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“Dad’s coming this afternoon right?” Kyra asks, staring at her father as he adjusts Lydia, her youngest sister, into her high chair. “He’s not going to miss my graduation is he?”
Louis grabs Lydia’s sippy cup from the kitchen table, setting it down on the platform before her. “There we are bub. Apple juice!” he cheers, bopping the end of her tiny nose.
Kyra sighs loudly. “Papa.”
“Yes dear?” he asks, turning to face her. His face shows no recognition of what she’s asked moments prior. He’s not exactly forgetful, but he’s not exactly attentive either. It’s more of a distraction ordeal to be honest. Between the recording company, his three daughters, travel, and his ill-fated husband it sometimes feels as though his head is spinning in precisely four different directions at once.
“Is Dad coming to my graduation?” she sounds annoyed, which isn’t an uncommon tone for her. Out of their three daughters, one being a little over two, one recently turning ten, and then freshly aged sixteen year old Kyra, she is the one who retains a major sense of superiority - and Louis doesn’t know where it comes from. It isn’t as though he or Harry are materialistic people despite all the wealth and estate guaranteed to them. They’ve never instilled in the girls to mock others for what they may lack.
“Oh I don’t know, love. He hasn’t been feeling very well these last few days, and I don’t want him pushing himself.” As he speaks, he moves to the cupboard, standing on his tiptoes to retrieve a half empty box of Lucky Charms cereal. Pulling it down and setting it on the shelf, he searches for a plastic bowl to dump a portion of them in.
Kyra forces a scoff. “Right. Well he can just come the next time I graduate secondary school.” she huffs, sarcastic.
Louis ceases his efforts to locate a bowl. He faces her yet again, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “You understand it’s not his fault, don’t you?”
“It never is.” she says, sharp.
“You can’t blame him for having a neurological imbalance, Kyra.” he argues, drawing in a deep breath before he continues, “I understand you’re angry about the way things have played out. Hell, I’ve been taking care of him since I was eighteen years old, and as much as I want to be angry with certain things, there’s nothing anyone can do. We can’t fix it, and I've learned to love every aspect that is your father, you should to.”
Kyra glances at Lydia, and her nose scrunches with the realization of the time her younger sister has left under the reigns of this household, “He can’t do anything right. He’s never seen one of my freaking dance competitions -”
“Watch your tone.” Louis warns, meeting her wary eyes with stern ones. “He’s seen every single one of your dance competitions. I’ve always brought home the DVD’s for him to watch. You don’t give your dad enough credit babe. He’s a great person and he tries so hard, harder than I do, for you girls.” Finally, he reposes himself to get to dumping the cereal into the bowl so Lydia can munch on her breakfast while he starts cooking for the older occupants of his home.
Kyra shakes her head. “But you don’t have to try.”
“Yes I do, all parents do, but your dad - he does more for you girls than most parents. He’s always home, cooking meals for you, helping you with homework, buying you whatever you want, supporting you, so I guess I don’t understand why you’re so angry with him.” Louis expresses, setting Lydia’s breakfast down in front of her. She giggles, bouncing in her seat, as Louis ruffles her mass of red hair.
He thinks it’s endearing how similar she looks to Doris when his she was a baby. Now, Doris and her twin Ernie are in their early twenties. Doris is the newest face to appear on the Victoria’s Secret catwalk with her stunning curly red hair and piercing blue eyes while Ernie chose a more mundane route, currently attending school for a career in Chemical Engineering. He’s similar to Fizzy in the area of intelligence as she’s a renown public speaker and author nowadays.
“He doesn’t understand me.” she blurts.
Louis can’t help himself, chuckling under his breath when he asks, “And you think you understand him any better? You think you understand how difficult his life has been for him or the guilt he feels? My goodness, do you know how many seizures he’s had because of the stress we all put him under? Kyra, I love you very much, but you need to understand that you can’t talk to him any way you want to, alright? When his anxiety spikes, his brain goes haywire, and I can’t continue to apologize for you.”
Kyra doesn’t seem to care about what he’s said seconds prior. “He’s an adult, why can’t he handle a mature conversation?”
“Because he’s disabled. There’s no other way to explain it to you, so I’m sorry you don’t realize what a wonderful man you have for a father. Hopefully, you’ll appreciate it one day.” He walks to the fridge, pulling a carton of brown eggs from one of the shelves, and doesn’t say another word about the subject, nor does Kyra.
The first words spoken are “good morning” from Louis when Sylvia bounds into the kitchen and hugs him as he stands at the stove. “How’d you sleep lovebug? Are you ready to see sissy graduate today?” he kisses the top of her head, holding her to him with a hand stationed on his back, while he stirs the sausage and egg mixture on the stove with his other.
Harry comes staggering into the kitchen minutes later, hair matted to his scalp. His dog follows close behind, licking his hand when he comes to a standstill at the table. “Morning everyone.”
Bruce was euthanized around ten years ago, and after losing him, they didn’t own a dog for a few years until Harry had made the decision to bring another service dog into the house.
So along came Jagger, a German Shepherd named not so uniquely after Harry’s favorite singer Mick Jagger. While Bruce was loved and is missed, it seems Jagger does a better job informing Harry when seizures are brewing inside of him. Another major difference between Bruce and Jagger is Jagger’s companionship. He’s always by Harry’s side, always dressed in a green vest reading “Seizure Response Dog. Do Not Separate”, and always trotting beside him out in public.
Louis pulls away from the stove and Sylvia to greet him, but Kyra beats him to it. “Dad, are you coming to my graduation?” she asks.
There’s no hesitation on Harry’s end. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Love, are you sure you’re feeling up to it? I mean you’re just getting over the flu and I don’t want you to push yourself. I was thinking your mum could come over, and the two of you could - “ Louis rushes to say, eyeing his husband up and down.
Harry interrupts him, waving his hand in the air, thus warding him off with the gesture, “I’m fine. This is the best I’ve felt in days. And besides, I want to be there to support our daughter.”
