Archive of Our Own

“Kyra.” Harry drawls her name out. Though not really scolding her, he sounds serious enough to the point where she should know he’s slightly annoyed. “Sit still for daddy. I can’t brush your hair when you squirm like a little worm.”

Not to his surprise, she chooses to ignore his directions and continues to showcase her dance moves. She isn't good, which is definitely a trait she must have learned from himself. This is his own fault, he should have known better than to put music on. "That's it." he huffs, setting  the hairbrush down on his lap.

His fingers attack her tummy with tickles, causing her to squeal and slap at his hands with her own dainty ones. “Daddy no! Stop! Daddy that tickles!”

He withdraws and presses his lips to the top of her head, whispering against her scalp, “You have to sit still or else the tickle monster will come back out.”

“No daddy. No tickle monster.” She turns to face him, pouting. Before he manages to remind her that he needs to finish brushing her hair, she climbs on his lap and gives him a big wet kiss on the lips. “I love you daddy.”

He can't help but smile at her, meeting her eyes when he whispers, "I love you too cutie.” 

Kyra is his everything, which he didn’t know was possible considering the way he feels about Louis, but Kyra is theirs. Both of theirs. Not exactly their creation, but she’s their little bundle of joy. They’ve had her since the beginning and now she’s six, six years old, and thinking about the beautiful little girl she’s become this far never fails to make Harry’s emotions peak.

He was a twenty seven year old dad, uncertain of everything. Did he let Kyra sleep too much? Or too little? How much sleep were babies actually supposed to get? Was he holding her too roughly? Not lovingly enough? It was constantly a mental battle with himself. He wanted to be a good dad.

As opposed to now. He’s thirty three now and spends all of his time with her He knows her needs, her wants, likes, dislikes, everything about his little girl. Since he works from home, he wakes her up in the morning, sees her off to school, picks her up, watches movies or colors with her until Louis comes home.

When Louis comes home from working at the office he puts himself into full daddy mode. Harry would dare to say that he’s the better father. It’s his soft voice, his soft touch, the way he washes her hair, the tone he reads her bedtime stories with, that all make him a better dad.

Besides, he’s not the father who has constant fits, who has to be monitored by an ex-bandmate, who can't always do everything she wants to do. Louis’ the one making the most of his life. Louis’ the one who owns a extremely successful label management company. Louis’ the one who can handle the stress of most situations. He’s everything Harry’s not, everything he aspires to be.

It’s not like Harry’s organization is a total bust or anything. He’s managed to raise hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars for various science organizations, but the development of a cure for epilepsy is nonexistent.

He works from home because hasn’t been as well as he would like to be recently. Usually he works from the kitchen table when Kyra goes to school or after she goes to bed. Though he has final say in most things, he has someone directly beneath him who overlooks everything such as event planning and distribution of money.

Kiera is that someone. The little girl Harry met all those years ago is the nineteen year old boss of a building full of people. It’s insane for Harry to think about, considering twelve years ago when he was twenty one he was only beginning to build the organization and now she’s running it for him despite being younger than he is. She’s ambitious. He's very fond of her. 

“When will the horsies come for Auntie Pez?” Kyra asks, pressing her forehead to Harry’s.

“The horsies will be here Saturday.” he answers, kissing the tip of her nose. “How many days is Saturday from now?”

She hesitates for a moment as she tries to remember what her teacher taught her. Counting on her fingers, she says the names of the days of the week aloud to herself. “Four days!”

“Good job little one. I’m so proud of you.” he wraps his arms around her tightly, tugging her against his chest. She buries her little face against his collarbone.

They’re sat in a hotel room, a very lavish hotel room thanks to Zayn’s choosing, due to Perrie and Zayn’s wedding ceremony on Saturday. Finally, after all these years they’re getting married and since Perrie wanted to explore LA for a few days they’re in California for a wedding marrying two Britain natives.

Figuratively, there will be horses. Literally, there will be an SUV with the words ‘Just Married’ written in large pink chalk on the back window. Louis let Kyra watch Cinderella one too many times and now she thinks Perrie will be whisked away in a pumpkin pulled by horse-mouse hybrids.

“Auntie Pez’s dress will be big and poofy right daddy?” Kyra pulls her face out of the crevice between Harry’s neck and shoulder.

“Yes and so will yours. You’re going to be a princess for the day remember? You’re going to toss the flowers for Aunt Pez and Uncle Zayn.”

“Yes!” Kyra nearly screams in excitement.

“Alright, babygirl, settle down for me now. Let me finish braiding your hair and we can go see Aunt Pez’s dress.” He touches her arm, squeezing gently before he helps her back down, so she’s standing between his legs.

She sits down and doesn’t complain as Harry parts her hair down the center and French braids both sides.

He loves doing simple things with her like braiding her hair. The father-daughter time they spend together means the world to him.

They have the dress rehearsal for the wedding tonight and Harry’s helping Perrie set up, so they have to leave early. The boys are with Zayn, trying to find a nice place to have their bachelor party they’ve planned so precisely. Harry didn’t want to go on account of having to take care of Kyra. Even though Perrie insisted, he doesn’t want to leave her with the responsibility when it’s her wedding week.

Harry is staring at himself in the mirror when a shock of pain spreads through his skull. It has him dropping his tie on the ground and grabbing his head with a sharp shout of the word, “Fuck!”

Kyra whips her head around to face him, braids swinging off of her shoulders, and a look of confused fear crosses her delicate features. “Daddy?” she asks. Harry bets there are tears forming in her eyes. Her tone is fearful and sad and Harry doesn’t want her to feel that way around him, but the words of comfort he wants to express won’t come to him easily. His thoughts are foggy and his tongue is slightly numb.

She approaches him, slowly, tip-toeing as if he can’t see her out of his peripheral. But she’s too young to know any different. She doesn’t know what all five senses are, let alone what peripheral vision means. “Daddy?” she tries, again.

Harry somehow manages to find his voice and it’s vigor, though most of it’s fake, because he won’t allow Kyra to view him any differently than strong and loving. He pulls his palm away from his face and glances down at her. Tears are forming in his own eyes, but he blinks them away before they can streak his cheeks. “Sorry sweetheart. Daddy didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Papa said that’s a very, very bad word.” Kyra says, frowning at him. “Why did you say a bad word?”

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.” Harry replies and bends down, offering her his pinky. “Sometimes adults say things they don’t mean. I pinky promise to never say it ever again.”

“Never ever?” Kyra whispers, keeping her eyes locked on his. She can tell when he lies, he knows she can, she’s called him out on it before.

Harry confirms. “Never ever.” he smiles and pulls back away from her. “So, what do you have left to do before we have to leave little one?”

He stares down at her bare feet as if hinting at the fact she needs to put socks on. Louis and himself have always tried to push a tiny bit of independence on her considering one day she’ll have not choice but to be independent.

“I dunno.” Kyra pouts, staring at him with wide brown eyes. She follows his gaze down to her feet and suddenly understands. “Oh! Socks!” she squeals before waddling away from him to one of the dressers, where he had her help him put her clothes away. 

