The Sun and His Moon

21

"Oh my darling boy, come here," Esther cooed, patting the spot next to her on Harry's bed. He walked over slowly, trembling. He was wearing leggings, she had gotten them for him. It was all a joke to her, a mockery of the Crown Prince. Harry couldn't even try and put a finger on what would've made her act like that even if his life depended on it. "You're a beautiful boy you know, Harry? The most gorgeous boy," she praised, palming him. He was frozen still, numb to everything. Over the years of her having her way with him, he had gotten used to it in the most fucked up way. He had accepted that it was what he would have to deal with for the rest of his life, he was just letting it happen. It was truly shocking to see a sixteen-year-old boy let a horrible middle-aged woman have her way with him, but nobody understood that he wasn't actually sixteen. Having her around made him feel like a scared little boy again, a boy who couldn't defend or protect himself. "Harry, darling, where were you?" she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Huh?" he shook himself. "Come on then. Undress me, silly," she laughed, grabbing his hands and placing them on the topmost buttons of her blouse. He shakily unbuttoned her blouse, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Look at you, so beautiful. I think I like you best when you're crying, you look like an angel," she informed with a smile. "I..I..have my tutor coming in ten minutes," he tried, fisting the sheets. "Well then, honey, get on your knees and finish me off will you?" she asked, fondling his face. "No..um can we um do it tomorrow?" he tried helplessly. "No, darling boy, I have work tomorrow. Go on, get down," she pressed. He shakily got down, mumbling 'it's okay' over and over again like a mantra.

Harry's eyes shot open, curls soaked in sweat. Breathing seemed impossible at that moment. He gasped for air as he felt his lungs drain of it. He blindly scrambled for his inhaler around the headboard. He quickly breathed in the fumes, allowing him to finally breathe again. Empty eyes stared into the dark hallway ahead of him. It was habit at this point. She would never stop haunting him, he was to be stuck with those memories, with her, forever. He slowly got out of the bed and headed towards the kitchen. A cup of tea spiked with a little bourbon sounded perfect. Maybe a lot of bourbon. "Fuck you, Esther. You cold-blooded snake of a woman. You're just like your brother. Ruthless, unkind, and unable to love," he sneered to himself, turning the kettle on. He took out his tea mug, it was a round powdery pink mug with goofy frogs all over it. He dropped an orange flavoured tea bag into it. He walked softly towards the liquor stand, careful to not wake the cat that was sleeping on the couch beside it. Louis liked bourbon, with three ice cubes. Always three ice cubes. It had been two days since he went stumbling into Gemma's place after arguing with Louis. Now, it felt like nothing would ever be okay. It felt like the hurt he felt would forevermore. 

Louis sat himself down on a stool at the kitchen island. "How was your day, darling boy?" Mary asked, spooning sauce onto a plate of pasta. "Same old. Nothing new. Met up with other rich people, signed a big deal, moped around and had way too much tea for a grown man," he sighed, putting his head down on the marble. "Well, how is your prince?" she asked, sliding the plate towards him. Louis choked on his breath. His prince. Harry. Love. "He's um he's well. He visited my office the other day. He's just been so busy lately," he fibbed, smiling. "Oh, that's good. Tell him I said to take care. Besides, how is he busy enough to not give a boy as gorgeous as you all the attention in the world?" she smirked. Louis smiled, twirling the spaghetti with his fork. Harry did want to give him all the attention in the world but he himself couldn't accept it.

Louis leaned back on the glass door of the balcony to his bedroom. The ashtray beside him was filling up at an alarming rate, almost a packet finished. All the possibilities of Harry were playing in his head, all the things Oliver did, how Harry seemed aeons better. Maybe Zayn was right. Maybe he wasn't giving Harry a proper shot, maybe Harry deserved a chance. Just a chance. Maybe Harry wouldn't be like Oliver. Harry would love Ophelia and Cookie. He would take care of him no matter what. He would never tell him that he looked bad. "I..I love him," he whispered, staring at the skyline of London in the middle of the night. "Fuck it," he huffed, getting up and rushing into the room. He scanned his bed for a shirt, grabbing the jumper that was lying on the edge. It was big on him but he didn't care at that moment. "Don't let me down, Styles," he said, slipping out of his penthouse with the door locking behind him.

