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“You’re so good to me,” Louis breathes, stood on his tip toes as Harry hugs him from behind. He peppers kisses to his husband’s temple and cheek since those are the only places he can reach with Harry’s chin pressed to his shoulder. “Too good. I don’t deserve you.”
Harry nuzzles his face into the side of Louis’ neck, only to then place an assortment of kisses against the older man’s rich smelling flesh. Louis not only acts the part of wealthy, intelligent, charismatic businessman but he also looks and smells the part. “It’s your day off. Figured I should do something nice for you.”
“Are you kidding? You always do nice things for me. You definitely didn’t need to make me lunch. I mean - it’s lovely, Harry, thank you, but I should really be doing something nice for you. You’re always working so hard with the girls and keeping the house tidy, and what do I do? Besides sitting in an office all day?” He arches his neck to the side as soon as Harry grazes a certain spot on his neck. “There. Kiss there.” he mutters.
And Harry does. Lips parting to blow cold air on the area just underneath his love’s jawline before gently using his teeth to nip at the skin. “Oh Jesus, you bloody tease!” Louis moans, hands constricting around Harry’s that are holding his hips.
Harry lets out a deep laugh, one from the very depths of his stomach, and draws back from Louis’ neck to whisper against his ear, “Do you know what else you do well?”
“What’s that?” Louis asks, turning his head slightly to look at Harry.
Harry brushes a piece of Louis’ feathered bangs back behind his ear. He’s use to his hair being slicked back with an unhealthy amount of gel, so he enjoys the slight change. It’s refreshing. “You wear a suit better than anyone I’ve ever seen. ‘specially that one with the little sparkles, love that one.”
“They’re not sparkles. It’s the pattern.” Louis argues, though there’s no venom in his tone whatsoever.
Harry refuses to accept his answer. “Sparkles. They’re definitely sparkles. Don’t be afraid to - “ His words are brought to a halt by a particularly loud shriek that comes from upstairs. “Uh oh. Sounds like someone woke up from their nap and had a little accident. Give me a second, I’ll be right back after I change her.” he slowly untangles himself from Louis.
“I can change her Harry. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy the food you made?” Louis offers, knowing Harry won’t consider his suggestion, but wishing he would, just this once. For once in his life, Harry should listen to him and relax, but once he gets his mind set on something the odds of him going against it are slim.
“Nope, I’m on diaper duty. It’s your day off! Enjoy it, they rarely happen, and anyways would you rather change a smelly diaper or eat some of the food I slaved over?”
Louis can’t help but laugh. “Well when you put it that way…”
“Exactly. Now sit, eat, enjoy. I’ll be back momentarily.” Harry presses a kiss to his cheek before walking upstairs to their baby girl.
Kyra is nearly fourteen now, but they couldn’t help themselves from adopting two more little girls. Louis has reasoned that his mum had done well and he wanted a big family like his own growing up. So, they had adopted Sylvia, who is now eight years old, and Lydia who is still the smallest, purest human being ever at only six months. Louis and Harry have done well for themselves.
Their girls are talented - all in different ways. Kyra has been doing dance she was four, and now she does competitions with hip-hop and acro routines. She also takes on the talent both of her fathers share, which, of course, is singing. She’s amazing at singing, even won a title at her school’s talent show. Sylvia isn't quite as talented in the arts - when they signed her up for dance class she fell flat on her face and cried until one of them told her she would never have to go back - she’s intelligent and a great problem-solver. She makes them proud every time she comes home with a great grade or receives a certificate of academic achievement.
Louis smiles to himself. How is he so lucky to have Harry in his life? He's the best spouse and father to his children Louis could have ever asked for. Sure, there’s certain limitations Harry has, but that doesn't stop him from being the best he can be.
He can't go to Kyra’s dance competitions because there's no guarantee that there isn't going to be flashing lights and recently, he hasn't been coping well with loud noises, so there goes any dream of ever returning to One Direction for a reunion tour. Harry’s health always comes first.