He bends down to pick up his tie and begins to button his blouse where he left off. Of course, he can’t wear a normal black or white blouse, he has to wear a purple blouse embroidered with bright blue flowers. At least he’s matching with the majority of the wedding party as Perrie did pick teal as a primary color for her wedding. For the actual wedding she’s wearing a satin ribbon around the midsection of her dress as well as teal jewelry.

It starts to become harder for him to clasp the buttons of his blouse together. His fingers fumble each time they try to push the teal buttons through the holes. They’re shaking worse than normal and he figures he ought to take one of his anxiety pills. That would be a good idea, since he surely took his anti-convulsant injection this morning, right? He did take it didn’t he?

Of course he did. He’s being ridiculous. He never forgets to do something as important as that...come to think of it, he doesn’t feel the soreness in his abdomen, but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t always after an injection.

Anyways, even if he did forget he’s due for another one before he leaves for the rehearsal and his shots from yesterday should hold him over. It isn’t like he forgot to take them yesterday either, unless he did...no, of course he did. He isn’t that careless.

But he was busy yesterday. He did have jetlag and he had to unpack, but that doesn’t mean he forgot. He’s not stupid. He’s been taking medicine for twenty nine years now, he’s definitely not forgetful anymore.

A second shock of pain courses through his skull, slamming against his temples, and he prods his fingertips against his forehead as if it’s going to make all the pain go away. 

Suddenly nothing makes sense to him. The tie falls from his grasp again and his arms settle down at his sides. He stares at Kyra through the mirror he was looking at himself in seconds prior. His eyebrows narrow in confusion as he watches this little girl wander around his hotel room. She’s sitting on his bed now, pulling socks on her small feet. Where did she get those size socks? Certainly not from himself and definitely not from Louis, even if he is a tiny lad.

Speaking of Louis, he turns himself around and glances around the compact room. Only to discover that Louis’ not around. Why isn’t Louis around?

They’re always together. He was probably supposed to stay tonight, Harry doesn’t really remember, but knowing the way things have to be, he’s probably out somewhere with Eleanor. Christ, here’s to another lonely night, he would toast himself if he had some aged wine, though the little girl is here so he can’t do that. He doesn’t have a clue where she came from.

“How did you get in here?” he asks. Where there’s one fan, there’s hundreds of others, and he certainly doesn’t want to deal with that by himself. Why did Louis get sent off to do another stunt? He needs him.

“Daddy?” Kyra jumps off the bed and moves closer to him. He immediately feels like he’s in danger, and so he steps away from her until his back collides with the mirror behind him.

Kyra tilts her head to the side, eyes watering with impending tears. She doesn’t understand. She’s scared too.  “Daddy? Daddy are you okay?”

He manages to move past her and he backs himself against the patio door where the cold glass sends a shiver up his spine. At least this way he has a possible exit. “Pardon? I don’t...daddy? Are you lost?” he asks, not understanding who she is or what she wants. There has to be some kind of ploy with this, someone must have sent her in as bait for a hopeful hook-up or a press story.

As soon as she moves any closer to him he becomes terrified and quickly thrusts the balcony door open, leaving her inside the hotel room.

It’s only 2012 in his mind. He doesn’t have a clue that it’s 2028. He believes his band has only been famous for less than two years, and he doesn't understand how stalkerish things heard about on television are already happening to him. This is insane.

Kyra doesn’t know why her dad is acting so strange. He doesn’t ever play games like this one. She would rather play hide-and-seek like he promised they would when they arrived back home. She follows him out on the balcony, but as soon as she takes more than four steps, her feet slip out from underneath her and she's flat on her back in the snow, letting out a loud cry.

Harry gawks at her as soon as she starts sobbing and screaming, eyes wide and mouth agape, and slowly he starts to approach her. “Oh gosh. Are you okay? Where are your parents?” he asks.

She shakes her head and squeezes her injured wrist with her unharmed hand, the intensity of her sobs and screams only progress. He starts to think of possible solutions, but it’s almost like a door slams, separating him from his own thoughts, and suddenly there isn’t any thought or emotion or action crossing his mind.

Liam decided to stay and help Perrie and Harry with preparing the rehearsal. Perrie’s always been a great gal and he didn’t really feel like going out to bars and strip clubs to find an appropriate place to have Z’s bachelor party. Mostly because Sophia would probably kill him and he’d like to live a few more years, at least until they have a baby.

“Will you go get H and Kyra for me, Liam? Tell them we’re going to leave in about ten.” Perrie asks, though it’s more like a command. Liam doesn’t mind either way, he can do something as simple as that for her.

He leaves the room and walks three doors down. As he’s nearing H’s hotel room he hears screaming coming from inside.

The wailing comes from the other side of the door and he freezes in place. He listens for another second to make sure it’s really coming from Harry’s room, that way he has a right to intrude. As soon as his suspicions are confirmed he doesn’t hesitate for a moment longer, yanking the hotel room door open. As soon as he opens it, the cries intensify, averting his eyes to the balcony.

He finds Kyra laying on her back in a pile of snow and Harry blankly staring at her, partially undressed. This is something he never expected to see and fuck, that really doesn’t look good.

It doesn’t make sense. Harry would never lay a harmful hand on her, but the way they’re positioned makes it seem like he has. Kyra’s holding her wrist from what Liam can see and he knows that means she’s injured, but he doesn’t understand why Harry hasn’t made an attempt to help her.

Nothing makes sense to him until he watches Harry tense, like completely tense, every single muscle clenches. He freezes where he’s stood and continues to stare at Kyra with a blank facial expression before his entire body goes rigid and he capsizes like a heavy end of a ship, forward and face first. The screaming is nothing compared to what it was before, now sounding extremely horrified and confused.

The first thing Liam can manage to shout is, “Harry!” he races forward, rushing through the hotel room, jumping over empty suitcases, and he darts out onto the balcony.

“Uncle Liam!” Kyra cries and tries to sit up. Pain shoots up her arm, forcing her to halt in her actions, and she helplessly stares at Liam with flushed cheeks and a snotty nose.

Liam goes to her first, assuming Harry has time, whether it be a few seconds or minutes before the seizure starts, and so he chooses to get Kyra out of there before it begins.

Louis has always said he doesn’t want Kyra to see Harry have a seizure, not when she’s little like this. They’ve done an alright job this far, but tonight may be the night that strict wish ends.

Usually, at home, whenever Harry starts to feel off or starts to look off they can get Kyra out of the room it’s happening in as long as they tell her that their cat is looking for her and wants to play or there’s a present waiting for her in her bedroom, she just has to look really hard for it.

Liam drops down to his knees and helps her stand up. As soon as she’s upright, their eyes meet and Liam touches her cheek. “Kyra, sweetheart, I need you to go inside and find your papa for me.”

Louis texted him a while ago saying he broke apart from the group and he was on his way back. He should be back by now.

