Archive of Our Own

Louis and Harry have been married for nearly five years now, and yet it still feels like just yesterday was the first time they shared a proper kiss - because no, countless drunken pecks on the lips don't count.

He doesn't remember those drunken kisses, unfortunately, but Louis happens to remember the blush that crossed Harry’s face and Harry's terrible rationalizations - “I don’t know why I did that. Honest. I’m such an idiot and I understand if -” which, of course, was interrupted by another kiss, but initiated by Louis.

Louis' nearing his thirties now. Twenty eight, turning twenty nine in two months, but still as lively as ever and he can say his life has done a complete rotation, for the better, though it never was bad to begin with.

He isn’t as angry anymore, partially because of that damned couple's therapist Harry started making appointments with and partially because he understands that he’s a particularly lucky man.

Sure, One Direction ended almost five years ago - they never did come back from that hiatus - but he’s occupied himself with much more. He became a businessman, with Liam as his trustworthy partner. They’re the presidents of 78 Productions, one of the most successful record labels currently around, and they’re making more money than they ever did in One Direction.

They work with more than twenty acts, ranging from girl groups and boy bands to solo R&B and alternative artists. In fact, Zayn was one of the first acts they signed - he's also doing pretty well for himself. 

And Harry helps out with the label when he can. He’s busy enough with charity events and hospital visits to see sick children, but it never fails to make Louis smile when Harry unexpectedly pops into his office with a homemade dish. He’s also the best person to get advice from, many of 78 Productions’ acts prefer to speak with Harry, who's never anything less than cheery, than Louis, whose typical and has his bad days.

Harry’s done quite well for himself too. Louis is unbelievably proud of him. He’s raised more than ten million pounds for Project Evolve - all of which he’s smartly distributed out to research foundations.

Life is good.

He’s sat in his office, glasses perched at the tip of his nose, as he reads over the yearly tax report when his office phone begins to ring. He clicks a button on the black telephone and mutters,  “Talk to me.”

His receptionist’s voice, Sara - he knows that whiny voice from anywhere - floods through the speaker, “Afternoon Mr. Tomlinson. Harry is here to see you. Shall I send him up?”

“Does he have food?”

“Yes.”

Louis grins. “Then I suppose I have to see him. Send him up.”

It’s not two minutes later that there’s knocking on his door and he’s telling Harry, “Come in, love.”

The door creaks open and the first thing he sees is Harry’s mass of hair. It’s curlier than Louis’ ever seen it. He has it trimmed right below his shoulders - just how it was when he was younger - small ringlets are tucked behind his ears while longer pieces hang to frame his face.

“There’s my better half,” Louis takes his glasses off and sets them down on top of his paperwork. He stands up and walks around his desk to greet Harry. While kissing him, he braces himself on Harry’s broad shoulders, then, takes a small step back to absorb Harry’s existence.

He hasn’t seen him as often as he would like to during the last few weeks. They’ve both had different events and plans to tend to. It's a downside of things. They're both successful, but always busy. “I’m starving. What did you bring for me today darling?”

Harry is silently, but blatantly admiring him. His eyelashes flutter as he turns his attention down to the tupperware container braced in his hands.  “Oh. Uh - just some chicken salad sandwiches.”

“Homemade?”

“Homemade.” Harry confirms.

“Ah, just what I wanted to hear, you’re the best,” Louis takes his lunch from Harry and sets it down on the coffee table in the middle of the spacious office. He tears the lid off.  Instantly, the smell of mayonnaise fills the room.

He takes a seat and reaches for a sandwich, but pauses and glances around when he notices Harry hasn’t moved from where he’s been standing since he first stepped foot inside. “Are you joining me for lunch?”

“I wish I could. I can stay for a bit longer, but I have that charity gala - you’re still coming with me right?”

At this point, Louis has a mouthful of chicken salad.  “When is it again?”

“Tonight,” Harry gently reminds him. “Oh Lou - you’ve got a bit of - um,” he points to his own cheek, but Louis doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“What?”

“Uh - here,” Harry treads closer to him and uses his thumb to wipe the mayonnaise off of Louis’ cheek. He wipes the mayonnaise off on his own jeans. He doesn’t like mayonnaise enough to lick the substance off of his finger. He has to change his clothes later anyways. “So, are you coming?”

“To the gala?”

Harry nods. “Yeah.”

“Well, I mean,” He takes another bite of his sandwich. “I have a meeting for another client. You’re going to love this one. He sings that indie shit you’re into. Absolutely brilliant.”

“That’s great Louis. I’m glad, but are you coming to the event? I mean - I asked you last month and you told me you would come. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“Niall can go with you, can’t he? He’s not exactly a busy lad. As long as there isn’t a rugby game on.”

“Lou,” Harry sighs. “I’m being honored with an award, you know? And I really want you to be there. Can’t Liam handle the meeting by himself or maybe you can end it early? The gala doesn't begin until eight." He tries his hardest to bargain. Louis' a busy man, but that doesn't mean that he should dedicate any less time to Harry, right?

They haven’t spent any time alone together. Every time they plan a date it’s always either cancelled by a last minute business meeting or Liam invites himself and Sophia to come along.

It hasn’t been the two of them in forever.

And the thing is, Harry doesn’t want to sound like a possessive husband, it's just - he would actually like to see Louis on his own terms. Meaning outside of their offices and out of the public eye. They’re together at award shows, sure, but constant interviewers and photographers invade their personal space and it ruins the thrill of their nights.

He gets it, he really does, he’s often holed up at his own office, conducting meetings with the best scientists and researchers in the world and making calls to sponsors, but he tries to come see Louis at 78 Production Studios at least three times a week.

Easy to say, Louis doesn’t always put forth the same effort. He tries, he really does, but it’s hard for him to focus on much other than work.

Well. There's the explanation for their lack of children. They had the adoption papers all planned out, but once Louis began to sign more and more acts to the record label the two of them realized they didn’t have time for babies crawling around. Well - Louis decided he didn't have time for babies crawling around.

If Harry was going to raise a child than it would be with Louis’s entire focus and support. They still have plenty of time left, so he tries not to show his bitterness towards the situation, but, yeah, he's most definitely a bit annoyed with Louis.

"I'll see what I can do darling. I will try my best to be there." Louis swallows and takes another bite.

Harry grimaces. "Right. Yeah. I should get going then. Have to edit my speech and all that." He turns and begins to exit the room.

There's something in the pit of Louis' stomach that doesn't feel right. It's a feeling that's familiar, but he can't fathom what it is. Has he let Harry down? Is Harry upset with him?

No, it's the pale flush of Harry's complexion and the way his hands tremble. It's the way his speech is more rushed than normal - like he can't comprehend what he's going to say before he says it.

