The Sun and His Moon

3

Louis was standing under a spray of ice-cold water. He looked like something out of a rather explicit magazine but he still didn't think of himself as pretty. He had gotten up at four am in the morning, with a little problem. Of course, he was hard. He hadn't been with anyone for so long. He could bet he'd almost forgotten what sex felt like. As the water cascaded down his figure, he could feel a sort of coldness wrap around his heart. It was the cold of hurt, hatred, and loneliness. The handsome, most eligible bachelor of London city was crying because he felt like nobody wanted him.

He was staring at his closet where twenty exactly similar suits ranging from black to dark blue to grey from Christian Dior and Chanel. They were all he wore anyway. You'd have to be dead or a very close one of his to ever see him out of a suit. His phone rang, it was his mum. "Good morning, mum," Louis smiled. "You don't call me enough, Boo. I missed your voice," she laughed. "I was busy mum!" he chuckled, eyes flicking between the back suit and the grey one. She was talking about some yacht trip when he heard Harry Styles. "Mum, did you say Harry Styles?" he coughed. "Yes, they've invited us to a weekend-long trip in Italy. Something about making the relationship stronger between the families," she explained. It hit him. He hadn't solidified the deal between them yet. He would've done it anyway, the Styles Corporations never disappointed when it came to business. It did when it came to who was to inherit it but not when it came to profits. "When is it, mum?" he asked, running a hand through his damp hair. "Tomorrow. It's just going to be you, your father, and I. Lottie said she'll take care of the little ones," she replied. "Right then, I'm gonna be late. Bye, mum. I love you," he smiled. "I love you too BooBear," she replied, cutting the call. He stared at Ophelia who was sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed. "Fuck fuck fuck. I cannot stand him and now I have to spend a whole weekend with him? Ophelia I am going to screw up and it's all gonna be over. Fuck," He screamed. 

Harry woke up to an empty bed and an emptier heart. He remembered what happened last night. It was such a common occurrence for him yet it still stung. His penthouse didn't reek of sex, it smelled like vanilla and flowers, his mother's perfume, it smelt like home. It made him feel safe and enveloped him like a hug. Checking his mail proved to be a mistake, it had the invite to a trip to Italy that wasn't even optional. "If he thinks I am a fool, why the fuck does he have to make me go somewhere the Tomlinsons are going to be? Right right so he can embarrass me in front of Louis claiming how much better of a businessman he is," he scoffed to himself in the shower, tracing the marble design on the walls. Even showering alone in an empty house made him feel like he was in third grade again. He shut his eyes, tried to think about flowers, bunnies and frankly anything other than the fact that he was completely vulnerable if anything were to happen. 

"Paula, did Mr Tomlinson send the confirmation yet?" Harry asked, walking into the office with the confidence the crown prince should have. He was so good at pretending, he was almost beginning to believe that confident cocky bastard was actually him. "Not yet, your Royal Highness. Don't worry about it, I think we'll get it soon enough," she piped up with a smile. He internally scoffed, hand running through his curls. "You may go back to your desk now," he dismissed and her heels clicked against the floor as she walked out. "Just because I bed you once doesn't mean you get comfortable with me. Besides, that Louis lad is such a nuisance. He could have given the okay on the day of the meeting," he sighed, opening his laptop. There was Dusty, his childhood cat, staring at him through the screen It almost felt like she was disappointed in the man Harry had become. "Sorry, Dusty," he mumbled before opening his mail.

"Steph please remind me to send Harry Styles an email after lunch," Louis called. She gave him a thumbs-up from across the room, scribbling it onto her little notebook. He was slouching for two seconds before he quickly fixed his position, scanning his empty office if anyone had seen it. It was a normal thing for him at this point, he always needed to look his best. That meant no slouching, no unkempt hair, and no-nonsense clothing. If you asked anyone, they'd tell you that Louis Tomlinson was a very confident man with a gorgeous face but he, too, was brilliant at the game of pretence. He had the mask on of a cutthroat, straight to the point businessman which was surprisingly attractive to a lot of people. 

"Hello?" Louis answered the call from an unknown number, typing out an email to Harry Styles. "Hey, Louis! It's John from the bar if you remember. You had given me your number and asked me to give you a call," the voice from the other end piped. Right, he'd gotten slightly drunk at the pub and given some random lad his number and how he had to figure a way to let him down slowly. "Right um, John, I'm sure you're a wonderful guy but I'm really not looking for anything right now, lad. Maybe another time?" he tried. "Of course, of course. I could tell you were quite tipsy that night, I just called in case you were waiting on my call," he laughed but Louis could hear the pang of hurt in his voice. "Bye, Louis," he said before cutting the call. "Never going to a pub ever again. From this day onwards, Tomlinson, restrict your drinking to the comfort of your own home where you can down bottles without shame," he sighed. 

"Come here, Harry," she called. Harry just hid in his closet, quiet as a mouse. She couldn't get to him if he didn't make a peep. He sat there, scared out of his mind, waiting it out to see if he'd get hurt again. "Ha! Gotcha! Why were you hiding from me, Harry? Did you want to play hide and seek?" she cooed but it was fake. "No..no," he whimpered, backing into the little space he was trapped in. She just chuckled, reaching for his arm.

Harry shot up from his bed, drenched in sweat. His throat was closing upon itself, he couldn't breathe. Shaking, he took out his medicine from the nightstand's drawer. Quickly gulping it down with water, his eyes filled with tears. This was stupid, he was a grown man. Nobody could hurt him, he wasn't a little scared Harry anymore. He was the Crown Prince, Harry Styles. He was the man who was impeccable at boxing, he was the man that every girl wanted to have. She was a nobody, she couldn't do anything. She was gone. He curled himself with a pillow behind his back to make it seem like he was the little spoon and someone actually cared enough to be with him. He was going to be alright. Not today, not tomorrow but someday.