That's Love, Bitch (Larry au) *mpreg*

Thirty

"Are you sure you can handle the baby?" Harry asks nervously. Niall frowns at the exhaustion in Harry's face as Harry hands him the diaper bag.

"Yes, H, I'm sure," Niall insists.

"Okay, okay, uh," Harry hands Emma over to Niall, biting his bottom lip. "Don't cuss in front of her, last week Louis called one of his legs the 'c' word she repeated it all week before we replaced it with cat. And she needs her stuffed rabbit to sleep, but for crying get her the stuffed pig-"

"I got it, Harold," Niall assures softly. "Go be with your husband, love."

"Okay, thank you," Harry says softly, kissing Emma's forehead. "I'm sorry I'm all, like, frantic, I just don't like Louis being alone for long."

"It's fine," Niall says. "Go on home, Harry. It's okay. I'll call you if anything comes up with Emma."

"Alright, thank you so much," Harry says quickly before practically racing toward his car. The baby kicks, and Harry hisses at the pain he feels from it as he climbs into the car. "You cannot be difficult right now, we need to focus on Dad."

Harry drives back home and enters the house to find Louis vomiting into the red mop bucket Harry had left by the sofa before he left. Harry wants to cry just at the sight, but instead he walks over and leans over the back of the couch to rub Louis' back.

"Remember to breathe when you catch a break," Harry reminds softly. Louis inhales deeply before slowly sitting up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I missed you," Louis rasps as Harry walks around the sofa to sit next to Louis, ignoring the bucket of vomit.

"I was gone for fifteen minutes," Harry points out, kicking off his shoes before cuddling into Louis' side.

"I still missed you," Louis retorts, his arm stuttering in movement a bit as he puts it around Harry's shoulders. Harry doesn't notice, and Louis is glad. "You think Emma's okay with Niall?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Harry replies softly, looking up at Louis.

"I'm sorry I made you send her there," Louis sighs. "I-I just wanted some time alone with you, love."

"I understand," Harry replies softly before leaning up and kissing Louis' jaw. "I-I love you so much, baby, so much. I'm sorry everything is always so hectic."

"Would expect it to be anything but hectic," Louis hums, kissing the top of Harry's head. "I love you too. Can you please just try to relax? All of this moving around and stress isn't good for her."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers. He feels as though he's failing as a parent. Louis runs his fingers through Harry's hair, his right leg kicking outward as an obvious spasm.

"Don't apologise," Louis soothes. "I understand." Harry is silent. "You're not a bad dad, Haz."

"Thank you," Harry whispers again. Louis frowns, about to respond when he feels himself start to choke on something. He leans away from Harry and picks up the mop bucket. He vomits into it, slowly raising his head.

"Okay, well, that's blood."

"Lou," Harry whimpers. Louis puts the mop bucket back down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a streak of red liquid showing up.

"It's okay, it's o-okay," Louis assures quickly. He focuses on Harry instead of the fact that he has no idea what's going on with his body. He reaches forward and holds Harry tightly. Harry doesn't hug him back. "Haz, what's wrong?"

"How many times?" Harry asks softly, leaning back and looking Louis in the eye. Louis furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" He asks confusedly.

"How many times have you fucking vomited blood and not told me?" Harry stands up from the couch, crossing his arms and looking down at Louis. Louis furrows his eyebrows.

"Haz, c'mon," Louis sighs. "Not that often."

"Why don't you tell me when these things happen?" Harry asks angrily. "It's like you don't even care that you're sick."

"I'm not sick," Louis bites back. "I'm not sick, I'm fucking dying. You heard the doctor, there's nothing we can do."

"Louis," Harry hisses. He feels silly, but he feels as though the baby can hear Louis' morbid words. "Stop. Will you please just-" Harry closes his eyes and inhales, his eyes becoming watery. "Why do you keep so much from me?"

"You're pregnant," Louis responds, his voice sterner than it was before. "I don't want to stress you out. This baby's life matters too."

"I know it does," Harry weeps. "But I want you to be around for it. You have to tell me when these things happen so I can tell the doctor. What if they find out it's curable? You have to s-stop hiding things from me, we're married, you're supposed to trust me!"

"I could say the s-same to you!" Louis snaps. "There are three pill bottles in the cabinet with your name on it. I know one of them is prenatal vitamins. What are the other two?"

"That's different," Harry's practically sobbing now. "That's not the same thing."

"What are the other two?" Louis repeats. "If you're not going to stop keeping secrets, I'm not either."

"One of them is Prozac," Harry whimpers, wiping his eyes. "The other is Zoloft. I don't take that one anymore."

"Why?" Louis asks, voice still harsh as his face gets redder and redder. "Why don't you tell me these things? What do you take them for?"

"Depression," Harry whimpers. "And before this baby I took Zoloft for anxiety. But it's not a big deal, Louis, you're more important. I didn't want you to pity me or worry about you when you have it..."

"I have it what?" Louis asks angrily. "So much worse?"

"I am depressed," Harry sniffles and wipes his eyes. "Okay? I admit that to you. Now you have to start admitting to me when something like this happens. When you start vomiting blood or the pain in your stomach spreads or anything."

"I made you depressed," Louis says in a flat tone, crossing his arms and leaning back into the sofa. "I gave you depression."

"Louis, stop," The tears won't stop coming. The baby is kicking, and Harry's hand drops to his belly.

"I have ruined your life," Louis stresses. "I have to live with that everyday for the rest of my very short life."

"Stop," Harry repeats. He's shaking, but Louis doesn't seem to notice.

"You're just going to be better off when I'm not here," Louis' just talking to himself at this point.

"That's not true," Harry stomps his foot, and now he's crying harder with his hands balled up into fists. "Stop saying that! Stop talking about dying! It's like you don't even fucking care!"

"Do you?" Louis bites back.

"Of course I fucking do," Harry sobs. "I don't want to be a single father, Louis, I don't want to be a widow. I don't want to have this baby come home from school one day and ask why everyone has two parents but her! I don't want to do any of this myself, I don't want for Emma to not even remember you."

"Jesus Christ," Louis rubs his hands over his face. Harry just continues to sob, his cries echoing throughout the house.

"I'm selfish, I know," Harry cries. "And I'm sorry." Louis doesn't say anything. Harry wipes his eyes and walks toward the washroom, leaving Louis to sit there and think.

After a few minutes the washroom door opens, and Louis can hear Harry's socked feet walking toward the lounge again. "What do you want for dinner?" He asks quietly, his arms crossed as he leans into the entryway.

"You're not gonna run off to Perrie's like you always do after I yell at you?" Louis asks in an almost mocking way. Harry just closes his eyes and inhales slowly.

"What do you want for dinner?" Harry repeats, his voice breaking a bit near the end. Louis' face softens as he looks over to where Harry is staring at him pleadingly.

"Whatever we have is fine," He replies. Harry nods and turns around, walking back into the kitchen.