Omnipresence ♾ Zarry

iii.

"Could you book me in for tomorrow?" Harry asks as he slides off the high examination chair.

The doctor, still pretty shocked, goes to her desk and starts typing something up on the computer. She throws Harry a worried look as he puts his shirt back on. By now, Harry's used to them.

"We're fully booked for tomorrow," she tells Harry after a moment. "But I can book you in for next week if you're sure about it."

Harry only nods and continues buttoning up his shirt. But the doctor continues, "I'm sorry it's just that we don't usually have married patients wanting to terminate the pregnancy. Especially not when it's their first baby."

Harry stops in his tracks, suddenly aware of his wedding ring on his left hand, almost burning a hole through his flesh. He doesn't have the heart to take it off. Maybe he should muster up the courage.

"I've noticed that your husband isn't here with you," the doctor continues. "Maybe you can take the week and have a chat about it? You're already eleven weeks along but you still have until week 24 to undergo the procedure so I would suggest you don't rush into this."

"Thank you for your advice but I can only have that chat with my husband in the cemetery," Harry snaps. He knows it's cruel but he doesn't care. "So I would suggest you do what I asked for or I'll seek the care of another doctor."

The doctor's face turns impossibly pale. "I'm so incredibly sorry, I had no idea."

"Yeah," Harry says and starts turning his wedding band around his finger. He meets the doctor's gaze after a moment and says, "Thank you, I'll see you next week then." And then he's gone.

Every single moment from the second he leaves the clinic is torture because now he has a confirmation. There's the beginning of a baby inside of him. And fucking hell, eleven weeks already? How hasn't he noticed sooner? It doesn't matter anyway because Harry has to live through this blinding pain only until next Tuesday. Then he will be free again. He won't be aware of every breath he takes, of every single little thing his body does.

The next few days move like sluggish water, half-frozen and barely trudging along. He tries to do something productive, work on an article or talk to friends or anything that will take all the shit around off his mind. It seems impossible and Harry spends the time moving from the bedroom to the couch, lying down and staring at the ceiling or some random spot around the room. Jolene starts bringing him her toys as gifts since he's barely paying her any attention and it's the only light on a never-ending highway of darkness.

The baby doesn't leave Harry's thoughts at any moment. He manically looks at himself in the mirror, trying to see any outward evidence of the fetus occupying his body. He googles things to see if it's going to start moving anytime soon, how big it is in reality. He wonders how he would see the situation if Zayn was still there. Even if they weren't planning to have a child now, Harry doubts he would want to get rid of it. They would both freak out a little, probably yell at each other about how not ready they are for a baby but then the fighting would stop. It would stop and they would be pulled back together by their love, as they always were and they'd be happy. They would still be scared but they would be so happy, so excited to have their own little human, even if they hadn't been planning for it to happen. And next April or early May, they would bring a baby home and it would be the cutest baby to ever grace the surface of the Earth, they'd be sure of it. Maybe it would've been a boy with Harry's smile or a girl with Zayn's eyes. But they'll never find out now. Some religious person would probably say the unborn baby will join its father in heaven or whatever bullshit but Harry doesn't believe in all that.

On the morning of Halloween, Harry wakes up to the sound of something falling down. The noise rouses him from sleep and he spots a book lying on the ground in front of the dresser. Not only that, Jolene is standing nearby, her coat standing upright. Her back is arched, her tail turning into a little brush as she hisses at the air.