He couldn’t make out a face, but his could make out the hand offering to help him up, so he took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Louis said, readjusting his bag to fall at his side. He could finally get a good look at the kind stranger. He was hanging out next to a car with another guy and a girl who were both sitting on the hood. The guy was wearing too many layers for summer and had a guitar in his hand that he was strumming peacefully while the girl closed her eyes and swayed next to him.
“What’s your name, brother?” the stranger asked. He was wearing his shirt unbuttoned and had his legs exposed below his shorts. This guy had the right idea about dressing for the weather. His hair wasn’t nearly as long as Louis’ but he wore thick rimmed sunglasses over his eyes.
“Name’s Louis,” he said. “I’m from out of town.”
“Everyone here is from out of town,” the stranger retorted.
“San Francisco,” Louis clarified, since it seemed this guy wasn’t going to make small talk easy.
“Far out,” the stranger nodded his head approvingly. Louis waited for him to continue, but the stranger was just grinning. He wondered which of the three of them was holding the grass. Probably all three.
“Where are you guys from?” Louis eventually asked.
“Oh, everywhere, man. We live all over.”
Louis glanced to the two people on the hood behind the stranger. The girl still had her eyes closed, but the boy smiled and held up a peace sign. This was the moment he realized these were the exact people he needed to interview about the festival. This story couldn’t just be about the one big interview, it was about the experience as a whole. But he didn’t want to scare them off, so he kept his notebook in his bag. He hoped his memory would stay on his side the next few days.
“What are your names?” Louis wondered, sounding far more intrigued than before.
“I’m Liam,” the stranger said, then pointed to the kid holding a guitar behind him, “And that’s Zayn.” Since Liam didn’t introduce the girl, Louis figured he didn’t actually know who she was.
There were so many people passing on either side, reminding Louis that he still had a long walk ahead of him. “You guys headed to the festival grounds?”
“That, we are,” Liam declared, raising his hands from his sides. “Zayn, my friend, are you ready to continue the journey?”
Without a word, Zayn hopped down from the car and pushed the guitar around so the strap held it against his back. Liam picked up a large bag from the ground and threw it over one shoulder. At least Louis was quick to find some others who were more prepared than he was.
“So, Louis, you’re here alone to attend the festival?” Liam questioned as they rejoined the endless stream of people.
Louis supposed he didn’t have to lie about the real reason he was here, but maybe he just wouldn’t tell the full truth. Of course he wanted to come to the festival, but no one had to know he was mainly here because he needed to write a story, right? He just wanted the same experience as everyone else. That was the only way to write the truth.
“Yeah, I couldn’t find anyone else willing to make the trip. But I just had to experience this, you know? So much great music in one place.”
“It really will be phenomenal,” Liam agreed. He then pulled out a pack of cigarettes he had tucked away between his sleeve and his shoulder. “Smoke?”
“Sure,” Louis shrugged. He only had three or four left in his own pack since he forgot to pick some more up at the airport, so bumming one every so often couldn’t hurt.
Liam pulled two out and rested them both between his lips. He flicked open a lighter and let the flame hover for a second before offering Louis his.
“Thanks,” Louis said before taking a puff, then watched as Liam handed the other to Zayn, who was half a step behind them. The two of them passed it back and forth a few times, making Louis feel a little selfish for hogging one to himself. Then again, he didn’t exactly know these people.
A second later, Louis felt a tickle of hair brush against his right arm. He turned to see the girl from the hood of the car walking next to him, smiling as she gracefully took the cigarette from his hand.
“You know, they’re starting to claim these things cause cancer,” the girl said, taking a puff for herself. Her braids draped down to the dark skin exposed at her hips. They were held in place by a purple scarf wrapped around her head that fell with it and blended with her short floral shirt. The glow in her brown eyes held an exciting youthfulness. Louis would guess that she wasn’t any older than nineteen or twenty.
“Is that so?” Louis questioned, plucking the cigarette back from between her fingers. “I don’t have cancer.”
“Not yet, but you could.” She was determined to keep the cancer stick in her possession. “You’re going to die of something, one day. At least these give you a better chance of knowing how.”
“Why would you want to know how?”
“So I can be prepared. If I know now that I’ll die from lung cancer in thirty or forty years, then I know that’s thirty or forty years of life to experience.”
“Why don’t you just stop then so you’d have more?”
“I could die in a car wreck next week. This is just in case everything else goes well.”
Louis watched her curiously as she stared straight ahead, his cheeks hollowing as the lit end curled smaller. There were quite a few flaws in her logic, but he didn’t see the sense in arguing. “What’s your name?” he asked.
She smiled and looked across at him. “I don’t use my name. You can call me Deja. As in, déjà vu.”
“Why’s that?” Louis wondered.
“Because maybe you’ll see me again.”
And with that, she disappeared into the crowd on her own, escaping with the cigarette all to herself.
Louis had been here less than twenty minutes. This scene was going to take some getting used to.
Louis stayed with Liam and Zayn the rest of the walk until they reached the dairy farm. Every few seconds they passed a character worthy of a double take. People standing on roofs of cars, walking with strange and colourful clothing choices, and some with hardly any clothing at all. They hadn’t reached anywhere near the stage yet, but music filled the air. Whether it be from guitars, tambourines, two cans being hit together, or the off-pitch voices of attendees, it was everywhere.
Eventually, Louis expected they would reach some sort of gate or ticket booth, but instead they spotted a group of people stood at a make-shift wire fence, forcing it down as each person climbed over. The force of their combined weight managed to bend the wire flat, and all at once the crowd shifted towards it. On the other side of that fence was the festival grounds, and that’s exactly where they needed to be.
“Come on,” Liam said, waving the others over once he noticed the commotion.
“I still need to buy a ticket,” Louis told him.
Liam shook his head and laughed. “No you don’t.”
Zayn raised his eyebrows in agreement and grabbed Louis’ arm, pulling him forward to catch up with Liam. Methodically, the three of them stepped across the bent wire until they reached the other side, excitedly continuing on down the grassy hill. And that’s when Louis saw it. The crowd. The people.
Twenty-five thousand had to be the biggest understatement he’d ever heard. There had to be double that. Maybe even triple. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if the number had reached a hundred thousand. And that was just right now. There were still car loads of people coming. Bus loads. And he was here to witness it all.
