Life Changes

8. Drunk Off That Love, It Fucked My Head Up

Harry hiccuped. He leaned back in the kitchen chair before sitting upright, his third glass of red Pinot Noir tucked safely between his hands. He blew hot air out his lips, the wine sitting nicely in his stomach and the air suddenly feeling a lot heavier and warmer. He felt like taking off his clothes and being in the nude.

It wasn't long before the door opened and closed, Harry looking over his shoulder to watch Louis come inside with Isabella. Harry hiccuped again and flipped the page of the magazine with wet fingertips.

"So I was at the drug store...and it dawns on me that women stare at a bloke carrying a baby like a bloke will stare at a woman with great boobs."

Louis walked farther inside with Isabella draped over one arm and grocery bags draped over his free arm. Harry gave a humorless snort as Louis kicked off his shoes carelessly and placed Isabella down in the playpen along with the grocery bags. Isabella laughed happily and pulled out a tin can, tapping on the surface with a plastic spoon and making it her own makeshift drum. Louis smiled at her fondly, looking up to see Harry half-sitting and half-falling off the chair, his curls knocked askew and his cheeks colored a bright pink.

"You know what I just realized today? I am never gonna take a great bath in this house. This is a shower house." Harry watched Louis watching him, his tousled bangs brushed off his forehead. "You never brush your hair, do you? It must save so much time. That's so handy."

Louis stared at the Pinot Noir set at the table, his brows furrowing together. Harry swirled the wine in the glass before taking a large gulp, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

"How's that wine treating you?" Louis asked sarcastically, resting his hands on his hips.

"Mm-hmm," Harry hummed with his mouth pressed to the rim of the wine glass, offering Louis an eager thumbs up.

"Mm-hmm," Louis mocked and raised his eyebrows for a short beat, his mouth pressing in a thin line.

Harry whipped his head around to face Louis, musing, "Did you want some?" and holding up the bottle of wine for emphasis.

Louis stepped two steps back only to undermine his point and step forward again.

"No, no, no."

"Because I can share. I'm a good sharer," Harry said happily, his glassy green eyes glistening in the dim room. "No, you don't need any because you never worry. That's what Zayn told me, you know, when he set us up," he spoke solemnly, Louis rolling his eyes with suggestive eyebrows.

"He said, "Babe, you just got your arse dumped by your boyfriend of three years. You need to go have a good time." And then ta-da! You show up. Your charming self shows up...."

Louis' face spread into a small smile at the memory. Harry rolled his eyes and placed his hand on his chin, his long ringed fingers pressing to his blotchy cheek.

"And you don't even wanna go to the restaurant. My first date in three years and it's a total arsehole at the door! And now I'm raising a kid with that arsehole! God, the irony."

This was news to Louis, his smile slipping off his face all too quickly. God, Harry's words were slurred, but they cut deeper than a fucking knife. It had Louis feeling like a massive twat. Could Harry have ever cared to mention that, maybe? Louis wasn't the type for grand romantic gestures like opening a car door for someone or hanging on to every word his boring date said just for the sake of getting laid, but he could have spun some shit up. For fuck's sake, he could have taken Harry out to eat and make him feel good about himself. Maybe even go as far as to compliment Harry's features or press a kiss to his cheek. Louis pushed the guilt to the back of his throat, swallowing around the vice-like tightness.