fire and the flood - l.s. mpreg

five

Louis wakes up with a gasp for air, shooting up and glancing around the room. He's sweating through his t-shirt, hands shaky as he brings them up to him dampened hair. He then looks down next to him to see Harry is still sleeping beside him, face squished into the pillow. It was just a dream.

He rubs his eyes, trying to get the image out of his head. It was the accident from the week prior, the mother and child who died in the burning car, but when Louis approached the flame-engulfed car this time, Harry was inside. And he couldn't save him either.

He's been having nightmares like this a couple of times a week, maybe for the last three months. They're always the same–he can't save them. Sometimes it's Harry, sometimes it's his sisters, or his friends, or just complete strangers.

With shaky legs, he stands up out of the bed. He needs some water, and to change out of his sweaty pyjamas. He stumbles out of the bedroom, trying to keep his footsteps light as he makes his way downstairs, switching the lights on as he enters the kitchen.

Millie immediately waddles up to him, nails tapping against the hardwood, and he sighs softly. "'N what're you doin' up, little lady? Past your bedtime, I reckon."

Millie just stares up at him with big eyes. Louis sighs again, but turns towards the counter and opens the treats jar. "Fine. Just don't rat me out to mum," He holds the treat a bit over her head, giggling to himself when she stands up to get it.

He feeds it to her, the only sound being her munching while he grabs a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water from the gap. His hands still tremble as he brings it up to his lips.

Normal people don't have nightmares like this, he knows that. Not so often, and not so intense. Not where they are literally picturing their spouse's burning flesh. He looks down at Millie, who is licking the crumbs from her treat off the floor. "I feel like I'm losing my fuckin' mind, Mills."

Millie looks up at him, cocking her head to the side, and Louis laughs out loud, putting his hand over his eyes. "'N now I'm talking to the fucking dog," He mutters. "Absolutely looney. Get a grip, Tomlinson." Millie whimpers. "No offense, mate."

Louis drinks his water, but it doesn't do much for the ache in his chest, how nauseous and dizzy he feels, echos of Harry screaming "Why aren't you helping me?!" replaying in his head. It makes him want to quit, want to stay home keep Harry inside and safe and just hold him forever. If only.

He puts his empty glass in the sink, walking to the lounge and plopping down on the sofa. He has no idea what time it is, how much longer it will be before Harry's up, but he turns the telly on to distract himself anyways.

He watches the episode of Friends where Phoebe has the triplets until he hears footsteps creaking down the stairs, and guilt washes over him. He hopes he didn't wake him up.

"Lou?" Harry mumbles, walking over to the side of the couch and rubbing his eyes. Louis gives him a soft, hopefully-convincing smile.

"Hey, sweet boy," He greets quietly.

"'S two in the morning, what're you doin' up?" Harry asks, words slurred with sleep. He walks over and plops down next to Louis, leaning his head on his shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep," Louis lies, kissing him on the forehead. The last thing he wants to do is worry him. "What're you doing up?"

"Bed's cold without you," Harry mutters, closing his eyes. Louis wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. When he opens them, Phoebe's three babies are on the screen, all in little blankets and tiny hats. Harry smiles to himself, whispering "Babies."

"Nothin' gets passed you, huh?" Louis teases, laughing when Harry pinches his side.

"They're so cute," Harry mumbles, still sleepy as he noses at Louis' shoulder and closes his eyes again. "I love babies."