small bump (ii/?)
Title: small bump
Author: alifeofourown
Pairing: Louis Tomlinson/Eleanor Calder, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, possible Harry Styles/Liam Payne and possibly more pairings
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2,379
Summary: Each time Harry hears one of their fans or one of the interviewers gush about how perfect Louis and Eleanor look together there’s a part of him that just wants to be torn to shreds before he explodes because it’s just so painful to watch the way that Louis’s face lights up and he mentions that he’s quite possibly found the perfect girl.
Warnings: Potential drama, sad Harry and...spoilers?
Dedication: For the Anon on the kink meme who requested this, also for lifeisafantasy2 because you know, I rarely ever have fics that aren't dedicated to her...
Disclaimer: I assure you if One Direction belonged to me I'd be far too busy hanging with them to write fic.
Author Notes: This fic is based off of this prompt that basically states that Louis can't choose between Harry and Eleanor and loves them both but Harry finds out Eleanor's pregnant and isn't telling Louis because she doesn't know if she wants to keep the child or not. He backs off but it's terribly hard to do and only Liam picks up on it. This fic is completely unbetaed and all errors are my own. If you found this and it's about you or someone you know stop and turn around right now please. Cut to Cute is What We Aim For
It’s like forgetting how to breathe and drowning and being shocked back to life all at once and Harry can’t remember the last time it’s hurt this badly to just keep functioning.
He’s curled up in the corner of Zayn’s room, glad that Zayn just let him in without a word and patted his head before telling Harry to not destroy the place and that he’d die if he stole his crisps. And then he left because it was so painfully obvious that Harry needed time alone and he wasn’t going to get it with Eleanor there.
So Harry’s been curled up in a tiny ball since Zayn left, his back pressed against the wall and his knees against his chest. He’s been having panic attacks off and on and there’s really no way that he can rationalise that this is happening and that he needs to step back, to pull away completely before he ruins his life and drags Louis down with him. The last thing he needs is the knowledge that it’s all his fault that Louis’s hurting, that he’s become the one to start ruining lives and shattering hearts by being selfish. That’s something that Harry will never be able to handle no matter how desperately he wishes he could.
Harry gasps for breath, not even realising that the last time he’s actually inhaled was about a minute ago because he’s been so lost in his thoughts. It’s like his body’s shut down and the basic processes that keep him alive aren’t even trying to function anymore because they just know what he’s going to have to handle in the future. It’s not worth it, breathing, functioning, whenever there’s not going to be a reason to do so.
Sure the music’s amazing and it’s everything that Harry’s wanted since he’s been a child. He’s still a child, he thinks, and he still wants the same things that he always has; the fame and fortune have meant nothing to him (and still don’t even though he greatly enjoys the paycheck that he receives at the end of the day). It’s the simple things, the desire to please and the ability to share his talents with the world so that they can understand his feelings and relate, that keep him going most days.
But Harry knows now that none of it matters at this point if Louis isn’t going to be at his side. He hasn’t even tried to pull away from him and yet Harry already knows that it’s going to be like removing a limb except less painful because at least with limbs there’s artificial replacements. There’s really no way to replace a missing heart and a broken soul. That much Harry knows.
The knock on the door startles him out of his dazed stupor and his body shudders as he takes in breath, his organs slowly coming back to life. It takes him a moment before he stumbles to his feet and makes his way over to the door, scrabbling at the wall the entire time to make sure that he doesn’t trip and collapse against the carpet in the process. He has a feeling that if that happens there’ll be no getting up from it and he’ll just lay there in misery until Zayn returns and finds him and rolls him out the door.
It’s Liam, Harry realises as he stares out of the peephole, and at first he doesn’t want to let him in. He doesn’t want to deal with Liam or even attempt to try and explain what’s going on with him right now but they both know that if he doesn’t let him in that Liam will find himself in that hotel room with or without Harry’s help. In the long run it’s just easier to let him in, so that’s what Harry does.
