Forget Me Not (Zayn/Harry; Mpreg AU)

29 - Reconnection

In the midst of the panicky, almost crackling, nervous energy bouncing off of the sterile walls of St. Ann's A&E, Harry finds stillness in a set of eerily familiar ocean blue eyes looking into his. Helplessly, he stares - cannot look away, really - and swears he remembers the same shade of sky reflected in the eyes of someone precious that he has lost in the chaos of his life. The seconds pass by and those startling blue eyes grow fonder, recognition clear in their depths. Harry supposes if it wasn't for his rounded tummy tightening with pain, he would have had a name to match those gentle blues. Alas, nothing in his life has been as easy as a walk in the park and the ticking of the wall clock is louder than the frantic heartbeat in Harry's ears.

"Styles, Harry?"

Thank the heavens, Harry mutters to himself, breaking eye contact with the blue-eyed stranger. He misses the hope blossoming in the person's expression when they hear his name being called, the confirmation of his identity, immediately followed by worry as Harry staggers to his feet to follow the nurse, swaying slightly in place. The teenager next to Harry acts fast and hurriedly puts a cool hand on his elbow to steady him.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine," Harry says softly, smiling gently at the concern he sees in the girl's gaze. "I'm alright."

Straightening up, Harry proceeds to the examination room to hopefully quell the worry in his gut about the safety of his unborn child. Truth be told, he is nowhere near alright. For the past days, he has been experiencing a slight cramping sensation on his lower abdomen, which then escalated to him blacking out at home for a few seconds and waking up to Eclair whining and licking his face in distress. It has been a terribly good thing that he has fallen in the carpeted floor of his bedroom, which cushioned his fall and only resulted in a faint bruise on his left temple. This fainting episode is what urged him to finally haul himself to St. Ann's and get checked out.

About an hour later, Harry leaves the hospital with a strict order to rest and to hydrate himself well. Apparently, the stress and lack of appetite has led to Harry being dehydrated and the baby to feel restless in the womb, lacking proper nutrition. Horrified and ashamed of himself for letting his child down, Harry promises to be better, to move past everything and to give this new life with his child a surviving chance in working out.

"Harry?"

Harry stops in his tracks and faces the person who has called his name. It's the woman with the familiar blue eyes. It seems like she has waited for him outside of the hospital. Why, though?

Harry hesitates a bit, then says, "Yes, uh, how may I help you?"

"It really is you, dear," she says with bright eyes. She steps forward eagerly and clasps his hands on her own small, weathered ones, squeezing them gently. "There hasn't been a day where my son doesn't talk about you, his best friend, the younger brother that he can only hope to have."

"Your son?" Harry repeats with furrowed eyebrows. He bites his lower lip in thought and watches as the woman grins at him.

"It has been so long," she replies, nostalgia coloring her words. Her smile softens, then, like she couldn't help but adore him. There's guilt in her eyes, too, though, as if she has done something regretful. "We did disappear so suddenly, after all. But, my name's Maura. Maura Horan, to be exact."

Harry's world tilts on its axis, his breath catching on his throat. He gets lost in his memories of infectious laughter and his first taste of familial love. However fleeting it has been, those memories are some of Harry's best ones. He remains speechless and still, eyes misty with tears.

Maura gazes at him with her gentle eyes. "Have you got any time, my dear?" she inquires softly. "Any time at all? We can get dinner and catch up."

Numbly, Harry nods and struggles to find his voice. "That'd be, erm, lovely," he shyly answers after clearing his throat. "I'd like that."

The duo settles in a cozy all breakfast diner where Harry, despite it being almost supper, gets a stack of blueberry pancakes and a big mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and lots of marshmallows. Maura laughs lightly to herself when she sees the genuine happiness in Harry's eyes upon seeing the abundant spread infront of him. "Nothing's changed," she mumbles before digging into her own platter of biscuits and jam.

Dinner between the two is a light affair and is almost all about Niall. Apparently, the lad has been back in the country during the past year, has pursued a career in the hospitality industry as a bartender and has a side job as a singer in an events company to support himself, which comically lends some pretty interesting anecdotes about the weddings, parties and other events that he has been to. Harry immensely enjoys the stories about his bestfriend and his different gigs across London. There is definitely laughter in their midst but also an underlying sort of sadness and longing for the times that has been lost between the two friends. Unanswered questions lie thick in the middle of the lines spoken by the two, knocking and waiting to be acknowledged.

When it is time to pay their bills, Maura flags the waitress down and quickly slips her credit card into the receipt, quietly silencing Harry's attempts to split the bill.

"I insist, Harry," Maura reassures the young lad, grinning. "After all, I did invite you here."

Harry sighs softly, worrying his bottom lip. "Maura..."

Niall's mother sits up straighter at that, shoulders tense. "Yes, dear?"

"Just..." Harry blows air out of his lips loudly, gathering enough courage to ask, "Why did you leave?"

As soon as the question is out, Harry almost wishes he can take it back. He sees Maura's expression falling in sadness and he dislikes that he is the reason for what happened.

"Bobby and I are not together anymore, Harry."

Oh.

Maura plows on. "Things were rough when Niall finished school with you. Our conversations are arguments and we fought and fought and fought until it is time to go to bed. I know Niall took it the hardest but, like the good son that he was, he tried his best to be there for both of us, still. So. In the end, I thought it is best to move on and just be a mother to Niall. We filed the papers and decided to get a divorce and, well, I felt like I needed a break, to get away for a bit. Niall suggested we go back to Ireland, spend time with my parents and just...breathe."

"Maura, I, I'm sorry," Harry mumbles gently. His cheeks are red with shame, feeling foolish for demanding a reason when they owe him nothing. "I shouldn't have asked. It's not my place to pry. I'm sorry."

Maura shakes her head and squeezes Harry's hand. "It's fine," she assures the worrying lad. "In my heart, I believe that I owe you an explanation for leaving so suddenly."

Harry's heart aches at that, not denying the pain that he has endured when Niall and his mum left. "I've missed all of you," he confesses softly, his head down and eyes glassy with tears.

Maura gets up and goes over to Harry, giving him a gentle hug. Harry melts into the embrace.

"We're not going anywhere this time," Niall's mother murmurs and Harry joins in a silent prayer, wishing with all his might for it to be true.

Later that night, Harry lies in bed, wide eyed as he stares at the piece of paper that Maura has slipped into his hands before they parted ways. He contemplates putting everything off until a later date, but acquiesces when his heart reminds him of his loneliness. He steels himself, blows out a loud breath and dials the number.

"Hello?"

Harry's heart speeds up at the familiar cheerful voice that greets him. He waits for a bit to answer, trying (and failing) to keep his voice from wobbling.

"Who's this?"

"Niall?"

"Yep, it's me. Who's this?"

"It's, erm, Harry."

Harry imagines those ocean eyes widening as Niall says, "Hazza?"

"Yeah, uh h-hi, Nialler."