Louis wouldn’t usually worry this much, but given Harry’s been so sick, it hasn’t been very assuring. He’s been slaving over him for days mostly because of the vomiting - given he couldn’t keep his oral medication down - and the high grade fever - given fevers are often triggers for seizures. They were lucky this time around, and thankfully, Harry made it through with nothing more than a handful of absences and one complex partial.
“You can easily support her from home.” Louis suggests, turning back to the forgotten breakfast on the stove-top.
He can hear Harry sigh. There’s no words that follow it, instead Louis’ greeted with a hand on each of his hips and his backside pressed to Harry’s front. “Don’t worry about me, okay? You’ve done enough for me these last few days and I expect nothing more out of you. I’ll be okay, love, I promise.” he kisses the underside of his jaw. “I need you to relax before you burn yourself on the stove, yeah? It’s fine.”
Louis sinks into Harry’s touch, allowing his body to sag ever so slightly. “I know, Harry. You just make me so nervous when you're keen on exerting yourself. If you start to feel unwell, do you promise to tell me?” he asks.
“Of course.” Harry kisses his cheek, then pulls away. “Now come on! We’ve got to hurry, so we can get this show on the road! Our little girl is graduating!” he exclaims.
Kyra blushes ever-so-slightly, finally taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m glad you decided to come.” There’s a hint of hostility in her tone, though Harry isn’t too sure as why. He doesn't feel as though he's done anything wrong.
“Me too.” he says instead of questioning her any further.
Upon entering the school gymnasium where the graduation is being held, they spot hundreds of people, along with decorations hanging from each banister and wall. It looks marvelous, although it doesn’t feel real to be in the presence of a graduation ceremony.
“This is so strange.” Harry comments, looping Jagger’s leash around his knuckles as he takes a seat beside Louis.
Louis narrows his eyebrows as a spark of worry shoots through him. “What’s strange?”
“Our daughter is graduating, our baby girl, how is that happening today? I remember changing her diapers, and now she’s finished with secondary school.” he keeps his eyes focused on the front of the gym as some of the advisers for the school begin to address the crowd and make proper accommodations for the graduates.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing all morning. This is the first of three, babe, and I can’t guarantee I’m not going to cry today.” he admits, keeping his voice lowered to a whisper, and turns to look at Lydia before brushing a piece of hair out of her face. This is his baby and he can only imagine what it’ll be like when she graduates in a decade.
While the school administrators speak to them a few of Kyra’s friends’ parents come over to greet them. The conversation consists of the usual I-can’t-believe-our-kids-are-graduating exchange, but throughout the entire session Harry can’t help but think of the socialite Kyra is. He didn’t know she had so many friends, and the fact that Louis seems to know every pair of parents that stop by bothers him as he only recognizes a handful of them.
Is Kyra really so embarrassed of him that she only has her friends meet Louis? The idea gets under his skin and while he hopes it isn’t true part of him already knows it is. So, he quietly sits back, shakes the occasional hand, and speaks only when spoken to.
Moments later the ceremony begins, and last names beginning with the letter ‘A’ are called off in a timely matter. Harry doesn’t have much to say, and of course, Louis instantly notices. “Is everything alright? You haven’t said much. I thought you would be excited to meet her friends’ parents.”
Jagger barks, interrupting anything Harry had planned on saying, and also causes anyone in a few feet to stare. Harry quickly apologizes to everyone and scratches behind his ears, whispering a scold, “Shhh, you have to behave yourself.”
Louis sighs, running his hand through his hair, and doesn’t speak another word. He’ll have to talk to him after the ceremony. Once he focuses in on the graduation, he realizes the administrators have already moved on to announcing the graduates with last names starting with ‘B’.
Jagger doesn't stop bothering Harry as he continuously rams his legs with his snout and whimpers. For a moment, Harry worries that he’s being set up for a seizure, though he feels fine so he doesn’t believe that’s the case. He leans over, close to Louis’ ear, and tells him, “I’m going to take Jagger outside to use the bathroom. The poor thing is getting to be irritable. It won't take me long, I guarantee I’ll be back before they even touch the D’s.”
“Alright love. Be careful please.” Louis says, watching his husband as he stands and leads the dog along, out of their row. After Harry’s out of sight, he begins to search the separated crowd of those dressed in gowns and caps - of course in the hope that he’ll spot his own little graduate.
He searches for what feels like a few minutes, but as he reaches the last few rows of seats, he finds Kyra sitting two seats from the end, in between an incredibly tall lad and a girl with blonde dyed tips.
Within these few minutes, Harry doesn’t return and Louis becomes a tad concerned. To add to his concern, if one wishes to call it that, the ceremony seems to come to an abrupt halt as one of the administrators speaks into the microphone, asking if “everything is alright over there”. The graduates have all turned in their seats as have their parents.
Unfortunately Louis follows the notion of turning his head and as soon as does, his stomach drops. There’s a crowd of adults formed on the other side of the gymnasium which wouldn’t usually strike him as odd, but considering his husband is an epileptic and hasn’t returned when he said he would, he has every right to be concerned.
He stands immediately, cupping his hands over his mouth as he shouts, "Harry? Harry?" He searches the crowd for him, walking forward, in the hopes of spotting him, all while thinking don't let him be the reason the crowd formed, don't let him be the reason the crowd formed, don't let him be -
Before the thought passes through his head again, he sees him, laying sprawled on the cement, blood seeping out onto the concrete, from a wound Louis can't quite make out. His husband is wedged partially between two rows of chairs, crying, fucking whimpering each time his body tenses, and Louis feels his heart clench in his chest.
Jagger runs circles around him, trying to nudge Harry’s body onto his side with his snout. Between sharp howls, he breathes in short pants, licking exposed parts of Harry’s skin.
“Oh my god,” Louis whispers to himself. He’s heard that cry before, time after time, seizure after seizure, but it’s not usually as consistent and painful as it currently sounds. “Girls stay right here, you hear me? Sylvia, keep an eye on your sister." Louis says, slipping past the crowd that's surrounding his weeping spouse. "Sir, I need you to move. Excuse me, ma’am. Please, move, move, move. He’s my husband. I know what I’m doing. I can’t help him if you don’t move.” he shoves past the crowd to get to Harry, his Harry, his husband, the love of his life.