There had been one competition he attended, and he hardly made it fifteen minutes in before starting to feel a bit ‘funny’ as he calls it. Luckily, Louis was able to get him out of there before anything too major happened and thus that was the last time Harry ever went to one of her competitions.
Despite not being able to do particular things and go to certain events, he’s a good dad. He’s always home with all of the girls, always there if they need anything, and always has Louis on call in case something happens and he needs him to come home early. They make it work.
From his spot in the kitchen, Louis can hear Harry singing to Lydia with a few breaks in between lyrics to say, “Shh, I’ve got you taken care of, little one. Look at that, you’re all better.”
He wonders if Harry has missed it - it meaning performing. Part of him has to miss, but unfortunately, he can't do it. His doctor told him that it would be detrimental to his health due to not being able to handle the stress, the capacity of the fans, the stage set up, none of it. Though, Harry did put an independent album out a few years ago, and the fans went wild. He shot up to number one on the charts, and all radio stations were playing his singles.
Along with the album, he’s done a bit of acting. From his premiere in Dunkirk he’s dabbled a bit in acting as Mick Jagger in the Rolling Stones biopic to having a large role in a variety of TV shows. Easily said, Louis’ very proud of him along with their daughters.
Harry walks downstairs with the baby cradled in his arms. “It was an absolute war zone. I've never seen anything like it.” he laughs, strapping her into her highchair.
“She’s joining us for lunch, I see.” Louis says.
“I figured she could use a snack after that little episode upstairs,” Harry digs through the cupboard until he finds a jar of mashed bananas and a small spoon. When the other girls were little they couldn't stand bananas. Carrots were the favorite in the household. Needless to say, he's happy that Lydia hates carrots because he doesn't know if he could stand having them tossed up on him, again. “And Kyra and Sylvie will be home soon. They have a half day so I'm afraid our time alone together has come to an end.”
Louis frowns. Does he really not know that much about his own children? “Why?”
“Uh...teacher development day, maybe? I'm not too sure,” he pulls an empty chair beside Lydia’s highchair closer and takes a seat. “Alright baby girl we’ve got bananas today. I know they’re your favorite,” he smiles at her, uncapping the jar of bananas and dipping the spoon in it before holding the yellowish mush to his baby’s mouth. Lydia cautiously opens her mouth, but upon realizing she likes the bananas she closes her mouth around the spoon. “Louis?”
“Yes darling?” Louis asks, looking up from the plate of salad Harry fixed him.
“Did you remember to take Saturday off? Kyra has her dance competition in Liverpool, and since I can't go…”
Louis interrupts him, “I'll tell Liam. It’s not a problem, we don't have any conferences scheduled and I doubt I'll be missing much of anything.”
“Good, good,” Harry says, wiping the food from Lydia’s chin with the pad of his thumb. “I would go but -”
“I'll make sure she understands, Harry. You don't have to put your health on the line to watch a dance routine. You do enough for the girls, in fact how about I take Sylvie along? You and Lydia can have the day to yourselves.” He can tell Harry’s getting a bit frazzled. Those hands of his always shake, but they’re trembling to a point where he's unable to guide the food into Lydia’s mouth. “Harry, it’s fine. I know you're stressing about it, but you’re not a bad father because you can't go to her competitions. She understands.”
It doesn't take much to have Harry’s stress levels peak, so Louis always tries his best to keep Harry’s anxiety to a minimum with words of encouragement. He would hate for something to happen on the account of it.
“I know, but I still wish things were different.” he sighs.
It isn't ten minutes later that Kyra and Sylvia are barging through the front door. “Daddy, daddy, look!” she shouts, running through the house, waving a piece of paper in the air. She stops in the doorway of the kitchen, seeing Louis sat at the table too. “Papa, you're home! Look at my test!” she runs to the two of them, backpack still strapped to her shoulders, and slams the piece of paper down on the table. It’s a math test with an hundred percent written out in red pen along with a cursive ‘Great job!’ signed on her paper.
