The Sun and His Moon

18

"Who is it, Anotina?" Jay called out from across the house. "It's young sir," she replied, taking his coat. It was barely a flicker of a moment later that Louis saw his mum rush in to hug him. "I've missed you, Boo! How are you? Okay, we'll talk later. First of all, you're staying for dinner. No buts. Antonia, tell John that Louis is here, he'll know exactly what tonight's menu will be. And tell the girls to come down too," Jay beamed. "Mum you're acting like I came back from exile," Louis laughed, walking with her to the living room. "It does seem like it! You call only once a day and you rarely ever visit anymore. We're getting old, love. Soon, you'll have to visit twice a day or we'll forget what our son looks like," she joked, pouring him a glass of wine. "You're still very young! You look just like you did when I was in year one. Besides, I visit almost thrice a month," Louis huffed with a smile. 

Three very bored girls were dragging themselves down the stairs until they saw what was waiting in the living room. Louis. They picked up their pace, chasing after one another to see who could get to their big brother first. They all ended up crashing all on top of each other and Louis beneath the bunch. "Oh my god, mum what have you raised?" Louis chuckled, trying to get out from under the three of them. "Oi stop it! You rarely visit. You've got three sisters you know that right?" Lottie huffed, swatting his arm. "Yeah yeah now let me go," Louis shrugged as they got off of him. "Seriously, we miss you a lot," Daisy chimed and Louis kissed her forhead. "I know. That's why I'm trying to visit more often," he smiled, fluffing up Phoebe's hair. "Stop it! I had just brushed it!" she huffed but that only made the rest of them giggle. "Where's dad?" Louis asked. "He's at the country club. Retirement has gotten to him. Did you know he noticed that I had worn a skirt that didn't go with my purse today? So I shooed him away for the day," she chuckled making Louis burst out in laughter. "So what are you divas up to besides trying to crush your brother?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass. "Daisy's got a boyfriend," she blurted and Daisy swatted her. "Oooohh tell me everything, Pheebs," he giggled.

"Harry, where the fuck have you been for the past three days?" Niall huffed, plopping down the couch. Harry was sat across from him, legs spread and a glass of scotch in his hands. The two empty bottles in front of him meant bad news. "Just was wondering why he'd slap me and push me off when I said I loved him," Harry sighed, eyes closed as he leaned back. "And that's why you are holed up in your stupid penthouse?" he snapped. "You fucking bastard you should be trying to talk to him, trying to prove him wrong. Trying to show him that you are what he wants. Do you know what you are doing? You are doing exactly what he expected of you. You're distancing yourself. If I were you, I'd be asking him to meet me one last time so I could at least tell him that I wasn't kidding when I said I loved him. And look at you, drinking scotch like it'll solve all your problems," Niall spat and Harry straightened his back before looking him straight in the eye. "So you think this is easy for me?" he asked, voice eerily calm. "No I don't but I think you're dealing with this the wrong way," he replied. "So what do you propose? I go stumbling into his house, fall at his feet and beg for him to love me back like I love him? That I get kicked in the balls this time?" Harry asked, downing the rest of his drink. "No. What's gotten to you, Harry? All I'm saying is give him a call, a text. Tell him you want to meet or just talk about what happened. You're disappearing from his life, this isn't right. If you have fallen so bad for him, I'm pretty sure he has too. He's just waiting on you to try a little harder," Niall explained, running a hand through his hair. "Mhm I should text him," he said, eyes hazed over with the influence of alcohol. Niall snatched away his phone. "Later, when you're sober. You'll say some stupid shit and make it worse," he glared at the pouty Harry. 

"Louis! Come hug your old man," Mark chimed, wrapping his son up his arms. "Dad apparently you told mum her purse and skirt didn't match?" Louis grinned causing his father to burst out in laughter. "I did but it was so noticeable!" he laughed. "No, it wasn't, you grumpy old man!" Jay huffed smoothing down her skirt. "But you still looked as beautiful as ever, love," he smiled, making Jay blush. Louis was jealous, very jealous. Why couldn't he have that with Harry? Why did Harry have to be what he was? Why did he have to be so afraid?

"Come with me," Louis giggled, pulling at Oliver's forearm. Oliver followed, staring at Louis like he was just about the most marvelous thing to exist. He was. Nineteen years old, soft fluffy fringe, crinkly blue eyes, soft thin lips, mischievous childish quirks that always got him in trouble but who could be mad at that smile, sassy but so loveable, and a sweet submissive nature to go with it all. Louis was perfect. Louis pulled him into a balcony, it was pretty well hidden away from the rest of the house. Cheeky. "Kiss me," Louis pouted, eyes gleaming with mischief and how could anyone deny him? Oliver was, after all, a man. The kiss that was supposed to be English soon turned French. Things always escalated too quickly with Oliver. He pushed the smaller lad against the wall, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over his neck. The blond picked him up, holding him up by his bum against said wall. He grunted in discomfort. "Babe you could afford to lose a few pounds you know?" he remarked, adjusting his hold. Louis' face fell, Oliver didn't think he was pretty anymore.

Louis shook off the memories, lighting another cigarette. They were one of his guilty pleasures, another thing he'd picked up after Oliver and he had broken up. He inhaled the bitter smoke before breathing it out. Oliver had ruined him, he wasn't the sweet Louis anymore. He was that Louis Tomlinson who was infamously known for getting the best out of the closet cases. There was something melancholically beautiful about smoking on the same balcony in his parent's house where once upon a time, he used to sneak out with Oliver to make out. Now he despised Oliver with every fibre of his being but this was still his favourite balcony. Not because he had snogged off his face here so many times, because this was the same balcony where his mum used to bring him to show him the stars and the moon, this was the same place that he had fallen in love with the moon in. The same place that made him look out of the car's window to see if the moon was still there because his mum had told him the moon would take care of him if she wasn't there. 

Harry was scribbling into his so-called journal. It was one word, written over and over again for five pages.

 
Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, Lou, Lou, Baby

 It was an obsession at this point. He didn't want Louis, no. He needed Louis. Every inch of his being longed for another gentle caress from those nimble fingers. If only Louis knew how much Harry loved taking care of him when he went under, when he was at his most vulnerable. How that in itself had made Harry realise that he was worthy of trust and love. How Louis had unknowingly taught Harry to love again. If only Louis knew Harry would fight off a thousand Johns to get to Louis, to have him all for himself. "I fucking love you. Why don't you understand that?" he asked the wall, a tear falling on the paper that he was writing on, smudging the ink. He reached for his medicine knowing full well they wouldn't help as well anymore, Louis had gotten to him, gotten under his skin, captured his soul and seized his heart.