LOUIS' POV

Harry refuses to let his mum and I prepare dinner on our own Sunday evening. He swears that he's feeling better and I pretend not to notice the way he winces when something clings or makes a loud noise. I don't watch football like I normally do when he cooks. No, I watch him like a hawk and cringe every time he lifts something over five pounds. I can tell that it irritates him, but I don't really care.

"Louis," he huffs when I insist on taking the casserole out of the oven, "I can do it."

I shake my head and bend over to pick it up anyway, bumping my hip against his playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

I smile brightly when he snickers, glad that I'm not being unreasonably overbearing. I reach forward absently and by the time I've thought about putting on oven mitts, the pan is searing my fingertips. I yelp in pain and drop the casserole onto the floor before falling back onto the ground myself. Glass shatters and Harry is already at my side.

"Louis!" Harry leans down for a moment, quickly running over to the sink instead to wet a towel. He squats at my side again and gently presses the cool towel to my fingers. I hiss at the burn and Harry just kisses the top of my head.

Anne hurries over with a bag of ice and hands it to Harry, "Get him upstairs while I clean up and finish supper."

Harry nods and helps me off of the floor. We avoid the broken glass and climb the stairs slowly. When I'm sat on our bed, Harry is tending to my burns with gentle hands, standing over me between my thighs.

"Go ahead and say it," I sigh as Harry urges me to stand, pulling the covers down.

"I'll pretend I don't know what you mean," he smirks, ushering me under the sheets, "I don't think your pride can take it."

I chuckle dryly and pat the space next to me which he slides into,"Just say it, Harry. I need a shot to my ego."

Harry laughs and wraps his arm around my waist, shifting his body close to mine and kissing the tip of my nose, "I told you so."

I giggle as he squeezes my side, but we quickly settle into a comfortable silence, our bodies slotted together perfectly.

"Your mum is going to take back what she said," I whisper against his neck.

He hums in response, silently asking for an explanation, which I give, "She's not going to think I can take care of you anymore."

"Lou-" he begins, but I shake my head.

"No, it's true. I'm scared, Harry. We all know I suck at being an adult, and I want what's best for you," I sulk, the stinging in my fingers still ever present.

"And what are you suggesting," Harry inquires, his fingers twirling in my hair.

I shrug, because I don't actually have a suggestion, "I'm just sorry you've got me as your dumb old fiance. You always take care of me, and the one time you need me, I'm just useless."

Harry laughs, pulling me close to his chest, his breath mingling with mine, "You're doing a great job, and I can't wait for you to be my dumb old husband. One spilled casserole doesn't mean anything."

"If you say so," I sigh, pecking his lips, "I'd like a quick nap with you before everyone gets here. Will your mum mind?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, everything's nearly done by now anyway. Just keep that ice on your lovely fingers."

I nod in agreement, despite how uncomfortably cold it is, "Yeah, I will."


......

HARRY'S POV

Louis falls asleep easily. I'm sure it's because he's lost a lot of sleep recently. I think it's because of me. He's been awake every time I open my eyes. I suppose it's high time I take care of him again. Care-taking is never good for Louis. He stresses himself out too much.

Once I'm sure he won't stir, I wiggle my arm out from under him and softly press my lips to his forehead. He mumbles something in his slumber and scoots over to my spot, cuddling into the warmth I leave behind. I stand over him and pull the blankets over his curled up body.

I push my hair back and find a change of clothes, something besides sweats and one of Louis’ t-shirts that really are just too tight. Mum probably still won’t approve of what I pick out for dinner, but she won’t grouch at me for skinny jeans and a flannel.

If I’m honest with myself, I’m nervous. I’m nervous to lay it all out for the boys, and for Louis’ family. I feel guilty because it seems like everything I do harms the people I care about most. My relationship has threatened the band too many times to count, and now my health is tugging at everyone’s patience. It’s all too much responsibility.

Once I’m downstairs, I find Mum in the kitchen, pouring yet another glass of wine. I lean against the archway and watch her silently until she begins to cry, choking back tears, thinking that she’s all alone.

“Mum-“ I hurry to her side, but she wipes her eyes quickly and sniffles.

“Harry, I’m fine,” she forces a smile- a smile that is all too familiar, “Don’t worry about me. Would you like some wine?”

She’s already reaching for another glass before I can respond, but I probably need it at this point, “Yeah, sure.”

She pours me a glass and I notice how hard she’s trying to hold back her tears.

“Mum,” I take the glasses out of her hands and set them aside, pulling her into my chest tightly, “Let it out.”

And for the first time ever, she actually listens. She lets her walls down and just cries. My mum is one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, and while I’ve seen her cry it’s never been like this.

I hold her like that for at least two minutes, feeling tears prickle my eyes as well.

“Harry,” she finally breathes out, pulling back and squeezing my shoulders briefly, “Let’s sit down, yeah?”

I nod, and grab both of our glasses, leading the way to the living room. We both sit down on the love seat and she immediately rests her hand on my shoulder.

“Honey, I hate that you saw that,” she clears her throat, regaining her composure.

I shrug and take a sip of the deep red merlot, “It’s okay to cry now and then. I know things suck right now.”

