Fall into your gravity (larry AU by Zarah5)

9

Fall Into Your Gravity - IX.

The story breaks on Tuesday morning, as soon as the The Sun hits the newsstands.

It isn't bad. It's worse.

Harry expected a small blurb somewhere towards the back of the paper; instead, the article takes up the lower half of page two, illustrated with photographs that not only show Harry leaving Louis' place yesterday, but also arriving the night before, along with another picture from the restaurant on which Harry's lovebite is circled in red, as well as a couple of low-quality pictures that made the rounds after their day on the Thames.

The accompanying text repeats that Harry spent very few nights in his own flat during his recent stays in London, and an anonymous source is cited with the claim that, at some point during the party at Harry and Niall's flat, Harry and Louis rushed into Harry's bedroom and didn't make it back out for the rest of the night. This section comes with a tiny copy of the picture Nick posted to his Twitter account, providing an unmistakable link to Louis' identity.

When Harry is done reading, cold dread curling in his stomach, he looks up to find Joanne watching him from an armchair. He appreciates really very much that she produced a copy of The Sun first thing in the morning, took it to his hotel room while fielding calls from management for him. He does. Having a PA he can trust is worth a lot.

He still wishes he were alone, right now.

"So." Joanne draws the word out. Her expression is sympathetic, crisp suit and tightly-coiled hair at odds with her red hipster glasses.

"So," Harry echoes. Then he lets the paper slide to the floor and buries his head in his hands, mumbles, "Fuck." Breathing wasn't this difficult a few minutes ago.

"So," Joanne repeats, her tone gentle. "Harry. We need to discuss your options."

Options? Options, what options? Harry can barely think, and whatever options he has concern Louis as much as him, only Louis is probably still fast asleep because Germany puts Harry an hour ahead of him, and as far as Harry remembers, Louis' introduction event at Guildhall doesn't start until nine in the morning. So yes, he's probably still asleep, blissfully unaware of the shitstorm about to explode.

God, even if he weren't, Harry wouldn't know what to tell him.

This is unfair, so unfair, and he's about to scream, he really is. And then he'll throw the stupidly fancy flat screen TV out of the window without bothering to open it first, and then his own phone will follow suit, and also the bouquet of flowers supplied by the hotel because who the fuck needs flowers? Just, who?

He forces the impulse down, but he refuses to lift his head when he nods into his palms. His voice comes out hollow. "Yeah. Guess so."

"According to PR, we can either deny this right off the bat, but acknowledging the whole thing might give it additional weight. Which, option two, we can ignore it since it's really just The Sun, and we all know how reliable they are. If we brief interviewers not to ask you about it, we can probably keep it in check." Joanne is quiet for several seconds, leaving nothing but the low hum of the air conditioning.

"That's it?" Harry asks. The desk chair is shaking under him, but it's probably not an earthquake because then there would be people panicking outside the room, right, and not this deadly silence. "Those are my options?"

Joanne inhales audibly. "Well, you could also acknowledge it as true. Which I assume it is, based on your reaction."

Harry raises his head. "Is that an option PR listed?"