The day had already been monumentally shitty. The worst of the worst days. An absolute steaming-pile-of-crap day. So, really, it was only natural to finish it with a perfect cherry on top - his call from Death-Cast.
He was alone when the unmistakabl...
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𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟸:𝟺𝟿𝚙𝚖
Harry wasn't quite sure how he was standing on his own two feet, footsteps exponentially amplified as he seemed to wade through heavy water that wasn't there. The lights were fluorescent and shined directly in his eyes, effectively blinding him as the walls closed in and squeezed him tightly, keeping his lungs from fully expanding. He was sure the only reason he was still upright was Louis' arm snaked around his waist like a tether. He didn't let Harry slip away, no matter how hard life fought to pull him back.
He was scared. No, he was beyond scared. He was fucking terrified. He heard Louis whispering reassurances in his ear as they walked, joined together as one unit, down the unending hallway, but the words didn't break through the haze covering Harry's mind. All he could think, over and over until he wanted to slam his head into a wall, were the words said over the phone, a bit too casually for the subject matter. They'd asked his name, asked about his father, asked about a lot of things. And then came the big reveal that Harry was sure stopped his heart.
'Ashton Irwin is your brother and you are his last option.'
It wasn't pitched as much of a choice, more of a threat. Take him in or he goes into the system. Harry had nearly dropped the phone. In fact, he would have if not for Zayn, who happened to be the one to escort Harry to the business meeting he'd stepped out of to take the call (only after being rung about five times in as many minutes). Zayn was quick to tune into the conversation he'd been pointedly ignoring upon seeing Harry's face pale about three shades. He was sure he looked rather ill, looking back on it, but it was probably a good thing because Harry was moments from passing out when Zayn took a hold of his arm and led him to a cold, leather chair in the office's waiting room.
It wasn't a big decision, not really. He and Louis had been wanting to start a family for awhile, but this wasn't exactly what they had planned. Louis, of course, had been entirely supportive - probably too supportive - when Harry came home early from work, rambling far too quickly for any normal man to understand (luckily, Louis wasn't normal). He booked the flight up North while Niall made them tea, and, by morning, they were at the airport. The flight was objectively short, but it felt like a lifetime. Nothing Harry did could distract him from the undeniable fact that he was about to become a parent. The plaguing thoughts raged on for hours. 'What if he doesn't want to live with us?' 'What if his dad won't let us take custody?' 'What if it just doesn't work?' If Louis had the same thoughts, he never let it show because he spent every waking second reassuring Harry and coming up with any and every solution to each unlikely scenario his husband thought up.
It occurred to Harry as they were waiting for a taxi that they hadn't even booked a hotel. They simply tossed their carry-on's onto the floorboard and Louis directed the driver to the hospital, where they were immediately escorted into a room where a stiff woman with an official badge of some kind was waiting for them - a social worker. She threw around words like abuse and PTSD and trauma like she was talking about the weather. Each one felt like a punch to the gut. Even Louis squeezing his hand didn't do anything to calm the raging storm inside of Harry's head. Especially not when the woman stood and asked them if they were ready to meet him. Harry wanted to scream, 'No! Absolutely fucking not!' but he didn't think that was really a choice nor was it appropriate. So, he stayed quiet and he let Louis lead the way after the woman rattled off a room number and directed them from the office, walking a few paces ahead.