As he approaches it’s not Harry’s cries making him ache, though they do make his head hurt and his eardrums burn each time, rather Harry being curled in on himself, looking small and frightened makes his heart twinge. All these people, total strangers, are staring at him, whispering about him, making comments, and it isn’t as though he has a clear frame of mind to correct them.
He must be scared to death, due to not being completely coherent. If he was fully alert, he'd be standing up, brushing himself off, not lying down on the maple wood flooring, trying to catch his breath between contracting whimpers.
Warped voices mutter pitied words like "he took quite a hard fall, the poor thing" and "oh my God how bloody embarrassing for that man". Louis turns around, looking for no one spectator in particular, "What? You've never seen someone trip? There's nothing to fucking see here. Leave us alone, we're fine."
A few bystanders heed Louis’ warning, walking away instead of dealing with his wrath. Men drag their wives away, mothers shield their children's eyes, yet a small crowd still hesitates. Among them is a woman quickly speaking into her phone, and it sounds as though she's ringing for an ambulance. “If you would have paid attention, you would have seen his fucking medical alert necklace. Leave us alone, we’re fine.” Louis snaps at her, not caring how rude he may sound. His primary focus is on Harry as he feels it should be. He drops to his knees beside him, adjusting his head to rest on his lap. “Harry? Harry love? Are you okay?" he brushes a piece of his long, straggly hair off his flushed face. "Harry? Come on love, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s Louis baby, it’s me, you’re okay.” He feels several areas of Harry’s face with the back of his hand, and instantly doesn’t like how clammy he feels to the touch.
Harry's cheek is squished against Louis’ clothed thigh, which doesn't aid in his words in sounding less lethargic and garbled. "Fell."
Jagger continues to nudge Harry’s side as if trying to express to Louis that he needs to be moved. Louis reaches over to try and calm him, but Jagger jerks away, ramming the chairs trapping Harry in out of the way.
"Okay, alright, that's okay," Louis rushes to say, resting his hand on the small of Harry’s back. The way Harry trembles underneath the palm of his hand makes Louis feel sick to his stomach. "Your legs gave out, yeah? Do you think you can tell me whether you hurt yourself or not?”
Harry shakes his head, so Louis doesn't push him any further. "Feel fu..." his voice catches in his throat, interrupting his speech. He swallows, thick, before finishing, “funny.”
"Is it your head? Does it feel like you're gonna have a seizure?" Louis asks, beginning to draw small circular shapes on Harry's back with his fingertips.
Harry's eyes lethargically roll to look at each and every person stood around them. He tries to move his head off Louis’ lap, but instead tenses and a heavy exhale expels past his lips.
"Harry? Love look at me, it's okay. I need you to try and focus on me. Is it your head that feels funny? Or something else?" Louis asks, again, his voice carrying absolutely no animosity. Harry isn't comprehending what he's saying, and it's not his fault, not at all. He knows Harry’s fading into a seizure, and quickly, and he just wants him to understand what’s happening, despite it not going quite as he’d hope.
Sylvia squeezes her youngest sister's hand. "Papa?" she calls from where she’s standing, "Papa, is dad okay?"
Harry's eyes grow wide at the sound of her voice, his mouth opens like a fish out of water, and suddenly, his trembling hand is reaching out for Louis, grazing his arm.
Louis doesn't pay his daughter any attention. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with Harry, squeezing tight. "I love you sweetheart, and I hate to do this to you, but I gotta roll you on your side. Can't have you seizing on your stomach, right?"
There's no eloquent response on Harry's end. He's babbling, as he does when a seizure seemingly spreads through his entirety. Louis can imagine volts of seizure activity rendering Harry's nerves useless, absolutely taking away his ability to speak, walk, or access any control.
He figures it's like this dark cloud that absorbs portions of Harry's brain. The dark cloud is delightful when it comes to mortifying him and rapidly destroying his emotions, but other than it’s an absolute horror story come to life.
When he looks up, he sees the celebration has completely ceased, and all the graduates are looking to them, confused. Why do people stare? Louis shakes his head, carefully sliding one hand under Harry’s stomach while the other holds the area above his left hip, then he rolls him over. It’s hard for him not to wince when Harry responds with a sharp gasp, and even harder for him to keep himself collected while Jagger tends to him.
At first, he licks Harry’s face, but then the fight for air builds, and he pulls away, barking. The gasps departing Harry’s mouth start quiet and spaced out, then these loud, choked wheezes pry themselves out of Harry’s lips, forcing his body to clench with each one.
“You're alright, love. It's alright.” Louis encourages, using his hand to keep Harry’s hair out of his face. He should have tied it back when he had the chance. “We’re going to push through this, like we always do. You're going to be just fine.” Harry tries to sit up, again, choking on a strangled sob when he arches his neck upon realizing he can hardly move. The contractions of his muscles are far too harsh for him to even think about reposing. “It's okay, I’ll come to you. See, I'm coming closer to you, so you don't have to move. I need you to stay still for me, okay? It'll be alright, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, there’s a hand on Louis’ shoulder, and he glances to find his eldest daughter standing over him, dressed in her cap and gown. “What can I do?” she asks.
Louis rubs his chin as he watches Harry examine her. His breathing is heavy, mouth hanging agape, and there’s no clear recognition in his eyes. Jagger has curled up beside his feet, waiting to take further action.
“I…” Louis gnaws on the inside of his cheek when he hears Harry trying to talk, but it’s only a contortion of slurred phrases. He rests his hand on top of Harry’s, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “No, no, no, it's okay, you don't have to talk baby. I’m right here.”
“Papa? Is there anything I can do?” Kyra asks again in a calm voice.
Louis doesn't hesitate. “There’s an extra sweatshirt back where we were sitting. Grab that, and Jagger’s bag too. Check on your sisters for me.”
