Fate Chances Moonlight ☾ l.s. AU

1:3

"Miss Applebaum said what, now?" he asks again, because...well, he had to have heard her wrong the first time.

"She said someday I'll start bleeding and never stop and then I'll know what a real owie is and that my owie isn't a real one," Jo cries, wet streaks down her cheeks still dripping from her chin. At least the snot leaking from her nose is beginning to dry.

"And which owie is that?" Louis asks, tucking his thumbs into his sweater sleeves and wiping along her cheekbones.

She lifts an arm into the air to show him her elbow, which sports a cut that probably should have been bandaged but is otherwise not really too worrisome. Still, he's sure it hurt when it happened, however it happened. Even if it doesn't hurt as much as menstrual cramps will, which. Turns out he really had heard it right the first time.

Louis keeps his brow furrowed, an air of concern perfectly etched into all his features for her benefit. He takes her by the wrist gently, leans closer to examine the cut. Jo sniffles.

"You know, isn't Miss Applebaum really old? Gray hair, wrinkles...does she have glasses? I can't seem to remember," he begins.

"Yeah," Jo whimpers, looking as though she was finally being included in an adult conversation in that way children do when you confide in them something that makes them feel important.

"Yeah, glasses?"

She nods. More snot begins to drip. Louis digs a tissue out of his back pocket, because he keeps those there these days, and hands it to her. She just takes it into her damp palms and balls it up, never breaking eye contact.

"See, I think her vision is starting to go. Know what that means?" he asks. He spares his knees from the actual agony of crouching any longer and stands, offering his hands down toward her at the same time she reaches for him and shakes her head. "It means she can't see as well as she used to." He hoists her into his arms. "Because that's clearly a real owie if I ever saw one. Right?"

And there's the smile he's been waiting for. The one that looks just like his mum's, albeit a little more watery. "Right."

"And it bloody hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!"

"I say we get it cleaned up, put a nice bandaid on it, have a warm cuppa, and have a sleepover in the living room. What do you say?"

Her wounded arm juts into the air again, fist pointed toward the ceiling. "Yeah!" Her tears are finally forgotten.

"Yeah!" he shouts with her. He carries her into the bathroom, lifting her higher yet so that she sits on his shoulder. Like a little champion.

Three months later, Louis calls the fourth daycare he's attempted to trust with his daughter's care to inform them he'll no longer be needing their services. He's at his wits' end, and Niall knows it.

"Look, mate, I'll just watch her for a while and eventually something better will come up. It's no big deal."

"Isn't it?" Louis asks, sounding only a little crazy. He throws back what's left of his beer. "Shouldn't this be part of the whole thing that's easy? Y'know, like...am I daft? Tell me, Niall, honestly, am I going about this wrong? I just..."

"Okay, give me that - "

"I'm daft."

"Right now? Yeah, yer daft." Niall successfully snatches Louis' empty bottle from him before he cracks it open to lick the insides. Not that he's done that before, but stranger things have happened. A mischievous giggle echoes from the kitchen. "Jo?" Niall calls before Louis thinks to.