"Haz. Sweetheart wait a second," Louis calls, standing up. Harry faces him, expectantly, and eyes him closely. "Why don't you take a seat? You've been working non-stop all week, haven't you?"

"It's fi -"

"It isn't fine. When's the last time you had a proper eight hours of sleep?"

Harry hesitates.

"Harry."

"I don't know. A few days."

"Harry."

"Alright - give or take a few weeks, but I have been sleeping a few hours each night." He says it as though he feels accomplished.

"How are you still functioning? Christ."

"I've been busy, but I manage."

Louis taps his fingers against his thigh, "How many cups of coffee did you drink this morning?"

"I didn't have - how do you know?" There's something in his voice. The tone, maybe. But it makes him sound like he's lying. He's had to have coffee this morning, there's no other reason for his behavior. Unless...no, of course not, that's not possible. 

"You haven't moved around this much since we were on stage. So, how many?"

"I don't know. One." Louis gives him a look - the look where he appears as though he could kill and Harry scrambles to correct his answer. "Okay, okay, you caught me. Two...three, maybe."

"Three cups of coffee and it's not even one thirty. You need to go home and rest. Take a nap. You need it."

Harry groans. "I'm fine. It's been a lot of preparation. I'll sleep after the gala. Is that a deal?"

Louis stares at him, displeasure evident in his expression, and sighs. He can't win this one no matter how hard he tries.

"I don't think my opinion matters, but yes, that's a deal. Just take it easy, okay? I'll see you tonight," Louis moves closer to him and squeezes his shoulders. "You know I worry Harry. I don’t mean to bother you but I -" 

"I know you do Lou," Harry smiles, softly, "And I love you for that, but I've been fine," He touches Louis' cheek, gently brushing the pad of his thumb against his cheekbone. Tenderly, he leans in and kisses Louis. "I'll see you later. Just tell me if you can't make it. I won't be mad. I'll get Niall to come."

Louis presses his forehead to Harry's. His hands lower to grasp Harry's forearms. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too sunshine. Don't work to hard. I hope you get that deal."

"I hope so too. One more kiss before you leave, alright?" They kiss once more.

Louis watches Harry as he leaves. He doesn't feel too well about this entire thing, but he has it narrowed down to paranoia. Harry tends to make him feel that way.

It’s his epilepsy that makes Louis feel that way, though it's been so long since he's had a major fit. Louis can't even put a  month to the episode - he'd have to go home and check the seizure journal. The journal as recommended by Dr. Richards, it actually helps them a lot. It keeps track of seizures, large and small, as well as medication dates and dosages.

But the last entry must have been for something small - an absence, maybe - Louis doesn’t recall the last time he had that leather bound book in his hands. Then again, that makes him happy. He doesn’t have to constantly worry about Harry like he used to.

As the day goes on, Louis finds and stops Liam in the hallway by grabbing his blazer and tugging him close.

“Tommo. How’s it going?”

Louis doesn’t answer. “Is there anyway you can handle that Bradley Nolan meeting by yourself?”

“You mean the meeting we’ve been trying to set up for months? Why are you backing out now?” Liam asks. He jerks away from Louis’ touch and defensively crosses his arms over his chest.

“Can you or can’t you handle the meeting by yourself?”

Liam scoffs. “You’re the president of 78 Productions Louis. I don’t know how willingly someone will sign to the label if the president doesn’t have the decency to show up.”

“You’re my co-president. You know exactly how I strategize these meetings. I know you can do it. If you don’t get the deal...that’s fine. It’s my fault for not being there. It’s just - Harry has this charity gala tonight and he’s being awarded something. I told him I’d go and I’d like to stick to my word. Can you please do this for me Liam?”

Liam’s stoic posture fades as his arms lower to rest at his sides and his expression softens. “How important is tonight for Harry?”

“I don’t know. It may not even mean that much to him, but I need to be there. I haven’t been there for him these past few months and I need to start giving him the attention he deserves again.”

There’s a brief silence before Liam’s mold breaks entirely. With the process of having power over clients and getting married to Sophia, he’s a bit less soft than he used to be, but Louis has always thought that was a good thing. Liam was a bit too sensitive and nice beforehand and now he’s found the perfect middle between sensitive and crude.

“I can handle it. What should I tell them about your absence?”

Louis draws in a sharp breath as he thinks. “Tell them...well, everyone knows about Harry, so just tell them that he’s ill and I’ve left to be with him.”

“Try not to get photographed out and about then, yeah? Could be a deal breaker if they see pictures of you online when you were meant to be here.”

Louis pulls Liam in for a hug. Liam’s right hand lays flat on the small of his back.  “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course. Anything for you and Harry, you know that.”

Louis steps away from their embrace. “I’m going to go ring Harry.”

“What time are you heading out of here?”

“Uh - probably around six. I’ll meet him at the banquet hall. I think I remember him saying it was in Southampton. Two hours should give me enough time, right?”

Liam nods. “Yeah. Definitely,” He checks the time on his watch. “Oh shit. I’m supposed to call Soph. See you later.”

They part their separate ways with Liam turning one way and Louis his opposite.

Louis finds his way back to his office and he rings Harry. As soon as he tells him that he'll be there tonight, Harry's entire tone shifts to one full of excitement and glee and he blurts out at least ten thank you's.

"Anything for you love." There's a knock at his door. "Shit. I have another client coming in. I'll see you tonight, yeah? I love you."

"I love you too. See you later."

With that, the line goes dead and Louis straightens up in his seat, leaning his weight on his desk. He clears his throat. "Come in."

When Louis finds himself walking into the banquet hall later, he understandably feels a bit awkward. With a single glance around he doesn’t catch sight of Harry, rather he sees many little kids and middle-aged people dressed formally, in suits and dresses, as they stand around and talk with one another. The older people he sees must be on the board handing out the awards tonight.

Louis doesn’t really know what tonight is all about anyways, but Harry wanted him to come along and he doesn’t want to disappoint.

He tugs his blazer tighter across his torso as he steps into the large room. There’s a huge buffet table pushed against the wall on the opposing side of the wall. Circular tables litter the center of the room, laced with silky white tablecloths, and black chairs are partially tucked underneath. A risen stage is at the far end of the room, with at least ten stairs on each side, leading up to where a podium sits in the middle. There are white lights looped around the podium and stage.

It’s a rather classy sight.

Louis brushes past multiple strangers before he spots Harry speaking with a little boy - who’s no older than ten. The boy’s mother and father stand behind him, staring at Harry with impressed expressions and soft smiles. Harry says something which causes the mother to laugh and latch onto her husband.

Louis can’t help but stand back and grin from ear to ear as he watches the encounter.

Harry has always been a charmer.