He unlocks the door and steps back from it, waiting for Liam to step in. It takes a moment for it to register, but Liam shows up quickly enough and he looks at Harry who’s shaking his way down the wall and onto the floor next to the doorway.
“What’s happened?” Liam’s tone is so soft and gentle that it presses its way into the room all wrong and now all Harry wants to do is cry. He wants to cry, to break down and sob against Liam’s chest while ‘daddy direction’ takes care of him and tells him pretty little lies about how it’s going to be alright and that they’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Harry wants to just let go of all of the pent-up emotions that he’s got pressing down on his lungs so that he can breathe again without having to remind himself that air is something his body needs.
But he doesn’t. No matter how much he wants to, breaking down in front of Liam just isn’t something that he’s capable of right now. “Just needed some time alone,” he responds and it sounds like a meek, pathetic response even to his own ears. Surely Liam can’t possibly believe what he’s saying right now, but then again it’s Liam.
Liam’s perfect. Liam’s the one that doesn’t contradict what they say even when he knows it’s a lie. Liam’s the one who, instead of demanding the truth and insisting that whatever it is, no matter how bad it is, he can fix it, just sits down on the floor next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders so that you know that he’s there without him overwhelming you to bits.
And that’s exactly what Liam does.
Harry curls up against Liam without even meaning to. It’s down to pure instinct, really, and Liam doesn’t even mind as Harry snakes his arms around Liam’s waist and clings because Liam’s the only sense of stability that Harry has left anymore. He presses his face into Liam’s chest and the breathing gets a bit easier.
“If you want to talk…” Liam offers after a few minutes of silence, after he’s sure that Harry’s no longer trembling like someone’s going to beat him. “I’ll listen, Harry.”
“I know,” Harry whispers in response and he really means it. Liam’s really all he has at this point because if he tries talking to Niall or Zayn about what he heard in the hallway one or both of them might end up attacking Louis and forcing him to choose before he can let Eleanor take him away for the rest of his life without another thought. “If I need to talk I’ll always come to you, Liam.”
Liam sighs quietly and Harry can feel the boy’s arm tightening around him. He can feel himself being drawn in closer and it’s comforting, the way that Liam’s taking such good care of him. So comforting, in fact, that Harry seems to stop for a moment and forget all about what’s going on and how painful it all is. It only takes a few moments of that peace for Harry to realise just how exhausted the anxiety’s made him and he drifts off to sleep shortly afterwards, his face pressed into Liam’s chest while Liam gently rubs his back and whispers that he’s going to make it all better.
-
“I think we need some time apart,” Harry says and he realises immediately afterwards how stupid that sounds considering they’re in the middle of their tour of all places and it’s not like there’s anywhere to go. Still, the reaction that he receives from Louis is more than enough to know that he’s chosen the right words.
It’s achingly difficult to sit there and watch as a medley of expressions dance across Louis’s face; to see him go from confused to hurt to upset and back to confused before settling on a mixture of ‘this is a really bad joke’ and ‘what if this isn’t a joke’ is causing Harry to forget how to breathe all over again. “What d’you mean, Haz?” he asks in a tentative voice and Harry winces at the nickname, the weak link that he’s chained by because Louis only uses Haz and Hazza when he’s feeling overly affectionate or worried.
Harry has a pretty good feeling it’s not being used for affection right now.
“I just…I think that…” Harry struggles with the words and Louis’s looking at him with such worry now that he’s not even sure that he continue with his thoughts. He falters and stares down at his hands, trying to compose himself so that he can least shoot out a reason, no matter how poor it is. “Eleanor’s going to join us for a bit, right?”
The relieved sigh that he gets from Louis is enough to confirm his suspicions and Harry just wants to curl up in a ball and die at the mere thought that she will be around with her trump card that will ruin all of their lives for good. “Yeah, mate. Are you worried about me spending too much time with her because I know how to divvy up my time.”