Harry stops feeding Lydia for a moment to glance over the math test sat on the table before him. “Look at you! My little genius, come on over.” he holds his arms out, wide open, and she runs over to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tight. “I'm so proud of you.”
"Thank you!" She draws away from him to run to Louis. “Do you see papa? I got all of them right!”
“Yes darling, I saw! What a smart one you are.” he squeezes her nose between his pointer finger and thumb before pulling her closer to kiss the top of her head. “What did your sister say?”
“Sissy said I did good, but then she told me not to say anything to daddy about her.” Sylvia pouts as she looks up at Louis. Harry hears the stairs creak as if a certain someone has very carefully tried to tiptoe their way up them. “Kyra Marie, get in here right now!” he stands and turns to looks at Louis. “Finish feeding Lydia please?”
Louis watches Harry in disbelief. Does this happen on a daily basis? Does Harry always have this much on his plate, and if he does, how has his brain not fried yet? “Of course.” There’s no hesitation as he slips into the seat Harry was sat in moments before and picks up where his husband left off, lifting the spoon to Lydia’s mouth.
“Give me a few minutes, I need to shower!” Kyra yells back.
“If you go up those stairs, I’m going to drag you back down them. Get in here. Now.” he’s fuming, absolutely, positively fuming. Louis’ surprised he hasn’t started yelling yet, though it seems that Harry tries his hardest to keep his calm around their daughters.
“Harry, would you relax? Calm down before -” he starts to say, but he’s cut off by a frustrated screech and a handful of loud, forced stomps.
“What?! What do you want?!” Kyra shouts as she enters the kitchen. Louis supposes it would have been better for her to face the consequences of going up those stairs because Harry’s a step away from losing his temper, and it will not be pretty when he does.
Then again, it is understandable as to why he’s as enraged as he is. Kyra is not dressed in her school uniform - which consists of a navy blue mid-length skirt, white button-up, and navy blazer - rather she’s chosen to wear a pair of shorts reaching only the middle of her thigh and a crop top that hardly covers half of her midriff. Harry has to steady himself on the counter, and he hasn’t even taken in her excess eye makeup yet. Mascara and lip gloss, that’s what they agreed on. “Where the hell is your uniform?”
Kyra rolls her eyes. “I changed. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is my thirteen year old daughter sexualizing her body. Tell me Kyra, did you even go to class today? Who are you so dressed up for?” Harry asks, glaring at her from where he stands.
“I already told you! I changed as soon as school let out.” She shifts her weight to rest on one leg and crosses her arms uncomfortably over her chest. Liar. She’s standing there telling him a lie, judging by the flushed color of her cheeks and avoidance of eye contact.
“Really? So if I call the school, your attendance is going to be as stellar as usual? I’ll give you one last chance to tell me the truth, and if you don’t you’re grounded for two weeks. Do I make myself clear?” Harry asks, only to be answered with silence. He's not having it. “Kyra, I said do I make myself clear?”
“Okay, fine, I didn’t go to school. Can I go upstairs now?” she asks, leaning against the kitchen wall.
Harry shakes his head. “No. Tell me where you were at. Tell me what was so much more important than going to class and getting yourself an education.”
“Just let her go upstairs, Harry. Leave it be.” Louis finally says, having heard enough of his eldest and husband argue.
“What? So now you’re on her side? You’re an advocate for our daughter cutting class and doing God knows what in those horrendous clothes? She’s thirteen Louis! Thirteen! Hardly a teenager, and you think this is okay?”
“I didn’t say it was okay. All I said was let it go.” Louis says, setting the spoon down on Lydia’s tray. He knows Harry’s bound to work himself into a tither and if that happens there’s no telling what could be the outcome. He could very well work himself into a seizure and no one deserves to be apart of that.
Harry looks back towards Kyra, “Go upstairs and change. I can’t stand to look at you in those clothes any longer. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Oh joy.” Kyra huffs, shaking her head as she walks out of the kitchen.