And does Harry looks fit as ever tonight. His hair is brushed back and thick, shiny ringlets hang past his shoulders and down his back. A sapphire blue jacket, patterned with white geometric circles, tautly pulls across his shoulders and he wears a pair of trousers to match. Underneath he wears a white collared button up with his cross and medical alert necklace hidden underneath.

Louis flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, mouth watering as he stares at Harry. He’s grown to be such a beautiful man and he’s all Louis’.

Harry’s always been beautiful, of course, but he’s even more mature now, his features aren’t as child-like, they fit together in a stunning way. A sharper jaw, darker eyes, stubble, more muscles.

Louis must fall into his peripheral. Harry glances over in his general direction a few times before he finally catches his eyes. A smile spans across his face and he waves for Louis to come over.

As soon as Louis wanders over to him and kisses his cheek, Harry loops his arm around his waist and slides him closer, introducing him, “This is my husband, Louis. Louis, this is Annabelle, David, and their son William. They’ve been working closely with Project Evolve.”

Louis holds his hand out. “Pleasure. The organization’s been treating you well, yeah? Nice of you to come out and support Harry tonight.”

David takes the opportunity to shake his hand. “Of course. H has helped my family and I through so much. It’s the least we could do.”

“That’s great to hear.” Louis pulls away, allowing his hand to fall back down to his side, and Annabelle smiles at him. Harry's grip tightens on him and he tenses ever-so-slightly. “I’m very proud of him.”

“Rightfully so.”

Louis glances up at Harry. There’s a slight blush that has crossed over his cheeks and he shifts his focus down to his black Chelsea boots. Louis touches his cheek with the back of his hand, smiling, and peers back towards the family of three. “It’s very nice to meet you William.”

William grins - nervously, but nevertheless it’s some display of contentment. “You too. Hi.”

“You know - would it be alright if I stole Harry away for a bit?”

“Of course. See you later on H. Good luck. Louis, it was nice to meet you.” David places his hand on top of William’s head and ruffles his hair.

“You too.”

He watches the three of them disappear into the throng of people and once they’re completely out of sight, he turns to face Harry. “How’s it been? You haven't been here by yourself for long have you? I didn't mean to be late.”

“Nonsense. People are still arriving so it’s been quite calm which is definitely nice. I’ve met some new people that are apart of the organization.”

“Have you? That’s fantastic babe.” Louis reaches for his hand and takes it into his own, intertwining their fingers “And how are you feeling? Did you rest up like I suggested?”

“Great. I’m feeling lovely.” Harry smiles, but Louis seems to catch a bit of a grimace behind those pearly white teeth and plump lips he knows so well.

His eyes narrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I would tell you if I felt poorly. Besides, I need to be here tonight. It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“But if you’re not feeling well then -”

“I said I feel fine. Can you just let it go? Tonight means a lot to me. I don’t want to get into some stupid argument with you over something that won’t matter tomorrow.”

Louis presses his palm to the side of Harry’s neck. “You’re right darling. I don’t mean to overstep myself. You know I -”

“Worry. Yes Louis. I know you worry and I love you very, very much for that, but I’m okay. I promise lovely."

Louis pouts. “Can I have a kiss to prove it?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but, indeed, leans in closer and kisses Louis. It’s tender at first, but evolves to be rather intense, until Louis distances the two of them. “Easy. You can have at me all you want later.“ he teases, patting Harry’s chest. “Now, what should we do?”

“I reckon I’m going to go socialize a bit more, but if you want to go grab a bite to eat and find us somewhere to sit, I’ll be right over. They're supposed to have divine Parmesan chicken, at least that's what my mum was telling me."

Louis nods. “Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to grab you something?”

“No. I’m alright. Thank you.”

That’s a bit odd, but Louis doesn’t question it. “Uh - okay. I’ll see you in a few.” He crosses the room and ends up in front of the buffet table.

It’s definitely not a overall comfortable feeling that’s fallen over him, but he’s able to calm his mind by reasoning with himself. There could be a few reasons for Harry’s absence of appetite.

His medication is such a high dosage, especially now that it's in the form of injection. It makes him nauseous sometimes.

Or he could have eaten dinner before he arrived tonight.

Or maybe his nerves are beginning to get the best of him and he doesn’t want to risk losing his food up on stage.

Or it could simply be that he doesn’t feel like eating right this moment and he’ll devour something later in the night.

Louis shouldn’t worry and so he doesn’t - not on the outside at least. He can feel himself drowning in fear and panic internally, but as long as Harry doesn’t see it than all is well.

After Louis finishes his dinner and scrolls through his phone for a few minutes, Harry finally comes back and slips into the empty seat beside him. “I’m sorry for leaving you by yourself.”

Louis shakes his head, brushing him off with a simple hand gesture, “Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s about you. Take all the time you need.”

Harry reaches over and rests his hand on his thigh.  “Thank you for understanding. I promise. I’m all yours for the rest of the night.”

“No worries. What’s going to happen now?” Louis asks, curiously, and places his hand on top of Harry’s.

“I think speeches will begin. I’m not the only one being honored tonight. Hopefully, I’ll be one of the first. It isn’t fair for you to have to sit here all night.”

“Sure it is. You have all of my support.”

Harry smiles. “Thank you.”

The lights dim and everyone who was standing is now seated at one of the many tables scattered around the room. A few different speakers start off, people Louis has never even heard of, but he listens with as much concentration as he can.

"I've never even heard of retinoblastoma. Does that mean the gent up there is blind?"

No response.

"Haz?"

Again, no response.

He glances towards Harry during one of the speeches about the struggle of childhood cancer and notices the blank look spanned across his face. He’s blinking repeatedly as though he has a tick, but in reality, Louis recognizes it as an absence seizure.

Twenty seven seconds pass before it’s over and once it is, Harry loudly exhales and goes back to what he was doing beforehand.

It happens twice more - that Louis notices and finally he can’t help himself. He needs to know what’s going on in that confusing head of Harry’s.

By the time he decides to question Harry, three more speeches have droned on and now someone special to Harry has taken the stage.

Keira. The little girl who Harry met when his charity first started is now a very eloquent fourteen year old. She begins to talk about her life with epilepsy and how she’s finally come to terms with who she is thanks to Project Evolve.

As she speaks Louis stares at Harry, trying to decipher for the longest time whether he should ask about his well being or not, and squeezes his thigh. “Harry.”

“Hm?” Harry doesn’t even glance over at him. He keeps his eyes on the stage - on Keira. Every word she speaks has him leaning further and further in interest.  

“Harry. Look at me.”

Louis doesn’t miss the roll of his eyes, not that Harry was trying to hide the rude gesture in the first place, and his lips purse together as he waits for Harry’s focus.

“What do you want? Whatever you have to say can wait. She’s in the middle of a speech. Don't be rude." Harry scolds.