Kyra tightly holds her wrist, sniffling as she listens to him. Liam notices, but realizes he has to weigh his options out properly. “What’s wrong with daddy?”

Liam swallows. He can’t just tell her. She won’t know what it means if he says he’s an epileptic that has spontaneous fits. “I don’t…uh. He’s really, really sick love. Can you go find papa for me? Maybe he’ll take a look at your hand too.”

At least he’s honest. Harry is seriously ill, this disorder is one of the worst things he has ever had to see someone else go through. It’s rough enough knowing Harry, his best friend, is living with this, but even if he wasn’t, it doesn’t take away from the fact that this is a terrible disorder.

“Is daddy okay?” Kyra asks, tears pour out of her eyes like a leaky faucet.

“Your daddy will be just fine gorgeous. I’m gonna take good care of him. I just need you to tell papa that daddy is sick so he can come help me.” he promises.

Kyra nods at him while he uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe at her eyes. “Where is papa?”

“You remember how to count don’t you?” Liam asks. Kyra nods. Daddy makes her count all the time.  

Liam’s trying to move this conversation along because he can hear Harry’s breathing deepen and he knows that means whatever comes next is bound to be detrimental for her to see.

He’s seen Harry’s fits enough to know what to expect, but it doesn’t make it any easier on him to witness it. The heavy breathing isn’t a good sign. He’s going to fall into the fit soon.

“He’s in room three, three, two. 332. It’s three rooms away from us.” he points in the direction he wants her to go. “You have to be quick like a bunny.” He would have called Louis had he not left his phone in Perrie’s hotel room.

“I’m a big girl.” she promises and disappears out of the hotel room in a matter of seconds.

Liam stands up. His knees are soaking wet and freezing from the snow on the ground, but he perseveres through the cold and makes his way to Harry past the uncomfortable sensation. If he’s this cold, he can only imagine how cold Harry is. He needs to help him.

“Jesus Christ H.” Liam says, softly, and shifts to kneel beside him. He isn’t angry with Harry. He’s angry at the situation Harry’s been put through yet again. He takes hold of Harry’s shoulders and as gently as he can gets him lying on his side.

There’s a huge gash slicing his forehead, blood everywhere, and a few lumps exceeding past his hairline. “You’ve got to be kidding.” he whispers to himself.

As soon as he speaks Harry meets his eyes, though it’s a very weak, lethargic stare, he still tries to keep eye contact with Liam. “Liam...I…” he tries, voice cutting itself off. He swallows and mutters. “Don’ wan’ 'is.” It’s obvious he’s losing feeling in his tongue and lips because his words are starting to slur.

“I know. Shh, you don’t have to talk.” Liam whispers.

“Liam…” Harry whines, body contracting together.

Liam grabs his hand, squeezing as tightly as he can. “I know Harr. Kyra went to go get Lou for you.” he brings his hand to his mouth and very gently brushes his lips against his knuckles. It’s platonic, there’s no romance behind the gesture, only reassurance and promise.

Harry’s body bucks off the floor and a cry leaves his mouth. He clenches his eyes shut, hoping, praying to rid the feeling coursing through his body. He’s cold and the cold burns against his fevered flesh. His backside, partially his front, and his hair are soaked with freezing water. As soon as fluid soaks the front of his pants, it’s initial heat fades and the nipping air takes over, turning it cold against his thighs.

“Shh. You’re okay H.” Liam whispers, letting Harry’s hand fall back to the ground. He wants to get him inside, it’s far too cold for him to have a seizure outside, but it’s too late to move him. With Liam’s luck, he’ll start seizing in his arms and he’ll end up breaking something, if something isn’t already broken.

Meanwhile, Kyra wanders down the hallway, trying to remember what the number 332 looks like written out. She doesn’t have to go far, the room is a few doors down, and when she arrives in front of the wooden door she reaches for the doorknob, but it won’t budge.

Papa always tells her to knock if she can’t open a door. He says it’s the proper, polite thing to do. Her little knuckles rap against the surface until she hears a click come from where the knob is built in.

Aunt Perrie opens the door for her, wearing a teal dress and heels to match, she looks like Cinderella. “Hello darling.” she smiles, crouching down, eye-level with her ‘niece’. “What are you up to?” she asks, then notices the abnormal curve to Kyra’s wrist. “Babes, what happened to your hand?”

“I fell.” Kyra says, voice sweet, not knowing that her daddy’s predicament is serious. “It hurts lots Aunt Pez.”

Perrie’s eyes widen. “You fell? Oh no...did daddy look at your hand for you?” she asks, taking the little girl’s elbow in her hand and tugging her closer.

“Nooo.” Kyra whines. “He’s very, very, very sick. Uncle Liam told me to get papa.”

Perrie stands up. She doesn’t quite know what this revelation means. It could mean one of two things, Harry has a fever and is vomiting, which is unfortunate and she hopes it clears up before the wedding on Saturday or Harry’s having a seizure, which is worse than any fever or flu.

“Oh. Um.” she hesitates, running her hand through her long blonde hair. “How sick is he?”

Kyra looks down at her shoes, crossing one leg over the other, and swaying side to side. “Daddy fell down. He has a bad ouchie on his head like the ouchie on my arm. See.” she holds her arm out for Perrie to see where there’s blood dripping down the side of her forearm.

“Oh dear.” she whispers, feeling slightly faint. She hurries to the bathroom and grabs a band-aid for Kyra’s arm. Kneeling before her again, she undoes the packaging and slicks the band-aid over Kyra’s bleeding wound. “Can you take me to daddy and Liam? Please?”

“Where’s papa? Uncle Liam wants papa…” Kyra pouts, drawing her eyebrows together. She truly doesn’t understand.

“I called papa already, he told me it’s okay.” Perrie explains, well, okay, she’s lying, but only for Kyra’s own good. She’ll call Louis as soon as she gets everything else settled. Of course, Harry won’t be able to give her the okay, to do so but once she’s in his presence everything will be okay. He’s off somewhere with Niall and Zayn, but he left early and he’s due back any moment. “Will you pretty please take me to see daddy?”

“Sure!” Kyra shouts and latches onto Perrie’s hand. She waits for her to stand before leading her down the hall to the Tomlinson’s hotel room. The door is still slightly open, Kyra pushes it even wider, showing Perrie inside the room, which is identical to her own. “See! Daddy’s outside.” she points to the balcony.

Perrie fights the urge to curse after looking out that way. She releases Kyra’s hand and bends down, taking her chin in the palm of her hand. “”Do you think you can do me a big favor?” she asks. Kyra listens with large eyes, anticipating whatever auntie Pez wants her to do. “We’re going to play a game.”

“Oh! I love games.” Kyra giggles, smiling wide at Perrie.

“I know love, so what we’re going to do is very fun, okay? You’re going to go in the bathroom and find my green hair brush. I hid it in there earlier. If you find it, I’ll give you a big surprise, but you can’t come out until you find it, alright dear?” Perrie rambles, losing track of what she’s saying, but Kyra seems to understand. She continues to eagerly nod. “Good! Go on now.” she bops her on the end of the nose and watches as she runs into the bathroom.