“And while you’re at it, drop the attitude. I don’t want to deal with it.” Harry calls after her. He presses the small of his back to the counter. “Sylvie, sweetie, please leave papa and I alone for a minute?”
“Okay,” Sylvia walks closer to him. “Is sissy in big trouble?”
“I’m afraid so love. Why don’t you go color a picture for grandma Anne? She’s coming over on Sunday and I think she could really use a present.” Harry brushes a loose blonde curl off of Sylvia’s forehead, then proceeds to place a kiss there.
“Okay daddy!” she exclaims, running out of the kitchen. The faint sounds of her shaking the box of crayons and plopping them on the floor can be heard.
Louis knows it’s coming. He can hear Harry’s deep breath and the slow drum of his fingertips on the countertop. “Why would you go against me?”
“I didn’t mean to give her the wrong idea,” Louis sighs, softly. “I was just worried you were going to flake out on me.” He uses his t-shirt to wipe the drying mushed bananas off Lydia’s face.
“You know, this is going to come across wrong, i know it is, but I’m going to say it anyways, so please, don’t get upset with me,” Harry takes in a deep breath. “I do just fine by myself. When you’re in the office or out of the country, I’m the one taking care of the girls. I know my limitations, Louis, and believe it or not, i know how to battle that little brat’s bad attitude towards me. I do well for myself.”
“She’s not a brat, Harry. Don’t say that, and I know you do well for yourself, but I’m going to be home more often now and I just think I should have a say in what happens around here. They’re my daughters too.” Louis runs a hand through his greying hair. Harry had to pull that card, didn’t he? He never has before, but maybe this is his way of telling Louis something he hadn’t realized before; he needs his help.
“Thank you for that, sincerely. I better not leave her waiting any longer. Wish me luck,” Harry starts to walk out of the kitchen, but stops to look at Louis again, “After you finish feeding her, she needs to finish her afternoon nap.”
“Will do. If you need anything, just holler and I’ll back you up.” Louis says, lightheartedly, watching his very broad, very handsome husband nod and sulk out of the room.
Harry walks up the stairs and down the hall to Kyra’s room, only to stop in front of her closed door. He has to think about how to approach this without upsetting her or himself further. Act calmly, pretend to understand, and it’ll all be alright. His knuckles rap against the wood before he asks, “Can I come in?”
“You’re going to do whatever you want anyways.” Kyra mutters. Her attitude is what has Harry so frustrated. How is he supposed to logically compete with that? The disrespect she treats him with is unreal, and it’s all only been happening recently.
Harry grabs the doorknob and cautiously, allows himself entrance. When he enters he finds Kyra dressed in a pair of jeans and the same damned crop top from before as she shoves clothing into a duffel bag.
Harry stares on in confusion. "And just where do you think you're going?"
"Ella's. Her parents are nicer to me than you are, and they can actually come to my dance competition." she huffs, thrusting a drawer open and ripping the clothing out.
She's quite clever for a thirteen year old. Harry hadn't used the 'I'm running away' phrase until he was at least fifteen. Though, his rebellion hadn't sparked from his parents unfairness, rather their restraints on him. His epilepsy was at one of its peaks and he was tired of his mother telling him no to all the activities he had once been able to participate in.
“Are Ella’s parents going to tolerate a delinquent?”
Kyra stops, turning to face her dad. “Can you stop? God, you’re so annoying! I skip school once and you’re on my case like I just killed someone or something. Relax.”
“How am I supposed to relax when I don’t know where you’ve been?” Harry argues.
“Fine! You want to know where I was dad? I went and smoked the biggest blunt I could find and then I had sex with some guy in a car.” she snaps at him.
How does she even know what that is? His little girl knows what sex is? How, or more importantly why? It doesn’t matter, either way he can feel his blood pressure elevate. “That’s not funny Kyra. Where did you really go?”