His chastising doesn't stop Louis. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“You asked me that not even five minutes ago. Leave it be, yeah?”

He begins to face forward again, but Louis grabs his chin in the palm of his hand and forces him to focus. He can’t stand not knowing whether what Harry tells him is truthful or not.

“You’re having absence seizures, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes narrow and his face contorts into a look of confusion. He shakes his head. “I’m not having absence seizures.”

“Yes you are. You don’t even know you’re having them. I’ve seen you clock out at least three times now.”

“I don’t -”

Louis doesn’t want to embarrass him, at all, but he needs to figure out what’s going on with him. “What was Keira saying about Year 9? I think I missed it." He shifts his tone to one of innocence.

Harry shakes his head, arguing, “She didn’t say anything about Year 9. Nice try Louis.”

“She said -” He begins to say. “Oh, you’re right. Must’ve been another school year or something like that.” He forces a smile and releases his grip on Harry’s jaw.

He doesn’t know why he’s had three absences. All he knows is that it’s probably not a good thing and Harry might have forgotten to give himself his medication, which will make matters worse.

While he debates options in his mind, he sees the tremors’ in Harry’s hands out of the corner of his eyes. For as long as Louis has known him, his hands have always been affected by tremor. It’s a side effect of his medication due to being a high dosage.

He resembles the likes of a drug abuser facing withdrawal from their beloved substance.

Louis finds comfort in those shaking hands. His fingers spasm sometimes before large episodes and what he’s experiencing right now shouldn't be a sign of impending epileptic fits. It isn't. It’s Harry being Harry.

Keira continues to speak on behalf of children who live with epilepsy. Her speech about herself trails off and she begins to talk about Harry. “I don’t really remember when Project Evolve started. I was only eight, but I do remember meeting Harry and his husband Louis. Harry is one of the nicest people I know. He’s taught me how to embrace my disability. For that reason, he’s like my way cooler older brother," That earns a chuckle from the crowd. "Whenever I have any problems with my self-esteem or boys or even if I have a personal question I know I can call Harry. He's left that open for any of the kids involved with Project Evolve. Let's just hope he doesn't get hundreds of phone calls a day. Even if he does, his endurance and respect is admirable and I can see why he’s being honored tonight. He's been such a role-model in my life and many others and I just want to thank him for that. So, without further ado Harry come on up and get your lifetime achievement." She smiles and steps away from the podium.

Louis claps and stands up.

As soon as Harry stands up, Louis embraces him tightly. “I’m so proud of you. God, I love you. You deserve this.”

Harry kisses him, whispering, “I love you too” against his lips. He pulls away from Louis and treads towards the stage, giving Louis glances over his shoulder every chance he gets. He climbs up the steps and hugs Keira tightly.

Pulling away from her, there’s a metal plaque that’s handed off to him from her and his smile grows even wider. He strides closer to the podium. He takes a glance around before finding his voice, “Uh - wow,” he breathes into the microphone. “This is incredible. I’ll try to keep this short and sweet. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to talk a lot,”

Louis nods, whispering, “So true.”

Harry smiles. “Thank you so much for the award. Wow. This is actually heavier than it looks. I feel exceptionally appreciated tonight. Thank you for that. Um - I’m just really happy that Project Evolve is still doing well and making changes in the world. I love being able to help kids going through the same thing I’ve gone through in my life. Also, it’s been amazing to see all the other charities here tonight. I’m genuinely blessed.” He takes a minute to catch his breath. “Yeah, so thank you to everyone who has made today possible. My husband Louis, the council, uh - Keira, my family. Again, thank you for the award. I hope everyone has a great rest of their night. Let's hand some more awards out. Thank you."

A smile grows on Louis' face as Harry steps away from the podium and begins to walk off stage, nearing the steps. The pride Louis feels for his husband is greater than anything he’s ever felt before. His heart swells in his chest. Harry is the best person he’s ever had the chance to know and he's proud.

He's thankful to be apart of his life. 

Despite the positivity flooding Louis’ entirety, his smile doesn’t last for long, not when Harry freezes in his pace at the top of the steps.

Harry’s facial expression changes to one of extreme tension, eyebrows drawn together and a deep frown pulling at his lips, and Louis can see him teetering forward. He appears to be in some sort of a daze, almost as if he doesn’t have a clue where he is, and that’s when the small metallic plaque he has braced in his hands clatters to the stage floor, but it doesn’t draw away his attention.

Keira steps forward and touches his shoulder, but, again, there's not reaction. He sees her lips curve around Harry's name. 

Louis assumes he's having another absence. He can’t put two and two together quickly enough. He knows something more is wrong, but it doesn’t make sense to him. He doesn’t think much of it at first until he begins to think of all the odd occurrences throughout the day.

But by the time he realizes Harry's about to have a grand-mal seizure it’s far too late. There’s nothing he can do. There isn’t enough time for him to get to him and assist him into a private sector of the banquet hall and there certainly isn't enough time for Louis to even get to Harry before it starts.

Unfortunately, he comprehends this rather quickly. Even with the momentum he moves at, running towards the front, he’s too late.

Harry’s entire body loses function in seconds, his legs give out, knees buckling under his own weight, and he lurches forward. Regardless of the short distance to the bottom, it’s still as terrifying for Louis to witness. Harry’s limbs tumble over one another and his body twists over the rise of the stairs.  

Louis becomes paralyzed with shock, freezing in the midst of it all, and instantaneously adrenaline is pumping through his veins. His blood rushes to his ears. He can’t hear the disbelieving words or the petrified noises coming from anyone over the sound of his own heartbeat.

A quick glance around and he sees Keira's wide eyes and the councilmen who all dash forward in an attempt to help Harry.

There’s nothing they can do. Oh god, there’s nothing they can do.

Louis can feel his stomach drop. "Fuck." With teary eyes and an unsteady heartbeat, he slips through the throngs of people until Harry’s in his line of vision.

As soon as he's upfront there's somebody grasping his arm and tugging him back. "What are you -"

"He's having a seizure. You ought not to crowd him." It's an older woman. One with thin, decaying hair and over-sized glasses perched on the end of her nose.

Louis pays absolutely no attention to her, instead he’s focused solely on Harry. He's convulsing on the ground, gasping for breath, neck arching as though desperately searching for oxygen. There's blood dripping down the side of his face and out of his mouth.

It’s everywhere. Saturated into his white shirt, smeared across his mouth, on the floor, everywhere.

Louis jerks away from the older woman and as he goes to move forward he’s stopped yet again. This time by an older gentleman who steps out in front of him. “I can’t allow you any closer.”

Louis shouts. "Oi! You don't understand. He's my husband! Let me help him." The words come out with much more emotion than he anticipated, voice breaking over the rhythm of the words. He’s on the verge of breaking down into sobs.

