If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Im choosing you

Louis didn't say anything right away.
That was how Harry knew it mattered.
They were back in the hotel, later than planned, the noise of the day finally gone. Louis lingered in the doorway while Harry kicked his shoes off, the room lit only by a lamp and the soft glow from the city outside.

"You good?" Harry asked, glancing over.

Louis nodded once. Then again. Then he exhaled slowly and leaned back against the wall.

"I just-" He stopped, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You know I take the piss out of everything. Constantly. It's my brand."

Harry smiled faintly. "Famously."

"But seeing you today," Louis continued, quieter now, "seeing how sure you are... how steady. Ready to take another step." He shook his head. "It hit me a bit."

Harry stilled.

Louis met his eyes. "You're not guessing anymore, are you?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "No. I'm not."

Louis swallowed. His voice went rough when he spoke again. "You're gonna be really good at this. All of it."

Harry's chest tightened. "You already know that."

Louis stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, fierce hug-no jokes, no commentary. Just brotherly and solid and real.

"Don't mess it up," Louis said, pulling back with a crooked smile. "She'll fight me."

Harry laughed softly. "She already could."

"Good," Louis replied. "She should."

⸻

That night, Harry couldn't sleep.

Y/N lay beside him, curled on her side, breathing slow and even. Darcy slept in the bassinet near the bed, tiny chest rising and falling, peaceful and impossibly small.
Harry stared at the ceiling, doubt creeping in the way it always did when things mattered most.

Am I ready?
What if I do it wrong?
What if I fail them?

He turned his head and looked at Y/N.

At the softness of her expression in sleep. At the way one hand rested unconsciously toward Darcy, even now. At the life they'd built without meaning to rush, without pretending it was easy.

Then he whispered her name.
Not to wake her.
Just to hear it.
And Darcy stirred.
She shifted in the bassinet, let out a small sound-and then smiled.
A real one.
Wide and bright and unmistakably in response to him.
Harry froze.

He leaned closer, voice barely more than breath. "Hi, love."

Darcy kicked her feet and cooed, eyes fluttering open just long enough to lock onto his face.

Something inside him settled.

The doubt didn't disappear-it just stopped mattering.

Harry rested his forehead briefly against the side of the bassinet, eyes closing.

"Alright," he whispered. "I get it."

He looked back at Y/N, then at their daughter again.

After the next show, he decided.

Dinner. Just them.
The boys would take Darcy-again, loudly, dramatically, and with complaints.
And Harry would stop circling the moment.

He slid back into bed, careful not to wake her, pressing a kiss to Y/N's shoulder.

"I'm choosing you," he murmured, even though she couldn't hear it yet.
Darcy sighed softly in her sleep.
And for the first time, Harry didn't wonder when

He knew.