She chuckles dryly, “You could say that.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. It’s the kind of silence that a boy can only share with his mother; she watches me, smiling softly.

“Harry-“

“Mum-“

We both start to speak at the same time, but I grin and motion for her to go first. I don’t know what I planned on saying anyway.

“Okay, I’ve got a few things to say,” she sniffles, patting my arm. “First of all, don’t take any of what I say the wrong way. I’m just being a typical mummy and worrying, so you can’t blame me.”

I nod slowly, unsure of where this conversation is going.

“I’ll begin with saying that I’m very proud of you and Louis. You’ve both matured so much in the past four years, and I feel honored to consider you both my sons. I am concerned, though, with how your health condition will fit into your independence. As pretty much all of us know, you tend to take care of Louis most of the time, and with the recent events, that won’t be very possible. And while he’s taken on a lot more responsibility lately, I’m afraid this will be too much for him-“

I know she isn’t finished, but I feel the need to defend Louis immediately, “That’s not true, Mum. He’s taken care of me plenty. You said it yourself- that you weren’t worried anymore.”

She smiles sweetly, and it kind of pisses me off in a sick sort of way- how she thinks that we know nothing because we’re young, “I know sweetie, and I’ve been trying to tell myself that, but look how easily you revert to taking care of him. He gets burnt and you baby him. It’s totally your call and your relationship under normal circumstances, but Harry, things are going to change. You’re going to be sick, and you’re going to need constant assistance.”

My face contorts in disgust, “All because he dropped a casserole? Are you serious?”

She scoffs, shaking her head, “No, it’s not about the casserole. I was just using that as an example. Darling, you know that you do it. I can see it in your eyes. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I like taking care of him. I have for four years,” I argue, scooting to the edge of the couch uncomfortably.

“Sweetheart, I’m your mum, I know how it feels to want to care for someone,” she brushes my hair back absently, “But, things are going to change, whether you like it or not, and I think that there should be a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” I swallow, struggling to make eye contact.

“I want you to move back home until your treatment and surgeries are done,” she replies firmly.

I stand up, laughing sarcastically, “You’ve got to be kidding. I love you, Mum, and you know that, but Louis and me- we’re getting married. We take care of each other now, and yeah- It’s going to take some practice, but you can’t expect it to all be perfect straight away. We’ll find our balance.”

She stands as well, setting her wine on the coffee table, “Now isn’t the time for practice. You’ll have plenty of time to work on your relationship after you get better. But, if you don’t get better properly, then there won’t be time for practice at all.”

She chokes up at that, and I feel tears welling in my eyes as well. I finally whisper, “I have to- I need some time alone.”

She just nods, sitting back on the couch, crying again. It’s not like me to leave her there, but I’m too angry and sad by everything she’s said to worry about her feelings right now. I’ll regret it later, but I can’t control myself at this point.

When I walk back into mine and Louis’ room, the bed is empty, sheets disheveled. The door to the balcony is open and I approach it slowly. Louis is sitting in one of the chairs, legs propped up on the railing. He has a cigarette between his fingers and one already cashed in the ash tray.

He knows I don’t like when he smokes.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I offer weakly, avoiding a pointless argument. I stand behind him and lean down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I was,” he replies quickly, staring into the tops of the pine trees around our neighborhood, “Woke up when you got out of bed. Never sleep well without you.”

He takes a long drag and holds it in a bit too long before blowing out the smoke. He still hasn’t looked at me.

He clears his throat, and finally glances up, his eyes squinting as the sun sets, “She’s right, you know.”

I gulp and hurry to kneel at his side, taking his free hand in mine, “She’s not.”

I can’t believe he heard us. My mind is racing a mile a minute, and I can’t imagine how he feels.

“No,” he insists, and I notice how red his eyes are, “She is right, Harry. I’m helpless, and you need help. I don’t-“

He stops abruptly, his voice cracking before he continues, “I don’t know how to help you. I try so hard and I always get it wrong. And my first reaction to anything going wrong, is to think, ‘Oh, Harry will fix it and everything will be fine.’ Baby, that’s not good. It’s not healthy.”

“No,” I stand firmly, a bit angry, taking the cigarette out of his hand and stomping it out under my shoe, “These aren’t healthy. Our relationship is just as healthy as any, and my mum is wrong. You’re exactly what I need right now. Just you, Louis.”

Louis stands as well, leaning his back against the railing and beckoning me to close the distance. I take a deep breath and step forward, pressing my hands on the rail, one on either side of his body. Louis rests his hands on my shoulders and kisses my lips ever so briefly, “No, love. You need more than just me. Your mum is right. You should go home.”

“This is my home,” I state plainly through gritted teeth, a bit hurt and a very upset, “This is our home, Louis. I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll do just fine on our own. You and me, Lou. We’re invincible.”

Louis sighs, his eyes watery and bloodshot as he buries his face into my neck, “I just don’t know, darling.”

Notes

Since this chapter was so sad, here's a cute larry pic from recently... sorry i've been taking forever, but finals are finally over. please love me, because i'm so hungover right now, idk how i wrote this .xx love you guys. please comment