The further you gazed across the farm, the more the people looked like ants. Colourful, loud, tiny ants. Near the back, where they were first exploring, many had spread themselves out on large blankets or set up small tents. Some had even managed to drive their cars and vans right onto the field. A clever idea, if you thought about it. A place to sleep and keep all your belongings without having to carry them all around, as long as no one tried to break in a steal anything. With that said, trying to get out of here at the end would likely be hell in of itself.
A small village had been formed from art booths and food vendors next to the edge of the surrounding forest. As they walked by, Louis craning his neck to take a look at the t-shirts and beautiful artwork for sale, Liam scoffed.
“Three days of peace, love, and capitalism,” he remarked. “I should’ve known as soon as I saw how much they were charging for tickets. Twenty-four dollars at the gate. Can you believe that?”
Louis thought about how much it probably cost to put this thing together and pay all of the artists, but he was also a lot happier to have that twenty-four dollars sitting in his pocket. “Unreal,” he shook his head.
Liam stepped forward to continue on the way towards the stage, but Zayn reached a hand out to stop him with wide eyes. Liam turned to him. “You want to look around, don’t you?”
Instead of nodding, Zayn just turned toward the village, implying they should follow. Louis didn’t mind so much. If he was going to write this story, he wanted to write about everything.
He watched as Zayn moved between booths, feeling the fabrics of hanging shirts and scarfs and examining the intricate colours and designs of the art. But he never stayed long enough to buy anything, or spark up a conversation with the vendors.
“Does he not speak?” Louis asked Liam, who stuck by his side as they strolled down the busy path.
“No, he does. At least, I think he does…” Liam scratched his head. “Now that I think about it, I’m not so sure.”
“Isn’t he your friend? How do you not know?”
“Sure, he’s my friend, but I only met him two days ago. I hitchhiked here from Indiana with his family group.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “So he’s part of a hippie family? Where are the rest of them?”
“No clue. Lost them in the crowds as soon as we got here. He doesn’t seem too worried.”
Liam nodded ahead of them to where Zayn was handing over a few dollars in exchange for a brown vest with fur along every seam. He excitedly pulled off his guitar, denim jacket, and the plain t-shirt he was wearing to instead put on his new purchase. When he approached the other two again, Louis nodded in approval while Liam said, “Looks good, man.”
Zayn smiled, then moved past them towards the way they came.
“Well, I guess that means we’re done here,” Liam sighed while turning to follow, Louis trailing the pack.
Moving along, they shuffled through the crowd, trying not to step on anyone’s belongings, or anyone for that matter. Louis wondered how much further they wanted to go. If it were up to him, they’d be squeezing their way right to the front. Louis still had to figure out how he was going to actually get backstage without any kind of pass or authorization. That was a task he was going to have to complete without any new friends tagging along. His charm and wit got him this far from his desk in San Francisco. Hopefully it could get him face to face with the one person who could make his big story complete.
Just they were passing an old red van, paint chipped over the years, Louis noticed two men who were walking around earlier, one holding a large camera and another a microphone. They were now stood at the entrance of the back door, seeming to be interviewing a woman sat inside.
“What are they doing over there?” Louis asked, just as the pair was leaving.
“Let’s go find out,” Liam said, then immediately began walking over to the girl. As they got closer, they realized a whole grouping of people were gathered at the site around this van. One bare-chested guy was even making an attempt to build a fire.
“Hey, peace,” the girl smiled when she realized they were approaching. “What can I do for you?”
“My friend, here, was wondering if you knew what those two men who talked to you were up to,” Liam enquired, and Louis quickly stepped in because he could speak for himself.
“I just noticed the camera, so I was curious what they were filming for.”
“I heard it was some kind of documentary,” the girl said. She crossed her legs and pulled out a joint from a bag next to her. Squinting her eyes from the sun, she glanced back up at them. “Why don’t you sit down? Join us.”
Liam did so without protest, and took the joint with thanks when the girl handed it to him. Louis had to admit, he was kind of eager for his turn as well. That cigarette earlier just did not do the trick. Especially since he never got the chance to finish it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Louis noticed the shirtless man from the fire approach them. He looked older than the rest of them with a full beard and circular glasses like John Lennon.
“Made some new friends, did you, Pam?” the man asked as he took a seat next to Zayn on the grass. That was one extra person between Louis and that joint.
“They’ll be friends once I know their names,” Pam said, looking to Liam. He named himself, then introduced Zayn, then Louis.
“They call me Sky,” the man said, holding up a peace sign with one hand as he took the joint from Zayn with his other.
They initially exchanged the casualties of where everyone was from. Pam and Sky lived here in New York, but bought this van for occasions just like this. Liam mentioned that he was thinking about hitching to check out California after this since that was a state he still hadn’t explored much. Louis kept that in mind in case he found himself without an interview and definitely unable to afford to fly back home. Then again, that would add on another week without a shower. This van sure would be smelling ripe after a few days.
Louis found it much easier to enjoy himself once he was no longer in a sober state of mind as he casually hugged his knees to his chest. After the walking and the crowds and the constant reminder of the rarity of bathrooms, a way to relax was a necessity for this weekend. And boy, were those ways in abundance.
In the distance, Louis watched as more attendees filled the field, some directions extending further than he could see. This was really not what he was expecting when he begged his boss for that plane ticket. If he was going to get that interview, he might have to plan his escape soon before any possible changes to the schedule were made.
“Does anyone know the order of the performers?” Louis asked the group.
“I think I have one of those posters that were hanging around the city,” Pam said as she leaned back into the van, a red flyer appearing in her hand. She handed it over to Louis, who accepted it with a thanks to examine.
“Who is it you’re so excited to see?” Liam wondered. His voice was shallow since he was trapping smoke in his lungs.
Louis looked around the group with one raised eyebrow. “Any of you heard of Harry Styles?”
“A local? Of course we have. I know him actually,” Sky said like it was no big deal at all.
Louis’ eyes widened. “You do?” This could be it. His ticket for the big story, and his ticket home. All he’d have to do is take this guy with him to get back stage, find Harry Styles so Sky could introduce the two of them, then Louis could-
“Yeah, we hung out with the same crowd after one of his basement bar shows one time. His friend had great acid.”
