butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

ten, week 15

Louis' day dragged on painfully, leaving him to type away with one headphone in and another dangling by the edge of his blazer.

Once he finished his column, which was filled of stories of Harry and Mark, he took it upon himself to wave goodbye to Tim and head home.

Louis' apartment was only a few blocks from the office in which he worked, which Harry had pointed out weeks before when Louis brought him for lunch.

"I'm home!" Louis called, but with no answer aside from Marky leaping up to lick his hands as he entered the penthouse.

"Harry?" Louis questioned, ditching his blazer on the couch and rushing to the laundry room to search for Harry.

He tried not to worry, he really did. Harry was always home when he got home, mopping or cleaning. And when he wasn't, he'd leave a little note from the floral notepad he'd bought just for this.

The first thing Louis did was text Harry, with winky faces, to cloud the worry that was filling him up inch by inch.

And he was not completely worried until there was no response.

Not until Harry called him, heaving and coughing on the other line.

"Lou?" He questioned, Louis shaking in response.

"Yes, H? Where are you? I'm home and you're not here-" Louis quickly grabbed his car keys off their hook, messily pouring Marky's food in his bowl as he awaited Harry's response.

"I'm at the hospital," Harry choked, "I don't know what happened, Louis, I was at the store and-" He sobbed, crowded background noise covering up the sound of Harry's cries.

"Okay, baby, calm down. I'm on my way. Which hospital?" Louis assumed it was the closest, considering the supermarket is within walking distance.

"One by our apartment." Harry coughed again, and Louis could see him in his head, laying hopelessly in a hospital gown with his typical hand on his tummy, crying all alone in his bed.

Louis eyed the rush hour traffic outside his bay window, putting the keys back in their place.

So he ran, ran as fast as he could, hoping his weekly gym visits would help. The heat was beating down on his button up and his feet ached from his dress shoes.

The hospital was close, thankfully, and the run was short especially at Louis' pace.

He continued to run into the hospital, his heavy shoes clicking on the white tile floors, earning stares from patients and doctors alike.

"Sir? May I help you?" An elderly secretary got Louis' attention.

"Maternity?" He heaved, his hair disheveled and his eyes wide and crazy.

She simply pointed, sending Louis running again and searching for Harry's room.

The image came into his head again, Harry aching on the bed with IV's attached to his pale skin and sweat falling from his curls, laying all alone.

Which is funny to Louis, as fucked up as it is, because when Louis found him it was the exact opposite.

The view from the door was simply Harry smiling meekly up toward the tv's direction, his face pale and salty from tears. His green eyes were shiny and wide, both his hands resting upon his belly. Louis eyebrows furrowed.