The Sun and His Moon

12

Two days later, Louis was spinning to London Boy by Taylor Swift. He'd take this secret to the grave with him, nobody needed to know he loved her music. "I saw the dimples then I heard the accent, They say home is where the heart is but that's not where mine lives," he sang, turning on his heel on his socked feet. London. Dimples. Harry. Love. No. Gross. "Shut up, Louis. You two just sleep together besides why would he like you?" he tutted himself. It was a Saturday, he didn't have any plans. Well, maybe he'd finish a bottle of wine, eat sugar snap peas and watch one of Stephen King's movies. It wasn't even like he didn't have friends who had called him to go to a pub with them but he didn't want to. He wanted to spin around to London Boy and catch up on work. Work was his escape. Who needed a lover when you could have a boatload of work to complete? Hell, he didn't even have the time to dwell in that thought. He pushed his fringe out of his eyes, it was a little sweaty but he still looked as pretty as a doll. You'd always see his hair gelled and slicked back, not one strand out of place but it was different on the weekends. He would stay home for two days, finally spend time with his daughters and bicker with Mary because she wanted him to get out of the house more often. 

"Mary, are we out of sugar snap peas?" he asked and she hummed as a yes in response. His bottom lip wobbled. Nothing went his way. "Oh my darling boy, I'm gonna ask James to get some right now," she assured, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you," he sighed, walking into the living room. He opened up his laptop again, editing the emails that needed to be sent on Monday. Those emails usually went through three to four edits before they were ever sent, another one of his strange habits but it worked. People were usually beyond impressed, helping him gain an upper hand with them before meeting them. He dialled his assistant's number, waiting for precisely two rings before she picked up. "Good afternoon, sir," she greeted, making wild gestures at her dog to stop licking her feet. "Good afternoon, Steph. Could you please send me that file from the eco-friendly paper project proposal in a pdf form if it isn't too much work for you? I know it's the weekend but I'd really love to finish it up," he asked curtly. "Of course, sir. It's completely fine," she smiled, getting up to go find her laptop. "Right the, thank you," he added, cutting the call. Stephanie, on the other hand, wanted to scream. She had thought that finally since he was getting laid, she wouldn't have to do random work chores on the weekends but she was so far off. 

"Harry, man how have you been?" Matt asked, handing him a pair of boxing gloves. "Good. How has life been treating you?" he asked, taking off his hoodie to unveil a t-shirt underneath. "Great actually. My daughters think that water is the funniest thing. It's the sweetest thing to see their face light up before bursting into giggles when they see puddles," he smiled, strapping on his gloves. "Tell Chloe and Christina I said hi," he smiled. He really did love those little girls, they reminded him of how beautiful a childhood could really be. How differently someone's life could be shaped if only they had a strong, loving father who would go to the moon and back for them. 

Harry hit with tremendous force like he was fighting with his demons instead of the sweet man named Matt who knew the Harry he boxed with wasn't the same Harry who loved children and cats. He was a different man at the gym. He didn't care for his limits, always pushed himself beyond what would be considered normal. Matt didn't think he could count how many times he'd had to snap Harry out of that trance anymore. Harry was an exceptionally strong man, physically that is. Emotionally that man was broken into a million pieces, waiting for someone with enough patience to piece him together. The timer rang, their session was over. But Harry still continued to hit. Matt went under and shook him. "Sorry, I got lost, mate," he apologised, head slightly hung in shame. "Right then, I think we're done here," he smiled and Harry nodded, curls dripping with sweat. "Take care until next time, Harry," he said, taking Harry's glove. "I will. You do too. Don't forget to say hi from me to the girls," he smiled, walking over to his bag. He could never exactly piece together who Harry was. Some parts of him said he was a notorious playboy while other parts of him showed that he was just a young lad with a big heart. 