“No,” Harry replies and it’s softer, toned down to try and hide the oncoming wave of heartache that’s hit him all of a sudden. “No, that’s not it. I just…I figure that it makes more sense that you room together rather than make her get her own room, right?” He pauses. “I’m sure Liam or Zayn wouldn’t mind me bunking up with them and Niall could get first pick yeah?”
“I…” Harry finds himself surprised to hear that it’s Louis’s turn to be speechless. He looks up at him, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest and Louis actually looks kind of torn by the suggestion. “I guess you could,” he finally responds and the spark’s diminished as quickly as it came. “I just…it’ll be weird, not sharing a room with you. We’ve been doing it since we’ve first started, practically.”
“Yeah,” Harry mumbles and he’s back to staring at his hands, back to wondering if this is even a smart idea because Louis just sounds so upset and the last thing Harry wants to do is upset Louis even if it means that he’s the one who’s suffering instead. “I just figured you’d want some time with her, right?”
Louis doesn’t respond and Harry knows better than to look at him because the last time he did he almost regretted the whole thing. He waits for a minute, two, three, and Louis still doesn’t say anything which is screwing with Harry’s nerves more than it should. “I’m gonna go get some breakfast,” he murmurs and only then does Louis seem to acknowledge the fact that he said something to him.
“Will you grab me a muffin if there are any?” he asks and Harry nods before more or less bolting from the room, his hands shaking as he tries to stuff his keycard back into his wallet which he’s failing to do more than usual.
Harry doesn’t go to breakfast. That wasn’t even part of his plans because he knows that Liam is probably ordering room service for all of them, bless, and Harry can’t be bothered to check and see if there are muffins for the person that he’s trying to get over. So he does the only thing that makes sense when he can’t get his mind straight.
He goes to the pool.
It’s nice and quiet when he enters and there’s someone splashing about in the far end, probably practicing for something related to a swim tournament or getting in the last few moments of pool time before they have to wash up and check out of their hotel room. Harry doesn’t really pay much attention to them as he slips his mobile and wallet beneath the towel he grabs and sets them all down on a lounge chair. Only then does he step into the pool, fully clothed, and sink himself down beneath the water so that he can try and get a hold on himself.
He told Louis, which is what he wanted to do in the first place, so that should be considered an accomplishment, right? But Harry doesn’t feel like he’s accomplished anything; not even close. He feels as if he’s taken three steps backwards and everything hurts twice as much as it did when he first woke up. His nerves are tingling and he’s running out of breath but Harry doesn’t dare surface just yet.
He just needs another few seconds so that he can hit that point where it’s either breathe or run out of oxygen completely. He needs to be at that point because he knows that if he’s not he’ll just be a shaking mess of body parts when he breaks the surface.
It’s only when he feels like his lungs are going to spontaneously combust that he actually comes up for air and as he gasps for breath, he hears his name called. Except…his ears are ringing so he genuinely has no idea if he’s actually being called or not. Either way, Harry has no motivation to turn to see who’s calling his name, especially since it sounds young and juvenile coming from the mouth of whoever’s speaking it. It sounds feminine, something that Harry always tends to avoid.
Before he can even consider what ramifications there would be if he were to actually respond, Harry moves from the pool, grabs his stuff and bolts, his sopping wet clothes dripping chlorinated water down the hallway as he tries to connect the maze of a hotel that they’re staying at with what he remembers of how to get to his room.
Somehow, though, he ends up at Liam’s and he’s barely got his hand on the door before it’s open and Liam’s standing there, a towel much like the one Harry’s gripping tightly to resting on his shoulders. “Harry… Harry you’re soaking. What were you doing?”
“Went to the pool,” he barely mutters and Liam hesitates for a moment before he pulls Harry into the room and wraps his arms around him, holding him close and rocking him gently in his arms.
Only then does Harry let himself fall apart. Only then does a single tear slide down his face as he starts to cry.