He doesn't hear a word out of Kyra, and when he looks over his shoulder, she’s gone. Finding his focus back to Harry, he unbuttons his patterned shirt, and pulls the blazer he had paired it with off of his broad shoulders. Morbidly, he’s so stiff that it’s very much like undressing a doll. He lays the blazer over top of his hips, where he can’t quite tell if Harry’s wet himself or not, but it’s better to keep him covered just in case.
It isn’t a minute later the spasms begin, and with no forewarning. There isn't a loud cry, or little jerks, rather it all develops at once. The convulsions are severe from the start. His ankles and wrists curve in on themselves while his fingers and toes curl inward much like claws and as his chin repeatedly contracts down, whines grow in sound.
Louis slides his hand beneath Harry’s head, cradling it with his palm, to slow the impact of when it’s being thrown back against the gymnasium flooring. “You’re doing so good for me, love. Nice and steady, we’ll ride it out.
Even with the number of times he’s watched Harry helplessly seize, it never seems to ease the ache he feels when it happens yet again. He swallows, keeping his hand steady as Harry’s anything but. Jagger is on all fours now, licking one of his hands even as it contracts in odd directions. There’s a few times where Harry accidentally knocks him in the snout, but he doesn't seem to care, keeping Harry’s comfort in best interest.
“Come on Harry, come back to me sweetheart,” Louis encourages, sweetly, hardly noticing the small bag and sweatshirt Kyra’s dropped beside him. The exerted breathing leaving Harry is horrific, absolutely awful, and Louis can hardly stand listening to him struggling to breath past the saliva building in his mouth. “It's alright. Stay with me love, stay with me. You've got to keep steady for me okay? It’s gonna be alright.” he reminds, knowing Harry can't hear him, but if he doesn't speak to him when he seizes, it doesn't feel quite right. He's leaving Harry alone if he doesn't encourage him, and it's never been about himself, it's always been about easing Harry back into normalcy, even if it does take some time.
Kyra takes a knee beside her dad. “I shouldn't have insisted he come. I’m a bad daughter.” she says, hanging her head, having seen enough of her younger dad spasm against Louis’ touch.
“It's not about feeling sorry for yourself right now.” Louis breathes out, sharp, his teeth clenched. There’s tears prickling the back of his eyes, and a lost feeling in his mind. What does he do from this point? Sure, Harry’s going to come out of the fit, but then what? The graduation ceremony isn't finished, the celebration is postponed, clearly it’ll pick back up once the commotion has settled, then what? He doesn't treat his daughter for her academic excellence? He leaves his husband to tend to himself after an epileptic seizure? What should be his top priority? “Call your grandmother, tell her I need her here.” he finally says.
Jagger whines, nudging Harry’s arm with his face as the seizure still reigns over his body. “Come on, love. Please come out of it for me. It’s okay.” He gently wipes his mouth with the spare sweatshirt.
Drowning out the noise of Kyra talking to Anne on the phone, Louis reaches for the small bag of Harry’s medical supplies. She speaks with a thick voice, and an apologetic tone, explaining what’s happened in the gym.
One of the pluses of living where they do is having both grandmothers close by, and they use them as a utility quite often. Being in the high school means Anne is down the street from them - which has been helpful when both he and Harry are out of town, as she gets the girls to school without a problem.
Louis grabs a small water bottle from the bag along with a hair tie and a package of wet wipes, and sets them to the side. When he looks back to Harry, he notices the seizing is beginning to slow, leaving Harry with heavy gasps and inconsistent spasms. Jagger relaxes then too, sniffing Harry’s arm, and then his face, before swiping his tongue over Harry’s cheek. He curls into Harry’s back once the body convulsions are entirely gone, and the only sign he’s had a fit is the twitching around his eyes and eyebrows.
“You’re a good boy. Good job,” Louis whispers, reaching over Harry to scratch behind Jagger’s ears. Jagger tilts his head into Louis’ touch, groaning slightly, and he raises his head to rest on Harry’s thigh to peek at Louis when he pulls away. Louis tends to Harry, brushing his hair out of his face before caressing his cheek. “You did so well for me, Harry. I love you, so, so much.” he breathes, carding his fingers through the length of Harry’s sweaty curls.
Kyra hangs up and sets her phone face down beside her. “Is he okay? Looks like he cut his head open.” she nods to where she sees blood.
“I know. I’m waiting for him to come to before I do anything else.” Louis moves his hand to Harry’s chest, and he leans in, rubbing gently to refrain from hurting him. He’s always found rubbing Harry’s chest to be the most relaxing for the both of them. For Harry because it’s a comfort, even if he doesn't comprehend it, and for himself because he can feel Harry’s heart palpitating under his palm. It’s reassurance he’s alive and well. “What did nan say?”
“She's on her way.” Kyra answers, watching her dad closely.
Soon enough she's rising to her feet with a friend’s call of her name. “Ky! Oh my god, what's going on babe?” she asks, engulfing her in a hug. Louis glances up, eyeing the girl closely. He remembers seeing her before, perhaps at a school event or once or twice at his house, but he struggles to put a name to the face.
Kyra sighs, heavy, “My dad bugged out as usual. No surprise that it happened at my graduation.” she mutters.
“You poor thing.” Her friend frowns, brushing her dark hair out of her face. The gesture doesn’t appear to be platonic, but Louis doesn’t question it.
For all the right reasons, their conversation doesn't sit right with Louis. “Do you two mind taking your conversation elsewhere? My husband had a seizure, and I can't focus on helping him with the two of you talking right above my ear.” he says.
Kyra looks at Louis, then at Harry, and without a second thought she says. “I should really give my dad a hand, Victoria. I'll see you in a little bit though.” Her friend is understanding, stepping away from the situation, and walking back to a group of girls also dressed in gowns and caps. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Louis shakes his head. There simply isn't anything else to do, given they're playing the waiting game, sitting around waiting for Harry to come to, and when he does come to - he may bounce back in a few minutes, or in a few hours, or it may even take the rest of the day.
