Wear it like a crown

chapter 11

You need to fly to Brazil.” It wasn’t quite a question, but it wasn’t quite a statement either. James’ expression didn’t give away much.

“Yes,” Louis said. He laced his hands in his lap.

“And you have to leave right now.”

"I—yes. Because I did something really stupid.” Louis unlaced his hands and crossed his legs at the ankle, then forced himself to sit still. Honestly, he was better than this; he wasn’t a preschooler who couldn’t keep his nerves in check. “I need to set it right. I need to... I just...” Breaking off, he gave a helpless shrug while his intestines performed a sad pirouette. The team’s current case wasn’t fully closed, so if James needed Louis here—Louis owed him that much.

A sudden smirk sparked in James’ eyes. “You need to see the Prince.”

“I need to see Harry,” Louis corrected.

James nodded, his smirk softening. “Point taken.” He paused, leaning back in his desk chair. “All right. I'll give you your big, romantic gesture. On one condition.”

Your big, romantic gesture.

It wasn’t like that; it really wasn’t. This wasn’t a big gesture, just a necessity—Harry wasn’t here, and Louis needed to talk to him. Desperately so. He’d been stupid, and he’d hurt Harry, and he needed to set it right, needed to know if there was a chance, any chance at all. He couldn’t wait two weeks for Harry to get back, even if it meant spending a thousand pounds on a one-way flight with no idea where he’d turn if Harry didn’t want him.

Oh. So maybe this was a big gesture.

Louis exhaled slowly, measured. “What’s the condition?”

“Take the two whole weeks off.” James raised a brow. “That’s how long he's staying, isn’t it?”

Louis sagged into himself, felt like a puppet with its strings cut. Oh God, he was flying to Brazil. “Thank you,” he whispered.

With a little sigh, James shook his head. “I’ve been telling you to take a real holiday for years.”

He had. There just hadn’t ever been a particularly pressing need, not when Louis loved his work, not when his place was here in London. There was his Saturday gig with the kids—which, he’d need to let Stan know he wouldn’t be able to make it tomorrow. Maybe Perrie could fill in for him?

Also... Fuck, he’d need more than a fake ID to travel to Brazil. It was enough to withstand a cursory inspection, but certainly not enough to get him halfway across the globe.

“Hey, James?” Louis got up from his chair and crossed over to the window. Restlessness itched in his bones and buzzed in his fingertips, had him watching the sky with a mix of hope and apprehension. In just a few hours, he’d be up there. Christ, it had been over a decade since he’d last been on a plane. Turning, he found James studying him with fond amusement, and Louis cleared his throat. “Do you know someone who might—my old passport is way expired.”

“Surprised you even have one,” James said. “Thought you might have left it behind so your parents wouldn’t find you.”

Louis gave a hollow laugh. “I really don’t think they even tried. But, yeah, that’s why I always used my fake ID. I was not so stupid as to run away without my passport, though. Plenty stupid, yes, but that one I had covered.”

“Good thinking.” While James had never learned the specifics of Louis’ background, he merely smiled. “I can pull some strings.”

“Of course you can,” Louis said. Smiling back, he shifted his weight and tried to control the hectic pace of his pulse. Unsurprisingly, his success was limited. He probably wouldn’t get so much as a wink of sleep on the twelve-hour flight, would instead get high on complementary snacks and sugary drinks instead.