Author: alifeofourown
Pairing: Louis Tomlinson/Eleanor Calder, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, possible Harry Styles/Liam Payne and possibly more pairings
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2,379
Summary: Each time Harry hears one of their fans or one of the interviewers gush about how perfect Louis and Eleanor look together there’s a part of him that just wants to be torn to shreds before he explodes because it’s just so painful to watch the way that Louis’s face lights up and he mentions that he’s quite possibly found the perfect girl.
Warnings: Potential drama, sad Harry and...spoilers?
Dedication: For the Anon on the kink meme who requested this, also for lifeisafantasy2 because you know, I rarely ever have fics that aren't dedicated to her...
Disclaimer: I assure you if One Direction belonged to me I'd be far too busy hanging with them to write fic.
Author Notes: This fic is based off of this prompt that basically states that Louis can't choose between Harry and Eleanor and loves them both but Harry finds out Eleanor's pregnant and isn't telling Louis because she doesn't know if she wants to keep the child or not. He backs off but it's terribly hard to do and only Liam picks up on it. This fic is completely unbetaed and all errors are my own. If you found this and it's about you or someone you know stop and turn around right now please. Cut to Cute is What We Aim For
It’s like forgetting how to breathe and drowning and being shocked back to life all at once and Harry can’t remember the last time it’s hurt this badly to just keep functioning.
He’s curled up in the corner of Zayn’s room, glad that Zayn just let him in without a word and patted his head before telling Harry to not destroy the place and that he’d die if he stole his crisps. And then he left because it was so painfully obvious that Harry needed time alone and he wasn’t going to get it with Eleanor there.
So Harry’s been curled up in a tiny ball since Zayn left, his back pressed against the wall and his knees against his chest. He’s been having panic attacks off and on and there’s really no way that he can rationalise that this is happening and that he needs to step back, to pull away completely before he ruins his life and drags Louis down with him. The last thing he needs is the knowledge that it’s all his fault that Louis’s hurting, that he’s become the one to start ruining lives and shattering hearts by being selfish. That’s something that Harry will never be able to handle no matter how desperately he wishes he could.
Harry gasps for breath, not even realising that the last time he’s actually inhaled was about a minute ago because he’s been so lost in his thoughts. It’s like his body’s shut down and the basic processes that keep him alive aren’t even trying to function anymore because they just know what he’s going to have to handle in the future. It’s not worth it, breathing, functioning, whenever there’s not going to be a reason to do so.
Sure the music’s amazing and it’s everything that Harry’s wanted since he’s been a child. He’s still a child, he thinks, and he still wants the same things that he always has; the fame and fortune have meant nothing to him (and still don’t even though he greatly enjoys the paycheck that he receives at the end of the day). It’s the simple things, the desire to please and the ability to share his talents with the world so that they can understand his feelings and relate, that keep him going most days.
But Harry knows now that none of it matters at this point if Louis isn’t going to be at his side. He hasn’t even tried to pull away from him and yet Harry already knows that it’s going to be like removing a limb except less painful because at least with limbs there’s artificial replacements. There’s really no way to replace a missing heart and a broken soul. That much Harry knows.
The knock on the door startles him out of his dazed stupor and his body shudders as he takes in breath, his organs slowly coming back to life. It takes him a moment before he stumbles to his feet and makes his way over to the door, scrabbling at the wall the entire time to make sure that he doesn’t trip and collapse against the carpet in the process. He has a feeling that if that happens there’ll be no getting up from it and he’ll just lay there in misery until Zayn returns and finds him and rolls him out the door.
It’s Liam, Harry realises as he stares out of the peephole, and at first he doesn’t want to let him in. He doesn’t want to deal with Liam or even attempt to try and explain what’s going on with him right now but they both know that if he doesn’t let him in that Liam will find himself in that hotel room with or without Harry’s help. In the long run it’s just easier to let him in, so that’s what Harry does.