“Ella’s sister took us to some movie, is that better?” she rolls her eyes. “And don’t worry she can take me to my competition on Saturday since you can’t go.”
Harry tries not to let his kids get under his skin, but that comment makes his heart twinge. He can’t tell her that she's not allowed to compete because Louis will fight him tooth and nail on that. He loves to watch her dance more than anything. “"Love," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Papa is going and I want to come, but -"
"But you can't! You can't come to anything I do and it sucks!" Kyra shouts. She's just like Louis in the sense that she has a short fuse and when she does get angry, she's ruthless. She’s capable of inflicting some serious emotional damage, without necessarily meaning to, in a matter of seconds. "Just once, I want to see you in the audience. I love when dad comes, I do, but it's always his responsibility. You don't care enough about me to come, but then you act like you do when it comes to being a jerk to me! You get angry at me all the time and you're always against me and I'm sick of it.”
Harry swallows. "Kyra, it's not like that, okay? You know that the lights and noises make me very ill. I do care about you, very much so, and I’m sorry if I’ve failed to show that.”
"Whatever. I’m sure if it was something to do with Sylvia you would do everything in your power to go," Kyra says, smugly. “She’s obviously your favorite.”
“That’s not true, Kyra. The two of you are very different girls who are very good at different things. I love you both the same.” Harry takes a step closer, reaching out to touch her, but she jerks away.
"Oh please, you never yell at Sylvia! It's always me. I never do anything right in your eyes and I'm so sick of you badgering me,” she slams another article of clothing into her duffel, “and being rude to me because you're upset! It's not my fault you're a bloody epileptic, yet you take it out on me. It’s not anyone’s fault that you’re so deeply unsatisfied with your life, dad!”
"I never said it was!" Harry finally raises his voice. He's been epileptic for so long, but it's a tender subject. He wants to be a normal dad and do things mundanely, but he can't and part of him has always been bothered by it. "I have never blamed you or anyone else for anything! I don't know where the sudden attitude has come from, but you've been walking around here like that for months and your father and I are tired of it."
"I have an attitude because you're not a good parent!" Kyra yells, and shuts her eyes as soon as she says it. She shouldn't have said that, but the conversation is too far in for her to backtrack. "You're never there for me."
"Some kids don't even have parents." Harry says. “Some kids don’t have food to eat. Some kids don’t even have a house to live in, but you do. You have two parents, a nice house, and food sitting on the dinner table night after night! I’ve always been here for you, always.”
“I don’t care about other kids,” Kyra laughs, shaking her head, “I have one parent who actually gives a...who actually cares about me. You're always around, but you don’t ever do anything. Dad is hardly ever around, but I know I can go to him for anything." She zips her duffel and turns to face Harry, again. "I wish I could with you."
Harry can feel something inside of him change. He's beyond upset. He thought he had been doing a good job, even prided himself with telling Louis that he thought he was finally doing something right. "You can with me."
"But I can't. You don't know the first thing about being a parent. It's quite sad, really." Kyra shakes her head. "Can you just leave me alone? Ella said her dad could come pick me up. I don't want to see you anymore. I wish you and dad would just get divorced." she whispers.
"Th..." Harry shakes his head at the struggle to get his words out. Deep down, he knows, he knows what’s in store, but he hopes he can stop it from happening by calming down and fixing the situation with Kyra. At this point, he can hardly think straight, the words aren’t flowing off of his tongue as easily. "'That's not true, or at least I hope it's not true. I love you very much Kyra."
"Fuck off." she says, then hesitates before deciding to grab her duffel and beginning to walk out, “I - I gotta get out of here.”
Harry eye's widen, and as much as he hates to admit it, he can feel tears forming in his eyes. His nostrils flare with his heavy breaths. This is heartbreaking for him. All he ever wanted to do was protect and love his little girl, but she doesn’t seem to want that. "You're not going to disrespect me like that." He trips over his own feet, nearly falling flat on his face, as he moves closer to Kyra. Taking her duffle by the straps, he throws it to the floor. "And you're not going anywhere, do you hear me? Never. You're never leaving this house again. I've let it go this far, but you will learn how to respect me."