Louis sank. Back to Plan A, he supposed.
“He any good live?” Louis asked so he wouldn’t look completely uninterested as he took his final hit of the second joint. It was getting so tiny that Pam pulled out a pair of metal tweezers so none of the weed would go to waste. Of course, Louis already knew the answer to his question. He’d read every article on Harry Styles he could gather so he knew exactly which questions to ask. This wasn’t any old “You excited to play tonight?” Louis wanted a cover story. He had to convince this guy to do a little more than offer him a few minutes of his free time.
“He’s good, man. Great on the guitar, too,” Sky said.
“No Hendrix, that’s for sure,” Pam added, “But he can still wail.”
According to the flyer, if the order was accurate, Harry was going to perform in the first half of tonight. Louis hoped he could get back there before the show to get a few pre-performance questions in before he hit the stage.
“Mind if I keep this?” Louis asked Pam.
“All yours,” she assured, so he folded it up into four and stuck it in his back pocket.
“Well, would anyone like to join me?” Liam spoke up, standing from where he had previously sprawled himself out on the grass, Louis wondered how much the guy had smoked in total today. He was clearly stoned when they first met, which was unsurprising but also intriguing because it meant Louis didn’t know what he would be like sober. That is, unless the occurrence was so seldom that Liam didn’t even know himself.
“Where you headed?” Pam asked. She was yet to leave her spot in front of the van, as if she was guarding it.
“I want to get closer to the stage for Richie Havens.”
“We have the little one to take care of, but you’re free to come back any time,” she smiled.
Louis whipped his head around to look at her curiously. Was he the only one who heard that? “Sorry, what do you mean ‘little one’?” Louis said.
Pam pushed herself to the side to reveal what was in the van behind her. A small girl, no older than three or four, was laying her stomach as she snored lightly. Louis tried not to look so surprised, but that was practically a baby. Were they even allowed here?
“What’s her name?” Liam asked, his face lit up like he had just witnessed the most precious thing he’d seen in his life. Even Zayn leaned forward to get a look at the sleeping child.
“We call her Rain,” Pam said softly.
“Rain comes from the sky,” Sky added, and Louis was definitely not the only one to notice the smirk on his face when he said it. An odd comment, so Louis chose not to reply.
“I’ll come with you,” he said instead, remembering Liam’s request for company to get closer to the stage. He hopped to his feet.
“Great,” Liam grinned. “Zayn, you joining us?”
Zayn pulled his guitar forward and strummed an A minor. Louis would know, with his year of music school and beginner level guitar training. He then moved to a G, then a C, and his lack of attention made it pretty clear that the answer was no.
There was no defined path between them and the stage. People were scattered across the entire grounds, an excited buzz mixed with the ever-present smell of smoke in the air. The first act hadn’t started yet, but people were already crowding near the stage in a pack. Louis and Liam dodged people and belongings as they zig-zagged their way through the crowd. Most people were sat on the ground, leaving little room to idly wait unless they wanted to make even more friends first.
The stage was exposed on all sides, leaving nothing but a canopy to act as a shelter. From what Louis could tell, it was made of wood attached to yellow support towers holding the speakers. Easily, there were a hundred people in a straight line between them and the stage.
“Do you want to try to get any closer?” Louis asked once their slow jogging had faded to a walk.
“You can’t see well from here?”
“Don’t you want to see Richie Havens up close?”
“If you insist, lead the way.”
Louis was really going to have to work out a plan now. He had Liam on his tail, but he didn’t just want to get to the front of the stage. He wanted to get behind it. Soon he was going to have to decide if he was going to make up a lie to ditch his new friend to fight for himself, or figure out a way to convince Liam to come along without blowing his own cover.
He stopped and turned around, causing Liam to nearly bump right into his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked.
“You think Harry Styles brought his friend with the good acid?”
“What?”
Louis leaned in closer to speak, hoping the people were barely a foot away from them on all sides weren’t paying attention. “I want to see if we can get backstage where the performers are hanging out.”
“Why do you want to do that?”
“Don’t you think it would be cool to get a look at what’s going on back there? Rehearsing, tuning guitars, mingling with the performers. Plus, I’m sure they have better shit back there then what’s circling around out here. It’s probably a party in of itself!” Louis boasted, hitting Liam on the arm for emphasis.
“You got some sort of plan?”
“Find an entrance,” Louis stated simply.
“There’s going to be security.”
“My charisma is plentiful.”
Liam took a deep breath, then pulled his cigarettes from his sleeve to light one up. Louis hoped he had some more in that bag he left with Zayn because it looked like his pack was running low.
“You don’t think they’ll try and kick us out?”
“From behind the stage? Maybe. But of the festival? What are they gonna do, helicopter us out of here?”
“Alright,” Liam shrugged. “I’m in.”
“Yes!” Louis cheered, then pulled him by his arm so they could attempt to make a beeline for the side barriers.
“If this actually works, Zayn is gonna be pissed he didn’t come along,” Liam said.
Louis snorted. “It’s not like he’d have much to say to anyone back there, anyway.”
A wooden fence formed a barricade between the growing crowd and the stage. Louis was surprised he hadn’t seen any attempts to tear that down too, but then again that might put an end to the whole festival all together.
The barricade extended far past the stage, so Louis’ idea was to follow it until there was any sign at all of an opening. But then Louis found a better sign: a camera.
Walking diagonal in the same direction they were was a man followed closely by someone holding a video camera – the same man who was interviewing Pam just before Liam introduced them to her and Sky. Pam had mentioned that they were collecting footage of the weekend. The pair was moving through the crowd with determination, and the closer they got to the stage, the brighter the lightbulb in Louis’ head got.
Louis started walking faster, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure Liam was still close behind. He dodged each person in his way, squeezing between bodies and offering his apologies for being in people’s way, even though the way he saw it, they were in his way. And then he grabbed Liam’s arm and they ran until they fell in line behind the camera man, keeping enough distance that neither of the pair would notice.
“What are we doing?” Liam asked, leaning forward to yell into Louis’ ear. It was so loud around them that he wouldn’t be able to hear any other way.