He knows this isn’t good. Harry’s hurt. Harry’s really, seriously fucking hurt and Louis isn’t helping him through it when he needs to be.
Keira is knelt down next to Harry. Her hands hesitate above him, shaking with uncertainty, and tears freely soak her cheeks. She must hear all the commotion because she glances up at Louis and nods towards the older man. "Let him through. He can help him. He’s his husband."

The man steps out of his way. Louis can’t manage to say anything crude in his current predicament. Words aren't something coming to him easily right now.

He drops down to his knees beside Harry and suddenly everything becomes a reality.

This is truly happening right now.

There's a lot of blood. He places his hand on Harry's cheek, patting tenderly, "Babe. Harry. Harry. Come on." He whispers as though he's going to get through to him, as though he isn’t still convulsing, as though he isn’t unconscious, "Fuck. Has someone ringed for an ambulance?" His hand is changing in temperature and when he looks - he has Harry's blood streaked on his palm. 

Keira shakes her head. "No. Do you think we should?"

"Go call for an ambulance." Louis manages through clenched teeth.

“Louis I-” How is it even debatable?

“He fell down the stairs and he's bleeding all over the place. Yes, call for a fucking ambulance!”

Keira doesn’t say a word and stands up, quickly disappearing to find an adult with a cellphone and common sense.

Loud yelping noises are coming from Harry’s mouth and Louis winces. He hasn't heard that noise in what might be years, he can't stand it, but there isn't anything he can do to stop it. "Shh Harry. Hush, it’s okay." Louis whispers. He’s trying his hardest not to touch Harry. He's hurt - that much is blatant and there's the risk of hurting him more by touching him or moving him. "You're okay. Babe, I need you to know that you're okay. I'm going to help you. We just need to ride this out, okay? It’s okay. I promise. You’re going to be -" His voice breaks then and he can't keep in his emotions any longer. 

Taking a deep breath isn't helping him, his chest is rapidly moving as he hyperventilates and he can't find it within himself to calm down. He can hardly talk past his tears, but he manages. Harry needs to know that he isn't alone even if he isn't coherent, "Love. It's okay. Shh. You're okay. It's going to be just fine babe. I promise."

Harry's thrashing against the floor. His hands are fisted into tight balls and his ankles spasm inwards as his back and neck buckle against the ground. The amount of blood he's losing from his mouth and head is concerning.

Louis takes a glance down at his own hands and they're both stained with blood, it's underneath his fingernails, between his fingers, smeared across his palms. As he peers around more he sees that the front of his shirt and his trousers are also saturated with blood - Harry's blood. 

"Shit. Sweetheart, I need you to stop seizing. Someone’s calling for help. It's going to be alright." He reposes his hand on Harry’s arm. “Come on. It’s okay. Harry, please, I need you to be okay. You're all I have. You can do this. Please."

And with that, Harry's seizing slows. Until he's only left with jerking in his right arm and from the jerking in his arm, he stops moving altogether.

Louis pats his cheek. "Harry. Come on love. Look at me." A morbid laugh falls out of his mouth. This can't possibly get any worse. "Come on. Look at me. Harry. Wake up. Please." There's no response. He's completely immobile.

Listening closer, Louis doesn't hear him breathing. His breathing is typically loud after seizures, this is different than usual. He presses his fingers to Harry's neck. There's a pulse, which is good, though it's still concerning that he isn't breathing loudly. Louis holds his head right above Harry’s mouth and there’s small wheezes of air, but he’s struggling to produce a strong breath.

"Harry. Babe." Louis gently tangles his fingers in his hair and he tilts his head to the side. Blood and saliva drain out of his mouth. "Fuck." Tenderly, he wipes Harry's face with his sleeve. His sleeve becomes weighed down and warm. Louis swallows harshly, trying his hardest not to look at his sleeve, but he still catches the thick, red liquid soaking his shirt out of the corner of his eyes.

A dark puddle is pooling underneath Harry’s head, hair is matted to one spot on his head, sticky and clumped with blood. Louis doesn’t know what to do.

It feels like an eternity, but paramedics arrive and they squat down beside Harry. "Can we have you move to the side?"

"No you can't." Louis argues. "Just help him."

His tough exterior breaks. His body staggers forward and he doesn't mean to sob out loud, but he does, "Please help him."

"Easy lad. What happened?"

There's a female and male paramedic. The female is the one speaking with him while the male is checking Harry's vitals.

"He's an epileptic, but he hasn't a seizure in almost a year. He fell down the steps. You'll help him, right?"

"We'll help him, yes. What's his name?"

Louis swallows, eyes watering as he watches Harry struggle.

"Sir, can you tell me his name?"

"Harry."

"And how old is he?"

"He's - um - He's 26."

The female paramedic offers off this information to her partner. "My name is Rose. This is Kyle. Can you tell me what your name is?"

"Louis? Yeah Louis, I think. No - wait, I'm Louis." He rambles as though he's questioning the sound of his own name. He isn't able to hear his voice over the sound of his heart. It sounds warped as though it's in slow-motion. "He's my husband. Please just help him."

"It's going to be okay Louis."

"Harry." Louis looks up as soon as he hears his husband's name. Kyle presses two fingers to the inner side of Harry's wrist, but withdraws seconds after. He grabs Harry's hand.  "Harry. Lad. Can you hear me? If you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand. You had a seizure. It's going to be okay."

There isn't a squeeze. There isn't even as much as a finger twitch.

Louis goes to run his hands through his hair, but Rose stops him, grabbing his wrist. "Don't." She whispers and reaches into her pocket for a small stash of wet wipes. "Here. Wipe your hands off." She pulls a few out and hands them to him.

Delicately, he swipes the wet clothes across his taut, shaking hands and the blood disappears little by little. His hands are tinted slightly pink from picking at them. He allows the dirty cloths to fall on the floor.

A static noise fills his ears and he lifts his head up to look at the male paramedic. He's speaking into a walkie-talkie, "Larson? We have a twenty six year old male here, with blunt head trauma and a possible spinal injury. I'm going to need c-collar and a backboard. I'm sending Rose out to prepare an oxygen tank."

Rose glances towards Kyle and nods. She touches Louis' shoulder and squeezes before exiting the building.

"Spinal injury?"

Kyle sighs. "There's always a possibility when falling down the stairs. He isn't conscious enough to tell us if anything hurts."

As if to spite him, Harry shifts.

"Harry? Love -" Louis jolts forward and reaches out to touch him.

Kyle stops him with a hand gesture. "Don't touch him and certainly don't move him."

It's nearly as soon as Harry moves that he cries out. A sound of pain, rather than one of confusion.

