LOUIS' P.O.V.


"Lou- Did you pick up the living room?"

I set my beer on the coffee table after taking a long swig, rolling my eyes as I swallow, "It's not necessary, babe."

I unmute the telly when the commercials end and the match comes back on, knowing that Harry is probably huffing out of the kitchen at the moment.

Sure enough, I hear his hands drop to his thighs in irritation. I turn my head, only after picking back up my glass of beer.

"Louis, come on. Please, just put your shoes in the closet and fix the pillows and stuff. It's not that much," Harry pleas and I feel a slight twinge of guilt in my chest.

"Harry, it's just the lads. They've seen my flat after a month of you not stepping foot in it. Can you just take a moment and imagine what that must have looked like?"

Harry stops for a second and physically shudders, "It doesn't matter, Lou. This is our place and I want it to look nice. You got us this beautiful house and I just want everyone to be able to appreciate it."

I sigh as Harry begins to pick up my shoes, having already given up on me, "Harry-"

"It's whatever; I'll just do it myself."

He searches for the left shoe to match the black Van in his hand. I stand up, setting my beer down and approaching my flustered fiancé, “Harry, please. I’ll do it; I’m sorry. You know how I feel about cleaning- I’m not trying to put you out or anything.”

Harry leans forward and lightly pecks my forehead, “I know; just cooperate, please. I need to get the meatloaf out of the oven so I don’t overcook it again. Just clean up in here during the next commercial.”

I smile whimsically, consumed by Harry’s natural mothering tendencies, “I’ll do it now, love. S’not like Donny’s playing of summat. Go ahead and cook; I’ll come bother you when I’m done.”
Harry scoffs and bends down to place a coaster under my beer, “Alright, hon. Also, nothing cold on the wood without coasters, please.”

I roll my eyes, this time in adoration as Harry scampers off toward the kitchen. I search for my other shoe and find it under the love-seat. I gather the other shoes, as well as my comfy slippers that are a tad embarrassing, and a jacket Harry had tossed over my favorite chair. And he gets onto me!

I balance all of our things in my arms and carry them to the stairs. I watch my first few steps as I saunter up the large marble staircase. I always feel too lazy when I take the lift instead of the stairs. I play footie; I should be able to take the stairs in my house without complaining. Harry and I will have to hide the fact that there’s a lift in our house so they aren’t lazy all the time.

Once I’m pushing my way into Harry’s and my bedroom, nearly tripping over the rug that I’m still not used to. It’s still quite new and I forget it’s there. “Gonna kill myself one of these days,” I mumble to myself, walking toward the closet.

I drop my shoes first, pushing them back with a foot until they’re hidden among the mound of shoes I already have there. I chuckle as I glance at the other side, where Harry’s measly five pairs of shoes sit neatly. Surely he’ll be organizing mine again soon. I would feel bad; but, I know he secretly enjoys it.

I don’t toss Harry’s jacket so carelessly, though. I mistreat my own things; but, I could never dream of doing so with Harry’s.

I drape it over my arm carefully and waltz over to the unused hangers. I hear a small noise, a crinkle of a paper and turn around to find a legal size rectangular envelope on the floor. It must have fallen from Harry’s jacket and I shrug. I hang the jacket up with the rest of Harry’s coats and jumpers before bending over to gather the folded sheet of paper from the floor.

I think nothing of opening the envelope, because it never dawned on me that it could be something Harry was hiding. It’s already been open, the seal broken, and there is nothing written on it, except for

H. STYLES

followed by the address to Harry’s old flat.

It’s in black ink, but isn’t handwritten. The font is bold and rather professional looking. I peek through the contents and furrow my eyebrows as I pull out a scanned sheet of paper. There are lots of numbers and codes; but, I can tell that it’s definitely medical results. None of them make sense to me; but, I can’t imagine what Harry needed testing done for.

I pull out the other sheets of paper, shuffling through the first through which are images of what must be Harry’s head, the first labeled “CT SCAN” and the second “MRI SCAN”.
I fumble through for something that makes sense to me, but my hands are already shaking, fear taking over my body. Finally, I come across a formal letter in plain, simple English:


Mr. Styles,

After reviewing the tests I requested, I regret to inform you that we will need to proceed with further testing as I explained was possible during your last visit. Do not panic, because there is still a chance that this tumor will not be life-threatening, or anything of the sort.