“We’re joining the film crew,” Louis said without the faintest hint of hesitance in his voice. If this was the plan, he had to keep his mind committed. And convince Liam to either do the same or let Louis do all the talking.
When they met the guard standing at the narrow gap in the fence, the first man – assumed to be the director – only had to say the word “Crew,” and he was in. The camera man repeated the same word, then Louis did, then Liam, and somehow it was that easy. They made it to the other side of the threshold, and they were in.
Now it was just a matter of how long they could go without getting caught.
Where they had entered was more field and less people. Trucks carrying equipment were parked along the fence with roadies running back and forth to unpack them. Closer to the stage was where most people had gathered, practically on the stage but out of the performers’ way. Louis and Liam stayed close behind the camera man, but not close enough that he would notice they were following him. People moved past them pretty quickly without sparing much of a glance. Richie Havens was just about to take the stage, which must have been why the crew was headed back here to begin with.
Without any warning, Louis turned around and grabbed Liam by his open shirt to pull him along.
“What are you doing?” Liam demanded in annoyance, but Louis was pulling him up the ramp of a truck and shoving a roll of cables he picked up off an amp into his chest.
“Now we’re roadies,” Louis said, then grabbed a second roll for himself. “Blend in.”
The two of them walked off the truck like it was nothing and made their way towards side stage. Just as they dropped the cables, Richie Havens was walking up the steps with his scratched up acoustic guitar, ready to take the stage.
“Woah,” Liam let out quiet enough so only Louis, who was standing in front of him, could hear.
Louis smirked, then looked over his shoulder. “Told you you’d get to see him up close.”
Most of the roadies and organizers decided to break and take in the music from the first performer of the night. Richie was wild on the guitar, using his thumb up and down that fret board and wearing the guitar out to its bones. It was hard not to get lost in the sound and mesmerized by the atmosphere. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered and screamed between each song and flawless solo. Liam even cupped his hands around his mouth to let out a few shouts.
During the last song was when Louis saw him: Harry Styles. He was standing on the other side of the stage, hiding near the back and speaking passively with a man on his right who was wearing a cowboy hat. That long and curly hair on Harry’s head would typically make someone blend in anywhere young people were, but the floral bellbottoms, flowy shirt, flashy silver shoes, and matching scarf set him apart.
Louis watched Harry speak more than he watched the rest of the performance. The way he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms. Folding his hands together when his arms hung in front of him. Jutting his hip out every time he switched positions to stand more comfortably. His jaw clenching and eyebrows knitting together as he listened along to whatever this man in the cowboy hat had to say. Louis didn’t get Liam’s attention because he didn’t want him to know who was standing maybe sixty feet away from them. And he was extra glad about that decision when Harry caught his eye, noticing the staring.
Immediately diverting his gaze, Louis instead began clapping because the song had just come to an end and he was definitely paying more attention to the stage, anyway. The crowd cheered him off and Richie walked right past them as he exited. Liam called out, “Great show, man!” as it happened, but there was so much going on that he didn’t end up with a response. Louis glanced across the way again, and Harry was nowhere to be seen.
“That was outta sight, man,” Liam beamed, shaking Louis’ shoulders. “How much longer do you think we can hang around here?” he asked a little quieter, making Louis turn around.
“Until we get caught,” Louis whispered, but he was thinking Until I get my interview. Now that he knew Harry Styles was here, all he had to do was find him and try to get a minute of his time. And then ask for a few more for a full interview later on.
“Look, they have food!” Liam pointed to a guy walking around with a tray of wrapped up sandwiches. “Take two and save one for later,” he instructed Louis. That was probably a good plan since Louis brought absolutely no food with him and didn’t know how thrilled he was about making a trip to those overpriced stands near the art village behind the crowd.
When the tray came around, they each grabbed two and Louis stuffed the extras in his shoulder bag. Then it came around a second time and they grabbed two more each, just in case. The others back at the site might get hungry too, after all. They scarfed down the initial sandwiches while hanging out on the grass with a few other roadies. For the most part, they managed to avoid speaking by mocking interest in the lives of the workers. Then when a joint got passed around, Louis couldn’t think of a better dessert to follow that ham and cheese sandwich.
“Man, you’d think they’d feed us better around here,” one guy said, picking leftover sandwich from his teeth.
“At least they’re feeding us at all. Did you hear they’re charging a dollar for hot dogs out there? I could get one for a quarter back home,” another piped up. The guy looked almost like a kid under his black sunglasses and bucket hat. He sat on the grass with his knees up and his arms rested over them as he chewed on his last bite.
A woman with a clipboard ran up in a hurry, waving forward the guy who was complaining about hotdog prices only a second ago. “Let’s go. You’re on in five,” she said. The kid stood up, brushed off his pants, and then pulled a pair of drumsticks from his back pocket.
“Duty calls,” he said, drumming the air. “Thanks for the toke.”
As he left, Louis turned to the others in confusion. “Who was that guy?” he asked.
Liam shrugged his shoulders, as if that was a helpful response at all, but then one of the roadies said, “Niall Horan. Haven’t you heard of ‘im?”
Louis raised his eyebrows. “The drummer for-”
“Yep,” he said before Louis could finish. “He’s a cool guy. Real normal. You’d never know he was the one behind those hits unless you knew his name.”
“Or heard him on the drums. His skills are far out.”
Louis was a little too distracted to follow the rest of the conversation, because out of the corner of his eyes he swore he just saw Harry Styles walk past a trailer across the way. This was his chance.
“I’ll be right back. Just going to find the restroom,” Louis said quickly, more for Liam’s benefit than anyone else’s so he didn’t think he was abandoning him. “You good?” he mouthed to Liam just to be safe as he stood up. Liam offered a thumbs up in response, then went back to his sandwich and the conversation at hand.
The first place Louis was headed was, in fact, the restrooms. Back here they had a line-up of Port-o-Sans readily available for the crew and performers. Out there, they had a line-up of Port-o-Sans equipped to handle about twenty-five thousand. Not one hundred thousand. This could quite possibly be his only chance for a peaceful shit this entire weekend, so he was going to take it.
Closing the door shut behind him, Louis decided he was going to take as much time as he’d like in there. It occurred to him as he sat there that this was the only possible way he could get any privacy around here, unless he decided to go for a walk alone in the forest. Then again, Louis could barely find the way to his apartment from the bus stop, so staying with the rest of civilization was probably a smarter idea.
