Chapter Text
Harry doesn’t know how he got here, leaning against the kitchen sink, watching his husband and children play in the leaves while he stays inside, dinner simmering on the stove while the autumn sun sets behind his family. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be out there with them. God, he does. But he knows Zayn wouldn’t appreciate it, that he likes his own time with the kids, separate from Harry, because that’s how they do things now. Separately.
Harry grabs the sides of his sweater and pulls it tighter around himself as he watches Jax jump into the pile Zayn’s just raked up. He isn’t cold, not in a temperature sense, the thermostat set at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees, but being frozen out by his husband chills him to the bone.
He smiles as Everly laughs at Jax, her tiny arms wrapped around Zayn’s thigh as she watches her brother toss leaves above his head before she lets go of Zayn to try it herself. She’s in that phase now where she wants to emulate everything Jax does, running when he runs, laughing when he laughs, flopping herself on the ground in protest when Jax throws the occasional tantrum. He’s her favorite person in the entire world and Harry can’t even be mad that it’s not him, not when he sees the way Jax leads her around, showing her the ropes, the protective big brother that he and Zayn always knew he’d be. His children’s relationship is quite possibly the best thing Harry’s ever witnessed.
Everly grabs a few leaves and chucks them in the air and must say something funny, if the way Zayn’s head falls back in laughter is any indication. Harry doesn’t need to hear it to know how happy Zayn is, he can see it on his face as he grabs Ev under her arms and tosses her into the air. Her smile matches Zayn’s and Harry’s heart clenches like it does every time he sees it, the way she looks so much like her father, so much like the man that Harry loves with every bone in his body, with just enough Jax in her to recognize that they’re siblings. They’re all three so beautiful it hurts.
He’d felt a bit left out in the beginning, to be honest. After they’d brought Everly home from the hospital and their friends and family kept commenting on how gorgeous she was and how she looked just like Zayn but with Jaxon’s nose. Harry couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong, which he knows in hindsight was ridiculous because people had said the same thing about Jaxon when he was born, how he looked so much like Harry and was the prettiest baby they’d ever seen and Zayn had done nothing but beam at his family, proud of Harry and their baby, not bothered in the slightest that he didn’t share blood with their son. But Harry’s always been more sensitive. Always needed more reassurance, been a bit more needy. But still, he’d never expected for their daughter’s arrival affect him so much, at least not negatively.
They’d decided early on to take turns as sperm donors, Zayn insisting that they try Harry’s first, that he wanted nothing more than to hold Harry’s baby, their baby, in his arms. And Harry agreed, with the promise that Zayn would get the second go around, once they were ready, because Harry could barely stand the wait either, craving a child with his husband’s dark hair and gentle eyes.
And then there she was, Everly Anne Styles, born January fourth, three days past her due date, weighing in at a perfect eight pounds even and with the softest skin Harry had ever felt. A perfect mix of his husband and son, wide-eyed and calm, so much like Zayn that Harry had to rub a hand over his heart to ease the ache in his chest. He was so full of love for their little girl, he could have burst.
It wasn’t until months later, when both kids were down for a nap and Zayn found Harry crying in the shower, that he admitted out loud that he felt like an outsider. That he was afraid he wouldn’t bond with Ev like he did with Jax, or that Ev would grow up to think that he wasn’t her dad because she already had Zayn. Because she didn’t share his DNA.
Zayn had wrapped a towel around him and cuddled him on their bed, kissing his damp hair while Harry’s tears subsided, quietly whispering how ridiculous Harry was in between presses of his lips. Promising him that Jax and Ev adored him, that it didn’t matter whose blood was whose, that they were both their children and they would grow up with two strong, loving, protective fathers who would do anything to keep them safe and happy. And Harry knew he was right, like Zayn usually was. And from that day forward, he never questioned his relationship with his daughter again. His relationship with Zayn, however, was a different story.
---
Harry hates sitting in this room. It’s always a few degrees too cold, the chairs too close together for a place where privacy is supposed to be key. There’s a woman across from him sniffling into a Kleenex while her husband sits one seat away, chewing gum and scrolling through his phone like he’d rather be anywhere else in the entire world. Harry thinks he’s kind of an asshole, but also kind of feels for him. He’d rather be anywhere else, too.
“Hey,” Harry whispers, reaching over to put a hand on Zayn’s knee where it’s bouncing. He knows Zayn’s nervous, this isn’t their first rodeo and it’s always just as shitty as it was the first time, as they wait for their names to be called. He hates that this place makes Zayn anxious. “We can just go-“
“No,” Zayn snaps, flinching away from Harry’s touch. He keeps him eyes focused on where his hands are clasped together in his lap so he doesn’t have to see the look on Harry’s face when he recoils from him. He doesn’t want to be touched right now, not by Harry, not by anyone. He hates this room, hates why they’re here, hates the way his skin still craves Harry’s touch even when his heart can’t take it.