"You can't do that! God, this is exactly what I mean!" Kyra throws her hands in the air. "I hate you! Literally - I hate you so much! Why can't you just leave me alone?!"
And that's when Harry starts to feel odd, his insides are tingling, and his breathing becomes shallow. A cold sweat has started to form on his face. "You..." he thickly swallows, tongue lapping inside of his mouth, "dun me 'an."
Kyra eyebrows furrow together. "You don't have to try to make me feel bad. I don't, not at all."
Harry's hands are trembling as he touches his face, except his fingertips are numb. "Nuh...I - not do 'at." A quiet cry expels past his lips. He knows what's happening, but he can't form the words to tell Kyra to go get Louis. He tries pointing to the door, but he's gone completely numb and he can see his fingers spasming directly in front of his face. He can't feel anything, literally paralyzed as he stands, but his knees are starting to turn inward and he can feel his body begging to give out, but he still tries his hardest to fight it.
"Dad?" Upon realizing that her dad really is not well, Kyra steps closer to him. She touches his tattooed arm, squeezing gently. He’s spasming under her touch. "Do you want to sit down? Are you alright? I didn't mean to upset you."
Harry shakes his head. "Sss..." he tries to say it, over and over again.
Seizure.
His chest is rapidly rising and falling. He's hyperventilating. He can't stop nor can he actually feel himself breathing, and panic sets in.
"Should I get papa? Dad? Dad, what's wrong?” Kyra asks, staring at him in shock. Harry tries to nod and for a minute he thinks he is until he realizes he can’t move. “Do you want Louis? Should I go get Louis for you?” she goes on to ask, figuring that maybe saying her papa’s name will help clarify.
“Y…” Harry swallows, thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing with his efforts to speak. It sounds like he’s talking around a mouthful of cotton. “Ye...wan’ Leh.”
Kyra stares at him, moving her hand to rest between her dad’s shoulders. He’s wheezing, hardly able to catch his breath. “Okay, let me go get him for you then. Just a second okay?” As soon as she starts to pull back, a rush of rigidness crosses her dad’s very tall and broad frame, and he stumbles forward.
She first watches his eyes roll back, and then all of a sudden he’s falling and a sickening crack fills the room when his face makes contact with the bedpost. Her hands cover her mouth, concealing the screams that explode past her lips, and her eyes water.
“Papa! Papa!" she yells as loud as she can, dropping to her knees beside Harry's head. Her hands hesitate to touch him. He isn’t shaking yet, does that mean it’s okay to touch him?
Louis’ voice carries down the hallway, "One second love! Let me just finish putting Lydia down for her nap!"
She moves her hand to rub small circles against Harry’s back. He's as stiff as a board under her touch. "I'm sorry dad. I am so sorry. Please don't have a seizure, please be okay. I take back everything I said." Tears leave her eyes, and she tries to wipe them as they drip down her cheeks.
Instead of listening to her pleas, Harry's body decides to go against them. A groan leaves his mouth, garbled slightly by the carpeting beneath his face. He’s trying to hang on, but he really doesn’t feel well. "Dad? Daddy, it's Kyra, I’m here. Are you okay?” It’s hard for her to understand how he was scolding her seconds before and now he’s lying helplessly on the ground.
She doesn't remember what papa had told her if dad ever had a seizure in front of her when he wasn't around, completely unsure whether it was move him so he looks as comfortable as possible or don't touch him at all.
Though, the loud cries and convulsions start before she can properly decide what to do. They’re bad convulsions, some of the worse she’s yet to see. "Papa!" Kyra shouts, not taking her eyes off of Harry. "It's okay dad, it's okay. Papa’s coming."
Harry starts gasping as he seizes, literally craving for air that isn’t there against the cream colored carpeting.