"Harry." Louis presses. "Harry. It's okay."

Harry arches his head to the side and his eyes lethargically roll as he tries to find focus. His jaw is slack as he tries to form words. "Leh..."

"That's it." Louis whispers, ignoring the paramedics request, and grazes Harry's hand. "I'm right here. It's me babe."

Harry tries to pick his head up, only to cry out again, and draws in a sharp breath.

Louis asks. "What hurts? Haz, where are you hurt?"

"Louis." Kyle stresses, jaw contracting. "Settle down. Don't get him worked up. Harry, my name is Kyle," he touches Harry's neck to take his pulse again. "I'm a paramedic. You've had a seizure. Can you tell me where you're in pain?"

Harry doesn't respond. Whatever focus he has is all on Louis and his mouth is moving but he isn't speaking.

"Harry. Can you tell me -"

"Stop." Louis snaps at Kyle. "Obviously, he isn't coherent enough to answer." He moves closer to Harry. "Babe. It'll be alright. You're a bit busted up, but I'm going to take care of you sweetheart."

"Leh..." His chest rises and falls with every breath. He's struggling. That much is obvious. 

And his eyes - his eyes are pleading. He doesn't understand what's going on. He's scared. 

Louis swallows. "It's okay. I'm right here. I promise it's going to be okay." He can't touch him, which bothers him, but Harry's so disoriented that he wouldn't know if he was. "We'll have a bit laugh about this later. We always do, don't we?"

Harry's eyes are still wandering as he takes a look around. He doesn't understand where he is nor does he know who Louis is. He's trying to say his name, but he doesn't know that the Lou he's talking about is the Lou knelt beside him.

A third paramedic - neither Rose or Kyle - appears with a gurney. A backboard and a neck brace are resting on top.

"This is Dillion," Kyle explains. "We're going to get him onto the gurney and then we'll transport him to St. Michael's. We need you to step to the side."

Louis hesitates.

Dillion promises. "As soon as we get him situated, you can stay with him."

Louis nods and slowly stands to his feet. He watches Harry, who's mouth is pulled in a tight line, grimacing, and eyes are glazed over with tears. He doesn't look like his Harry at all.

Kyle carefully lifts Harry's head up, to which he protests, but Louis tells him, "It's okay. Don't fuss. They're trying to help you." and he visibly calms down.

Dillion takes the cervical collar and slips it underneath Harry's head. Kyle allows his head to relax back against the floor and Dillon kneels down to pull the other side of the collar around his throat. He pulls the chin rest up slightly, so Harry's chin and jaw fits more snugly. Dillion tightens the collar and snaps the two ends together.

Next, the two of them ease the backboard off of the gurney and onto the floor.

Kyle says. "Harry. We're going to start moving you now. You're doing great." Crossing Harry's arms over his chest in the shape of an X, he cautiously rolls Harry onto his side.

Harry cries out again and Louis takes a quick step forward, before he realizes that he's been told to stay out of the way. It’s instinct.

They're paramedics after all - they should know what they're doing.

The backboard is slid partially underneath him. Dillion changes his stance and he lifts Harry's shoulders up while Kyle lifts part of the backboard up. Together they're able to shift him onto it and flip him onto his back.

There's another cry that leaves his mouth. Louis' heart aches, his breath catches in his throat, he can barely manage to say, "It's okay love."

Everything goes fine and Louis keeps his distance until he sees Kyle pull a handful of straps from the gurney. "Whoa, whoa, just what are you going to do with those?"

"We have to restrain him?" His voice raises in a question.

Louis steps forward. "No. You're not strapping him down to that thing. I don't want him restrained. I make his medical decisions when he isn't mentally capable and -"

"It's part of procedure. We don't want for him to get injured further by falling off of the gurney. As you said he isn't mentally capable at the moment, therefore he's going to try and fight us."

Louis sighs. "It won't hurt him will it? I don't want you to hurt him."

"Completely painless. We want to keep his spine as straight as possible until a doctor is able to assess his injuries."

"Fine." He has to look away as they strap his husband down to the backboard. Once they finish, he turns back to face them and his heart falls into his stomach.

He isn't allowed to move towards Harry until they have him settled in the gurney.

Standing beside the gurney moments later, he touches Harry's cheek, "How are you doing love?"

Harry doesn't reply. His eyes try to focus on Louis but he still isn't mentally there. There isn't any recognition when he looks at Louis. He's had issues like this before. Sometimes it takes him days to come back from within himself. The fact that he smacked his head repeatedly off of the stairs doesn't help.

"It's okay." Louis whispers, pats his cheek, and forces a smile. "You're going to be okay."

Dillion asks. "Are you riding in the back of the ambulance?"

"Can I?"

"There should be room, yes."

He takes in a deep breath and steps to the side, "Okay."

There are still people watching them, but many have left the area. Louis doesn’t bother looking at any of them as he follows behind the two EMT’s and the gurney.

It’s possibly the worst seizure Harry’s had in the ten years he’s known him and seen him seize.

Once outside, Louis stands to the side and keeps his head turned as they load the gurney onto the ambulance. He draws in a deep breath and glances up towards the night sky to keep from crying anymore. He hasn’t ever seen Harry in such a vulnerable, lucid state and he certainly doesn’t like it.

His thoughts end when Kyle addresses him. “Louis. Rose will be in the back with you. Dillion and I will be up front.”

Louis nods as a sign of gratitude and climbs into the back of the ambulance. Rose shuts the back doors and it’s not even a minute later that the truck jerks and rushes out of the parking lot. Sirens blare in Louis’ eardrums, it brings him back to his boy band days, with the screaming girls.

Rose holds a large metal cylinder in her hands before she sets it in between Harry’s legs. There’s a clear plastic tube that she attaches to the valve and then pulls it across Harry’s torso.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, leaning forward.

She explains. “I’m giving him more oxygen. This is a nasal cannula. It just slips into his nose.” Two nubs slip into his nostrils and she loops the tube around his ears. Finally, she slides the fastener up, so the tubing doesn’t fall off his face.

Harry begins to heave out noisy breaths and Rose wipes his mouth and chin off with a cloth. “He’s starting to come to. He’s trying to now. You might want to tell him that you’re around because he may begin to fuss.” She tells him, while wrapping a Velcro strap around Harry's arm and taking his blood pressure.

Louis touches Harry's hand, whispering, "Babe. Harry."  

"Mm..." Picking his head up slightly and arching his neck as he looks at Louis. "Lou...fuck." he mumbles. As he speaks, his words are slurred. He has trouble enunciating his words. Louis can't even imagine how tore up his tongue and cheeks are.

