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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[TW: past trauma]
When Harry woke up the next morning, naked skin covered by a quilt that felt like a kiss of a feather, Harry realised what truly had happened. Of course, in that moment he knew what he was doing, Zayn hadn't taken any advantage, but with the silence of the morning, faint drops of bird chirpings pattering somewhere across the street, Harry felt as if he wronged Louis.
Which. Yeah.
Louis could not care less, Harry knew that, but he had already submitted to him, his omega had chosen Louis as its alpha, his heart had been traded and broken to and by Louis. He stared at the ceiling, frosty fingers ghosting over his bump, his stomach was almost flat when he laid on his back, but standing up, he had a bump, tiny but undoubtedly there. He gulped dryly, breathing in the air that still held traces of him and Zayn, still feeling the hazel-eyed alpha's burning touch on his skin. Zayn was good to him, and Harry was terrified to face him today, not out of fear that would be awkward, but of the ache of having Zayn leave him, too.
"Meow." Before Harry could even turn his head, Cow was on his face, his furry, black tail swishing over Harry nose and his paws on Harry's forehead. Harry groaned, the realisation befalling upon him that today was one of the days where Cow was going to be an absolute menace. He peered down at Harry through the gap between his legs before he hopped off and settled on Harry's bump, purring when Harry petted his fur.
"G'mornin, my love," Harry mumbled, looking down at the kitten — now almost a cat — while Cow stared back with big blue eyes. His eyes always reminded Harry of Louis, once a sweet reminder now as bitter as betrayal. "Fuck my life," Harry breathed through his nose as he felt a slight cramp, his hands crumpling the bedsheet beneath him. It was normal, the doctor had said so. His body was stretching and changing and growing, and as long as the cramps were bearable, it was nothing to worry about. But Harry hated them no less.
He stayed in bed a little longer, thinking and thinking, watching the sky turn bright and the birds grow louder. Cow had moved and was now licking Harry's cheek while his paws were tangled in Harry's hair. Harry couldn't love the kitten any less. He sighed with a glance at the clock, accepting that he had to get up if he wanted to get to work. He would've skipped if he wasn't expecting fucking twins, he would have stayed in bed all day, mourning his broken heart and dreary life. But he needed to work, he needed the money. He was so tired and yet it was only the seventh hour of the day, but he could cry at the thought of getting out of his bed, of having to face people, talk to them, pretend as if what he was feeling behind the mask of his smile was normal.
Harry got up anyway, detangling Cow from his hair and pulling on an oversized tee. He stretched his back, painful as it was, his legs were showing signs of cramps too. He dreaded those, leg cramps, they were unbearable, horrendous, so much that he could never help the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Even the shower did not help, not the warm water or the way Cow watched him sitting on edge of the bathtub, something Harry had mastered to ignore over the months. Nothing brightened his sour mood. He made himself toast and eggs, a cup of Darjeeling, and gulped his medicines down. He wore the biggest jumper he could find, then pulled on a pair of sweats, his curly hair half braided to keep the hair from falling over his eyes.