The problem with these Port-o-Sans was that they were too damn humid. And, well, it was a toilet used by dozens of other people. The privacy was only worth the nose-curling smell for so long. Louis eventually had to get the hell out of there.
As soon as he stepped out of the Port-o-San, Louis took one breath of the fresh air, then felt a body awkwardly slam into the side of his.
“Woah, sorry man. Didn’t even see you. Where did you come from?”
Louis froze. This was – holy shit.
“Just the…” he waved pointlessly towards the Port-o-San behind him. “You’re uh… Hey!”
Okay, what the fuck was that?
“Hi,” Harry Styles said to him. He was going to have to get over the whole ‘star struck’ thing real quick if he thought he could get a professional interview with this guy.
“I’m Louis,” he said quickly, just when it looked like Harry was about to continue on his way.
“Harry,” he greeted, and Louis had no idea why he could feel his face going beet red. “I’d shake your hand, but you said you just…” he gestured towards the Port-o-San the same way Louis did.
“Right,” Louis laughed uncomfortably, but his window of opportunity was closing and he needed to act fast. So he turned up the knob on his charm and threw on his professional voice. “I was actually wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”
Tilting his head, Harry furrowed his brow. “What for?”
“You see, I work for this magazine based in San Francisco called-”
But Harry was already shaking his head and taking a step to the side. “Sorry. I’m not here to do interviews.”
The response hit Louis enough to throw him off, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
Louis stopped him, turning around so they had now switched places. “We want to do a whole cover story on you. It doesn’t even have to be here. We could arrange for some time later on. Please, if we could just-”
“Look, I said I’m not here for interviews. Sorry if you came all this way, but I just don’t have the time.”
“Wait!” Louis tried again. Harry didn’t keep walking, giving him a sliver of hope. “You’re an up-and-comer, right? You’re still trying to make your name mean something. So is our magazine. We’d be helping each other out. We spread your name, you spread ours. Fifteen minutes, that’s all I ask.”
“I don’t like the press. Can’t trust ‘em.”
“I’ve never been anything but honest in my writing,” Louis tried to assure him.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Ten minutes.”
For a second, it looked like Harry was genuinely considering it, but then he shook his head again. “I can’t do it, man. Sorry.”
With that and a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, he was gone, and there was absolutely nothing Louis could do about it.
Shit.
He watched as Harry disappeared into one of the trailers behind the stage. For half a second the thought of going after him crossed Louis’ mind, but he didn’t want to push his luck. All that would do is risk truly pissing Harry off once and for all, or get himself kicked out of here. Either way, Louis would be leaving without an interview.
Standing there, in front of the Port-a-Sans, Louis truly did not know what to do. The whole reason he came here was for that interview. In the back of his head, he always thought he could just try to enjoy the festival and get whatever he could out of the weekend if it didn’t work out, but without his big interview, all his piece would be is a shallow attempt at understanding youth culture. This was a rock magazine. He needed to talk to a musician.
“Hey,” Liam said, approaching with a wide grin. He held up a hand that was clawed around a six-pack of beer. “Check out what I found!”
Louis cocked an eyebrow. “You found that?”
“I may have snagged it from a trailer. Want to split it?”
Louis eyed the beer, then Liam, and then shrugged in agreement.
The pair sauntered back towards the trailers, intending to find a secluded spot next to a fence somewhere away from people so they could down three beers each and Louis could silently wallow in his failures. Instead, they were quickly spotted by a few of the other roadies who had a similar idea in mind to pass the time until they had to set up for the next act. Which, if Louis was not mistaken, was press-hating Harry Styles, himself. Mr. Too-Good-For-Interviews. But Louis wasn’t bitter.
Initially, Louis wasn’t too happy when he thought they might have to share that six pack Liam managed to find, but it turned out that these guys had their own go-to stash prepared for down time between performances.
As they sat in a jagged circle in the grass, hidden by the wall of a trailer, the few of them passed around smokes, listened to the music and cheers from the crowd, and drank. Louis was pretty content with the three beers and half a joint he managed to consume. He was used to spending a healthy chunk of his time with a slight buzz from cheap grass, but he decided a little overindulgence would serve him well this weekend. It wasn’t like he never wrote anything while he was stoned. Besides, this way he was truly living the authentic experience of the rock ‘n’ roll and hippie scene. His readers would understand. Hopefully his boss would too.
Louis wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually the music had stopped and work had started again. The guys chugged the last gulps of their drinks and left the cans in the grass to be dealt with later. Feeling like the mixture of substances did a little more than take the edge off, Louis didn’t know how the hell he was going to pretend he knew how to set up a stage or move equipment. He could barely pull it off when he was sober.
Instead of actually helping, like Liam was for some reason (those roadies must’ve really made him think he was one of the guys), Louis decided wandering around the stage looking busy was the best method for not actually having to do anything. Maybe he’d even toss a rolled up cable over his shoulder for decoration.
“Oh, hey. Didn’t I share a joint with you earlier?” Louis heard an unfamiliar voice ask him just as he was about to walk down the few short steps from the stage to the ground.
Now, Louis had shared many joints with many people today, but one look at this guy and his memory was suddenly triggered. Not only had he seen this guy earlier today, but he had seen his face inside a couple issues of the magazine. It was a lot clearer without the bucket hat and sunglasses.
“Yeah!” Louis said cheerily. “Niall, right?”
“That’s right. I don’t think I ever caught your name.” Niall switched the beer bottle he was holding into his left palm so they could shake hands.
“Louis. You guys really rocked, by the way.” Louis wasn’t sure how much of the show he had actually paid attention to, but he knew their music so he was probably right.
“Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from a roadie. I’m sure you’ve heard a ton of bands play.”
Louis did, but not from being a roadie. He wondered if being a rock journalist meant his compliment would’ve been worth more or less to a guy like Niall. Rock journalists were never seen as fans. They were practically the enemy. Then again, no one here knew his true identity. He felt like a superhero. Well, to these people, the super villain.
“I have, definitely. Glad to finally hear you guys play, though. I’ve been a fan for a while.”