"Hey sweetheart," Louis caresses Harry's cheek. Harry tries to sit up. but the restrains hold him down. A look of panic crosses his face, his eyes widen, and every inch of him is fighting against the straps. His nose scrunches once he feels the tubing in his nose. Rose steps forward, but Louis wards her off with a hand gesture. "No - Harry, no," Louis pushes his hand on top Harry's chest. "You had a seizure. Babe! Harry! You had a seizure, we're in the back of an ambulance, look at me, look at me. It's okay. You're okay."

Harry shakes his head. "No - I'm not - I didn't have a fucking seizure! I want - no! Let go! Louis let go!" He shouts.

"Hush, shh, Harry. It's okay. You're a bit banged up. You fell down stairs and you hit your head love. Love! Calm down. I'm not holding you down. Look!" Louis raises both his hands in the air so Harry can see that he is telling the truth. "They have you strapped down to the gurney, rightfully so, you're not completely -"

Harry groans. "How bad?"

"What?"

"How bad was it? I haven't had fits like this in almost a year. I thought that I had finally kicked epilepsy out of my life." 

Louis doesn't say anything at first.

"Louis." Harry whispers. "How bad was it?"

"It was - honestly, quite horrific. You finished your thank you speech and you were walking off stage, but you just - you froze at the top of the staircase...and I should have known Harry. I should have but you fell down the stairs. I didn't get to you in time," Louis rants. "There was a lot of blood. I would have taken you right home, but there was so much blood. You're still covered in it. I'm covered in it."

Harry glances towards Louis and sees the blood saturating the front of his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"There's no way you would have -"

"I had a fit this morning before I came in to see you."

Louis narrows his eyes. "Pardon? You - what?"

"I had a seizure at home this morning." 

"You had a grand-mal this morning and you didn't tell me?"

Harry looks up at the ceiling. 

"Harry. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you. You're busy with work and you worry about me enough. I figured you didn't need anymore stress."

"Didn't want to worry me? You scared me half to death at the banquet hall and you didn't want to worry me?" Louis shakes his head, glancing away, and bites down on his lip as he tries to compel the urge to shout. "It's past that apologies and reassurance now Harry."

"Louis, believe me, I'm sorry." 

Louis nods. "I know you are. But - you know what, we'll discuss this more later."

Rose looks towards them and offers a small smile. "We've just pulled into the hospital parking lot." The back doors thrust open and Rose hops out.

Louis squeezes Harry's hand once more before stepping to the side. "I'll be by your side as soon as I get the chance."

Harry doesn't say anything, takes a deep breath in, and tries to hold onto what’s left of his dignity.

Louis sanctions him to have a bit of privacy. He turns his back to all the commotion going on with getting the gurney out of the ambulance and into the hospital.

He’s angry with Harry. He assumed they had an open relationship. Harry should have called him when he was feeling sick or he could have at least called him after the fit happened or he could have even had the decency to tell Louis when he came into the office earlier. There were many options Harry had available to him, yet he chose not to tell him. Had he really been as consumed with work as Harry makes it out to seem? Did Harry feel like he couldn’t honestly talk to Louis one on one?

“Louis,” Kyle presses. “Go on inside.”

“Thank you for helping him.”

Louis steps out of the ambulance and by the time he’s inside Harry’s out of sight. He goes straight to reception. “My husband just came in via ambulance. Can you tell me where they’ve taken him?”

The receptionist points down the hallway. “He’s in a temporary room where one of our doctors is deciding whether he needs to be admitted or not.”

“Am I allowed to be with him?”

The receptionist nods. “Yes. If you give me the patient’s name I can direct you to his room number.”

“Harry Tomlinson. He came in moments ago by ambulance.”

The receptionist types on her keyboards and looks up when she has a final answer. “Room 241. You’re going to go straight and make a turn down the second corridor on your right.”

Louis thanks her before he takes her directions and heads to Harry’s room. There’s a curtain pulled, separating himself and Harry. “Excuse me?”

A woman in her late thirties and a lab coat braces open the curtain and pops her head out. By looking in the sliver of viewing space he’s been provided, he can tell that it is, indeed, Harry. “What can I do for you sir?”

“He’s my husband.” He points past her and at Harry - who’s now free of restraints and sitting up. “Am I allowed to be here while you evaluate him?”

The doctor turns to him. “Harry is that alright?”

“Of course.”

“Come in,” She steps aside and waits for Louis to step into the small area before shutting the curtain. “I’m Dr. Lykle. I’ve started off by asking him a few simple questions, such as his name, birthday, and place of residence. Can you confirm that his name is Harry Edward Tomlinson, he was born on February 1st, 1994 and he lives in London?”

“All of that’s true.”

“Brilliant,” Dr. Lykle treads closer to Harry and plucks his medical I.D right from underneath his button-up. “Seizure disorder. Epilepsy?”

“Yes.” Louis confirms.

“I’ve checked for signs of concussion and hemorrhage. I don’t see signs of either, but he’s going to need stitches where he’s broken his head open.”

“The paramedics were saying something about a spinal injury…”

“No. That’s ridiculous. He may be sore for a while, as into a few weeks, but I’ve also gone through briefly and checked over his spine. If he had broken a vertebrae in either his neck or back he wouldn’t be able to move as freely.”

Louis glances over at Harry and smiles weakly. “That’s great news. Now, are you keeping him overnight?”

“Yes,” Louis sighs and Dr. Lykle quickly explains her decision, “but only because I want to take proper precautions. He isn’t showing signs of concussion right now, but sometimes it does take time to show itself, therefore if he begins to throw up or feel extremely ill, he’ll have instant assistance.”

“Alright. I guess.”

“I’m going to give him stitches here and I’ll have him moved to a room. Someone will come and get you once I have him cleaned up and settled.”

Louis rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you." He looks towards Harry who looks less than pleased - he's annoyed. "I’ll see you in a few moments love.” He slips out of the room and slumps back to the lobby.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and first checks the time. 11:04. Fantastic.

There’s no way that he’ll be in for work tomorrow. He has to call Liam and so he does. Liam picks up on the fourth ring with a delighted tone, “I have the best news to tell you!”

Louis thinks opposite, especially as he looks at his stained clothing, “Yeah?”

“We’ve got him! Bradley Nolan has officially signed to 78 Productions. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Sure is.”

“You sound less than thrilled.”

“Oh trust me, I am.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Uh, well -” He hates himself in that moment. He loses his voice and tears brim in his eyes for the third time tonight. He clears his throat. “I won’t be at work tomorrow.”

“Louis? What happened?”

There’s no hesitance. “Harry had a major seizure at the gala. It was the worst seizure I’ve ever seen him have. He fell down stairs Liam. He fell down fucking stairs and cracked his head open.”

“Fuck.” Silence on both ends of the line. “Where are you now? Is he alright?”

