Nothing But You On My Mind

Chapter Seven

Louis wakes up with a pounding headache, but ignores it with the same determination with which he ignores the memories of last night.

Maybe if he ignores it hard enough, it'll be wiped from the space time continuum.

The thing is, it doesn't matter how good of a kiss it was. Honestly, it doesn't. Because even if it was the best kiss in the history of the world, even if it was something people would study and discuss for centuries, it's not like it means anything to them.

And it wasn't, for the record. It wasn't the best kiss in the history of the world. Louis wasn't even sober for it, so it couldn't have been.

He gets up and gets ready for his day. He's wearing a black suit and a black tie because it's classic and also because if Louis has to puke later it's probably the least likely to show up. That's how that works, right? He doesn't think too hard about it as he sips a glass of water.

When he makes it to Press Room F, no one else is there yet. "Oh, thank god," Louis mutters to himself, and he slouches down onto a chair outside of it. The only reason he doesn't close his eyes is because he gets nauseated when he tries it the first time.

Twenty minutes later, ten minutes to 9am, the Prince comes down the stairs. He looks better than Louis does, at least, but then again what else is new.

"Your Highness," Louis says, and then he stands slowly.

"Why are you whispering?" he asks loudly.

"Why are you shouting?"

The Prince laughs, again much too loudly and says, "I'm not."

"Sure feels like you are."

"Come here," he says and makes a move like he might hug Louis or something, so Louis puts a hand up, winces and shakes his head. It's just then that the press door opens, and the head of the palace PR team comes through, looking up at him.

"Ah, Mr. Tomlinson," he says, "there you are. Do you have a moment?"

Louis pulls himself up and nods. He will not let Simon Cowell know he's hungover. He walks to the other side of the room and Louis follows.

"Everything alright?" Louis asks.

"Yes, yes, all good. I just wanted to confirm I got your initial proposal yesterday."

Louis looks at him and tries to remember. He doesn't remember submitting anything, but he can't be pressed to remember his own middle name at the moment.

"The fundraiser? For Home and Hope?"

Louis winces. "Oh."

"Yes. So I ran it by the rest of the PR team, and we're all on board. Unfortunately, I don't think we can get it done in time before you depart, but I'm assuming you wouldn't mind if we scheduled it for the following week?"

"Actually, I think I might have been a bit too eager with that proposal. I didn't flush it out as I should have, I apologize."

"Really? Well, I can't even imagine seeing something flushed out, we thought everything was impeccable."

Goddamn his well-honed skills.

"No, I hadn't checked with the organization first, and I'm not sure if they would be willing to partner with us."

"Ah, I'm sure you'll convince them," he says, waving a hand like it'll be no trouble.

"Really, I shouldn't have submitted it. I would like to pull it back from consideration."

He pauses. "I'm not sure if I can do that. I've already brought it up to Her Majesty and Her Highness; they both loved the idea so much since we found the Palace already donates there. Princess Gemma also had the idea to host it in the ballroom of the Kingsbury Library, since they've been working with Home and Hope for years. Great publicity for them both."