Louis was sat criss-cross applesauce on the couch, two cats nestled into his lap and a small bowl of sugar snap peas in front of him. Yes, he'd got them ten minutes after he almost cried at the fact that they were out. The bell rang but neither of the cats made an effort to get up. Louis didn't have the heart to move them either. What? They might hate him forever, start favouring someone else or oh dear God, never go to him to be pet because he moved them from his lap once. Nope, he wouldn't move. Not even if it was the Queen herself at his door. "Doll, can you go open the door, please? This pot will spill over if I move away from it," Mary called out from the kitchen. "Okay," he answered, begrudgingly removing the cats from his lap. "I'm sorry, so sorry babies. Don't love anyone else more than me," he apologised, getting up while they let out disgruntled meow, cuddling up near a cushion. The bell rang again. "Bloody hell, fucking wait," he huffed, pacing to the door. It rang once more before he could open it. "You do know you don't have to ring the bell like a madman to make me open it right?" he asked, looking up to see jade eyes. "Sorry, missed you s'all," Harry mumbled, walking in. Missed him? Harry must've been out of his mind. "Hey who do you think you are to ring my bell 3 fucking times at this ungodly hour, make me leave my daughters and walk in and start eating my sugar snap peas like you own the place? You fuck me, not love me!" he yelled, immediately praying Mary hadn't heard a word. "Louis, honey who came?" she shouted from the kitchen. "It was the caretaker! He wanted to remind that the building's weekly meeting is tomorrow!" he called back. "Caretaker huh?" he smirked and Louis just made an inarticulate sound of rage. 

"I don't understand why we can't sit on the couch," Harry smiled, being dragged by a stomping Louis into his bedroom. "Because you can't pull any funny business in front of my children," he huffed, locking the door behind him. Well, and Mary would faint if she saw Louis sitting on Harry's lap and snogging his face off. "So you want me to do something?" he smirked, sitting down on his bed. "Get the fuck up! You stink like a twenty-year-old shoe. Take a shower before you even touch me or my things," Louis shrieked. "Fine but come on, shower with me," Harry drawled, taking off his clothes. "Why?" Louis asked, picking up the dirty clothes off his floor. "Because I'll give you a treat if you're good, pet," he smiled, pecking his lips before sashaying into the washroom. Louis quickly put them in the laundry bin before stripping down. He entered the shower where Harry was already standing under a spray of steamy water. He pressed his nose against Harry's broad back. "So you can be good then?" he smirked, turning around. "Shut up and give me my treat," he snapped, glaring at him. "Remember what I said, love? I'll give you a treat if you're my good pet," he smiled, taking the bottle of shampoo in his hands. Louis snatched it from him. "I'll wash your hair and get my treat," he huffed, squeezing a good amount into his hands. "Get down, tall oaf," he grumbled sitting Harry down on a ledge. It was for shaving, the ledge. He lathered the soap into his hands, running his fingers down the chocolate brown curls. Goddamn perfect curls. He pulled a little just to get a reaction, preferably an angered reaction but Harry groaned in pleasure. "Do that again," he sighed and Louis followed. He would get his treat, whatever it was. 

 Soon, Harry was patting Louis dry and wrapping a towel around him. "My treat?" Louis asked, pushing the wet fringe out of his eyes. "You'll get it, kitten," he smiled, cupping Louis' face. "You know I have always liked you better with your hair down, fluffy with no products," Harry remarked, leading them out of the steam-filled room. "That isn't very professional, is it? Can you see yourself taking a tiny man with flouncy hair seriously?" he laughed, sitting down. "Well, I wouldn't need to. I'd be so taken with your arse, I'd do anything you ask of me," Harry smirked, kissing his shoulder. "That happens either way," he sighed. "What do you mean?" he asked, head shooting up. "Oh dear Harold, you don't really think you're the first man I've done business with who also wanted to bed me? You're the first one I allowed, that's for sure," he said, climbing onto Harry's lap while undoing his towel. "Mine," Harry growled, harshly grabbing his hips and sitting him down on top of him. "Mine," he emphasised with a bite on Louis' shoulder. It would all bruise but the smaller lad really didn't care. Harry had called him his. He was floating.