“Zayn-“
“Styles.”
They both look up then, blinking at the receptionist as she calls their last name. Zayn pushes himself out of his seat and walks right past the woman, Harry going at a slower pace and thanking her even as she sends him a sad smile as she holds the door for them. God, Harry really hates this place.
---
“Harry.” He looks up at the sound of his name, Dr. Kasper staring expectedly, and it’s only then that he realizes she must have been talking to him. He’s always been a bit spacey but this isn’t really the time and place, not when he’s trying to keep his life from falling apart.
“Sorry, what?”
Zayn scoffs where he’s sat a few feet away, on the other end of the love seat, as far away from Harry as he can get without pressing himself against the wall.
“I asked how things are going at home,” she repeats gently, smiling at him in that encouraging way that she has.
“Oh, um. Good? Yeah, it’s good. The kids are great, you know, growing like weeds, keeping us on our toes.” He knows that’s not what she’s asking and by the look she gives him, she knows he knows.
“And with Zayn?” she presses. “How are things between the two of you?”
“They’re, um…okay? I guess?” He steals a glance at his husband but Zayn’s staring at his hands, spinning his wedding ring around on his finger the way he always does when they’re here, like he’s contemplating what it means. Harry’s just grateful he hasn’t taken it off yet. “We don’t, like, talk much outside of dinner and bedtime, you know? But I think things are okay. I feel like maybe we’re…maybe we’re getting better?”
Harry’s head snaps over when Zayn laughs, actually laughs, like Harry’s said something funny. But nothing about this situation is humorous and Zayn must not think so either, with the dark look he sends Harry’s way.
“When are you going to stop fucking lying?”
“What?” Harry whispers, his eyes bouncing between Zayn’s.
“We’re not okay, Harry, not even close.” Zayn shakes his head at him, annoyance and disappointment clearly painted on his face. “We haven’t been okay in months, we’re not going to be okay-“
“Don’t,” Harry shakes his head, trying to blink back the tears springing to his eyes. He hates it when Zayn makes comments about them not being together in the future. He refuses to believe that there will be a day when they aren’t.
“Why are we here?” Zayn demands, staring right at him and Harry gulps at the attention. It’s the most eye contact they’ve had in weeks. “Why am I paying her to listen to your bullshit? Is it so you can feel less guilty about why we’re here?”
“Zayn,” Dr. Kasper tries to interrupt but he ignores her. He’s been waiting for this moment, for the time where he can unleash on Harry, and it’s finally here. They’ve been dancing around the issue since it happened and Zayn’s sick of it.
“Can you even say it out loud?” Zayn wonders, watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Can you?”
“Zayn, I-“
“You cheated on me.”
“I didn’t,” Harry whispers, shaking his head even faster. There’s no use trying to hold the tears back now, not with the way Zayn’s looking at him like he’s the worst person alive. “I didn’t, I swear. I never-“
“Just because you didn’t fuck him doesn’t mean you didn’t betray me.”
They stare at each other, Harry silently crying while Zayn’s eyes show no sign of emotion. He’s cried enough behind closed doors, locked away in their guest room because he can’t stand to sleep in the bed that he’s supposed to share with his husband. He doesn’t have any tears left right now, not when Harry can’t even admit that he’s done something wrong.
“Do you understand what you’ve done to us? What you’ve done to me?” Zayn asks, and he’s being gentler now, his voice softening, because he wants a real explanation and yelling at Harry has never gotten him anywhere. He wants Harry to look him in the eye and tell him the truth. Tell him why he sought comfort somewhere else when all he had to do was go to Zayn. “We come here every week and we do this dance where we answer as minimally as we can or you try to pretend that we don’t sleep in separate rooms and that we’re making progress when you can’t even look me in the eye and admit that you were wrong. That what you did was wrong. You caused this, Harry. You broke us, and you can’t even man up to your mistakes so that we can fix it.”
“What do you want me to say?” Harry begs, turning his body toward Zayn. “Do you want me to say that I fell out of love with you and in love with someone else? That I’m not dying inside every single day because I can’t even touch you without you flinching? Because I can’t do that, Zayn. I do love you. Not him, not anyone else, you. It’s only ever been you.”
