♡ Be My Baby ♡

three.

He sure did move on. Time seemed to fly by. College ended and it was time for university and somehow along the way, Harry's entire friends' group changed. He had a growth spurt, got a different haircut and he started going to the gym. He stopped dressing all proper, as his mum would want him to and nearly caused her an ulcer when he wouldn't stop wearing a pair of vintage boots every single day for months. There were the new friends that often appeared in tabloids and took to calling Harry 'the better Prince Harry', even though Harry has told them a million times he isn't actually related to the Royal Family.

Harry was happy. He came to know himself by trying out different things whether it was a haircut, clothes or something more party-oriented. He fell in love, and out of it. He went from a wild child that isn't a stranger to The Sun to a man, who was wild only under very specific circumstances (and often just when shrooms were involved). He graduated from Oxford with a 2.1 in English, which he was proud of because he didn't cheat his way through university. Things were great, most of the time.

Sometimes, Harry was plagued by loneliness. Despite having dozens of friends, and dozens of potential lovers available, Harry felt distanced from love, true friendship, intimacy. Sure, Nick and Alexa and Daisy and everyone else were great, they loved him, but he was still the baby of the group. When they would go out, they'd be talking about their jobs and partners and whatnot, and then there would be Harry, silently wondering if his next essay was due the next day or actually a week after that. Despite that, he loved being the baby, the youngest of them all. There wasn't a party where everyone didn't pay attention to him, there wasn't an instance where he was ever forgotten. They felt protective of him and Harry thrived under that spotlight. With the difference in ages of his friends also came Harry's four godchildren and those he doesn't complain about as he adores them all.

Love was tricky. Harry never quite got the hang of it. He's tried, fuck he's tried so hard, with men, with women and nothing seemed to stick. At first, it was making him depressed, he would get drunk off his arse after breakups and lie in bed for a week straight but then he realized something. Nothing was wrong with him. It wasn't his fault. Some people just aren't built for relationships. Harry had requirements that weren't conventional, perhaps. He didn't want to feel suffocated, but at the same time, he wanted to stay still with his lover and be in all-encompassing love. He wanted domesticity but also an adventure. He wanted a quiet life but at the same time, he didn't feel like saying goodbye to fashion show invitations. It was fucking hard to find someone who sought the same dichotomic life.

The idea of having a baby on his own popped into Harry's head at a wedding when he was twenty-four. Daisy dragged him to it, some snobby relative of hers was getting married, and Harry had the weekend free and a new suit he didn't quite like but didn't want to waste anyway. He was apparently the last line of defence from boredom for Daisy. Only neither of them anticipated the grim mood that descended upon them and kept them at the table in the abnormally high temperatures for early May, drinking any alcohol the waiters would place on their table.

"Do you think we'll ever get married?" Daisy wondered out loud, her chin propped on her hand. "Do... whatever the fuck they're doing." The outrageously strange thing was her relative feeding his wife a profiterole.

"I don't think I'm one for marriage," Harry said, giving Daisy a look. "I've never managed to keep a relationship. Either way, I'm happiest with friends. I can get easy sex anytime I want, even with friends and other people I trust." An eavesdropper from the opposite side of the table frowned at Harry. He raised his glass to her and gave her his best smile. The frown didn't go away.

"True," Daisy agreed. "Aren't you scared you're gonna die alone? Family is family."

Harry scoffed. "Marriage isn't really family. My parents are divorced. Surely, once one of them is at their deathbed, it's gonna be Gem and me there, not either of them. Do I need a spouse? Honestly?"

"I bloody hate weddings," Daisy sagged in her chair. "I don't know why I agreed to come."

"The sentiment is the same with me," Harry mumbled. "I wasted a perfectly good suit on this," he pulled at the lapels, looking the suit up and down. "I've no clue why I didn't like it, even earlier today."

Daisy scanned the light-blue fabric and nodded. "It's a good suit. You look nice."

"Thanks, love," Harry said. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair. A long pause passed before he nearly made Daisy choke on her wine, "I think I'm gonna have a baby. Just me, on my own."

Daisy coughed a few times, her hand on her chest as she looked at Harry with wide eyes. "Why on earth would you do that?" The eavesdropper had been glaring again but this time, Harry saved his smile.

"I get lonely," Harry shrugged. "Besides, the love between a parent and a child is not akin to anything else in the world. I feel like I have too much love to give and there is no one to give it to. And I love children anyways."

"You're mad," Daisy shook her head. "Get a cat if you're lonely, not a baby. You're young, darling, so young. Enjoy these years because once they're gone, they will never come back."

"I know," Harry signed softly. "But I've had enough, really. I think it's finally time for me to grow up."

"Aw," Daisy cooed and messed up his curls. "Our baby wants to do some growing up!" she smiled. "You'll always be our baby, even if you have a baby. But seriously, my professional advice is that you should get a cat. Or a dog. Or anything just don't get knocked up because of loneliness or some crap. Go on a spiritual tour, I don't know. There is more to life than babies."

Harry groaned. "I know that. I can do other things besides being a dad. I can still carry on with my life, I'd just be raising a perfect specimen of human beauty alongside that."

Daisy frowned. "Who do you want to procreate with then? Or are you actually trying to bring your own clone into the world?"

"I'm not a perfect specimen, I'd certainly benefit from a nose job and a blepharoplasty," Harry remarked. "Concerning my yet to be conceived child, I've got a few candidates for procreation. I'll need to do some research first, some pros and cons lists."

Daisy shook her head while laughing and pressed a kiss on Harry's cheek. "I'll come for you if I'm not the godmother to the perfect specimen of human beauty."

"I'll keep it in mind."