“Accident and Emergency by ambulance. Yeah - I mean, I guess so. He isn’t spitting out blood anymore. He’s getting stitches right now and then he’s being moved to a room.”

“Louis, mate, how did this happen? I thought you said he was in the clear? Didn’t he start that new treatment? I thought that was helping him.”

“Yeah and the injections have been working…it’s been a long time since he had a seizure, but that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear and that isn’t the problem anyway. He had an episode this morning and he didn’t tell me. He didn’t fucking tell me. How am I supposed to know if he’s telling the truth? I don’t know if I can trust him when he tells me that he hasn’t had a fit in almost a year.”

“Maybe he forgot to tell you.”

“Harry is a lot of things, but he isn’t forgetful over huge things like that.”

Liam sighs. “Sounds to me like you’ll have to have a proper talk with him then. It isn’t your fault. It isn’t even his fault, but you need to rebuild your communication about it.”

“I guess you’re right. Well, I don’t want to keep you up any longer. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Alright. Night mate. Love you.”

“Love you too Liam.”

He hangs up and slides his phone back into his pocket. Sinking back against the chair, he becomes deep in thought, debating what he should say to Harry without overwhelming or upsetting him.

The next time he looks up is when he hears a nurse calling for “family of Harry Styles". He raises his hand, stands up, and introduces himself to her before she leads him back to Harry’s room.

As soon as he steps into the room, Harry arches an eyebrow at him, “You’re still wearing that.” He says. It’s not a question. It’s a statement and a blatant one at that.

Louis peers down at his outfit as though he’s forgotten what he’s dressed in. “My change of clothes is in my car which is still at the banquet hall.”

“You could ask for clothing. They seem like a nice staff of people.” Oddly enough, Louis finds it morbidly cute when Harry's words are slurred because of the innocence his voice holds. By thinking of this, he tries not to remember how torn up Harry’s mouth was earlier. Unfortunately, that's what repetitively biting down on your tongue and cheeks does.

Louis sits down beside Harry’s bed. “And you could get some rest. You must be exhausted.”

Harry lays back against the risen mattress, the back sits at an angle, so Harry is sitting up at an angle too. He’s in a blue hospital gown and a I.V needle is slid under the skin of his hand. The only signs of his seizure earlier is the gauze secured to the side of his head, the bruising across his cheekbone, and the scattering of scrapes on his face.

“I’m not tired.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“Fine,” Louis pauses. “Then you’re awake enough to have an adult conversation with me.”

“I’m never awake enough for that darling.”

Louis doesn’t laugh. “You scared me tonight Harry. Why didn’t you tell me about your seizure earlier today?”

“I told you already.”

“Well tell me again.”

“It wasn’t appropriate to bring it up earlier. You were at work and busy with something. I don’t want you worrying about me more than the label.”

“I already worry about you way more than that damned label Harry. You’re my husband. You’re my everything and I wish you would have said something earlier. I would have left work - “

“Exactly. I don’t want you to do that.”

“And why not?”

Harry laughs. “You don’t see it as clearly as I do.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the strain on our relationship. I don't want my illness to be the main component of our relationship. I have seizures during sex, I have seizures during the night, I have seizures trying to cook dinner, I have seizures while I shower. I pulled so much of your attention away from One Direction, you could have had so much more fun had it not been for me. Hell, maybe One Direction would still be around if it wasn't for me. It's too late now. Done and over with, I get that, but I don't want to do that to you with your label. That's your pride and joy."

"You're my pride and joy silly. Harry, I've stuck around for ten years. This label isn't a concrete thing. You are. You're physically with me. The label is abstract - an idea, a place, it's not you. I care about you way more than some stupid record label, okay? "

"Don’t act like you don’t hate the fact that I have epilepsy and I get us into situations like this.”

“I don’t hate it. Harry, love, no. You’re wrong. I won’t lie to you, it is rough to be in a situation where I am forced to watch you cry and convulse, and the epilepsy is a hard thing to cope with, but that doesn’t mean I hate that aspect of you. It’s part of who you are.”

Harry looks away from him. “You always have to be the strong one. You must be sick of me.”

“You have to be kidding me right now,” Louis whispers. “You’re the strong one in this relationship.”

“How am I the strong one when I’m the one who pisses all over himself and cries every time he gets frustrated? I’m weak.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re the strongest person I know, Harry. Twenty two years you’ve lived with epilepsy and you’re still tearing yourself down every chance you get. I'm disappointed in you.”

“Okay, but the epitome of strong isn’t convulsing and whimpering on the floor, is it?”

“For all you know, it could be. Strong is to persevere and keep a household together. Out of the two of us, who was the one to make an appointment to see a couple’s therapist?”

“I was.”

"Why did you do that?"

"I wanted us to be happy."

“And we are. Also, tell me who’s a major advocate for epilepsy?”

“I am.”

“Whose campaign is to embrace disability?”

“Mine.”

“Who -”

“Okay. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, but just because I’ve done those things doesn’t mean I’m the strong one.”

“And just because I take care of you when you’re ill doesn’t mean I’m the stronger one either. Harry, honestly, one day I hope to be like you. I do admire you.”

“Do you really mean that?”

Louis smiles. “Of course I do. Everything you do motivates me. I think you’re an incredible human being. You aspire me to be a better person. I’m sorry that the honor you were receiving tonight wasn’t as appreciated as it should have been. You deserved tonight and this shitty disease took it away from you, which isn't fair at all. I'm going to give you the appreciation and honor you deserve.”

Harry reaches up and touches Louis cheek. His eyes are teary. “I love you.”

“I love you too babe. Now come on, you must be knackered, I know I am, catch some sleep.”

Harry agrees, pulls his hand back, and shifts slightly to lay on his side. He whispers. “Stay with me until I fall asleep.”

“I’ll stay with you until the end of time."

"You're cheesy."

"I know love." He meets Harry's eyes. "But you better believe me."

"And if I don't?"

He yawns. "Haven't decided yet, but it'll be bad." 

Harry eyelids begin to flutter. "Sing to me." He breathes. 

"Sing to you? Harry -"

"I love your voice. Please?" 

Louis nods. "One song. That's it. If you're not asleep then it's your own problem."

"You don't mean that."

"Hush, I'm going to sing now," He clears his throat, but before he begins to sing. he reaches through the railing and intertwines their hands. "It's cold tonight, hurts to the touch, I'd say it's fine, but I miss you too much..."

"This is my favorite." Harry whispers.

Louis smiles, his airy voice continues on, "We're still so young, but old enough to fully grasp the gravity of love..."

By the time he reaches the chorus, Harry's grip has loosened on his hand, and when he looks at him his eyelids are shut and his breathing has evened out.

He watches him in awe. "Like a full eclipse perfectly aligned, we just fit together."