He unlocks the door and steps back from it, waiting for Liam to step in. It takes a moment for it to register, but Liam shows up quickly enough and he looks at Harry who’s shaking his way down the wall and onto the floor next to the doorway.
“What’s happened?” Liam’s tone is so soft and gentle that it presses its way into the room all wrong and now all Harry wants to do is cry. He wants to cry, to break down and sob against Liam’s chest while ‘daddy direction’ takes care of him and tells him pretty little lies about how it’s going to be alright and that they’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Harry wants to just let go of all of the pent-up emotions that he’s got pressing down on his lungs so that he can breathe again without having to remind himself that air is something his body needs.
But he doesn’t. No matter how much he wants to, breaking down in front of Liam just isn’t something that he’s capable of right now. “Just needed some time alone,” he responds and it sounds like a meek, pathetic response even to his own ears. Surely Liam can’t possibly believe what he’s saying right now, but then again it’s Liam.
Liam’s perfect. Liam’s the one that doesn’t contradict what they say even when he knows it’s a lie. Liam’s the one who, instead of demanding the truth and insisting that whatever it is, no matter how bad it is, he can fix it, just sits down on the floor next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders so that you know that he’s there without him overwhelming you to bits.
And that’s exactly what Liam does.
Harry curls up against Liam without even meaning to. It’s down to pure instinct, really, and Liam doesn’t even mind as Harry snakes his arms around Liam’s waist and clings because Liam’s the only sense of stability that Harry has left anymore. He presses his face into Liam’s chest and the breathing gets a bit easier.
“If you want to talk…” Liam offers after a few minutes of silence, after he’s sure that Harry’s no longer trembling like someone’s going to beat him. “I’ll listen, Harry.”
“I know,” Harry whispers in response and he really means it. Liam’s really all he has at this point because if he tries talking to Niall or Zayn about what he heard in the hallway one or both of them might end up attacking Louis and forcing him to choose before he can let Eleanor take him away for the rest of his life without another thought. “If I need to talk I’ll always come to you, Liam.”
Liam sighs quietly and Harry can feel the boy’s arm tightening around him. He can feel himself being drawn in closer and it’s comforting, the way that Liam’s taking such good care of him. So comforting, in fact, that Harry seems to stop for a moment and forget all about what’s going on and how painful it all is. It only takes a few moments of that peace for Harry to realise just how exhausted the anxiety’s made him and he drifts off to sleep shortly afterwards, his face pressed into Liam’s chest while Liam gently rubs his back and whispers that he’s going to make it all better.
-
“I think we need some time apart,” Harry says and he realises immediately afterwards how stupid that sounds considering they’re in the middle of their tour of all places and it’s not like there’s anywhere to go. Still, the reaction that he receives from Louis is more than enough to know that he’s chosen the right words.
It’s achingly difficult to sit there and watch as a medley of expressions dance across Louis’s face; to see him go from confused to hurt to upset and back to confused before settling on a mixture of ‘this is a really bad joke’ and ‘what if this isn’t a joke’ is causing Harry to forget how to breathe all over again. “What d’you mean, Haz?” he asks in a tentative voice and Harry winces at the nickname, the weak link that he’s chained by because Louis only uses Haz and Hazza when he’s feeling overly affectionate or worried.
Harry has a pretty good feeling it’s not being used for affection right now.
“I just…I think that…” Harry struggles with the words and Louis’s looking at him with such worry now that he’s not even sure that he continue with his thoughts. He falters and stares down at his hands, trying to compose himself so that he can least shoot out a reason, no matter how poor it is. “Eleanor’s going to join us for a bit, right?”
The relieved sigh that he gets from Louis is enough to confirm his suspicions and Harry just wants to curl up in a ball and die at the mere thought that she will be around with her trump card that will ruin all of their lives for good. “Yeah, mate. Are you worried about me spending too much time with her because I know how to divvy up my time.”
