The Old and The New

The Old and The New: Chapter Seven

Harry sat slumped in a chair, in a pastel colored room, surrounded my tense, anxious parents who’s newborn babies were struggling for life through the clear window that lined the wall in front of him.  

Fame had brought Harry certain luxuries, but apparently luxuries didn’t include healthy children.  

“I brought you this,” Louis whispered, dropping into the seat next to Harry and handing him a pastry from the Starbucks downstairs. 

Harry shook his head distractedly, still staring at the two incubators, side-by-side, “I’m not hungry,” he muttered and Louis rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulder and sighing into his hair.

“Eat the damn thing Harry, don’t make me worry about all four of you,” he said and Harry pulled away from Louis’ grip and shook out his hair, taking the pastry and biting of a corner of it, chewing on it slowly as he continued to stare blankly at Riley and Rebecca’s cribs.

“Louis,” he muttered quietly, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling to the window, leaning up against it with his forehead pressed on the clear glass, “I don’t think I can do this-“

“Oh, Harry,” Louis whispered, standing up and walking over to his husband, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulder.

“No, Louis, I can’t do this,” Harry insisted again, staring at the still, tiny, babies that we dying right in front of his very eyes, “I can’t be a father, look at Luke! God, Luke, I can’t-we can’t do this anymore. We can’t have these babies, lets just stop.”

Louis signed, smiling softly, “Harry, baby, we can’t just stop.”

“When I became a father a first time, I was in Maths class. Louis, I want to go back to Maths class-“

“Harry-“

“They’re going to die!” Harry yelled, pulling out of Louis’ grip and wiping at his eyes,” They’re going to die, and I can’t fix that. I can’t even hold my baby daughter, and no amount of money, or fame, or calls from Simon Cowell is going to fix that, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Louis sighed and gathered Harry back up into his arms, kissing his temple and rocking him back and forth, “Faith, love,” he insisted, “Just have a bit of faith.”

Harry’s cries muffled against Louis’ shirt, and the mobile buzzing in Louis’ pants pocket interrupted their embrace. Louis pulled back and glanced at the caller ID, smile slightly and pulling the phone out, bringing it to his ear.

“Hey bud,” Louis greeted, “How are you feeling?”

Harry leaned in again, trying to catch the other side of the conversation as well, “Is that Luke?” he whispered to Louis who nodded, “How’s he-“

“That’s great! You’re not lying, are you?” Louis carried on, shushing Harry with his finger, “Of course I trust you, I’m just curious. Right, well that’s why we didn’t let Niall babysit you when you were younger-“

“Oh God, what did he do?” Harry asked and Louis shushed him again, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright, well, we’ll see you tonight. You better sleep on the plane, I don’t want you getting her and immediately getting sick again. All right. I love you too. Do you want to talk to your dad?” Louis handed the phone out to Harry who took it, bringing it up to his ear and closing his eyes, trying to pretend he was having a normal conversation with his son and not one that was taking place in a NICU, where a priest was delivering last rights to a 2 days year old baby just a couple feet away.

“Luke,” he greeted with as much strength as he could muster, welcoming Louis’ warm, encouraging hand on his shoulder, “You feel better?”

“Liam says my fever broke this morning,” his son said, “I thought it broke last night, but he didn’t believe me.”