"Where are the vege crisps I bought yesterday?" I frowned as my eyes scanned the cupboard, no sign of the vege crisps present. Louis and Harry both shrugged at me, continuing to play the PlayStation without a glance back.
I felt my eyes water as I searched for anything easy to eat, not having the energy to cook something. I came out empty handed, knowing I was on the verge of crying when the twins kicked from inside. I'd been overly emotional this week, and found myself crying multiple times a day over the smallest of things. I broke down yesterday after dropping a cup on the floor. It was plastic, and wasn't harmed in any way.
Louis had teased me afterwards, making me cry all over again. Harry smacked him across the head, and hugged me to him until I fell asleep. Harry had been great this week, and I was relieved how calm he seemed. The babies were due in a week and he was relaxed in every way possible, but I was pretty sure he was stressing deep down.
"Baby? What's wrong?" Harry cooed when he noticed my flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his body pushing off the couch to join me in the kitchen. I heard him swear at Louis when he snickered, flicking him off when his snickers turned into laughs.
"There's nothing to eat," I whined, my head falling on his chest tiredly when he stood in front of me. I also found myself growing tired easily, even walking to a different room exhausted me. My bump was big, but the doctor said the babies must be small because I still looked like I was around 28-29 weeks in.
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Harry adored my pregnant body, he constantly had his hands planted on my bump. It got annoying sometimes, due to the babies reacting to his touch, but I managed to endure the pain of them kicking.
"Go sit down, I'll make you something," Harry kissed the tip of my nose, pinching my hip before he opened the fridge to decide what to cook. I waddled to the couch slowly, hearing Louis' giggle as he looked behind his back to see me.
"Hey Pingu," Louis smiled, his hand rubbing my bump when I sat next to him. I immediately regretted sitting down next to him, groaning at his stupid nickname for me. My legs were lifted onto his lap, moving my body to lay down on the couch in order to spite him. I was unsuccessful, however, he didn't seem to mind my jittery legs shifting on his thighs.
"I'm getting cankles," I moaned traumatically, my eyes widening at my large ankles.
"Considering I can still wrap my entire hand around your ankle, I don't think you are," Louis tutted, smacking my foot when I lifted it in front of him. I breathed heavily when I felt a pain shoot through my stomach, my head falling back as they continued for a couple minutes. It'd happened a few times this week, and the doctor just said it was my babies tricking me that I was going into labour.
I managed to ignore them, not wanting to go to the hospital again just for the doctors to say I wasn't in labour. I was meant to be getting a c-section, scheduled for next week, so I didn't want to go into labour.