A few minutes pass, then Harry starts to shift. Louis instantly sees him struggling, and when their eyes meet Harry’s appear watery and confused. He looks at Louis, and shakes his head, not really comprehending who anyone is or what's going on. “Hey love, it’s good to have you back. You had a seizure, so we've got to take it easy for a few minutes, okay?” he pushes Harry’s hair off his forehead. His skin feels damp and warm against the back of Louis’ hand. “You did so good my love.” he whispers, kissing his forehead.
Harry doesn't stay relaxed for long as he tries to sit up - Louis can tell by his body language, with the straining of the arms and legs - then he lurches forward, and Louis knows the mess about to entail. He gets a hand under his back, and another on his chest, sitting him up as carefully and quickly as he can.
Jagger stands, moving to lay behind Harry as if to support his body, much like an easel does a canvas. Louis rubs his back as the contents of his stomach splash on the gym floor. “It's okay babe. Get it all out. It’ll make you feel better.” Louis encourages, reaching with his free hand for the hair tie he left out. He sweeps Harry’s hair back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, while keeping one hand steady on the center of his back.
Kyra nearly loses her lunch, turning her head away and scrunching her nose at the sounds of retching.
Harry doesn’t even try to pick his head up, or wipe his mouth, instead collapsing against Louis once he’s finished. His body clenches even as he breathes, telling Louis he’s still pushing past some of the faulty activity in his brain.
He drapes an arm around him, tugging him against his side. “You're alright, love.” he assures, pressing his chin to the top of his head. They sit like this for a few minutes, and Harry buries his face against Louis’s neck. Even if he isn't completely coherent, he knows that Louis is important to him, and Louis feels safe.
Anne appears moments later, rushing into the gym, while Louis has the small water bottle held to Harry’s lips, one hand supports his chin. “Small sips, sweetheart, I don't want you to throw up again.”
Her purse hits the floor with a dull thud followed by her creeping down to kneel beside the two of them. Jagger moves from behind Harry’s back and lays down beside him. Anne strokes his head, brushing his ears back with each consistent rub. "Hello Jagger, you're such a good boy."
Kyra stands to the side, watching this entire ordeal with teary eyes. Why is her family like this? Why do they always draw attention to themselves?
Louis looks toward Anne, weakly smiling, “I’m glad you were able to come.” he says, pulling the water bottle from Harry’s lips. Sometimes it feels as though he has four children after Harry has a fit, only because his mentality is hardly that of a child when he comes to. Often times Louis will repeat himself multiple times only to have Harry stare at him with a blank stare, and speak a mess of words.
“Anytime honey, you know that. How bad was it?” She watches Harry as he curls into Louis, tucking his face against his chest. Even in his incoherent moments, Harry understands Louis is protection.
Louis kisses the top of his head. “Lasted about two and a half minutes, but he hit his head on the way down. See where he’s sliced it open?” he asks, parting Harry’s hair above his ear. Despite being moist with sweat, Louis can still feel the silkiness of Harry’s hair on the pads of his fingers. “It’s not deep enough for stitches, but I’m gonna go ahead and clean it up before we do anything else.”
Harry whimpers, so Louis tightens his grip around him. “It's alright. I’ve just got to take a look at your head, then we'll get you home lovely.”
Kyra clears her throat. “What happens after that then? For my graduation day?” she asks.
“You've got to be kidding me.” Louis hisses, staring at her in shock. “Do you see what's happening right under your damn nose? He had a seizure, Kyra, a bloody seizure, there isn't time for you to be selfish right now.”
Anne shakes her head, touching his shoulder. “Louis dear, don't take your resentment out on her.” she corrects, then looks back to Kyra. “Perhaps your dad would let me take Harry home with me, and he can take your girls out for whatever you had planned.”
“Anne.” Louis sighs. “Just - please hand me that package of wet wipes.” he holds his hand out and takes the small container from her. Pulling one wipe out at a time, he carefully dabs at the cut on Harry’s head. Harry blindly tries to draw away, a whine building in the back of his throat, but Louis carefully grabs his bicep, holding him in place. Any sort of guidance keeps Harry relatively reliant.
“It's okay. You're doing so good for me.” Louis encourages, careful as he wipes the blood away from the cut. He’ll have to make sure he cleans it out with some kind of antiseptic, but he doesn't have the sort of tools with him right now. After wiping his head, he uses a separate wipe to clean his face, more accordingly his chin and around his lips.
Once he’s finished, he looks up, only to find all three of his daughters staring at them now. Sylvia’s mouth is pulled into a tight line, and she picks at her fingernails as she skittishly glances at the situation playing out in front of her whereas Lydia is far too young to truly understand what’s going on, so her grandma holds her in her lap, chin resting on top of her head, rocking her back and forth.
Harry takes very quick, shallow breaths against Louis’ neck, and that's when Louis realizes how exhausted he is. All of the stress his body went through is unimaginable, and it takes a toll on him. These days Louis worries more about the stress on his body rather than the actual seizure. Harry’s getting older, inching closer to fifty every year, and his neurologist has warned him of effects seizures can cause.
Heart attacks is the one that stands out in his mind. If Harry had a heart attack, a fucking heart attack, he isn’t sure what he would do, or if Harry would even be stable enough recuperate. “We should go.” he says.
“I'm serious about my offer,” Anne goes on to say, “I'll take him home with me, get him settled, and you lot can go do whatever you had planned. It's Kyra’s day, don't take it away from her.”
Louis fixates his focus on Harry. “I want to do these things as a family.”
“You can't honey. It’ll be a few days before he's even on his feet again, you know that, so just go have a good time. You can celebrate again in a few days.” Anne negotiates, serious. “He's my son. I don't mind taking care of him for a few hours.”
Louis swallows, thick, “I want to be with him.”
“What are you going to do to make him feel better? He's going to sleep, and then what? You're going to drag yourself down trying to help him? No, take your time with your daughters, and if anything changes, which it won't, I’ll ring you.”
