The Difference Between Light And Dark {Larry}•{BDSM}•{Hybrid}•{MPreg}

Chapter Nineteen

A/N: Is it just me or does Louis look unhappy all the time he's with Danielle? Never smiling that gorgeous smile he needs to be and she always looks so pissed off? I've never once seen them make eye contact either. He's always looking at his phone or watch or she's looking at her phone. I feel so terrible for him. He obviously doesn't like being with her and I absolutely hate it.

Louis calls Harry in sick, fumbling on the phone for about ten minutes before the receptionist found out what he was trying to convey. Then he hangs up Harry's phone and crawls back into bed, where Harry was still passed out, obviously exhausted. Louis snuggled into his side, letting the man pull him close, so close it was almost painful, but Louis just smiles and kisses the mans bare chest, closing his eyes.

He didn't want to leave him. He really didn't. He was so warm and the blankets were so comfy and Harry was so exhausted, but at nine o'clock is when the entire house wakes up, every day of the work week. It starts with Jet dragging a sleepy Jax behind him as he trudges into the bedroom, climbs the bed and shakes his mummy awake. 

Seeing his daddy in bed, for both of them, should raise some suspicion, but they're three, so all they can think about is how their daddy is home and they can have fun. Jet gasps, being a complete Daddy's boy (not as much of a Daddy's boy as his mummy, though), and teeters for his dad. 

Louis, thankfully, is awake and can shoot up and grasp Jet before he lands directly on his fathers crotch. He shushes the squealing baby with an explanation, which isn't a complete lie, of how Harry doesn't feel well and needs to sleep as long as he can. 

Louis kisses Harry's forehead after brushing a curl away and giggles softly when Jet declares that the movement is 'icky'. Louis slides from the bed, literally slides because his feet won't touch the floor when he regularly sits on the side, and carries Jet on his hip, leading Jax with his hand. He closes the door softly when he leaves the room.

Louis makes them Cheerios and milk, settling with tea for himself, like every morning. He then herds them into the den, where they set up their toys and start playing, Louis curling up on he couch, hugging his legs to his chest.

About a half an hour later, the house phone rings, buzzing and screaming out the most annoying ringtone before Louis grabs it off the end table and presses it to his ear.

"Styles residence," he announces.

"Is this Louis Tomlinson?" A smooth, female voice flits through the receiver and Louis shakes his head.

"Not for a while now, no," he says bluntly. "Who is this?"

"Do you know Justin Best?" she asks.

Louis huffs. "No...m-my husband mentioned something about him being murdered or something..."

He hears her typing before a deep breath. "The station had found some fingerprints on his body and did some testing. The prints matched your DNA, Mr. Styles. Are you sure you don't know Best?"

Louis freezes, every bone in body tensing painfully and eyes wide and dry. "N-no...I mean yes, I don't...I have no idea why that'd happen," he lies straight through his teeth. "It must be some mistake..."

"You need to arrive at the courthouse on Saturday at 4 for questioning," the woman clips before the beeping cuts off Louis' next sentence. He drops the phone on the cushion next to him, his hands shaking violently. He stands, stalking to the bedroom and slipping under the covers. Before he knows it, he's crying, the memories of that man's hands running all over him as he pushes himself under Harry's arm in a wing-like manner, crying softly into his side, soaking tears into his skin.

Harry wakes up to the shaking boy crying and sobbing softly next to him. He gasps, rasping out, "What's wrong, kitten?" 

Louis babbles, his cries growing louder and he throws himself deeper into Harry's chest and he quivers, choking out the story about what had happened.