The first time it happens, Harry is five months pregnant.
Louis had stumbled in late last night, Harry could hear him, and he woke up that morning to see that Louis was sleeping on the sofa. He probably couldn't make it to the bedroom.
This is normal, Harry isn't worried even when he's preparing Emily's lunch and he still hasn't moved from the couch. He puts a little plastic spoon into a container of yogurt and sets it on the tray of her high chair, sipping the tea in his hand, when he hears Louis call out to him.
Their flat is tiny, tiny enough that Louis' voice is quiet but Harry can still hear him clearly from the other room. It makes him sigh softly, frowning a little before setting his tea down and entering the lounge.
Louis is laying on his stomach, cheek squished into a throw pillow, making no effort to turn his head and look up at Harry. "Yeah?" Harry asks, voice soft but reservation still lingering in his words. He prays in his head that Louis isn't still high, that he won't say anything mean this time.
It takes Louis a moment to respond, but eventually, he asks "Can...can you just sit with me for a mo'?"
As much as Harry is annoyed with him for staying out all night (as if it isn't a normal occurrence), it's overruled by the somberness in Louis' voice. Since he takes up the whole couch, Harry lowers himself down to the floor, sitting by Louis' head.
Louis holds his hand out, his fingers trembling a little where they hang in the air, and Harry grabs it almost immediately. Louis' face is expressionless, staring at the floor, and Harry furrows his eyebrows.
"What's going on, L?" He asks softly.
Louis doesn't answer. Harry squeezes his hand, trying to get Louis to look at him, but he doesn't. He uses his free hand to brush Louis' fringe out of his face. "D'you want something to eat? I just got Emily some lunch."
Louis shakes his head. Harry's never seen him like this before. He looks at him for a second, squeezing his hand again. "Hey," Louis finally glances at him. "What's wrong?"
"I dunno," Louis mumbles. He's silent for a beat before adding, "I think I took something bad."
Harry frowns, debating in his head whether or not to try and get Louis to go to the hospital, until it hits him. He didn't take anything bad. He learned about this in psychology 101. Sometimes after people come down from a high, their serotonin drops really low, and it makes them depressed.
"Okay, you're okay," Harry soothes, running his fingers through Louis' fringe again. "Can I get you some water? It might make you feel a bit better."
Louis sighs softly, but says "Yeah."
Harry brings their entwined fingers up to his mouth, kissing the back of Louis' hand before releasing it. He struggles a bit standing up off the hardwood floor, but manages, and makes his way back to the kitchen.
The container of yogurt in front of Emily is empty. Half of it may be on her face (and her shirt, and in her hair), but she finished it one way or another. He grabs a paper towel from the roll on the counter, wiping her face off.
"Good job, Em," He coos, Emily batting his hand away as he wipes her mouth. "Such a big girl, finishing your whole meal."
"Mmm!" Emily exclaims, rubbing her tummy in a circle to show him she liked it. Harry grins, lifting her up and kissing her cheek. Her weight strains his back a bit, but he keeps her on his hip as he gets Louis some water.
He returns with Emily in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Louis hasn't moved a centimetre. He sets Emily down before lowering himself back to the floor, handing Louis the water. Louis just looks at it.
