the royal family of the music industry

04. FOUR

Harry Styles,  2017

The car stops in an abandoned parking lot and James turns off the cameras and microphones.

"So our first solo carpool karaoke was really successful, don't you agree?" He says, facing his body sideways in the  seat of the range rover.

"I agree. And we kissed" Harry says smirking.

There is a pause where they just look at each other.
The afternoon sun shining through the windows and heating up the white leather of the seats.
The faint noise of birds chirping in the woods and the left over smell of the tea they drank before they started filming fills the air while they stare at each other. It's rather cold, despite being late September and Harry regrets his choice of outfit even if it's still very warm inside the car.

James' small eyes crinkling as he starts to smile.
Crinkles framing blue eyes.

Fuck.

"Talking about kissing.
Sweet Creature is your mum's favorite song, huh?" He says and throws Harry this pointed look, where he tilts his head slightly downward and cocks an eyebrow and smirks.

Harry scoffs and turns his head away from him, staring out of the window silently, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a child.

James doesn't know.

Nobody does.

Nobody knows that it's over.

"Don't we have something to
do?" Harry mumbles and immediately regrets it, as hurt flashes over James' face, before he settles for a confused nod, clearing his throat at Harry's annoyed state that he had never seen on him before, since Harry is always polite and mostly happy. Or at least pretending to be.

"Do you have it?" He asks and Harry pulls out the folded letter he had received a few weeks ago.

The only information on it was a phone number, which turned out to be James' secret-double-agent number and time and place of when he had to be where.

It was signed by Beyoncé.

The weird feeling in Harry's stomach he had felt when he had first read it returns as he hands over the note to James who inspects it before nodding again, way more serious than ever, and turns on the engine one more time.

What even was all of this?

If Harry hadn't felt annoyingly lonely over the last two years having to do everything he had only ever done together with his four best friends- his brothers- (interviews, shows, song writing and recording and dealing with tons of people who tell you you're not good enough) he most certainly felt extremely alone right now.

They should be here with him.

Liam should be the only one aware of what they are doing and why they are doing it,
Niall should whine because he's hungry or laugh at just everything (which is weirdly comforting when you get used to it),
Zayn should make jokes in his horrible fake accent or give some good advice out of nowhere and Louis-

Louis.

Louis should hold his hand, Louis should mess up his curls, Louis should say things that are dangerously close to exposing them and will get them in deep trouble, Louis should tell him it's fine, Louis should kiss his forehead, Louis should talk about football and sex, oversharing like he always does, Louis should smile and light up the room with it, Louis, Louis, Louis.

Louis shouldn't have left.

Harry snaps out of his daze and blinks a few times.

Fucking tears. He can't cry right now.