They say when the sun sets, sunflowers face each other. But what if there was no other sunflower to turn to? What if each sunflower had been plucked out, leaving one to its misery, lone and terrified, with no kind of its own, a cruel world in its wa...
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Harry couldn't sleep. He had tried reading a book ( he ended up completing it), had cuddled Cow until the kitten slipped out and disappeared into the dark of the flat to escape Harry, he had even tried drinking the awful, fancy tea he had bought, but nothing worked, and here he was, wrapped in a blanket with a jar of honey-mustard spread, making his way up to the rooftop. He had briefly stopped in front of Louis' door, not in the hopes of meeting him, but because of the gruesome moans that were echoing throughout the hallway.
Guess everyone was getting some action apart from Harry.
Sighing, ignoring the way he felt his chest tighten, Harry slowly opened the door to the rooftop after exiting the lift, stepping onto the grass, he allowed the freezing air to greet him like a respectful nemesis. He hated the cold, but he loved the moon a bit more passionately. The sky was a sea of murk with a blinding twilight, the moon was in a gracious crescent, the entire rooftop lit with warm hued lamps. Harry clutched the blanket closer to his body, padding towards the swing that was barely ever empty. Thank heavens it was half past three in the morning and Harry could finally enjoy the swing all to himself.
It squeaked when he sat down, already swaying back and forth as Harry tried to fit his legs in it, folding them as he wrapped the blanket around himself properly and began devouring his jar of honey-mustard. It had been a month already, a month of his confrontation with Louis. He looked visibly pregnant now, given he was having twins. Louis did not try to talk to him again, nor did he ever approach Harry. They often ran into each other, awkward gazes and mumbles were all they shared. It did hurt Harry, it still did, but he had to live with it. He knew Louis had a girlfriend now, the same blonde from all those months ago, so there was no reason for him to try and break them apart by revealing who the father truly was.
But he had a heart, too. As much as he tried to pretend he was alright, that it did not bother him at all, he was hurting deep down. He loved his pups unconditionally, often talked to his protruding tummy, and sometimes he cried, apologising to them for the world they were coming into. Harry hadn't felt much love in this world, most of whom he trusted only treated him harshly, broke his heart to the point where he began questioning if there was any good at all. What world was he bringing his pups into? Harry had lost his colours, his hopes.
They say when someone is pregnant, it gives them a light, a hope, but Harry did not believe it. He loved his pups, yes, but he wasn't hopeful. He knew he would struggle financially, he knew there won't be a father figure for his pups, he knew he wouldn't get much time with his pups either. Worry seemed to be the only constant in his life these days — apart from Zayn, because the alpha would disown him for saying that — and Harry failed to remember a time he was genuinely at peace.
With Louis, he thought. It was true, the times when everything seemed to be fine, when Harry thought perhaps there was a chance. Louis did make his life better, but he was also the one who made it worse.