After Kyra’s out of sight completely, Perrie approaches the balcony, only making it to the doorway before Liam asks her to, “Grab a blanket and a pillow please? It’s going to be a bad one and it’s cold outside. I don’t want him getting hypothermia.”

She obliges immediately. Having seen him have a fit before, she feels as though she understands what to expect a bit more realistically. He had a fit years ago, backstage, at one of her band’s shows and she and Zayn had to keep him steady and reassured until security had gotten hold of Louis. The girls, her girls, her lovely Jade, Leigh, and Jesy, had handled it well, not freaking out or distancing themselves from him instead staying nearby and asking if he needed anything. Of course, they were a bit apprehensive and scared, but who wouldn’t be, seeing a fit for the first time with no informative background on the subject is horrifying.

At least, by having an on-again, off-again relationship with Zayn, she had an understanding of what exactly was wrong with Harry, though Zayn never sounded too certain explaining H’s epilepsy. His fits scare him. She use to get phone calls in the middle of the night regarding Harry’s seizures. He had another one , Zayn would say, medics had to be called, but he’s doing okay now, just hit his head a bit harder than usual , and Perrie would just listen to him rant and express, because he needed someone to vent to.

“Where’s Louis?” Liam asks, voice low. He isn’t angry nor is he upset, rather wondering why Kyra retrieved Perrie rather than Louis.

“He still isn’t back. Zayn and Niall are gone too.” she explains from inside. She pulls the throw and a pillow from the king-sized bed, returns outside, and continues, “Damn us for having a winter wedding, huh?” she says, kneeling down on Harry’s other side. She has Liam hold his head while she slips the pillow underneath, then, she drapes the blanket over his legs. “He hasn’t started...you know, yet?”

Liam shakes his head, doesn’t verbally answer her, and keeps his eyes on Harry’s who’s struggling to keep himself conscious. His eyes are trying to find focus and Liam wants to tell him to give it up, have the fit, it’ll be alright, but it isn’t his place to say anything. He rubs his chest like Louis always does, gently, whispering, “You’re okay H. I’ve got you. Louis’ on his way. I’m sure he is. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The seizing starts no more than a minute later. It starts off severe. There’s no buildup, no warning cry, just intense convulsing and pained crying developing out of thin air.

Liam instantly withdraws his hand, moving away from him, telling Perrie to do the same, “Give him some space Pez. He needs room to move. Have you called Louis? You need to call him and tell him Harry’s seizing. They keep track of that shit, y’know?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do that now.” Perrie nods, her voice is caught in the back of her throat. She hates seeing Harry in such a state of helplessness, when she’s always known him as a strong, brave man. Her phone is tucked in her bra, she inconspicuously reaches for it, not that Liam is watching her anyway, and dials Louis’ number faster than anything she’s ever done on her phone before.

Louis answers after that fourth ring with a soft, “‘ello Perrie love. What’s going on? What are you up to?”

She hesitates, watching Harry out of the corner of her eyes. His cries are loud, piercing her eardrums with the amount of forced anguish behind them. Liam is trying to keep his head on the pillow, but there isn’t much he can do without injuring his best friend further. He can’t hold him down. He isn’t supposed to hold him down. “Um. I...uh. Lou, where are you? Are you at the hotel yet?”

“In the lot right outside. I’m on my way up.” he answers, his voice tells her that he doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on. “Why? Need someone zip your dress up again? H is there isn’t he?”

“Well...yeah, but. Uh.” She’s interrupted by a particularly loud cry leaving Harry. It’s high-pitched and pained. Liam moves a tad closer to him, though refrains from touching him. “I know. Shh. It’s okay Harry. You’ll be okay love. I’m right here and pretty soon Louis will be too. You’re okay.”

“What was that? Was that Kyra? Is she okay?” Louis asks. He’s walking faster now, hurriedly making his way into the lobby of the hotel. He completely ignores the receptionist who asks him if everything’s alright.

“Harry’s having a seizure Louis. It’s a bad one too. He banged himself up.” she explains, voice soft. She hears a surprised gasp come from her side, her side that doesn’t having Harry convulsing and Liam panicking. Turning her head, she finds Kyra standing in the doorway, staring at Harry in shock.

Kyra starts to move towards him. “Daddy!” she cries, but Perrie grabs hold of her forearm before she can get any closer.

“He’s...oh fuck.” Louis breathes. “Where are you? Where’s Kyra?”

Perrie scolds Kyra. “I told you to stay in the bathroom. You didn’t even find the hairbrush. You lost the game.” she says, ignoring Louis on the other end of the phone.

“Daddy’s crying. What’s wrong with daddy? Is he okay?” Kyra asks, watching Harry with wide eyes. Liam’s trying to keep him from rolling back over on his back, but his convulsions are far too severe for him to do anything other than spectate. Harry rolls onto his back and his hips buck up against the floor, as if opposing the touch of the ground. Liam tries his hardest to keep the blanket over his legs, but Harry’s body won’t allow for him to be touched at all

“Daddy had an accident!” Kyra yells, pointing to where Harry’s front is soused with the urine produced from his involuntary cramps.

“Hey, hey, let’s not point that out.” Perrie tells her, sternly, pulling the phone away from her face. “Go back inside. Please listen. Go back inside and wait for papa.”

Liam’s still trying to keep Harry comfortable, despite the fact that there’s nothing more he can do. “It’s okay, you’re okay H. Shh. You’re alright. Bare with me. Louis’ coming to help you, but for now I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m right here.” Harry’s face is screwed up as his jaw sharply contracts down. There’s blood and spit everywhere, Liam tries to wipe it away with his dress coat, but even then, there’s too much for him to clean up since Harry isn’t even remotely coherent.

“Perrie? Is Kyra there with you?” Louis asks again, panicked. He’s running now, as fast as he can, up the stairs, he couldn’t wait any longer for the elevator to arrive back down to ground level. “Perrie, for the love of God, is she there with you? Is she okay?”

By the time he reaches the third floor, Perrie finally answers, “Yeah. She’s right here. She’s okay. I think...he’s starting to slow down. Liam’s helping him back onto his side.” she whispers.

Louis’ thankful, he is, though his gratefulness doesn’t keep him from barging into the hotel room. When he sees the scene happening outside, he doesn’t quite understand how this has happened. Harry should have been fine for the entirety of this trip. Kyra should have never seen Harry, her father, in this sort of state.

He doesn’t waste any more time, thinking it over. He’s outside in a matter of seconds, dropping down to his knees beside Kyra, because Liam has Harry under control, for now. He’s starting to slow down as Perrie said, he isn’t shaking as intensely as usual. He’ll be fine.

“Oh god Kyra.” he says, taking her face between his hands. As soon as he gives her a proper inspection, he notices the odd curve of her wrist. “Are you okay darling? What happened to your arm?” 

Kyra draws in a shaky breath, pouting her bottom lip. “I fell papa. It hurt.”