“No,” Harry replies and it’s softer, toned down to try and hide the oncoming wave of heartache that’s hit him all of a sudden. “No, that’s not it. I just…I figure that it makes more sense that you room together rather than make her get her own room, right?” He pauses. “I’m sure Liam or Zayn wouldn’t mind me bunking up with them and Niall could get first pick yeah?”
“I…” Harry finds himself surprised to hear that it’s Louis’s turn to be speechless. He looks up at him, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest and Louis actually looks kind of torn by the suggestion. “I guess you could,” he finally responds and the spark’s diminished as quickly as it came. “I just…it’ll be weird, not sharing a room with you. We’ve been doing it since we’ve first started, practically.”
“Yeah,” Harry mumbles and he’s back to staring at his hands, back to wondering if this is even a smart idea because Louis just sounds so upset and the last thing Harry wants to do is upset Louis even if it means that he’s the one who’s suffering instead. “I just figured you’d want some time with her, right?”
Louis doesn’t respond and Harry knows better than to look at him because the last time he did he almost regretted the whole thing. He waits for a minute, two, three, and Louis still doesn’t say anything which is screwing with Harry’s nerves more than it should. “I’m gonna go get some breakfast,” he murmurs and only then does Louis seem to acknowledge the fact that he said something to him.
“Will you grab me a muffin if there are any?” he asks and Harry nods before more or less bolting from the room, his hands shaking as he tries to stuff his keycard back into his wallet which he’s failing to do more than usual.
Harry doesn’t go to breakfast. That wasn’t even part of his plans because he knows that Liam is probably ordering room service for all of them, bless, and Harry can’t be bothered to check and see if there are muffins for the person that he’s trying to get over. So he does the only thing that makes sense when he can’t get his mind straight.
He goes to the pool.
It’s nice and quiet when he enters and there’s someone splashing about in the far end, probably practicing for something related to a swim tournament or getting in the last few moments of pool time before they have to wash up and check out of their hotel room. Harry doesn’t really pay much attention to them as he slips his mobile and wallet beneath the towel he grabs and sets them all down on a lounge chair. Only then does he step into the pool, fully clothed, and sink himself down beneath the water so that he can try and get a hold on himself.
He told Louis, which is what he wanted to do in the first place, so that should be considered an accomplishment, right? But Harry doesn’t feel like he’s accomplished anything; not even close. He feels as if he’s taken three steps backwards and everything hurts twice as much as it did when he first woke up. His nerves are tingling and he’s running out of breath but Harry doesn’t dare surface just yet.
He just needs another few seconds so that he can hit that point where it’s either breathe or run out of oxygen completely. He needs to be at that point because he knows that if he’s not he’ll just be a shaking mess of body parts when he breaks the surface.
It’s only when he feels like his lungs are going to spontaneously combust that he actually comes up for air and as he gasps for breath, he hears his name called. Except…his ears are ringing so he genuinely has no idea if he’s actually being called or not. Either way, Harry has no motivation to turn to see who’s calling his name, especially since it sounds young and juvenile coming from the mouth of whoever’s speaking it. It sounds feminine, something that Harry always tends to avoid.
Before he can even consider what ramifications there would be if he were to actually respond, Harry moves from the pool, grabs his stuff and bolts, his sopping wet clothes dripping chlorinated water down the hallway as he tries to connect the maze of a hotel that they’re staying at with what he remembers of how to get to his room.
Somehow, though, he ends up at Liam’s and he’s barely got his hand on the door before it’s open and Liam’s standing there, a towel much like the one Harry’s gripping tightly to resting on his shoulders. “Harry… Harry you’re soaking. What were you doing?”
“Went to the pool,” he barely mutters and Liam hesitates for a moment before he pulls Harry into the room and wraps his arms around him, holding him close and rocking him gently in his arms.
Only then does Harry let himself fall apart. Only then does a single tear slide down his face as he starts to cry.