Wheels Within Wheels (Larry Stylinson AU Mpreg)

Chapter Seventeen

LOUIS' POV

The next day, I decided to get over myself and talk to Harry. Considering I couldn't sleep a wink last night due to the fear that his creepy ex-business partner was going to chop me up into little pieces and eat me in the night, I think I better get the big, strong twenty-year-old involved.

It took away every shred of pride that I ever had to tap on the red-painted door of Harry and Niall's flat. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look as much like I didn't want to be there as possible.

It was round noon and early spring, so I could finally walk outside without getting hypothermia. The weather that day was particularly wonderful; fluffy, white cumulus clouds hanging in the brilliant blue sky. You could smell the pollen in the air which was quite lovely for me, but I dreaded it for anyone with allergies.

A few quick moments later, Niall swung the door open, shocked blue eyes landing on me, jaw dropping slightly. "Louis?"

"Yeah, it's me," I rolled my eyes. "Close your mouth; you'll catch flies."

He invited me in and I set foot into the house, my gaze immediately landing on the miserable looking curly-haired lad on the couch. His dull emerald eyes flicked to me. His expression shifted, but was still unreadable.

"It's a wonder you're still alive." I said to him, slowly ambling closer. I gestured with my words, "Get up. We're getting you food."

Harry furrowed his brow and improved his posture, still sitting. When he finally spoke it sounded gravelly, but it didn't possess that intimidating emphasis he once had. It sounded like a regular man with a cold. "Why are you here?"

"I just told you why I'm here. Now, get your lazy ass up, I'm taking you for lunch."

"Louis, I-"

"Don't make me drag you."

"But-"

"One,"

"I'm not five-"

"Two. I get to three and you're in for it."

He almost smiled.

"Three."

I leaned over and grasped his forearm, tugging and pulling him upright. I could tell Niall wasn't exaggerating when he said Harry hadn't ate or slept. He had dark circles under his eyes, his usually cocky facade was gone, and he appeared, dare I say, very weak. I scrutinized his condition and decided he needed a change of clothes.

"C'mon," I huffed, leading him to his bedroom. I shut the door after he stumbled in behind me, then collapsed on the bed. It was a chore for him to simply walk nine meters, which saddened me a little bit. I began searching through his wardrobe for an outfit of his that I liked.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry hoarsely inquired. After I had taken out an old Beatles t-shirt and some tattered black jeans, I turned to him.

"I've got to talk to you."

"About what? Are you okay?" He rushed to ask, becoming suddenly somewhat animated.

I nodded, tossing him the clothes. "I'm fine, just wanted to discuss something."

Harry gazed at me warily. "What's going on?"

I propped myself against the wall. "Get dressed. We'll talk while we're out."

He complied, and I will whole-heartily admit that I didn't turn away when he stripped down to his underwear with painful slowness. I took in the beautiful sight that I missed; all his muscles and tattoos and the perfect imperfections on his skin, the idiosyncrasies of his body. It baffles me that something so perfect screwed up my life so badly.