I request that you make a follow-up appointment as soon as humanly possible so that we can get to the bottom of your health issues before your job becomes more demanding, as you informed me that it soon will.

As I told you before, informing your loved ones should be done as you deem it appropriate, but this is a difficult, emotionally straining process to endure alone and it would be advisable to trust a close friend or relative with your situation. I know that you mentioned that you have a fiancè- perhaps he can help you through this trying time. I hate to think that you are stressing over worrying him when you need the care and attention right now.

Please consider acquiring support and please call my office ASAP.

Sincerely,
Dr. Zimmer
+44 20 5555 6547


I feel hot tears sting my eyes and my bottom lip quivers anxiously. There’s no way this is real. Harry would have told me. He’s been absolute normal recently... Hasn’t he? I believe he has! It’s got to be a prank. The lads must be pulling my leg to get back at me for all the times I’ve fooled them.

There’s only one way to find out, really. I dial the number slowly, my hands still convulsing.

After two rings, a peppy female voice fills my ear, “Dr. Zimmer’s office; this is Katrina, how may I help you?”

My mouth goes dry. If this is a prank, it’s quite an extravagant one. I’m speechless and the woman clears her throat, “Hello?”

I swallow thickly and breathe in, “This is Harry Styles; I’m calling to make a follow-up appointment.”

“Oh, Mr. Styles,” her voice sounds more dull, sad almost, “I assume your received Dr. Zimmer’s letter?”

I nod my head, feeling pools of tears well in my eyes, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“Would you like to visit his Nottingham office again, or London this time?”

Nottingham. It’s all coming together; Harry went to Nottingham, claiming to be lunching with Gemma. That was less than a week ago. He was gone almost the entire day, but I didn’t think anything of it. I slept in and then smoked a few spliffs with Zayn and Perrie.

“A-actually, I’ll call back when I know my schedule better.”

“Oh, okay! Call back whenever you can. Sooner is better than later, Mr. Styles. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

My voice cracks, but I squeak out a, “No, thank you,” before hanging up the phone and sobbing into my arm.


_____


HARRY’S P.O.V.


I taste a small piece of the meatloaf and hum in delight at the flavor and moistness of it.

“Louis?”

There’s no response; but, there’s no way he’s actually still cleaning. I suppose he might have jumped in the shower. The lads should be here any second, though, and he knows that.

I consider going upstairs myself, but there’s still a salad to mix and potatoes to mash. So, I pick up the kitchen phone and intercom to our bedroom, “Lou, are you about ready?”

I hear a door shut and a small voice respond, “Yeah, just gonna change, babe.”

I smile to myself, “Alright. Wear that yellow v-neck I bought you.”

He chuckles and I put the phone back on the stand.

While I’m mixing the salad, my mind wanders aimlessly. Now matter how much it does that, though, it continues to return to that damned envelope. Why the hell haven’t I read it yet?
I know why, because the more I put it off, the longer I can pretend it isn’t an issue. The scans were just a routine check when I had complaints about headaches and nausea. Of course I didn’t tell Louis. He worries when I fall down on stage, or spend too long in the bathroom- there’s no way I can tell him that I haven’t been feeling well. He’d be sleepless and panicky all the time.
I really need to man up, though. If everything is normal, then I can forget this all happened and move on. If not, god forbid, I need to start treatments or have surgery before we go on tour. There’s only a week before rehearsals, so it’s mandatory that I straighten things out. I sigh and sprinkle croutons on top of the salad before placing it aside and covering it with foils. I move onto the potatoes and hear faint footsteps hopping down the stairs.

I grin solemnly and begin to mash the potatoes, adding salt and butter as needed. Suddenly, I feel familiar, strong arms wrap around my waist and lips pressing to my shoulder. I look down and spot Louis’ rope tattoo, as well as the ends of yellow sleeves, per my request. I drop the masher and turn around in Louis’ arms, immediately kissing his damp forehead, “I see you took a shower without me. That’s not very nice of you, love.”

He faintly smiles and then cuddles into my neck, breathing me in.

“Well,” I continue, “Someones particularly snuggly today.”

“Sorry for not cleaning up like you asked,” he mumbles softly, his voice weak.

“You didn’t clean up?” I could have sworn I heard him drop a few shoes on the wood.