“’preciate it,” Niall grinned, raising his bottle like he was giving a cheers. Then he tilted it to his lips.
Two guys carrying a trunk of equipment approached, needing them to clear the way. Niall apologized and jogged down the stairs, signalling for Louis to follow him so they could finish this conversation away from the people doing their jobs. Or in Liam’s case, the job he was pretending to have.
“So are you staying the whole weekend?” Louis wondered, since this guy was making no effort to start packing up like his bandmates.
“I was considering it, actually. Not sure how much longer they’ll let me hang out back here, but I can’t miss Janis tomorrow. And I heard Hendrix will be here on Sunday. Might just blend into the crowd. Find a family group to take me in.”
Louis laughed, even though he couldn’t tell for sure if Niall was joking.
“I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be to make it to Sunday. It’s getting a little crazy out there,” Louis nodded in the direction of the crowd.
“Good thing you get to stay back here then, eh?” Niall said, patting him on the back.
Louis widened his eyes, stuttering out a fake laugh in his breath. “Right. Yeah.” He’d consider being more careful with his word choice, but then again, if he wasn’t getting that interview, what reason did he have to be back here?
Unless…
“Hey, Niall, do you have a minute?”
“I have a whole weekend,” he grinned, taking another sip of his beer.
“C’mere,” he said, throwing an arm around Niall as he lead him away from pretty much any person who was in ear shot. “I’m going to be honest with you, man. I’m not actually a roadie.”
Niall snorted. “Yeah. No shit.”
“How did you know?” Louis stared at him, slightly aghast.
“I haven’t seen you do any work since you got here. Are you a fan or something? How’d you sneak in?”
“I’m not a fan. Well, I am, but that’s not why I’m here.” Louis continued into his whole rant about Rolling Stone. Up-and-comer helping out a, well, band who’s been around for a few years but could always use some extra press. Whatever he could throw in to make his pitch sound more appealing this time around.
“You get the name for the magazine from the band?” Niall asked, and Louis had to keep from rolling his eyes because he heard that question at least once a week.
“No, it’s from the Bob Dylan song. Brian Jones named The Rolling Stones after taking a look at a Muddy Waters LP,” Louis explained.
“Bob Dylan…” Niall mused at the sound of the name. “You think he’ll make it out here this weekend?”
“We’re getting off topic,” Louis pressed. “What do you say? Can I interview you?”
“I should probably talk to my manager first, but…” he shrugged, “a few questions can’t hurt. Shoot.”
From the bag that was still slung across his chest, Louis pulled out his audio recorder and hit play. He asked Niall about everything he could think of off the top of his head from the release of his band’s second record to what it’s been like performing at Woodstock thus far. Nothing worthy of a cover story, but definitely a good addition to his festival story that might take a bit of steam away from his boss after he finds out Louis never got that big interview. Really, the whole point was to show a new face, and there was one new face that everyone wanted to see.
“… and, you know, I just feel like the atmosphere is so much different performing on a stage like this. You can really feel the energy and the-”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage…”
“Oh shit, I think Harry is about to go on,” Niall said excitedly, completely losing his train of thought.
Louis paused the recorder. “You know Harry Styles?”
“I wouldn’t say I know him, but I’ve met him a few times in passing. He’s an amazing performer, really,” Niall insisted.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” Louis muttered.
Okay, so maybe he was a little bitter.
“Louis, there you are!” Liam’s voice signaled his approach. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Didn’t you say this is the guy you wanted to see? Let’s watch from side stage.”
“Who’s this? Your camera man?” Niall commented before downing the rest of his beer. Based on the disappointed look on his face, it could only be assumed that he’d be soon looking for a new one.
“Camera man?” Liam gave Louis a funny look.
Internally, Louis’ mind went into panic mode, but he could skill keep his cool enough to handle the situation. Possibly with the help of that mixture of foreign substances.
“Yeah,” Louis laughed, thinking on his feet. “I told Niall about how we’re working with the documentary crew. Niall, this is Liam. Anyway, who’s up to watch the show?” he asked quickly, hoping the abrupt change of subject would take the focus off of him long enough that he could come up with a better story.
As Liam happily lead the way, Louis hung back a step to whisper to Niall, “He doesn’t know I’m a journalist. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Niall seemed perplexed. “Why don’t you tell him?”
“I’m probably never going to see him again after this weekend,” Louis said passively. “Didn’t see much of a point.”
Just as they approached the stage, Harry was hopping up the steps to greet the enormous crowd. The people up front rose to their feet and the cheers reached back to the tents and vans up the hill. Before beginning, one hand rested on the mic, he took a moment to scan the tiny dots that amounted to tens of thousands of people. A smirk rested on his face as he began to speak.
“Hello, everyone,” he said, followed by some more cheering. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to play a few songs for you this evening. We seem to be in good company here, so I hope you all have a good time.”
Louis couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Before meeting the guy, he would’ve thought the modesty was real. Turned out it was just a façade to wrangle fans and trick them into liking a guy that was ‘just like them’. Louis had met other famous musicians before. He should’ve known.
The first song Harry played Louis recognized but didn’t completely know. It was off an album that he once took home from the office; one of the many free ones that the labels sent around to media to get the word out. It had to be lost somewhere, now, in the stacks of crates that lined the walls of his apartment.
Harry played one more song, this one a little more guitar heavy, before addressing the audience again. He only had one record to play through, anyway. Couldn’t need more than an hour to get through his set.
“My apologies, but I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Harry Styles, and it’s a privilege to play for all you groovy people tonight.” As he spoke, a stage tech walked up quickly to hand him an acoustic guitar to sling around his torso. “For this song I’d like you all to relax. Pass the bottle. Light up something to smoke. Share with the people around you. Make some friends.”
Harry strummed a few chords to test the tuning and volume of the new mic that was placed in front of his guitar, then began the song. The sound echoed soft across the quiet field, capturing the attention of everyone within earshot. His voice carried through perfectly pitched high notes, stretching out without running short of breath. By the end, even Louis, as bitter as he was, found himself in awe as he clapped through the applause.
Okay, so the guy had some chops when it came to performing. Didn’t mean Louis had to like him as a person.
