“You promised.”
Harry’s fists collided with the dining room table at your exclaim, pushing the chair out from the table and standing to his socked feet, an angered expression on his face as he turned to look at you. Your back turned to him to make sure he didn’t get a glimpse at just how angry you were feeling - the emotion running through your veins as you looked down at the grubby water.
“He was so fucking excited to have you there. Louis had to step up and pretend to be his father just so he could take part in that sports day race. You’re really fucking inconsiderate sometimes,” you muttered from your place at the sink. Your back to Harry as you scrubbed your anger out on a plate that was covered in crusting spaghetti sauce from dinner that night. “You’re lucky Louis was there otherwise we’d have one extremely upset 8 year old. You have no idea how upset he was on the car ride home.”

“I can’t help that work kept me busy, alright? I think that’s just a little more important than a stupid sports day race that I do every year,” he hissed, his voice becoming louder as he neared you. “He’ll get over it. Work was important. It’s a new song for someone’s first album and they need it to be as good as possible. I’m sorry I missed a stupid race,” he boomed, his voice accentuated; something that scared you whenever he was angry because the syllables bounced off of the walls in the room and the decibels of his rough tone become deeper and louder as he tried to express his point.

“He wanted you there! You know Alfie wanted you there! You promised him you’d be there. And you weren’t! He’s not the only one that’s pissed off, Harry,” You grunted, dropping the plate on the drying board as you dropped the scrubbing brush into the cove beside the sink. “His face broke my heart when he realised you weren’t there. I’m fed up with you thinking work is much more important that our children,” you hissed, turning around on your slipper-covered feet to come face-to-face with his chest.

“Work is more important because it makes money. Since you’re too bone-idle to work in this relationship, I’m doing all I can to provide for all of us. I’m providing for me, you, Persephone, Alfie, and the twins. Only to have you all spending the money that I work so hard on earning on something shit! I’m in a fucking endless cycle and it’s pissing me off,” he hissed, looking down at you with darkened eyes. The spark of love and happiness long gone from his orbs and replaced with anger and displeasure; a look you were never a fan of. “If you got a fucking job, you’d understand just how difficult it is to split time up between family and an important job that earns money.”

“I should get a job? Does it ever ring a bell in your head that I do have a job? I’m a mother!” You hissed, weedling your way around his body, manoeuvring around the counter to where his forgotten spaghetti bolognese was sitting. “I clean this house after you and the kids. I do your laundry as well as everyone else’s. I cook dinner every night. I take care of two twins as well as a hormonal teenager and a son who demands daddy’s attention when daddy isn’t here,” you added, lifting the plate up from the table and shuffling across to the bin. “I have a job. I get paid with the love of my family. Unfortunately, my darling husband doesn’t seem to be giving me any love right now!” Your voice straining and getting louder with each word.

“You’re unbelievable. So, so fucking unbelievable. I do stuff around the house too,” he muttered, looking to you as you made your way to the sink, his back resting against the counter in front of it. “I take care of the twins when you’re not able too. I do everything you do when you aren’t here! And I balance a job on top of that.”

“Can you just leave the room, please? We’ll talk about this later.”

“No. We’re talking about this now. You’re finally realising I’m doing much more than you,” Harry stated, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at you. “I have a job. I pay for the food you eat. Remember that.”
“Oh, good for you. Now, move out of the way. I need to wash up and then give Darcy and Rose their baths and then help P with her homework,” you muttered, looking down at the dirty plate in your hands. A plate that was covered in spaghetti sauce, and dribbling lightly onto your hand. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Not tonight,” he stated, running a palm over his face. “I’m sorry I never made it to Alfie’s sports day,” he whispered.

His voice was full of sincerity, and it had an apologetic tone. But the events that had happened that day after the confirmation of Harry not being there at his sports game, Alfie was down and upset and you couldn’t help but feel angered towards your husband. Deep down you knew it was difficult to balance family life and personal time with work and paperwork needing to be completed.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so angry with you. He’s so upset with you, Harry,” you stated, watching as his green eyes lit with anger again. A soft scream left your lips soon after as his hands came into contact with the plate in your hands, the china falling to the floor with force and cracking with a smash that filtered through the room. “Get out. Just get the fuck out of the room. Heck, leave the house for all I care. Just get out.”