It's becomes harder as Harry gets older. Seizures have always been something that come and go for him, but it seems the effects last longer. His body struggles to recover as fast as it once did, and now there’s the obstacle of the depression period. His doctor says it's not uncommon, but it's not easy for Louis because Harry isn't usually melancholy with a few exceptions. He's always tried to be cheery despite his circumstances.
“Fine, alright,” Louis grumbles, and cautiously helps Harry readjust, situating him so he can properly stand him up. There’s no effort on Harry’s part, though he can’t exactly help it, given his mind is elsewhere. “You've got to work with me here babe.” he whispers, standing and bending down to grab Harry’s hands. He tries his hardest helping Harry to his feet, but without surprise, it’s a fail.
Anne leans in. “Do you need a hand?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, thinking he would be able to walk out of here,” he says, shaking his head. Hesitation passes through him before he adds, “I’ll carry him ‘cause I don’t see how we’re going to do it otherwise.”
No one questions him as he picks his forty two year old husband off the floor, hooking one arm under his knees and the other around his back. The look of confusion hasn’t left Harry’s expression, in fact it’s deepened if anything. His eyebrows furrow and his mouth pulls into a tight line, but he doesn’t fight the gesture, letting his head roll back against Louis’ shoulder. “Oh, I’ve got you love. You're okay.” he whispers, adjusting his grip on Harry to be sure he isn't dropped.
Jagger stands beside them, wagging his tail as he waits to follow. “Lou.” Harry mumbles, disoriented. His arms lay lax, and he fumbles with the dog tag pendant hanging around his neck, tugging and twisting at the cord.
“Don't pull on that, baby. I don't want you to hurt yourself.” Louis reminds, hoping Harry will listen because he's unable to pull it away from him as both his hands are preoccupied. This is what Louis means when he feels as though he has four children. Normally, Harry would know not to yank on the chain around his neck as he could cause damage, especially in a state of lethargy.
“Lou.” Harry huffs, burying his face against Louis’ collarbone. A sniffle leaves him, and Louis figures he’s starting to come to due to rapid change of emotions.
“It’s alright. We’re gonna get you home so you can sleep the rest of the day.” Louis reminds him, adjusting his grip before he starts to walk him out to the car. Jagger trots beside them, so close he occasionally rubs against Louis’ leg. “Jagger took such good care of you before I got to you, and you weren't out for very long. I'm so proud of you gorgeous.” He isn't certain whether Harry is comprehending what he's saying or not, but it puts him at ease anyhow.
People stare, as they always do, and Louis waits for the opportunity to smart something off, which will come only if a comment is made about the situation. At times there's so much attention on them that Louis wonders if the band’s gotten back together.
People still know of them, who they are, their names, their love story, their music, but the popularity faded as soon as the decision to not return as a group was revealed. Partially they decided to end it because they were all going in different directions creatively, and partially because Louis knew Harry wouldn't be able to do it.
The surgery had worked for the time being, but the severity of his epilepsy returned within a few years, and Louis wasn't about to include him in something where he would be at risk and he wasn't about to tell him he wasn't allowed to be apart of the phenomenon again.
Despite being internationally famous, certain things were easier. For example was a lot easier to carry Harry to the car twenty years ago, and it was a simpler task to stabilize him, as they weren't interfering with their daughters. Though, that's not to say things are worse now. Louis’ content with Harry, and Harry’s abilities versus his inabilities.
Upon reaching the parking lot, they come across Anne’s Range Rover, and she holds the back door open for them. Jagger hops into the backseat first, moving to the far side of the rover, while Louis tries to coax Harry into wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Needless to say, it doesn't work, instead Harry stares at him with a vacant look.
Anne steps around, and touches Harry’s shoulder, “Love, you've got to grab onto Louis so he can get you in the car.” Harry turns his head to look at her, and his eyes struggle to find focus on her face. Then, he tries to climb out of Louis’ arms, using him as some kind of post to push off of. She touches his chest, holding him in place so he won't fall. “No, Harry love, you've got to hold on to him.”
He isn't understanding, so Anne reaches over him, grabs his right arm, and hooks it around Louis’ neck. “Hold onto his shirt, bub. Come on.” She shifts again, and puts her hand over top of Harry’s. “Go on, squeeze his shirt between your fingers, sweets.”
Finally, Harry understands, and Louis feels him gripping the back of his shirt. “Anne, I really think I ought to just take him home. How are you gonna get him in the house? You won't be able to carry him.”
“I'm more than capable of taking care of him, honey. Let me worry about it, okay? Have a good time with your daughters.” she answers.
Louis has trouble finding an argument. Carefully, he bends at the waist, and helps Harry get into the car. He has him laying down in the back seat, head touching Jagger, and his feet nearing the door. Leaning in and over him, Louis kisses his forehead. “I'll see you later, bug. I love you.” Then, he shuts the door, careful to not his feet, and turns to face Anne. “I’m never not around after he has a seizure.”
“You can't be unfair to Kyra. You're never going to see her graduate again, and I hate to say it, but Harry will have more fits, and you can stay with him then.” Anne grabs Louis’ hands, squeezing tight, “Now go on, go see your daughter graduate, love. Tell her you’re proud. I'll ring you if anything changes with H, okay? That's a promise.”
Louis hesitates, taking a look through the car window, and glances back to Anne. “Okay, but as soon as I finish everything, I promise I’ll be there.”
“I'm not worried. I know you're a good husband, there's not a doubt in my mind about it.” Anne smiles at him. “I'll see you in a few hours, okay? Don't worry about him. Have a good time.”
Louis doesn't wait for her to leave, rather walks away before she even gets in the car. He feels unsettled, maybe even guilty, as he did take an oath, an oath to be there through sickness and in health, and he doesn't feel like he's abiding by that currently.
He always stays with him after he seizes, but the one time he doesn't is the time that impacts him the most.
“There's my little graduate!” Anne exclaims, hugging Kyra tightly, as soon as Louis walks in with the girls. “And my other little darlings!” she kisses Sylvia on top of the head before picking Lydia up in her arms, holding her to her chest.
