Not So Simple

Chapter Nine

"Alright, I booked your appointment. Unfortunately it's on the twenty-ninth." Harry informs as Louis joins him for breakfast a couple of mornings later. Christmas had, to put it nicely, been miserable for the both of them. Louis had been struggling to stay awake, and had more than once nearly fallen asleep on with his head on Harry's shoulder. It was miserable for Harry because it was so unlike Louis to act like that, especially on Christmas. Normally he was a huge ball of energy, giddily bouncing all around and shaking presents to figure out what he'd gotten. But because of his flu, (or at least that's what they assume it is) he'd been absolutely exhausted. Poor babe, Harry can't help but think as Louis rubs his eyes and yawns tiredly.

"Did you not sleep well again last night?" Harry asks, spinning around from the stove and taking hold of Louis' hands.

He shakes his head. "No, I felt like getting sick the majority of it." Harry frowns, about to say something but Louis beats him to it. "Why did you say 'unfortunately' it's on the twenty-ninth? Is that a bad day?"

"Well, I can't go with you because Nick wanted to meet up and go out to lunch. And it just so happens to be on the twenty-ninth." Harry explains, causing Louis to pout and lay his head down on the table.

"I don't want to go without you! It was your stupid idea to book a doctor's appointment. Nothing's wrong with me, anyway. I've just got the flu and there's nothing a doctor could do to help me with that."

Harry crosses his arms across his chest. "If it's only the flu then why haven't I gotten sick as well? Flu's are known for being highly contagious, Boo. I haven't felt sick or tired in the slightest."

Louis sucks in a deep breath and Harry knows he has a point. "I want you to be there if they tell me I'm dying, Hazza." He says softly, so softly that Harry can barely hear him. He does though, and the words make his heart hurt. Of course Louis isn't dying... Harry won't let him.

He sits in the chair next to him, facing Louis and placing his hands on both of his knees. "You're not dying, Lou. You're just, well, I don't know. That's why you're going to the doctors, so they can tell you what's wrong." Harry concludes with a small smile on his face. He's tried thinking over the past couple of days what could be wrong with Louis if it isn't the flu or if he isn't pregnant, but nothing can come to mind. Maybe Harry's just immune to the virus Louis has? It's all very strange.

"Your toast is burning." Louis mutters wearily, and Harry curses, running back over to the toaster. He lets out another foul word when he burns his fingers trying to pick up the toast, now burnt and a dark brown/almost black colour. Looks like they're not having toast this morning...

"Toast; who needs it?" shrugs Harry, making sure to not touch it as he throws it in the bin. Louis chuckles fondly, saying something along the lines of 'but I love toast' and earning a glare from Harry. "Don't even go there, Tomlinson. You're the one who distracted me."

Louis bites his lip. "That sounds dirty," he says childishly, bursting into giggles as the words leave his mouth. Harry feels his heart warm at how adorable he is, covering his mouth with his hand and still giggling uncontrollably over something that only Louis would find funny.

Harry ends up fixing them waffles instead of the egg and toast he had originally planned. Apparently Louis wasn't in the mood for eggs because of his stomach, which made Harry feel bad and offer to fix him anything he'd like. Harry's not sure, but had Louis' smile been a little sly when he said waffles? He probably just wanted waffles and used his stomach as an excuse, ungrateful bastard.

Harry figures it's worth it when Louis gives him a wide, cheeky grin, saying thank you before digging in. He doesn't think he's seen Louis eat so fast before, and it's then that it hits him; what if the pregnancy test had been inaccurate? It's starting to make sense, really. Louis has all the signs that he's pregnant. Just because a test said he isn't expecting doesn't exactly mean a whole lot.