He pressed the bell button twice, already thinking he was making the worst decision of his life. "Fucking open up, princess! I drove myself here without a fucking coat!" he yelled at the door. Harry stumbled to open the door, almost spilling his tea in the process. He wasn't expecting anyone that day, definitely not at that hour. He could hear faint yelling but couldn't place exactly who it was. He opened it to find..Louis. He froze, staring at the sweater he was wearing. It was his. Louis couldn't speak either. Both of them were staring at each other, unable to move. Harry was the one to break the silence. "You're wearing my jumper" he blurted. "Yeah I am and what about it? What do you want me to do? Take it off and get naked for you to have your way with me again? So you can fuck me and tell me that you love me again right here in the hall of your penthouse?" he snapped, blood rushing to his cheeks. He hadn't realised it was Harry's jumper until he had pointed it out. Now he felt stupid and being snappy was his stupid way out of it. Harry would tell him to fuck off. He was sure of it. "Louis," he whispered. When someone loves you, your name sounds different when you hear them say it. It's safe and warm with them. That's exactly how Louis felt when Harry finally spoke his name. "Baby," Louis glared. "What?" Harry asked, confused. "Call me baby. I am your baby," he huffed, walking in. "Wait..you want me?" he asked, closing and locking the door and catching up to Louis who was examining the contents of the pink frog mug. "Orange tea and bourbon? Someone's got taste," he remarked after taking a sip. "Louis, are you..do you love me?" he asked. "No Harry, I am here to compliment your tea and alcohol choices," he sassed with a smile. "Now tell me, how many times have you loved me without me asking you to? How many times have you loved me without my permission? And how often have I loved something because you loved it, including myself?" Louis asked, taking another sip. Harry was flabbergasted. "Louis-" the taller lad was cut off. "Baby," Louis corrected. "Right um baby, I..I love you," he blushed, wishing to say more but the words wouldn't form. "I love you too, Harry," he smiled, "Don't screw this up because I am giving you one chance," he sighed. "I'll never screw it up, baby," he smiled, stepping closer. 

"Now kiss me you fool," Louis giggled, pulling at Harry's bare shoulders to get him to bend down. He pressed his thin lips to the plump ones of Harry. The taller lad tapped on Louis' thigh. Louis followed through, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist. He started walking towards his room, not compromising on the kiss. "Fuck me," Louis sighed into Harry's open mouth. He shook his head in no. "Why?" he asked as Harry let him down on the bed. "Because I don't want to fuck you, just wanna kiss you and hold you," he explained, taking off Louis' jumper. His heart swelled a hundred times bigger at that. "Then why are you undressing me?" he teased, arching his back only in his tight black boxers. Harry was already naked spare his grey boxers. "Because you are my present, all wrapped up in fluffy sweater," he replied, kissing him as he climbed into the bed. "Yeah? Your present? All wrapped up for you, Daddy?" he asked, misheiveous glint in his eyes. "Yeah all mine," he pressed another kiss to his shoulder. "Daddy's" he assured, hands roaming Harry's bare skin. It felt like tiny electric sparks would go off every second that he spent touching him. Harry lay down beside Louis, pulling him onto himself. "Now, if only we hadn't constantly been at each other's throats from the start, if we hadn't fought what we felt, we wouldn't have lost so much time. I wanted to kiss you the day I saw you wear glasses," he sighed, pressing Louis impossibly close to him like he was afraid if the hold was a little lighter, Louis would disappear. "A year of mindblowing sex and kisses and dramatic narrations of love. I missed all that because I was too wound up? We're starting tomorrow, Styles," he decided, presssing kisses to Harry's right pec. "I love love love love you, Harry," he smiled into the skin that had strangely begun to smell safe. "And I love love love love love you, Louis," Harry replied, drifting off to sleep. It was perfect. Even if Louis wasn't completely sure and Harry was still shaken up from his nightmare, from Esther. Nothing mattered now that they were wrapped up in each other, they would save each other.