larry smut

oh how i wish that was me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647069

this one is kinda sad but also cute and soft smut so :p enjoy!

~✰~

The minute they're offstage, Harry's smile drops.

He feels sick, stomach churning after having to act like he was totally okay and ecstatic for the past three hours.

It's not that he wasn't happy or excited to be performing for the fans. He loved that bit.

But having to pretend like the love of his life wasn't delving into yet another atrocious lie, having to put a smile on his face while his Louis admitted to an act he didn't commit—that was brutal.

So Harry isn't okay. Not at all. In fact, all he wants to do is cry and maybe scream and curl up into a ball of nothing. It's just so unfair that—even after five years—he and Louis were still stuck in the same place.

Except this time, Harry wasn't sure if the damage would be manageable, or how far deep down the lie would run.

One thing he did know is that he was sick of it all.

Harry was tired of living a lie, of living in hiding. And the fact that he was questioning everything scared him. He and Louis have endured so much but he doubted his ability to live through this one and he just—he couldn't do this.

Looking up, Harry meets Louis' eyes. The sadness and pain and apologies in them are so prominent that he finds himself looking away just as quickly as he'd met them. He still manages to catch the flit of hurt in Louis' gaze in response to his reaction, but Harry just can't bear to look at him, not after having to hear how much he's "buzzing" in news to his currently non-existing baby.

The baby that was always supposed to be theirs.

Tears in his eyes, Harry quickly gathers his things and heads for the first available car. He doesn't wait and he doesn't talk to anyone. He's scared that if he opens his mouth, the only thing that's going to come out of it is an ugly sob. And he doesn't want that. He just wants to be alone right now.

Five minutes into the ride, his phone starts buzzing. He ignores it, closing his eyes and concentrating on breathing instead. His skin is crawling and he just wants to rip himself apart because it's his fault isn't it? It must be him that's the problem. If he was just a girl...he and Louis would be free and he would be able to do the one thing a male can't biologically do—the one thing he wanted more than anything.

Arriving at the hotel, Harry rushes up to his shared room. He locks himself in the bathroom, turning to look at the head-to-toe mirror on the back of the door.

He hates what he sees there. His face, his hair, his body, everything. He wants to take every piece of him he sees and rearrange it. His nose is too big, his body too tall. His chest is too flat and his hips too chubby. With every second, he feels bile rise in the back of his throat at the sight of himself.

But he doesn't look away. Instead, his gaze lingers on the flat smoothness of his tummy, and he finds himself rubbing the skin there, imagining a world in which he would be carrying a life, a life he and Louis created.