Warning ⚠️ This chapter may contain triggering topics such as eating disorders.
Harry:
Harry wasn’t sure how he had ended up in this situation. The only fact was: he really wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible. He had promised you that he would manage it. And now he was standing in the hallway, barefoot, a cold tea in his hand, and he wanted nothing more than to call you crying.
Because his daughter was lying on her bed, crying, and he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do.
She had come home from school, barely said anything, had simply walked past him and locked herself in her room. Since then, there had been silence.
Harry looked at his son helplessly. He just shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t wait for my help,” he said dryly. “You’re the father. Not me.” Harry let out an audible breath. “Well, thanks a lot.”
He knocked softly on the door. “Darling? Everything okay?”
“Go away!” came the sobbing answer from inside.
Harry turned back to his son. “Hormones,” he muttered annoyed, and disappeared into his room.
Harry stayed where he was for a moment, then knocked again. “I’ll just sit here.” He slid down the door onto the floor, his back leaning against it. Then he heard a suppressed sob.
“He…,” she began, then stopped. Harry closed his eyes.
“He asked someone else,” she finally said. “To the prom. And he knew that I was hoping.”
Harry’s chest tightened. “Oh, baby…” The door opened a crack. Her eyes were red, her face buried in the sleeve of her hoodie.
Harry stood up immediately and pulled her into his arms without hesitation. She clung to him.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked quietly.
Harry pulled back a little and looked straight into her eyes.
“Nothing.” She sniffed.
“Sometimes people don’t decide against you,” he said calmly. “They simply decide for someone else. And that says nothing about your worth.”
She stayed silent. “The right one,” he continued, “sees you and stays.”A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I need a revenge outfit,” she said, and Harry had to hold back a laugh. She was simply her mother’s daughter.
Niall:
Back then, worries had been simple.
A scraped knee here or a few bad dreams there.
They were problems you could fix with a bandage, a hug, or a cup of hot cocoa or back then, with a little song on the guitar.
Now his son was standing in front of him, so nervous he almost looked like he might faint.
He had just told you and Niall that the girl from the party was now pregnant.
The two of you truly didn’t know what to say to that.
You were definitely too young to be grandparents.
“Are you mad now?” the oldest Horan son asked.
Niall and you just looked at each other.
In any other world, you would have given him a lecture about responsibility and life but you and Niall knew better.
Sixteen years ago, you had been in this exact situation yourselves.
Young and inexperienced, you had made your parents grandparents too.
So how were you supposed to be mad now?
