butterfingers (l.s mpreg)

seventeen, week 17

"Louis." Harry sighed, caressing his unconscious boyfriend with his free hand, while the other rested carefully on his tummy. He didn't cry, he barely shook, only slightly, as he looked between the two Tomlinsons with such a Harry smile he knew Louis would be staring at him (with such a Louis stare) if his big blue eyes had been open.

Jay nodded, her chin looking like it might begin to shake if Harry kept looking at her like that, like he was waiting for her to stop him. She didn't.

Instead, her leg bounced impatiently.

The silence stung the pair as they shook, both looking down at the boy in the bed while the monitor beeped and the tube that sunk into Louis' forearm stayed still.

"How did you meet?" She asked, lifting a clammy hand from her lap to push a piece of her brown hair from her face.

"Bar." It sounded silly, he knew, especially in the way he chuckled and leaned back with a fondness only Louis could mimic. He recalled Louis' eyes in the reflection in the light that hung above them, and he remembered how his slurs sounded so close to his ears that he felt the touch of his soft pink lips against his tightened jaw.

Jay smiled, and Harry cursed himself for thinking she wasn't so bad.

"It was his eyes, I think. Just how they looked when he stared, all glossy and sunken and blue. I'd never seen anything like that, not ever." He felt so sappy and soft. And it felt so soap opera, the absent mother appearing in her sons hospital room as he lay unconscious, only to discover his secret "husband" who was also pregnant with her grandchild.

She waited for more.

And so Harry went on.

"And his hair, too. Like, it was done up so nicely it looked like he'd been working on it for hours but, I'm telling you Ms. Tomlinson, the boy just wakes up like that!" He giggled.

"And his voice, it was so sweet and gentle that I thought maybe he had been trying to sing to me. I would've let him. I'd still let him." He smiled, his eyes falling sad. It hadn't hurt before, not as badly until he thought about it.

"And his-" Harry paused, "our home, it always smells so nice, like he's got company coming for the weekend when really it's just me and little Marky cuddling on the couch. He is a lunatic with those damn candles sometimes, but the Christmas scents are his favorite" His voice is shaking, "even in August."

"He'll kill any bug, any you need, even if he's just as scared as you are." He smiles at this.

"And he loves errands. Really, who loves errands? He loves the grocery store and finds it so cute when I reach up for the 1% milk or even the family sized Doritos. He loves it."

"He loves that dog too, a little bit more than me, and when he loves something he really loves it, like his typewriter and his comforter." He's heaving.

For a minute he looks down to his pants, rubbing the little tears in the fabric from excessive wear. He looks to Jay, who's big blue eyes are filled with sadness and anticipation as she watches him, eyeing the way his lip is trembling along with the rest of his body while he leaned against the bed.

"And he loves me. Not in a conceited way, like it might benefit him or help him to feel better. He'd love me if he had to be miserable forever, and he loves me when I look like hell. It's stupid, I guess. He loves me, even when I drool onto his shoulder in bed or when I fall asleep on the couch." Jay watched silently as Harry began to sob, his lips trembling enough to slur his speech. She wanted to keep it together, she did, yet as she grabbed his hand and felt the way it shook, her heart sank into her stomach.

"And oh my god, I love him. Love him, even when he forgets to turn off the kitchen light or when he cleans up before I've finished my soup. When he cooks the eggs too much or over feeds Mark to the point of a bloat. I love him, I love him." His knuckles were whiter than a ghost, his pale face looking red and puffy from his tears. He wanted to stop, he wanted to shake Louis awake and bring him home.

He wanted to plant a kiss on his neck and he wanted to rest on his lap, wanted Louis to rub his tummy and pet Mark with a free arm, even though it strained his forearm.

He wanted Louis to order Chinese, and only in the Louis way he did, like when he ended the call with a "have a lovely weekend" even if it was Tuesday.

He wanted so much, and he cursed himself for that, for thinking he could get off so easy without any consequences. He knows he rarely ever gets to be as happy as he had been this past week, and he thinks his old morning sickness might be crawling back into his chest. He aches.

Before the last sob could fall from his chapped lips, a soft knock came from the door again.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry turned, but only slightly.

Liam sat in the doorway with his clipboard tucked neatly between his torso and beneath his arm. He was generously built, Harry had taken note. His biceps stuck out a little from underneath his lab coat and his neck tested the durability of his v-neck scrubs. It helped to watch Liam, especially when the monitor was like the ticking of a bomb from behind him.

"I just wanted to come remind you that your husband is going to get through this. His vitals are stable, alright? You should be worrying about you and that baby right now." Harry scoffed.

He had been fucking worrying about that baby since they forced Harry's food from his belly the first time, just prior to Mark's first lick of mint chip ice cream. He had done so much damn worrying, he worried about his worrying and now he was worrying about that too! He's insane, he was sure.

Worried about his mothers reaction, worried about how long his pants would fit and how long before his once chiseled jaw would begin to droop.

He longed for the heaviness to go away that was pushing him further into the uncomfortable hospital chair.

He took a breath.

And he ached.

But he refused to worry.

So he was sure that this was what triggered the alarming beeping that starting to emerge from the monitor behind him.

A/n:

I'm so sorry all I just started school a few months ago and AP has been so stressful for me:( I still love you and I'm so sorry this is so short and awful and poorly written but I'm just trying to get past this painful and sad part for the happy stuff!! I love you