It's Getting Cold These Days [Larry Stylinson AU]

Sixteen

A/N: We apologise sincerely for the delay. There's a lot going on in this chapter as we're nearing the finale with only four (!) chapters left. Please vote or comment your thoughts x

Liam was in Harry's every feed. Pictures of him and his wife-to-be swarmed Twitter and Instagram. One was of him babysitting his niece with a heart-filled caption, where acquaintances had commented their good lucks and wishes of future welfare, how they were a match made in heaven.

No one remembered Harry's existence.

Baby nudged cigarette butts off the kitchen table with an idle paw. Harry looked to the couch where Louis' arm spilled over the seat. He recognised the violet half-moons beneath Louis' eyes.

With his phone and Liam's smile discarded somewhere in the stained sheets, he snuck out in the living room where clothes hung over the back of the couch. While he dressed he watched Louis' ribcage rise and lower and eyes flicker below twitching eyelids. Everything was peaceful when they didn't have to talk.

Harry's socks caught in slivers of abrasive wood as he made his way back to the kitchen. In the cupboards he found broccoli, ham, and bread that wasn't outdated. He couldn't imagine anyone who'd want ham and broccoli for breakfast, but he chopped it up and hoped the lack of butter wouldn't be noticeable.

Louis peered up at him when he put down the plates. Unlike Harry, he didn't have a blanket, and he shivered as he propped his chin up on the armrest.

"T'was the only thing that didn't have webs of mould on it," Harry said, gesturing towards the broccoli.

Louis sighed. "You have a beautiful voice."

Baby jumped up on his hip, clawing through his clothes before curling up between his curved body and the couch. He scratched below her chin. His eyes flickered to Harry's burn mark.

They ate in silence. Harry thought about how he'd have to ask Zayn about Louis staying the night. Zayn had texted him in the wee hours of the morning, saying that Anna and he were arranging an early birthday party for Louis to compensate for forgetting, even if the birthday boy himself didn't know.

Harry could relate to the levels of guilt, but that meant he'd have to buy something today. He wouldn't have time to think or save up enough to buy a proper gift. Maybe he should just go along with Zayn's blowjob suggestion.

"It's good," Louis said, holding his bread up with a strained smile.

"I called my mum."

It was sudden, like it always was when Harry decided to open up.

Louis dusted off his fingers and said, after a while, "Oh?"

"She couldn't be honest about why I left, couldn't admit it to herself. So I told her to go to hell, basically," Harry said, like Louis knew the whole story, like he knew exactly what growing up had been like.

"Has she called since?" Louis asked.

Harry contemplated telling him that their conversation had gone nowhere. It'd given him even more validation to leaving five years ago and solidified his reasons for staying away.

"No," Harry finally said.

Louis got off the couch and started pacing, grabbing his face. His frustration radiated off him to Harry, coming off in every grapple at his hair and pinch to his cheeks.

Glancing to Baby who watched them through lidded eyes, Harry turned back to Louis, eyebrows knotted. "Why is this even a problem for you?"

"Because you're a great person, Harry, who keeps making fucked-up choices," Louis cried, spinning to face him, "And it's frustrating because you see yourself through some broken looking glass and don't let anyone help you put together the pieces! You had a stroke, and you never told me."