“Then why-“
“Because I was lonely!” Harry cries. And there it is. There’s the brutal truth, the thing that Harry had been trying to hide. “I was lonely, Zayn. You were so busy with work and when you weren’t, it was all about the kids and that’s the way it should be, I know that and I’m not blaming you, I swear. He just…he was there and he was nice to me and he listened, even when all I had to say was something stupid. Because you were so focused, you know? I didn’t want to bother you. We weren’t…we weren’t us, you know? We didn’t kiss or hug like we used to, or cuddle in bed, and it had been weeks since we’d had sex. I just…it felt like I was losing you. You didn’t look at me anymore.”
“You found someone else because you didn’t think you could talk to me?”
“I didn’t find anyone!” Harry snaps because Zayn’s not listening. “He was someone to talk to, that’s all, I never-”
“I saw the texts, Harry, don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” Zayn points a finger in Harry’s face, eyes angry. “You told him things about us, about our kids. You flirted with him. You told him we hadn’t had sex in ages and you laughed when he suggested you spend the night at his place. You laughed, Harry.”
The room falls silent after that, Zayn and Harry staring at each other, Dr. Kasper’s eyes flitting back and forth between them, keeping quiet now because this is the most progress they’ve made in the two months she’s been seeing them and she doesn’t want to ruin it, not when they’re actually getting somewhere.
“I think I’d rather you slept with him,” Zayn whispers, looking down at his hands. “I think it would have hurt less to know it was just sex than to know there was attachment. That you shared feelings with someone else.”
Harry takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands, at the silver band on his finger that Zayn gave to him back in their shitty Manchester apartment all those years ago when they were two broke uni grads hopelessly in love. He knew then and he knows now, Zayn’s it for him. No matter how lonely he gets, no matter what Zayn decides when this is all said and done, Zayn will always be it, even if he’s not it for Zayn.
“I love you,” Harry tells him, clenching his fingers into a fist. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust, I’m sorry I thought it was okay to tell someone else about our problems. I’m sorry that I made you think I ever wanted anyone but you. Because I don’t, Zayn.” Harry reaches for him then, scoots a little closer and places a tentative hand on Zayn’s forearm, biting back a sob when Zayn doesn’t pull away. “I’ve never wanted anyone else. I just…it felt nice, you know? That someone thought I was special.”
“I think you’re special!“ Zayn gapes, hurt seeping through his tone.
“But it wasn’t about you. I know that sounds like bullshit or cruel or selfish but I just, I felt like I wasn’t important enough, or like a priority, you know? And that’s my fault too, cuz I should have talked to you, I should have said that I needed you more because we could have avoided this entire mess but it was just…it was stupid. I didn’t go looking for anything, I didn’t pursue him, I just…he noticed one day, that I was down, and it just started from there. I didn’t ever want more than friendship, I promise you. And I know it looks bad, I know the texts and shit, that it looks like I’m lying but I’m not. I didn’t know what to say when he made those comments, you know? It was easier to laugh it off, to make it seem like a joke because it was too uncomfortable to even fathom. I didn’t…I never touched, I never let him touch me. I never even considered it, I never would. I’m sorry I joked about it. I’m sorry I made light of the situation because that was so shitty of me, I know it was. If it were you and I’d seen that…I don’t…” Harry shrugs his shoulders, sniffling as he looks down at his jeans. The thought of Zayn acting the way he did makes his stomach turn. He hates himself for putting Zayn through that. “I don’t know what I would do.”
They both sniffle to themselves, Harry still touching Zayn’s arm and Zayn still not pulling away. They haven’t shared body heat in so long and they both just take a minute to revel in it.
“I love you,” Harry whispers, slowly leaning his forehead on Zayn’s shoulder. His scent and his warmth is so familiar, so intoxicating that Harry actually sobs. “I love you,” he repeats, turning his head so not even the doctor will be able to hear him. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I hurt us. I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the best of me and almost ruined everything. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you,” he whispers into the skin behind Zayn’s ear, carefully sliding his hand between Zayn’s, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Please. Please don’t let go. Please don’t ask me to leave.”
Harry doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He doesn’t know if Zayn believes him, if Zayn will ever be able to trust him again, but he can’t give up. He refuses to give up on his family, on the man he loves with every fiber of his being, on the future that they’ve planned together that he never thought would ever be in jeopardy. He’ll do whatever it takes to prove to Zayn that he’s all in. That he doesn’t need to worry, that Harry’s his and he always will be.
He feels it as Dr. Kasper tells them that they did well today, that she’s proud of their progress and Harry very nearly has a fucking heart attack. It’s just a gentle squeeze to his hand, a tentative swipe of Zayn’s thumb over his knuckles, something he’s felt a thousand times in the twelve years they’ve been together but today it feels like hope. Hope that maybe Zayn feels the same way. Hope that he wants to fight for this, for them, for their children. Hope that he won’t let Harry go.