“It’s my house. I’ll fucking stay if I want too,” you heard him hiss deeply, his socked feet leaving your view as you looked down at the china pieces scattered around the tiles of the floor.

“I can’t deal with you. Just go somewhe-”

“Daddy?”

A soft voice came from behind you both, your body turning on your heels as you looked to the small boy standing in the doorway. A blanket tucked into his hand as his pyjama trousers hanging low on his hips, the sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up from where he was lounging on his bed, his hair matted and knotted.
“Alfie,” Harry whispered, “Alfie, mate, it’s okay. Mummy and daddy are just having a talk,” he added, looking over to where Alfie was standing. As Harry took a step over the scattered china plate, Alfie’s green eyes widened and darted to where you were standing. A tear dribbling down your cheek.

“Mummy,” he whispered, his bottom lip trembling as he turned on his bare heel and took a dash out of the kitchen.
“Are you happy now?” You sobbed, causing Harry to turn on his heel to you, a saddened expression on his face. His eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip taken between his teeth as he ducked his head down. “I think it would be best if you kept yourself out of our hair for the night, Harry. You need to cool down. Go to Gemma. Or go to Niall’s. I’ll talk with the kids,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know. I know. Just, give us a night, okay?”

“If that’s what you want, then okay. I’ll go out to Gemma’s and come back when you’re all asleep. I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. “Tell Alfie I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll make it up to him.”

* *
When Harry returned later that night, the bottom level of the house was quiet and abandoned and a soft sigh left his lips as he carefully closed the front door behind him. He toed off his suede boots and let them land in a heap beneath the porch table, the keys jingling as he set them down on the wood. A flush of guilt ran through his body, as he looked towards the stairs and heard shuffling in the room closest to the top of the stairs - the master bedroom - a light flicking off and cutting of the light filtering into the hallway.
After he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat hooks, he made his way to the living room where a sudden change of temperature happened and goosebumps rose on his arms. The street lamp from outside the house gave off a light that cast through the window of the living room an lit up some features that caught his eyes. Photos hanging on the walls above the fireplace, as well as frames sitting on the cabinets and the drawers set in the corners of the room - photos of him and you, and you and the kids, or even him and the kids, with a large family portrait hanging in the middle of the wall on the chimney breast.
A grunt left his lips as he fell to the sofa, a blanket and his pillow already set on the arm.
A soft tear dribbled down Harry’s cheek as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, wiping at the moisture before puffing out a heavy breath from between his lips and closing his eyes. As he kicked his feet up onto the sofa and curled up on himself, his head pressed to the cushion, a cry left his throat and the guilt built up on him from the events he’d missed that day. Yet over his cries, footsteps were inaudible and he had no idea that his middle child was there seeing him in his time of weakness.
“Daddy?”

His soft voice was soothing on Harry’s ears, and with a wipe of his eyes, he lifted his head and looked over the back of the sofa.
“Daddy, are you crying?”

“I’m alright, bud. What are you doing up?”

A giggle left Alfie’s lips as he walked from the archway from the stairs, to where Harry was lounging on the sofa.
“I heard you come in. And then I heard you crying. And I wanted to come and see you,” he smiled nervously, standing beside the arm of the sofa and looking to Harry. “Can I sit with you?”

“Of course you can, bud. Come give your old man a hug, hm?” Harry teased, smiling softly as Alfie clambered over his body and fell between the space between Harry’s body and the back of the sofa, a loud squeal leaving his lips.

“You’re not old, daddy. You don’t have grey hairs yet,” Alfie grinned, tugging at Harry’s long curls. “You’re not bald either. Like Grandpa,” he giggled.
A soft smile lifted Harry’s lips as he cuddled Alfie close to his body, his foot nudging the blanket closer to him so he could cover the both of them up.
“I love you, bud. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your sports day today. But, I’ll take you out for some ice-cream tomorrow after school and we’ll have our own races in the park, yeah?” Harry suggested, a soft kiss pressed to Alfie’s forehead.

“I love you, daddy. You’re my favourite.”

Notes

I’m definitely thinking of including some Harry and Alfie cuddles - imagine the cuteness between the two, my gosh. ;) Thank you for requesting. I’m sorry if this isn’t so good - I’ve been stuck with a whole lot of writers block and my motivation at the moment is incredulous. :( xx