Faintly, Louis can make out the sound of Stones’ music playing. Deceased rocker Mick Jagger’s voice fills the house, and Louis looks to Anne, as if asking a nonverbal question about Harry’s well-being.
“He's sleeping on the couch in the family room. He asked for me to put the Between The Buttons Stones’ album on.” she informs him, meeting his eyes, “And before you ask, he's been doing just fine.”
Louis nods. “Well, I guess I’ll check on him then.” He tries not to sound concerned, rather he's looking to appear nonchalant, but it doesn't work in his favor. Walking down the hallway to the back room, the family room, loaded with couches, a coffee table, a stereo, and an extremely large television, he feels a bit of anxiety flooding his veins.
He steps into the room, and Harry lying on the couch, back turned to the door, and a ginormous fleece blanket covers him, Jagger lays curled in a ball beside his feet, though he isn't sleeping, keeping a watchful eye on Harry with his snout resting on the man’s calf. The Rolling Stones’ aren't playing too loud, not as loud as he thought they would be, giving a steady noise.
Once Jagger sees him, he starts wagging his tail, and his ears stand erect. “Hi buddy. You keeping an eye on Harry?” Louis whispers as he approaches. Before kneeling down beside the couch, he scratches the top of the German Shepard’s head.
As he rests on his knees, he can hears Harry’s deep, relaxed breaths, and a partial smile crosses his lips. He touches his shoulder, gently shaking him awake, “Come on, love. Wake up for a second.”
It takes time for Harry to become coherent, as it usually does. Shifting so his back now presses against the back of the couch, he studies Louis’ face with his eyes. “Hi.” he breathes upon recognition.
“Hi,” Louis echos, softly, then asks, “How are you feeling?” Harry’s soft brown tufts of hair have fallen out of the bun for the most part, and his eyes are a bloodshot, but he's still the most gorgeous person Louis has ever laid eyes on.
“Been better.” Harry rasps, straining his voice .
Louis brushes a piece of his hair behind his ear, then moves his hand back to stroke his temple with the pad of his thumb. “I know.”
“Sorry I put you through that,” he whispers, shying away from Louis’ touch, “and the girls too. God, I feel like an awful father. Couldn't even hold myself together for my daughter’s graduation.”
Louis shakes his head. “Don't say that. It's not your fault. I have it on video - the moment she walked up and everything - so I'll have to show you when you're feeling better.”
Harry doesn't utter another word for a few moments. “Was it a bad one?” he asks.
“It was…” Louis jostles his head side to side as he thinks of an answer. “Wasn't one of your worst. It lasted about two and a half minutes, but you hit your head on the way down so you've got a few bruises. Does it hurt?” Louis asks, brushing his fingers lightly over where the side of Harry’s head and his left temple are bruised.
“Just a little bit. My mouth hurts more.” Harry says, honest, meeting his eyes. “I really am sorry, and I want...I hope both you and Kyra know that I didn't mean to sabotage the day.”
Louis feels a twinge of pain in his chest. He hates that Harry feels this way. “You can't help it. I know that, love.” he whispers, shaking his head. “And Kyra had a lovely day. I did what we planned on, took her to dinner and let her pick out a graduation gift. I was thinking if you were up to it this weekend, we could go car shopping for her party.”
“Yeah,” Harry agrees, slowly sitting up. He uses the arm of the couch as his post. “I saw a few of nice ones at a dealership in Manchester.”
Louis watches his face contort into a pained expression. “Take it easy, babe. You don't need to be pushing yourself.” He stands, and takes a seat beside his husband on the couch.
Seemingly as soon as he sits down, Jagger hobbles over to climb over Louis’ lap. His snout nudges Harry’s hand before licking his fingers. “How’d he do?” Harry asks, scratching behind his ears.
“He responded quick, H. As soon as you went down he started barking, so he got my attention quick.” Louis runs his hand through the German Sheppard’s thick, wiry coat.
Harry exhales a heavy sigh.
“What's wrong?” Louis asks, prepared to move in case something goes haywire.
“No, nothing, it's just…” Harry hesitates before adding, “He was trying to tell me, I think, and I...I really should have listened to him when he started nudging my legs and barking.”
Louis shakes his head. “It wouldn't have mattered had you listened or not. Maybe you wouldn't have fell, but you wouldn't have been able to stop the seizure. You know how it goes, love, you can't stop it from happening. Don't blame yourself.”
A split second of silence passes. “Be honest with me. Is Kyra upset, Lou? I don't want her to be upset. I want her to understand that I don't mean to inconvenience her. I just - I don't feel well so quickly and so suddenly, and -”
“Baby,” Louis sighs, adjusting the collar on Harry’s shirt. Anne must have helped him change into his new ensemble, a baby blue tee and grey sweatpants, so at least he looks comfortable. “You don't have to explain it to me, but Kyra, she's still young, and I don't think she understands that you're ill.”
Harry lets his head droop, chin pressing to his chest as he looks down at Jagger. Jagger eyes him with blown pupils, brushing his cold nose against Harry’s fingers. “I feel like she hates me, and it is one of the worst things I’ve ever felt. I know my relationship with Sylvia is wonderful, and Lydia is too young to hate me, but Kyra has never liked me, from the time she was a little girl.”
“Harry, that's not true.” Louis whispers, shaking his head.
“But it is. She's told me, Louis, she doesn’t care for me, and I, I’ve tried so hard to be a good dad, but I’ve done something wrong. I’ve done it all wrong, and my daughter cannot stand me. I hope I don't do the same with the other girls.”
Louis swallows. What is he supposed to say to that? She's broken his heart, and he can't reassure him any differently. “I've talked to her about talking to you with more respect.”
“It's not that.” Harry sighs, sloppily running his hand over face.
“Even if it’s not, she should respect you,” Louis informs him as if he didn't know. “You're her father, and she should speak to you with some dignity. I know she’s angry with the way things have played out. I get that it’s difficult to have two dads, given one has a debilitating illness, and I’m sure it’s hard being the oldest, but she’s caused so much grief. It takes everything in me not to get upset when I know she’s caused you to seize.”
