Sage

73

To say Harry's been avoiding me these last few days would be an understatement.

I could ignore it at first- the way he no longer woke me up with breakfast in bed, only leaving it there for me to find it cold and soggy by the time my alarm went off. He often left before I awoke and didn't return home until about five in the afternoon. Even then, he'd either go straight to his studio or to the den. The few times I tried to catch him to talk, it's always been the same tired excuse.

"Not right now, El,"

He hadn't slept with me since our argument either, and it wasn't until yesterday that I saw the pallet of blankets atop the blow-up mattress he had on the floor of the den. I guess he'd forgotten to clean it away like he's been doing because there it was, alongside a few boxes of Chinese takeout and an empty glass that still reeked of brown liquor. Not only had he gotten Chinese without me, but he was also drinking, and I had no idea because he wasn't fucking talking to me.  I don't know if he's just needing space or is genuinely still angry with me but I'm tired of it.

This entire situation has been stressing me out and part of me wishes I never said anything to begin with because he most definitely doesn't interact with Sage any more than he did before. The only thing that changed is that he's now treating me the same way.

He has no choice but to work it out.

Desperate for any attempt to get in his good graces again so we could talk, I stood over the stove, sauteeing the onions and shredded cabbage while Sage's screams echoed over the Bluetooth speaker blasting 90's Rnb. I flushed the noise out and tried to focus on what Debra said about making sure the vegetable fry-up didn't become too soggy.

"Calm down; I'm coming, papa," I coo, glancing over my shoulder to meet eyes with Sage as he fusses about in his swing. I take note of how red his face is getting, silently rushing myself but also wondering how long it could possibly take Niall to shit.

He was here for moral support. That and I couldn't get Jenny because she was working and I really didn't want to make things more awkward by getting Gale, though I knew he'd be of more help.

Honestly, a lot is running on this meal. I've already prepared what I want to say to him, seeing as I'm plainly set on not taking the cold shoulder as an option anymore. I'm trying to be the bigger person because god knows me just a year ago would have left the second I felt like I wasn't wanted anymore. But I can't do that. I love him and we have a child together so we have no choice but the work it out.

He has no choice but to work it out.

"Niall, hurry up!" I shout over the slight chaos.

"I'm coming I'm coming," His gravelly accent grunts as he shuffles out of the hall and into the living room, where Sage immediately starts to calm down, his inquisitive eyes looking over the strange man walking toward him. "Alright, what's the fuss with you, little lad?"

"He may need a bottle. I have one ready over here—" I nudge my hip toward the baby bottle warmer. Niall carefully takes Sage out and begins to rock him before making his way toward it, being sure to peek over at the meal first.

"If that doesn't get you in his good graces, you'd better save me a dish," He compliments.

I only snort in response.

Niall begins making the bottle as I taught him, spilling some formula but doing his best. I continue to cook, sweat building on my forehead from the sun setting outside and glaring directly through the large kitchen windows, tinting the room in its golden hue.

"So," Niall begins, "Are you gonna tell me why Harry's not talking to you? Cause I feel like I missed a few steps... you don't cook..." He says, rocking Sage as he begins to sniffle and eat. He turns down the Bluetooth speaker on his phone.