Chapter Text
Harry woke up to the sound of the rain tapping gently on the windows.
It was the kind of morning that felt blurred around the edges—like a dream you couldn’t quite remember, even when you tried. He blinked a few times, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, the sheets tangled around his legs. His stomach twisted—not from nausea, but something worse: regret.
The other side of the bed was empty.
Figures.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his mess of curls, now falling into his eyes. There was a dull throb behind his temples. He didn’t drink that much last night… or did he? He couldn’t remember the guy’s name—just flashes. A laugh, a hand on his waist, breathless kisses outside the club, a hotel key card slipping into his palm.
And now here he was. Alone.
Again.
He sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. One missed call from Niall. Four messages from the group chat.
Niall: Where did u disappear to last night??
Liam: U alive, mate?
Zayn: Pls tell me you didn’t go home with that guy with the sparkly trousers
Louis: Of course he did. Classic Styles.
Harry’s lips twitched into a small smile. Trust Louis to add a jab with a wink. He didn't reply right away, just stood up, stretched, and tried to shake the heaviness off his chest.
It didn’t work.
There was a time—not so long ago—when Louis had danced with him in the kitchen at 2 a.m., both a little tipsy, laughing over burnt toast and late-night confessions. Harry remembered the way Louis looked at him that night, like he was trying to say something without words.
He should’ve said something back. He should’ve asked if Louis felt it too.
-----
They’d been back in London for two weeks now, on break from recording. Being in One Direction again felt like slipping into an old hoodie—familiar, comforting, even if it didn’t quite fit the same way anymore. They were older now. Still best friends, still brothers. But things had shifted.
Zayn had returned after years apart. Niall was always off traveling but never failed to bring everyone back together. Liam was the glue, the planner, the one who always reminded them to drink water and get enough sleep.
And then there was Louis.
Harry had always seen Louis differently.
Louder than life. Brighter than the sun. Sarcastic, sharp-tongued, annoyingly endearing. His laugh made Harry want to bottle it. His smile made everything hurt a little more. But Louis never saw Harry the same way, not really. He couldn’t. Harry never told him.
Which is probably why he let himself fall into someone else’s arms last night. Even if it meant waking up feeling like this.
-----
A couple weeks had passed.
The boys were rehearsing for a charity show in Manchester when Harry first noticed it.
The nausea. The sudden exhaustion. The way the smell of Niall’s protein shake made him gag. At first, he thought it was stress. They had a lot going on. But when he threw up mid-rehearsal and Liam practically dragged him to the doctor, things escalated quickly.
The test was quick. The wait wasn’t.
He sat alone in the clinic room, heart racing, fingers picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
Then the nurse walked in, smiling gently. “Harry… you’re pregnant.”
Silence.
Just silence.
He blinked. Laughed once. “Sorry, what?”
“It’s early, maybe five or six weeks, but yes. You’re pregnant.”
His hands started to shake.
He’d always heard about morning sickness, but this felt different. It wasn’t just nausea—it was like his body had become a stranger overnight. He could smell things more sharply. His skin felt more sensitive. His emotions were all over the place.
And then the craving hit—marmite and strawberries. Together.
“Oh, what the hell,” Harry muttered, raiding the kitchen at 2 a.m.
-----
Earlier that day, Louis had pulled Harry aside before rehearsal.
“You alright?” he asked casually, like it wasn’t the tenth time he’d checked in that week.
“Yeah,” Harry said. But his voice cracked a little.
Louis frowned, stepping closer, brushing something invisible off Harry’s shoulder. “You’ve looked pale all day. You sure you’re not catching something?”
Harry nodded. “Just tired.”
Louis hesitated, then nodded back. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”
That moment stuck in Harry’s mind later, when Louis was so cold. Like it never happened.
-----
The boys were waiting for him back at the house, sprawled on the couches with takeaway boxes and video games paused mid-match. Zayn was asleep with a controller in his hand. Niall had ketchup on his shirt. Louis looked up first.
Harry stood in the doorway, pale and wide-eyed.
“I have to tell you something,” he said.
And everything stopped.
Zayn was the first to speak. “Okay. Breathe. Sit.”
Harry sat.
“I’m pregnant.”
It was Liam’s eyes that widened first. Niall’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
Louis stared.
Nobody moved.
“I—I didn’t plan it,” Harry said quickly, words tumbling out. “It was just a one-night thing. I don’t even remember his name. I don’t know if he’d even want to be involved. But I’m keeping it. I’ve already decided.”
Zayn nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Niall let out a breath. “Wow.”
Liam finally spoke. “We’ve got you. Whatever you need. We’re here.”
Harry’s eyes stung. “Really?”
“Of course,” Liam said. “We’re family.”
He looked at Louis then. But Louis hadn’t said anything. He was staring at the wall, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest.
Harry’s heart sank. “Louis?”
Louis glanced at him. “Yeah. Congrats, I guess.”
And then he stood up and left the room.
-----
Liam knocked on Harry’s door later that night, quietly.
“I know that look,” he said, sitting beside him. “That’s the ‘I don’t want to burden anyone but I feel like I’m drowning’ look.”
Harry laughed weakly. “Do I really have a look for that?”
“You’ve had it since 2012,” Liam teased gently. Then softer, “You don’t have to go through this alone, H. Not now. Not ever.”
Harry didn’t answer, but he leaned into the hug Liam offered. And for a minute, the weight lifted.
-----
Harry lay awake long after the lights were out.
He kept thinking about how Zayn had hugged him like nothing had changed. How Niall promised to learn how to swaddle a baby. How Liam immediately opened a new group chat titled “Uncles of Chaos.”
And how Louis had said… nothing.
“I’m still me,” Harry whispered to the dark. “Why did you stop looking at me like you used to?”