Louis’ meets her eyes. “I’m sure it did honey. We’ll have a doctor take a look at it, okay? And then papa’s going to buy you anything you want.” he presses a kiss to her cheek. As soon as he withdraws, a cry, a cry he’s heard time after time again, fills his ears, and he whips his head around to look at Harry.

He dares to ask. “Is he okay?”

“He’s going into a second fit Louis.” Liam tells him, trying his hardest not to sound panicked, but he fails, indefinitely. He’s rubbing Harry’s arm as the weak tremor evolves to spastic attacks on his muscles. His neck arches and his eyes roll back again as his body continuously stiffens. “No, no, you’re okay H. Shh. You’re okay.”

Something’s wrong, Louis realizes. He never has fit on top of fit, not like this. “Perrie, I need you to take Kyra inside and call 911. Something’s wrong with him.”

“What? Call 911? What do I...what should I say?” Perrie asks as if she isn’t sure what he means. She’s never had to make a 911 call before and the fact that it’s for Harry makes her feel extremely disgruntled.

“Tell them he’s having continuous seizures! Anything, Perrie, it doesn’t fucking matter as long as they get someone here. Shit, this isn’t right.” he hisses, clambering away from Kyra. He shifts to kneel beside Harry. “Liam, how long was the first seizure? Did it go over five minutes?”

Liam shuts his eyes, thinking it over carefully before he answers. “I think...about three and a half minutes.”

“Okay…” Louis breathes. “Were you...were you with him when it started?”

Liam shakes his head. “Not at first, that’s why he’s so busted up. I was coming to get them so we could leave, but I heard Kyra crying and when I opened the door...you know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” he rubs the back of his neck as he stares at Harry, who’s gone blue in the lips, then shifts his attention up at the sky. This isn’t happening. This can’t seriously be happening, not like this.

Harry’s crying, which always makes his heart ache, but it’s a sort of crying that is more of a yelping, making Louis feel sick to his stomach. Harry’s in pain. He’s recognized the signs and the way they differ depending on the severity of his fits and Louis knows. He knows Harry’s in pain right this very moment.

“It’s okay baby.” Louis says, though he doesn’t mean a word of it. It isn’t okay. This isn’t okay. None of this is okay. “You’re okay. Shh. I know honey, I know. I’m right here.”

The next thing Louis hears is Perrie frantically telling an operator that her friend is having multiple seizures and listing off their current location. Kyra is crying, begging for her daddy, Louis does feel sorry for her, but he can’t have her getting in the way.

“It’s okay Haz.” he whispers, rubbing circles against Harry’s chest. His heart is rapidly palpitating against his sternum, it’s rather concerning, considering the amount of distress his body’s experiencing. “You’re okay darling. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out, like we always do. Hush...you’re fine, keep breathing for me, you’re doing so good angel. Keep it up for me. I’m so proud.”

Harry’s unexpectedly vomits, despite being mid-fit, catching Louis by surprise. Louis quickly moves to tilt his head, allowing the thick liquid to drain out of his mouth as it comes.

“What’s happening?” Liam asks, slightly horrified. He’s seen many of Harry’s fits, but never one as awful as this. Louis hasn’t even seen one as awful as this and he’s seen far more than Liam ever has.

Louis’ eyes tear up as he watches Harry struggle to breathe. “I think...oh god. I don’t know. This is my fault. I should have checked on him earlier.” He brings his hand to his face, trying to wipe his eyes, but his fingers shake too much for him to properly get rid of the tears threatening to leave him.

“It’s not.” Liam argues. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself. He’ll be okay, Louis, he always is.”

The seizing starts to fade, only to reignite and transform into worst shakes than before. “Jesus Christ.” Louis whispers, watching Harry with wide, horrified eyes and a clenched jaw. It’s never been this bad. He’s never seen Harry like this. There isn’t anything he can do about it, aside from continuing to say, “You’re okay sweetheart. It’ll be alright. Help is on the way and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

This third seizure has to be the worst of the three, far more severe and jerky than the rest. Louis meets Liam’s eyes, "This isn’t good. This really isn’t good.” he breathes.

“It’ll be okay Louis.” Liam says, though it’s hard for Louis to find comfort in those words. Liam doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know if any of this will be okay. He doesn’t know what the future holds.

The seizure goes into a fourth and then a fifth, leaving Harry with less than a few seconds in between to catch his breath, however it isn’t enough time by far. “Come on H. It’s fine baby. You’ll be just fine. You’ve got to keep breathing for me.”

As soon as the medics come, Liam stands up, allowing them to get in between himself and Harry. The medics don’t waste any time dwelling on hesitation, dropping to their knees beside Harry, “How long has he been seizing?”

“Uh.” Louis hesitates, running a hand through his hair. He stays right beside Harry. Harry hasn’t stopped. Why hasn’t he stopped? “This is his fifth consecutive one. I don’t…he was seizing before I got to him. I haven’t kept track of time. I’m not sure.”

Anne told him one time about an encounter Harry had similar to this one when he was fourteen or so, but that was over sixteen years ago. He hasn’t had consecutive seizures like this in front of Louis, ever. It’s never been this bad.

There’s two medics. Both male, one much younger than the other. “Drew, let’s get an I.V. started, see if we can get the seizing to settle before we try to move him.” the older one instructs. He turns to face Louis, “What’s his name?”

“Harry Tomlinson.” Louis answers, without any hesitation, watching Harry with sorrow eyes. He feels a desire to apologize, not for Harry, but to Harry because this is awful. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Relation to you?” he asks.

“He’s my...we’re married. Uh. Our daughter is inside, you know it’s kind of...um, is there anything I can do?” Louis asks, careful to not push himself on the paramedics, he doesn’t want to upset or anger either of them, especially not with the life of his husband in their hands.

The younger paramedic, Drew, digs through his large duffel as the older, unnamed medic continues to speak with Louis, attempting to keep him somewhat calm. “Do you have a list of the medication he takes? It would be very helpful. We don’t want any medication contradicting each other and causing a bigger reaction.”

“Uh...yeah, it’s in his wallet. He always carries it with him.”  Louis replies, turning his attention to Liam. He doesn’t have to speak a word, Liam understands, and slips inside the hotel room to search for Harry’s wallet. Louis can’t leave Harry, not now, not when he’s seizing and struggling to breath.

A particular gasp for air has Louis’ attention, again. He redirects his attention to Harry, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. This is past bothersome, it’s severe, intense, horrifying, any bad feeling Louis’ ever experienced doesn’t even particularly compare to how he’s feeling right now. “Come on H. It’s okay. I’m getting you some help right now, you’ll be just fine, I promise, keep breathing for me. They’re going to give you some good stuff to help you calm down.” He refrains for touching him. Drew has his arm, right below the elbow, held in a gentle grasp as he searches for a vein to insert a large needle, then the I.V. “What are you giving him?” Louis asks, swallowing.