A scoff explodes past Harry’s lips. Now, he sheds the blanket, letting it drift into a mess of purplish fabric on the floor, and for a moment he glances down at himself. Upon noticing the lack of dress pants and a blazer, a swift look of discomfort and embarrassment crosses his face, but he quickly changes his focus back to Louis’ face. Despite being quick, he isn’t quick enough, because Louis catches the look and reassurance hesitates on the tip of his tongue, but he chooses to say nothing once meeting Harry’s eyes.
“It’s a spontaneous condition.” Harry argues, turning his head towards the door, and squints his eyes at the closed door. He realizes the footsteps he can hear beyond the family room could belong to a multitude of people - his mum, Kyra, Sylvia, and Lydia (who’s as clumsy as can be) - and mean nothing at all.
“Perhaps, but stress doesn’t help it, and your anxiety has been awful these last few months. Kyra arguing your every word sure as hell doesn’t make you feel any better.” he points out, eyes falling down to focus on Harry’s medical alert necklace. Taking it in his hand, the pad of his thumb runs over the engravings that haven’t changed in years. “I don’t scold her only because I know you don’t want it that way, but H, love, she’ll never make it in the real world with a bad attitude like she has now.”
Harry glances to Louis, again, feeling the slight tug of the chain around his throat, and sighs, “I think she’s been living in the real world for quite some time now, babe. How many little girls take care of their sickly father?”
There’s nothing reasonable he can possibly say to argue that. He only nods, continuing to brush his thumb along Harry’s pendant. As silence engulfs them, creaking of the door grabs both their attention, and in walks Kyra.
“Is it a bad time?” she asks, keeping her eyes solely on Louis.
Jokingly, Louis looks to his watch. “Looks like you’ve got all the time in the world.” Trying to lighten the mood doesn’t seem to work, as neither Harry nor Kyra crack a smile.
She approaches them and sits on the arm of the couch closest to Harry. “How are you feeling, dad?”
“I don’t think I’ll be running miles by the morning if that’s what you mean,” He finds himself humorous, so he laughs, then cuts himself short, swallowing thickly, because again, no one else is amused. “But uh, I’ll be okay, like always.”
Kyra’s eyes are drawn to something rather than his eyes. “You’re bruised” she says, flat, reaching out to graze the hues of blue and purple marking the side of his face. “Does it hurt?”
“A little bit, but I’ll be okay, Ky. I always am. I’ve just got to give it some time.” he assures, resting his large hand on top of her petite one.
Louis doesn’t say anything as he watches the encounter. He knows there’s something she wants to say, but she’s waiting for a proper moment to interject it, judging by her flushed skin and tense lips.
She must realize they’re waiting for her to speak. “I’m sorry I made you come today. I didn’t mean to cause anything, you know? I just - I really wanted you to see me graduate, and you didn’t get to anyway, so it was all for nothing, right?”
“It’s not your fault, love. I could have just as easily told you no, but I didn’t want to disappoint you, and I ended up doing so anyway, and probably embarrassing you too.” he rambles, lowering his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet his daughter’s chocolate colored irises. He pets Jagger, a bit rough, only due to nerves. He shouldn’t be nervous talking to his teenager daughter, he shouldn’t, but he is, extremely so.
“You didn’t embarrass me.” she says, soft, staring at his bruised face. How inconsiderate has she really been? Fuck, that really doesn’t look like a promising healing process as of now. “I’m really sorry it happened.”
“I’m really sorry it happened too. I’ll make it up to you at your graduation party next week, alright?” he squeezes her hand, before letting his fall back to his lap. “I hope you know I'm so proud of you. You’re onto bigger and better things now.”
She forces a smile. “Thanks dad, it means a lot.” A silence crosses between them, again, before she decides to speak again. “I overheard you guys talking, actually, and I wanted to tell you I’m really sorry.” she says.
Harry glances at Louis upon realizing their daughter heard everything they spoke about in the moments prior. “You don't have to apologize to me, it's okay.”
“But it's not.” Kyra answers, shaking her head, “I guess I didn't realize how much I impacted you, and I don't want to be the cause of your seizures. They're awful, and I get so scared. I don't want to cause you the grief.”
Harry shakes his head. “I don't want you to think it's your fault. I've been epileptic since before you were born, since before I met your father, and there's nothing anyone can do to fix that. We've tried to change things, but it hasn't worked, and so it'll stay this way and that's okay.” he searches for her eyes, and upon meeting them, he offers a weak smile, “ It’s like I was telling your father, epilepsy is a spontaneous condition. Sure, all stress does is aggravate it, but I don't want you to ever blame yourself for what happens. That's a lot of guilt to carry around.”
“He's right,” The words come out quiet at first, so Louis clears his throat, and repeats himself. “Absolutely. He's right. I think we could all re-evaluate our attitudes towards one another, but none of us are to blame for it. Perhaps we induce it at times, but it's not our fault. It took me years and years to understand I wasn't the cause for it.”
“I find that it’s easier to take the blame for things rather than to allow no one to take it at all.” Harry adds.
Kyra takes what her dad’s say to heart, she really does, and so she quietly promises, “If I’m going to live at home for a few more years, I think I should work on my attitude.”
“That would be very nice, and just so you know, even when you go off to be the best person you can be, you’ll always be my little girl and you’ll always have a place at home.”
Her eyes water at the words leaving her dad’s mouth. In fact, she's so overcome with emotion, she can't speak and instead bends down to hug him, though still gentle as to not jostle anything. “Thank you, thank you so much. I love you.” she whispers against his neck.
“I love you too.” he says without hesitation.
Louis chuckles. “I want in on this!” he wraps an arm around each of them, tugging them to him. “I love you two, so much, more than you’ll ever know.” he breathes out.
Jagger whines loudly before nudging his way in between Harry and Louis to join the family hug.
So, things don't always go as planned, sometimes because of the inevitable nature of unpredictable situations, but we must move on, and hope for the better. Alternative outcomes are out there but we must search for them to make them even remotely plausible.