“No,” he retorts, “I did now, but I’m sorry for giving you trouble before.”

I chuckle and kiss the top of his head, his still wet hair dampening my lips, “It’s fine, Louis. I know you hate cleaning. Thanks for doing it.”

“I take advantage of you, though. You do everything for me,” he murmurs. He sounds sad and so down on himself. I hate it.

“Hey now,” I pull away slightly, tucking my index finger under his chin and forcing him to look at me, “Don’t fret. It’s not a big deal.”

He forces a smile and gently presses his lips to mine, massaging his tongue against the roof of my mouth immediately. I kiss back instantly, groaning in delight at his sincere and passionate actions.

Our moment is cut short, though, by a beat being pounded onto our front door. We both chuckle in frustration and Louis pulls away from my body, “I’ll get it. Just know that I love you.”

I smile and coo, putting my hand behind his neck and pulling him forward once more so I can peck his cheek, “I know you do. I love you more.”

Louis grins thoughtfully and turns toward the foyer. Another loud knock fills the house, followed by Louis’ yells, “Goddammit, Niall. I’m coming!”


_____


Dinner is quite perfect; we all laughed and carried on about old times. Niall was the first to show, Zayn and Liam soon afterward.

It’s around dessert time that the conversation turns serious. It’s Liam who brings it up, “So, what’s our next move, then?”

He glances around just to make sure that we all understand what he means exactly.

I push away my empty plate that once held lemon pound cake, and pick up my glass of champagne, “Well, I’m not sure. Doesn’t it depend on Modest?”

Zayn nods and sits back in his seat, “Yeah, but we should have something set, whichever way it goes.”

“Alright, let’s think for a mo; chances are, Jason is going to keep us and allow Harry and Louis to come out; but, we all know that it will be on his terms,” Niall chimes in, “Or at least with attached terms and conditions. Let’s all agree now to have a meeting like this as soon as we get our new contracts. We can acquire lawyers, ones separate from Modest, and read all the fine print before signing.”

Everyone nods in agreement. Louis’ hand finds it’s way to my thigh and he softly squeezes, sending a tingling feeling straight to my cock.

“I suppose that’s the best plan of action,” I add, before throwing back the rest of my champagne and reaching for the bottle.

Louis shifts in his seat, clearing his throat, “Now, what if he decides not to budge?”

Leave it to Louis to be pessimistic.

“Well, obviously we’re prepared to buy our way out like we said, if that’s what you two want,” Liam responds on behalf of Zayn, Niall, and himself.

Niall follows up with, “If not, it’s safe to assume that he’ll have everyone on a tighter leash. Harry, that trip to LA will probably turn into a move to LA, and Louis, you’ll probably have to ‘get engaged’ to Eleanor.”

“Basically,” Zayn clears his throat, “The decision is whether things get better now, or down the road. Obviously, we’re at the eye of the storm. It’s calm now; but, things will get worse before they get better. It’s totally up to you guys, and Jason of course, how long it’ll take for the storm to pass.”

We sit in silence for a moment, thinking about everything. I’m also slightly distracted by Louis’ hand being so dangerously close to my dick. He’s so clingy tonight.

Niall breaks the silence, “Well, either way, we can’t make a decision until Jason decides on his end. Let’s regroup then, yeah?”

I glance around as everyone agrees.

Eventually everyone stands up- at which point it’s nearly midnight- and we take a few minutes to say our goodbyes.


_____


It’s in our bed two hours later that Louis begins to cry.

“Louis?”

I’m at a loss as to why he’s upset. Dinner was splendid and we made love after. It was slow and sweet; he insisted that I top. I opened him up slowly and he literally whimpered the entire time. I know it was as good for him as it was for me.

So, why is he sad?

“S-sorry, H. I thought you were asleep.”

I turn around and sit up, immediately turning on the lamp next to me and pulling Louis’ limp body into my arms, “Why are you crying, Lou? Please don’t cry. You’re scaring me.”
He chokes, sobbing uncontrollably and grasping my body tightly, “You’re scaring me! I-I found that envelope, Harry. I found it in your jacket. How could you not tell me, Harry? How could you? How could you!”

It’s when he begins yelling that my heart sinks. It drops quickly and I feel my dinner rising in my throat.

If he’s this upset, it can only mean one thing.

I have a brain tumor.

Notes

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