“Easy lad. I’m administering an injection of dextrose and thiamine and then I’m going to start him on an anticonvulsant. We’ve got to get a handle on his status epilepticus before we can move him.” he answers, oddly calm. He finally manages to find a vein and inserts the needle, cautiously, though quickly.

There it is. Louis knows he’s heard that diagnosis before. It is what Anne explained to him years and years ago, despite the length of time passed, he can still remember the vague description of the event.

He wants to move closer, lean in, brush Harry’s hair off of his forehead, wipe the drool off his cheeks, but the crippling reality is he can’t, he can’t help Harry right now. He’ll only hurt him more if he touches him, god knows, how injured he may be currently.

As he reaches the climax of the seizures, his back arches, strangled cries leave his throat, his entire body clenches. This only continues for close to a minute before the medication sets in and forces his body to relax. “Is he...he’s done seizing, right?” Louis asks.

“We still need to keep a close eye on him.” Drew replies, carefully adjusting Harry’s head to the side, draining all fluid from his mouth. “Karl, call it in to St. Mary’s. He needs immediate medical assistance.”

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry. There isn’t a single movement that comes from his younger husband, not even a slight twitch of an eyelid, he’s too far gone. “Is Harry going to be okay?”

“As long as we can prevent hypothermia and respiratory distress, Harry should be just fine. He does need immediate care though, there’s always a possibility of brain damage after something as severe as this.” Drew sounds truthful, but Louis doesn’t know if he can trust him, not yet. “It’ll be fine lad. We’re going to move him now, so I do need you to step to the side.”

There’s no argument. There’s no sense in arguing with someone who is trying to keep Harry breathing. Harry’s struggling, anyone with a brain can tell that his body’s having a hard time trying to process everything. He isn’t conscious which is making everything worse, like a lot worse, because he isn’t in control.

Karl speaks to the receptionist at the hospital briefly over the phone before hanging up and attending back to the list Liam’s handed him. He shoves the piece of scrap paper in his pants pocket after giving it a thorough read. “Thank you lad.” he says, then, approaches Harry. He gives a single glance towards him and without hesitance he goes to retrieve the gurney they left inside the hotel room.

Louis rises to his feet. His eyes are tearing up, yet again, he tries hardest to blink away the emotion, but he can’t. This is all too much. Harry’s in good hands though, he has to remind himself of that, Harry will be okay.

And everything goes smoothly, they have Harry on the gurney and they’re close to rushing him down to the ambulance until his body arches and guttural gasps start to leave him. “Oh my god. What’s...what’s wrong with him? Is he seizing again?” Louis asks.

“He’s going into respiratory distress Karl, we need to intubate him before we can move him.” Drew says, trying his hardest to remain calm. He reaches for his duffel bag.

“No, no can’t you...please don’t intubate him. There has to be something else you can do.”

“There’s not another option. I’m sorry.” Drew says, quickly zipping the duffel open and collecting all the supplies needed to intubate Harry.

Louis watches on with tears pouring down his face and finally, he can’t anymore. He curls in on himself and exhales a sob. Liam rushes over to him and pulls his trembling best friend into a bone-crushing hug. “Don’t watch. You don’t have to watch. It’s alright Louis. They’re helping him. I swear to god, on my nan’s grave, nothing bad is going to happen to Harry. He’ll be okay.” he whispers into his ear.

“I...why does this always happen?” Louis cries, fisting the front of Liam’s shirt. He buries his face into Liam’s neck, soaking his ex-bandmates cold flesh with warm tears. “We don’t deserve this. Harry doesn’t deserve this! Kyra doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves this Liam, so why do we have to deal with it?”

“Shh. I don’t know.” Liam presses his chin to the top of Louis’ head, rubbing his back with ease. “It’s going to be just fine. Don’t worry about it. Look, they’re done intubating him.” he pulls away and allows Louis peak past him to see Harry.

Louis wipes at his eyes, clears his throat, then speaks, “Can I ride with him?”

“I’m afraid not. We need all the room we have, but as soon as we get him to the hospital, I’ll make sure a doctor speaks with you immediately.” Karl promises.

There’s nothing else to say. Louis only nods, slightly dumfounded, and looks away as they haul his husband away from him.

He prays this won’t be the last time he sees him.

Harry wakes several days later. The first thing he comprehends is the rhythmic beeping coming from both ends of the room. He’s too weak to move, he realizes, and there’s a strange taste in his mouth.

Louis keeps a tight hold on his hand, doesn’t look his way until he feels Harry’s tensing underneath him, but when he does look his way, tears well in his eyes. "Hey babe,” he whispers. “It’s good to have you back.”

Harry begins to nod, only freezing when he feels something lodged in his throat. His hands dart to the obstruction, clawing at the tube inserted.

“No, no,” Louis says, softly, pulling Harry’s hands away from the tube. “You have to leave it honey. You were having trouble breathing and they had to intubate you. The doctor will take it out for you, I promise. It’s okay.”

Harry visibly starts to settle. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes drift to watch Louis. He starts to sign with his fingers, spelling out the name Kyra’s with motions of his hands.

The two of them took a sign language class years ago. They could never be silenced with their secret language. It’s always been important, but right now particularly, it’s even more important.

“She’s alright sweetheart.” Louis promises and if Harry could, he would take a deep breath, full of relief. “A bit banged up, but not nearly as much as you. You probably don’t remember much, but you had your fits outside and she followed you outside and sprained her wrist.”

Harry tightly screws his eyes shut. He feels terrible. He caused injury upon his little girl. How is he supposed to forgive himself for that? He caused her to get hurt, even if it was involuntarily.

“It’s okay.” Louis whispers, rubbing Harry’s forearm. Harry opens his eyes and stares at Louis as he continues to speak. She wants to see you, but I want to get you off the breathing tube before she comes in.“

Harry nods, glancing towards the ceiling before he signs again, "What happened?"

“They think it’s most likely status epilepticus. Um. They’re thinking it was caused by a low intake of anti-epileptic drugs. But to be sure, you’re going to have an MRI once they take the tube out. You gave us all quite a scare H. You had five fits on top of one another. Have you not been taking your medicine?” Louis asks. He doesn’t mean to start an argument, not right now in this hospital room when Harry could have very well died three days ago, but he needs to know.

He needs to know what Harry needs from him. Maybe he needs daily reminders, texts perhaps, or Louis could leave notes around the house. He’ll do anything to save Harry from having another series of fits.

His forehead is scraped, beginning to scab already, and there’s a palette of bruises decorating his face. Hues of yellow, blue, and purple stain his pale complexion, his cheekbones and chin especially.

He hasn’t realized that he has an orange cast encasing his ankle yet. His doctor thinks that when he fell down, he twisted it. His bones are weak as it is without any help from seizures.

At least Louis picked orange, a bright orange, Harry will be happy with that. He loves orange.

Harry thinks Louis’ question over for a few moments. He might as well be honest, though he doesn’t have to react anyway because his hesitation tells him every he needs to know.