There's a knock on the door before Louis jokes, "Are you two finally decent? Can I come in?"
Kyra replies with a cry of relief. "Papa please. Dad’s really sick."
Something clicks inside of Louis because he's thrusting the door open and charging inside his daughter's room in a matter of seconds. Fight or flight, he supposes. "Shit," he hisses when he sees Harry’s body buckling off the floor. “Kyra, get away from him right now,” Quickly moving over to the two of them, he touches the back of Harry's neck. Harry's breathing immediately concerns him. It doesn’t sound stable, then again it's not a good thing that he's face down. He could very well suffocate. "It's alright, love. Let's get you on your side. Get some fresh air into you, okay?”
"Papa, I think - I think I caused him to have a seizure." Kyra cries, wiping furiously at her eyes.
"We'll talk about it later. For now, I need you to grab a pillow of your bed while I help dad get off his belly, okay?" Louis asks, calmly, keeping his eyes on Harry. Kyra scrambles to do as Louis asks. "Alright, how are we going to do this without hurting you?" Louis asks himself as Harry can't possibly respond. He knows he’s risking hurting Harry more by moving him while he’s seizing, but he’s not about to let his spouse asphyxiate himself. "Okay, I'm going to grab your shoulders and roll you over babe. You're doing so good for me. I'm proud of you, love. So proud." he bends over his husband's convulsing frame and takes his shoulders into his hands before guiding him to lay on his side.
As soon as he’s gotten Harry off of his stomach, he sees the gash splitting his forehead in two and the bruising causing swelling around both of his eyes. “Fucking hell,” he whispers, mouth hanging agape. That must have hurt so badly. He can't even imagine.
“Here papa.” Kyra says, holding a pillow out to Louis. Louis takes it from her, and quickly after supports Harry’s head with one hand as he lays the pillow underneath.
“You’re okay baby, you’re okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” he swallows as he looks at the bloody cut marking his husband’s forehead. “Go get a wet rag, Kyra. Warm, not to hot, ring it out please.” And again, Kyra runs off to get the task completed without as much as a complaint.
He knew this was going to happen. Harry was too stressed earlier. He should have offered to speak to Kyra, instead of agreeing to let Harry - who already isn’t stable - to go take care of it. “I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, sweetheart, you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, but you need to try to come out of it for me.”
A loud, constricted cry leaves Harry. Louis nearly pukes. It's pained, a very pained cry, and Louis just knows Harry’s in more pain than he originally thought. “Shh, Shh, Shh, I know.” As soon as he gives Harry another once over, he sees the piss soaking through his pants, and he realizes that he’s never quite felt as bad for Harry as he does in this moment.
He reaches for the quilt on Kyra’s bed and swathes it over Harry’s wet trousers. “Come on lovely, you can do it. Come back to me. I’m right here, waiting to see your beautiful eyes. I love you, so much, you hear me? I love you more than anything in this entire world. You’re okay.” The seizing starts to slow, and Louis carefully starts rubbing circles against Harry’s taut chest. “That’s it. You can do it. Come on back to me. Stop seizing, relax love, it’s okay. There we go.”
Kyra returns barring a lukewarm rag and a guilty expression. Louis nabs the rag from her and holds it to Harry’s forehead to try and soak some of the blood. Harry lets out another one of those heart wrenching, petrified cries and Louis winces, fighting the urge to draw back. “You’re okay, I promise. I’m helping you out, don’t want to get blood in your pretty hair do we love? I don’t think you’d ever forgive me.” The blood is coming through the rag at a quicker pace then Louis can manage to soak up and soon he has it all over his hands. “Hand me a piece of clothing.” Louis says as he sets the bloodied rag down.