Along with Liam and Niall, Louis stayed for the rest of the set, fighting an inner battle with wanting to hate Harry and being really damn impressed with the show he was putting on. Most bands and musicians he’d seen had stood on a stage and played music, but Harry performed. Right from his music and stage presence to his interesting choice of pairing a vest with a long scarf that wrapped around his curly hair and draped down his chest. He didn’t have to beg to be noticed. Eyes were naturally drawn to him, and you couldn’t help but allow him to grab hold of your attention, using that mic cable as a lasso.
Once he thanked the crowd to a chorus of applause, Harry exited the stage right next to them. He stopped to accept Niall’s compliment of a great show and exchange a quick “long-time-no-see”. Louis was watching him, and for a moment they made eye contact, but that was all. He knew Harry must’ve recognized him because he made a point to raise his eyebrows and divert his gaze right away.
“Come on,” Liam said, placing a hand on Louis’ shoulder to get his attention. “We should probably help set up for the next band.”
“Don’t you think we’ve pushed our luck enough already?” Louis said after deciding he should probably stop watching Harry walk away. He had to quit dwelling if he was going to get anything out of this weekend. “We should go back and find Zayn.”
“What? No! Look how long we’ve made it without-” Liam stopped himself when he remembered Niall was still standing next to them.
“He knows,” Louis said.
“He does?”
“I’m impressed, honestly,” Niall praised. He had somehow obtained a new beer without anyone noticing him leave.
“Look,” Louis began, “if we stay back here we have to work for free, and that’s only hoping we don’t get caught. If we go back out there then we can just enjoy ourselves and do whatever the hell we want.”
“Were you not just here when we were watching three of the performances from the side of the stage? Or eating food that was handed out to us and that we didn’t have to hunt down? Or going to a bathroom that we didn’t have to wait in line for an hour for?”
“What about Zayn? You’re just going to leave him alone for the rest of the weekend? He doesn’t even speak!”
Liam narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”
“Is it working?”
“If you want my two-cents, I wouldn’t mind checking out the crowd for the rest of the weekend,” Niall shrugged casually. “Like I said, I want to see Janis Joplin, but they’re trying to helicopter all the performers out of here after they play. They aren’t gonna let me stay much longer otherwise.”
“You can come hang with us then,” Louis offered gleefully, without even considering consulting Liam.
“You really don’t want to stay back here?” Liam asked Louis one more time.
“No, but if you want to you can. No one’s ratting you out, man.”
Liam sighed slowly, but ultimately agreed. Louis was right. They were pushing their luck. And leaving Zayn alone when he already lost his family group probably wasn’t the nicest move.
“Just let me use the line-up-free Port-a-Sans one last time,” Liam said, which was a good idea the other two hadn’t even thought of. Maybe they could find a few more of those sandwiches to bring along with them as well.
The group, and unlikely trio of sorts, trailed through the maze of backstage in an attempt to take in as much as they could from the mini luxuries of being around the organizers. While Liam and Niall headed over to the Port-a-Sans, Louis spotted an entire table full of snack foods. This truly was the jackpot. He marched over quickly, hoping to stuff as much into his bag as he could without looking too suspicious.
“The roads are completely blocked and flying people in and out is the only option they have. They want you out of here in the next half hour. There’s nothing I can do,” Louis heard an authoritative voice getting closer. For a second he thought it was speaking to him, until he glanced up and noticed the company.
“Tell them they can save the fuel.”
“Having you here just costs them more money. They want you to land, perform, then get out of here so they can move on to the next act. You had a good show and you got paid. What else do you need out of this place?”
“I just don’t understand why I can’t stay the weekend. It’s not like I’m asking to be paid for another performance.”
“Look, it’s probably for the best. You start a three month tour next week. Go home and get some rest for a few days. We’re taking off in twenty.”
Louis had done a good job of making himself go unnoticed until Harry stepped towards the table to fill up a paper cup with water from the a pitcher. But when he glanced up, it was hard for Louis to pretend he wasn’t staring directly at him. Harry looked back down at his hands to take a drink, then he spoke.
“You’re that rock journalist, right?”
Louis took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. It’s Louis.”
“I know your name.”
What a productive conversation, Louis thought sarcastically.
“Was that your manager?” he asked, even though it was really none of his business.
“You heard all that, eh?”
“Some of it. I was standing right here. Would’ve been hard not to.”
“They’re trying to kick us all out instead of letting us stay for the festival,” Harry told him even though they had just been over the fact that Louis heard all of this.
“Why do you want to stay, anyway? That’s three days with no shower, limited food, and shitting outdoors.”
It almost looked as if Harry was going to laugh, but then he said, “And great music.”
“Don’t you get to see great music be performed all the time, though? You travel all over for that exact reason.”
“You don’t get to be in the audience as much once you start to be the one on the stage.” He downed the rest of his water and reached for more.
Was Louis supposed to feel sorry for this guy? He was getting rich by being “the one on the stage”. This wasn’t the type of career you got forced into.
“Just do what Niall is doing,” Louis remarked with a laugh. “Join the crowd for the rest of the weekend.”
An aggressive arm was thrown around Louis’ shoulders, followed by the question, “Talking about me?”
“You staying back for the whole fair?” Harry asked Niall, looking somewhat surprised.
“Yeah, I’m gonna hang out with these guys.” He pointed a thumb at Liam who had also returned. “Why? You thinking about staying too?”
“Think I could join you guys?”
What?! No, this is not what Louis meant at all.
Louis tried to interject with a half-hearted laugh, “Actually, I was just jok-”
“Yeah, man. Of course you can!” Liam said eagerly, without even considering consulting Louis. Louis would argue that inviting Harry was different from inviting Niall, but he couldn’t without completely giving himself away.
Then again, Harry agreeing to keep his secret for the next two days was highly unlikely, so he was screwed either way. Louis would consider going off on his own – he did come here on his own, after all – but he was starting to think he found some friends in Niall and Liam, and even Zayn even though he hadn’t said a word. That left only one option: throw on the charm and try to get along with Harry for the next three days.
Before the four of them left, Harry had to go searching for his manager to let him know what was going on. The argument lasted about five minutes before Harry was back, but his manager was stomping towards them with a scowl scribbled on his face.
“Let’s get out of here before he tries to physically restrain me,” Harry said, so they took off running.