His fingers start to fidget with the words I’m sorry, but Louis touches his hand to prevent him from trying. “Don’t baby. It’s alright. I’m going to get the doctor in here and we’ll see if he can take the tube out. We’ll talk later.” He presses the call button down and it isn’t a minute later, Harry’s doctor comes rushing into the hospital room.

As soon as he sees that Harry’s awake, his rushed antics dissolve. “Hello Mr. Styles, it’s good to have you back. How are you feeling?” he asks.

Harry stares at him for a second. Does he actually expect for him to talk? Instead, he nods his head, despite being limited with his movements. He feels alright, he could be a lot worse, this will do.

“Can you remove the tube?” Louis asks, not wasting any more time than he has already.

“I can,” Dr. Hermann says, hesitates for a moment before he continues, “after I check his vitals and make sure everything is up to standard. Then I’m going to put him on an aerosol mask. His lungs are going to be weak from not breathing on his own the last few days.”

Louis nods, listening with an open mind. It’s good news. He’s glad Harry’s making improvement, so he shouldn’t complain about Harry having to use an oxygen mask. “When do you think you can send him home?”

“He should be on his way by the beginning of next week.” Dr. Hermann says, removing the clipboard from the footboard of the bed. He reads it over, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, flipping between two pages. “He’ll have to take it easy for a while. The recovery period is crucial, from my understanding he underwent another case of status epilepticus when he was fourteen. The chances of a second case of it happening to the same patient is low, but as you can see possible. The amount of stress on his body was exhaustive, he’ll need time to regain his strength.”

Louis doesn’t say another word. Instead, his eyes follow the older gentleman as he approaches his husband. A quick shot of jealousy sparks through his veins, not because he thinks the doctor is after Harry, but because he’s craved Harry’s touch for days.

Sure, he's been holding his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, brushing his hair off his forehead, but he wishes he were the doctor in this moment. Hermann checks and writes down his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse before glancing back towards Louis. “I’m going to have Harry’s nurse come in to help me remove the tube. I’ll be back momentarily.”

Hermann disappears, leaving Louis with the sound of the tracheal tube compressing air and his own thoughts. Harry’s had a tube down his throat one other time, when the seizures came back years ago and he was having issues breathing due to, again, the tension on his body.

It’s not a good experience. Seeing his husband having to use mechanical ventilation is not an activity he particularly likes to watch and indulge himself in. He takes Harry’s hand in his own again. “This is good news, huh? Maybe, if you’re doing better, Kyra can come in and see you. Do you want to see her?”

There’s no hesitation on Harry’s behalf. He nods, shutting his eyes as memories of his gorgeous little girl flood his mind, and it makes a warmth spread through his chest.

“Good.” Louis says. He brings Harry’s hand to his face and rubs the back of his hand against the scruff growing on his cheeks and jaw. He presses his face against Harry’s hand, closing his eyes, and finally he intertwines their fingers. “She’ll be so happy to see you H. Everyone will be.”

Doctor Hermann comes back with Harry’s nurse, Andrea, and they don’t waste anytime discussing. Dr. Hermann steps towards Harry, first he suctions the tube, followed by suctioning the back of H’s mouth. Harry’s hand tightens around Louis’ slightly as Hermann untapes the tube and removes the T-piece, compresses a few more deep breaths into Harry, and deflates the cup, before he only leaves the tube in his mouth.

“Don’t stop breathing. I’m going to remove the tube and as I do you’re going to take a deep breath for me Harry.” Hermann tells him, stern, yet mild in tone. He gently grabs the tube with his thumb and pointer finger and slides it out with ease.

Harry’s hand clenches around Louis’ as his chest heaves out a breath, which sounds much more like a gasp, and Louis winces at the noise. He’s struggling a bit, understandably, but Doctor Hermann directs him to keep taking deep breathes as he suction the saliva from his mouth.

“Good job love. You’re doing good, keep it up for me. He’s almost done.” Louis whispers, using the hand not intertwined with Harry’s to pat the top of Harry’s hand.

As soon as the suctioning process is over, Hermann has Andrea step in to help, by strapping the aerosol mask over Harry's face. “How are you feeling Mr. Styles? Are you in any pain?” she asks, waiting beside him in case he answers with yes.

To Louis’ appeal, he shakes his head no, and Dr. Hermann checks his vitals one last time before excusing himself and Andrea from the room.

Along with the absence of the tube comes Harry’s absence of alertness. The process was rather fast, but it drained the ability to stay awake out of him completely. His eyes lethargically drift to meet Louis’ and Louis knows, he isn’t dumb, so instead of putting any more pressure on Harry, he says, “Go on. Go to sleep love, don’t worry about a thing, everything will be sorted out when you wake up. I’ll be right here.” He leans in and delicately kisses Harry’s forehead.

Harry grimaces at the contact. He can’t help it, his face is just so sore, but he doesn’t dwell on it long. As soon as he receives approval from Louis, he’s already drifting into a smooth whirl of unconsciousness.

And Louis watches.

Liam walks in the hospital room Saturday afternoon, leading Kyra with a hand on the back of her neck. He told her to stay quiet and behave multiple times, at home, in the car, in the lobby, in the elevator on the way up to Harry’s room. So far, she's been a good listener. 

Her eyes widen when she sees her daddy with weird tubes wrapped around his ears and stuffed in his nose and papa sits in the chair beside his bed, speaking to Harry in a soft tone of voice.

Liam clears his throat. “Louis, Harry, someone’s here to see you.”

Louis looks over his shoulder and as soon as he meets Kyra’s big brown eyes, a smile spans across his face, “C’mere princess. Papa really wants to see you.” he gestures for her to come over, but she’s hesitant.

Liam crouches beside her, giving her a small push forward. "Go on love. Don't be scared." 

She can’t resist her dads. Slowly, she steps away from Liam before completely launching herself towards papa and daddy. “I missed you papa!” she squeals, climbing onto his lap and hugging him tighter than ever before.

“I know sweetheart. I missed you too.” Louis kisses the top of her head, though he never breaks eye contact with Harry. Harry looks solemn. He feels guilty for what transpired earlier in the week. He swallows and glances off to the side, shaking his head and shutting his eyes tightly. 

Hell, because of him Zayn and Perrie postponed their wedding, he injured himself enough to end up on a ventilator, and he caused Kyra to sprain her wrist, his little baby was injured due to his stupid disorder.

“Someone else wants to say hi, Kyra,” he whispers, brushing his fingers through her curly brown hair. “Daddy wants to talk to you.”

She nods against Louis’ neck before turning herself around to face Harry. She meets his eyes and reaches out to touch his face. His face, cheeks especially, are swollen slightly as a side effect of the intubation. “Okay daddy? No more ouchie?”

Harry touches her hand with his own and cuddles his face against her cold fingers. “I’m okay. I’m sorry you got hurt baby. How’s your arm?”

Louis holds her on his lap as she inspects Harry. She may be little, but she can tell when her daddy lies to her. “It hurt lots. I feel much better.”