Harry slowly flutters his eyes open, and as soon as he sees Louis, he starts with brash sobbing and determination to get the hands trying to touch him off. Kyra hands Louis an old t-shirt, though Louis doesn’t care about what it is as he holds it to Harry’s forehead. “Shh, Harry. You’re okay, don’t cry. I’m right here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Harry’s eyes are still glistening with fresh tears when he tries shoving Louis’ hands off. “Don’t fight me either, you’re losing a lot of blood, alright? I need you to stay still while I try to get clot it up.” he pushes his hand down on the center of Harry’s chest. “You better lay down and relax. I’m very serious, you hear me?”
The t-shirt becomes overrun with blood quickly as well and he holds his hand out for a new piece of clothing. Kyra hands him another t-shirt. “Why is he bleeding so much? Is it gonna stop?”
"Face, hands, and fingers all bleed profusely when you cut them. He’ll be okay once we get the bleeding to stop, until then I need you to grab your dad a new pair of clothes. Boxers, and everything, and I don’t want to hear a single word out of you either.” Louis warns, knowing she has something smart to say. She closes her mouth and makes her way across the hall to her parent’s room. “You doing okay babe? Do you feel any more light headed than usual? You’ve done good this time. Huge cut right down your forehead, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Unless you want to have a scar like Harry Potter.”
Harry can hardly speak, partially overcome with shock, but also with sadness, and then there’s the part of him that can literally not speak. “Nuh…’ny.”
“Funny?” Louis guesses.
Harry groans, “Nuh.”
“Oh, not funny. I don’t amuse you? Are you serious? Can’t a guy get a break around here? Ease up.” He pulls back the rag to examine the cut. Harry’s still losing blood, but thankfully, it’s starting to let up. Damn all those blood vessels and their need to be close to the surface of skin. He covers Harry’s forehead again, applying a bit more pressure as he waits for his blood to clot.
He’s brushing Harry’s hair off of his face when Harry makes the effort to latch onto his wrist. “What is it love? Is there something I can get for you?”
“‘ra...no ‘ike me.” Harry struggles to say.
“Kyra doesn’t like you?” Louis asks. Harry slowly starts to nod until Louis uses both hands to force him to stay still. “You’re silly, Harry Styles. Of course she doesn’t like you, she loves you. No teenager likes their parent all the time, that would be a bloody miracle.”
Harry narrows his eyes despite the ache it causes. “Mad.”
“She might have been mad, but she’s not anymore, I promise,” Louis touches Harry’s cheek. “In fact, I think she’s quite upset about what happened. Maybe you should let her know you’re okay.”
Speaking of their daughter, she returns with a pile of crisply folded clothes and sets them down beside Louis, “Um, should I leave so you can...you know?” she ask, focusing on Harry for a brief second. “I’m really sorry, dad…”
“Not yet, but I do think your dad had something to say to you.” Louis glances down at Harry.
“‘ot ‘ur f....’lt.” Harry slurs. Kyra swallows as she tries to figure out what he’s said.
Louis becomes the translator. “It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you and cause you to have a seizure. I...I know how easily you have seizures, and I shouldn’t have said half the things I did. I don’t hate you, not at all, I love you so much.” she nervously fixes her hair as she waits for her dad’s reply.
Harry taps his chest. “‘of ‘oo.”
“He loves you too.” Louis says.
“Can I?” Kyra asks, and Louis nods. She kneels down, carefully giving Harry a partial hug. He raises his hand to rest on the small of her back.
“Look at how easy that was. Everyone’s all made up now? We can finally move on?” he asks.
Kyra smiles at him. “I think so.” she sits back on her heels. “Is there anything else dad needs?”
“No, I’m going to help him change and get into bed, so if you could keep an eye on your sisters that would be just lovely.” Louis says.
“Of course.” she says, and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Look at that. One big, happy, slightly dysfunctional family as always. We’re okay.” Louis pulls the rag back one more time, and this time he’s relieved to find that the blood flow has come to almost a complete stop.
So, maybe they’re two fathers who were once two teenage heartthrobs raising three girls, and maybe they don’t always have their priorities in check, but they’re okay, they make it work, they’re happy, and that’s all that matters.