Harry was leading the pack even though he had no clue where they were actually headed, so when Louis made the sharp left towards the opening in the fence, he had to call after the others to follow him. The guy assigned to guard to opening seemed less concerned with people going out than people coming in, so they barged right through. Once they were on the other side, Harry looked a little taken aback.
“This is a lot of people,” he observed, speaking to Liam over his shoulder.
Harry wasn’t wrong. When Louis and Liam had first got backstage, the crowd seemed to be in the tens of thousands. If Louis had to guess now, he’d say it reached the hundreds of thousands.
“Didn’t it look like more people from the stage?” Liam asked.
“Looks like an audience from the stage. This is just a lot of people.”
“Not much of a people person?” Louis asked from the lead of their single file line while Niall had taken the rear.
“Not much of a strangers person.”
“You’re walking with three strangers right now,” Niall pointed out.
“You and I have met a few times before,” Harry said. “That counts.”
“Hardly.”
The sun had set now, so trying to find their way through the maze of hippies and their belongings proved even more difficult. Especially with the odd few who could recognize Harry or Niall even in the dark. “I think it’ll be kind of hard to avoid strangers here,” Louis pointed out, trying to find some sort of direct path they could follow. The effort was virtually worthless.
“I didn’t say I wanted to avoid them,” Harry claimed pointedly. “If I was really that closed off, do you think I would’ve agreed to stay back with you?”
Louis didn’t like that tone too much, but he would’ve had to turn around to glare at him and that would just be too obvious.
“Not to change the subject, but, uh, does anyone actually know where we’re going?” Niall asked the group.
Right then was when Louis realized that he, in fact, had absolutely no idea where he was going. He knew the general direction to head in was away from the stage, but that was about where his memory of where they left Zayn ended.
“It’s somewhere over here,” Louis said so he wouldn’t worry the two newest friends. Well, one friend and Harry.
“Do you remember what the van looked like?” Liam shouted ahead.
“It was old and red, wasn’t it?” Louis answered.
“Oh good,” Harry said. “You have van.”
“The hippie couple who we left our mute friend with has a van. All we have is a change of clothes and some stolen food,” Louis said, hoping to make their situation sound as unpleasant as possible.
“Sorry, your mute friend?” Niall clarified.
“I met him two days ago and he still hasn’t spoken. We don’t know why,” Liam said, then spoke louder to Louis. “I also brought a blanket!”
“Good thinking,” Louis praised.
He then turned to look at Harry, who seemed to just now realize that he was in a little over his head. Good, Louis thought. Now he wasn’t the only one moving rapidly through the stages of culture shock. Plus, maybe Harry would soon change his mind and realize he didn’t want to spend the next three days in temporary squalor for the sake of music.
“Friends!” Louis heard a voice say, then quickly turned to greet a familiar face. Nearly half an hour of aimless walking and somehow they had stumbled on the right path.
“Pam!” Liam said, which Louis was grateful for because there was no way he remembered her name. He remembered Sky’s name, but only because of that “rain comes from the sky” comment he still wasn’t sure the meaning of.
“You brought new friends,” she pointed out. It seemed as though Zayn had not moved from the spot where he was sitting when they left, but now there was a fire built next to him where Sky was sitting with Rain cuddled in his lap.
“This is Harry and Niall,” Louis said, pointing to each of them.
“Oh yeah, I know you,” Sky said, looking at Harry.
Harry gave him a funny look. “Have we met before?”
“No, but your friend had some great acid.”
Harry breathed a short laugh through his nose, barely curling his lip. “You mean Joey?”
“Yeah!” Sky exclaimed. “Great guy, man. Is he here with you?”
“Nah. Guests weren’t really part of the deal at this gig,” he said. “Nice to meet you…”
“Sky,” he said, stretching his arm up instead of standing to shake Harry’s hand since he had Rain. He then introduced her along with Pam. Louis supposed he should’ve done it himself, but he was still feeling a little out of it from all the substances messing with his brain at the moment.
“Sit with us,” Pam said kindly, her smile illuminated by the orange flames. Louis was more than happy to, especially since Zayn generously offered him a smoke after he took the seat next to him. The melody he was quietly strumming on his guitar made for a peaceful background noise.
The others joined in the circle, Harry the most hesitant as he sat next to Sky. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. From her spot on her father’s lap, Rain smiled up at him, and he did the same back. Louis realized then that it was probably the first time he saw Harry smile. Even in his photos he was often stoic, but right now across the fire, he actually looked real and human.
Louis kept watching him through the evening, which was probably a bit creepy, but he diverted his eyes every time he was at risk of being noticed. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about Harry that so strangely intriguing. The way he could so easily talk with anyone, the subtle expressions on his face that left his feelings up to the imagination, but still gave enough of a hint to get you on the right track. Finding him interesting didn’t mean he liked him, but it did make Louis question if he would be kicking himself later for not trying to get to know Harry. Even if it was off the record.
But right now, as a few more strangers joined the fire and began sharing whatever they brought to smoke, the drowsiness taking over Louis was undeniable. He did have a long day, after all. Checking his watch, he realized it was nearly ten and the lack of sunlight was fueling the chilly breeze. The noise from their surroundings made it clear that he wouldn’t get a full night’s sleep, especially with the music carrying on, but trying for a few hours wouldn’t hurt.
“Hey Pam,” Louis whispered to the woman sitting next to him. “Would you mind if I crashed in the van for a little while?”
“You’re more than welcome to,” she smiled.
After thanking her, Louis stood up, hoping to make a quick escape into the isolation of the van, but his attempt wasn’t enough.
“Where are you going?” Liam asked.
“It’s still so early,” Niall tagged on.
“Just taking a nap,” Louis insisted. “You can wake me in an hour if I’m really missing out on the fun.”
“We’ll hold you to that,” Harry said, and this time the smile was aimed at him.
Louis lay down on the thin layers of patterned pillows and blankets, taking one to pull over his legs. He removed just his jeans, hoping that wasn’t too strange, but the door had been closed behind him anyway. As he stared at the intricate tapestry covering the walls and ceiling, and the shadows through the windows of people dancing in the night, he thought of how nice it was to be part of something like this. He wondered when he’d actually start feeling like he was a part of it.