No one expects it. Harry can’t even feel it building in himself, let alone control the evoking emotion. He starts crying, actually crying, sniffling and trembling beneath Kyra’s touch.

“No H. No, babes it’s okay. No please don’t cry. It’s okay.” Louis lifts Kyra off his lap and sets her on the floor. He leans forward and wraps his arms around his husband’s shaking frame. “Shh. It’s alright. What’s wrong?” he whispers.

Liam comes over and takes Kyra’s hand, leading her away from Louis and Harry, despite her various attempts to run back to them.

“I...I just,” a sob breaks his train of thought into fractured structure. “I don’t wanna b...be a bad dad.”

There it is. Louis shuts his eyes, shaking his head in what is almost comparable to disgust. How can Harry possibly say that about himself? It doesn’t make any sense. Harry is such a good father.

He’s the one who stays at home all the time. He works from home, invites people over to their home so he doesn’t have to leave, all so Kyra isn’t alone. He cooks for her, helps her bathe, brushes her hair, takes her to school, tucks her in at night, updates Louis with pictures, lays on the floor to color with her.

Harry is such a good dad. Sure, he has his moments, he has his seizures, but he tries to keep Kyra as far away as possible. The one earlier this week doesn’t count. When he’s home and he doesn’t feel well he either calls Niall, who lives two streets over, or if he has time and he can get through, he calls Louis.

Most of the time Louis leaves the label, as long as can Liam handle everything that needs to be taken care of, and make it home in time.

Kyra doesn’t understand why daddy acts so odd sometimes.

They’ll be laying on the floor, coloring in their books, Kyra has her Princess and the Frog book and Harry has an adult coloring book, filled with kaleidoscopes of shapes, and he’ll start to feel ill. “Kyra, baby, will you grab my cell phone off the kitchen table,” he’ll say and he’ll be far too weak to get himself off the floor. Those are the days he calls Niall.

They have a code word. Mayonnaise. As silly as it seems, mayonnaise is the only thing Harry hates more than seizing and as soon as the two syllables are spoken Niall drives over in a heartbeat. He doesn’t ever hesitate.

He used to, used to be so scared of Harry’s seizures, so scared of injuring Harry further than he already was, so scared of making Louis angry, but it took one phone call when Louis was out of town and Kyra was having a sleepover at a friend's house to change his mind about everything.

Niall’s good with Harry. He’s better than most people are, better than his sister, and his mum, but not quite as good as Liam or Louis. Louis is by far better than anyone. If he could, he would pick Louis every time, but unfortunately he can’t have Louis as often as he would like.

Niall doesn’t hesitate anymore. He gets Kyra to where she needs to be and Harry into the position he needs to be in before anything serious happens.

Kyra has never thought much of it, always assuming Uncle Niall and daddy had private things to discuss. Harry has never allowed her to have the wrong idea and Louis has never taken it for granted.

He’s a good dad.

“Why would you say that?” Louis scolds, pulling away from Harry. He takes his face in his hands and forces Harry to look at him. “Don’t you dare say that Harry. You are a great father. I know a thing or two about having a bad dad and you’re not it. You don’t even remotely strike me as a bad parent. You had a few seizures in front of our daughter. So what? You were going to one day anyway. It doesn’t matter. You’re a good dad.”  

Harry shakes his head, wiping at his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” Louis whispers, sharply. “Don’t do this to me. You ask Kyra if she thinks you’re a bad dad. What do you think she’ll say?”

“She’s a little girl. She doesn’t know the difference between good and bad.” Harry cries, dropping his head. His chin presses to his chest and his eyes shut as he chokes on another sob. He’s wheezing from the air his cries are extracting from him. Louis knows he needs to calm him down before things take a severe turn for the worse.

“Harry…” Louis sighs. He feels bad for him. He really does and he isn’t sure there’s anything he can say to make Harry feel better. “Listen to me. Do you honestly think if you were a bad father we would still be together? You know how much I love kids, especially our own daughter, and if you were a shitty parent, we wouldn’t be together. Now c’mon, stop being silly and relax. Catch your breath and calm down. Breathe love, c’mon.” He sweeps Harry’s hair off of his face and meets his eyes. There isn’t a single word spoken for several moments. Harry catches his breath while Louis keeps a close eye on him. “You okay?”

Harry swallows, rubbing his eyes with his pointer fingers’ knuckles. “I’m…yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Hush. It’s okay. I can’t imagine how rough this has been for you, but I want you to know none of this is your fault. You can’t help any of this and I understand that. I will remind you that I love you everyday for the rest of my life, obviously I’ve been slacking.” Louis says, running his hand over Harry’s stubbled and bruised cheek.  

Liam lets go of Kyra’s hand and has her reconnect back with her parents. “I’m gonna give Sophia a call, let her know how everyone’s doing, she’s been asking.” he says, dismissing himself from this family affair.

Kyra slowly moves to Louis and grabs his hand, tugging for his attention. “Daddy okay?”

Louis glances downwards at Kyra and back at Harry before asking, “Are you okay daddy?”

“I’m okay.” Harry reassures and offers his hand to Kyra. She takes it and holds each of her dads’ hands tightly. “I think we should try to explain.” he tells Louis.

“You mean explain...oh. Um. Alright.” Louis pulls Kyra onto his lap, carefully deciding what exactly he should say to Kyra, “Alright love. Do you remember a few days ago when daddy was shaking and had an ouchie on his forehead?”

Kyra nods. After all, how could she possibly forget? “Yes papa. Daddy had an accident in his pants.”

Harry skin flushes. Covering his face with his palms, he tries to mask the mortification spanned across his facial features. “Oh Jesus.” he mutters.

Louis squeezes his arm in assurance. “You’re right, he did.”

“Why did that happen?” Kyra asks, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Daddy is sick, baby. He has something called epilepsy which sometimes causes him to shake really badly like you saw and sometimes daddy gets hurt. When he shakes really badly it’s called a seizure.” Louis explains, slowly, hoping he’s making sense to her six year old brain.

Kyra stands on Louis’ lap and leans closer to Harry.  “Do you shake a lot daddy?”

“More than I’d like to, baby.” Harry smiles sadly. “It’s something I’ve had since I was littlier than you.”

“It hurts?” Kyra asks.

“No sweetheart. It hurts when I stop shaking sometimes, but it isn’t bad. Your papa helps me all the time. He’s a good papa, isn’t he? I’m very lucky.” he smiles.

"Yes daddy." She pauses, then whines, “Can we go home yet?”

“When daddy starts to feel better we’ll go home and we can do whatever you wanna do, how’s that sound?” Louis kisses the side of her head, keeping one hand steady on her back.

“Okay. Love you papa.” she kisses the tip of his nose and then kisses Harry’s cheek. “Love you daddy.”

“I love you too princess.” Harry watches her for a few minutes in complete astonishment.

She’s his little keepsake, she’s his everything, she’s theirs. He loves her. He loves Louis. Despite his problems, their problems, the love they have for one another overcomes it all and that's what being a family is about.