Chapter Text
Edited: 29. Dec. 2021
Louis was tossing and turning in the hotel bed, shivering from the slight draught that came in through the open balcony door, even though he was covered by two blankets. He was exhausted, felt like he could sleep straight through the next four days, but he couldn’t bring a stop to the thoughts running around his head in a loop. His feet were icy cold and Harry wasn’t here — which was the worst. With a sigh of surrender he sat up and let the starched white sheets slide from his shoulders and into his lap. He ran his hands through his hair, still damp from his shower hours ago, and yanked on the strands harder than necessary. He should have just stayed in the tour bus, honestly. Smoked up with Zayn, played some FIFA, gone to bed in one of the bunks without the hope or expectation of someone joining him.
It was just, he thought … he thought that maybe today Harry would stay. That today they could have taken some time to talk or even just sit quietly for a while on the balcony, watching the city lights slowly flickering into darkness as night fell. Maybe they could have cuddled up under the blankets afterwards and watched a stupid pay-per-view movie on the hotel flatscreen.
He shouldn't think so much, obviously, because Harry left as soon as the night’s concert had ended. He didn’t even take a shower at the venue, only tapped out some quick massages on his phone and then waved goodbye to the boys as a whole. Not a kiss, not even a private word for Louis to spare. The memory had tears prick the corners of Louis’ eyes and, not for the first time, he wondered why they even pretended anymore.
Except, there was the obvious reason: he loved Harry with all his heart, was so, so in love with him. Had been since the moment they met, basically, swept up in curls and bright laughter and gleaming green eyes. And though it was hard right now, had been hard for months on end, really, Louis could never bring himself to even entertain the possibility of ending this relationship. Even if everything was pretty much shit. Even if everything always hurt and he was missing Harry constantly, although he saw him every day, played concerts right beside him every night. He was plenty aware that they'd never been farther apart in heart and mind. And it sucked, it truly sucked.
With another sigh Louis climbed out of the lonely king sized bed and walked to the open balcony door. The air outside was much warmer than inside the room, but he still shivered, dressed only in his boxers. He hugged his arms around himself and let his eyes wander over the lit up city before him. Knowing that somewhere out there, possibly in some expensive as fuck club with pretentious as fuck company, was his boyfriend, drinking and dancing and laughing all thoughts of Louis away.
Louis was fucking clinging onto nothing, was the thing. Harry was everything to him; the boy he loved, the boy he wanted to marry, the boy he wanted to grow old with. It just seemed like Harry didn’t want the same things — not anymore. And Louis wondered, as he did time and again, how much longer he would be able to hold onto these threads of Harry before he slipped through his fingers once and for all. To be honest, he was just waiting for the day that Harry would finally talk more than two words to him again, just to tell him that he didn’t think their relationship had a future. And here Louis stood, pathetically waiting for his heart to be broken.
With his eyes lowered, he wished to be home. Not home in London, in a big house that would only stay empty anyway, because Harry wouldn’t bother coming there. But home in Doncaster, with his mum. He just wanted to talk to her about all the shit that was going wrong right now and he found it impossible to do so over a Skype call, when he couldn't hope for more than worried glances and empty words of comfort, which would change nothing at all in the grand scheme of things.
Surrounded as he was day and night — by the boys and crew, the fans and press alike —, he still had never felt more alone.
- - -
The shrill ringing of his phone woke him up the next morning. With his face still buried deeply in his pillow he blindly search for the device on his nightstand. Just as his hand closed around it, a grumbly voice next to him made his heart skip a beat. He hadn't even realised Harry had come back to the room last night, but considering Louis himself only fell asleep around three in the morning it must have been mighty late.
“Make it stop already,“ was what came out of Harry’s mouth.
Louis sat up straight, getting dizzy from the fast movement, and answered the phone hastily, not daring to glance over his shoulder to where Harry was lying, but still feeling the heat radiating from his lanky body.
“Hello —,“ His voice was so hoarse he had to clear his throat and repeat himself. "Hello?"
“Yea, hey Lou,“ Liam’s voice responded cheerily from the other end of the line. Louis wished he were able to share Liam’s perpetual good mood. “Just wanted to remind you that the bus leaves in an hour; I guessed you probably didn’t set an alarm last night.“
Louis frowned. As a matter of fact, he forgot about their departure time completely while he spent half the night lying awake and worrying about his boyfriend. “Thanks, mate,“ he replied and was ready to end the call, knowing he needed to hurry up and pack his and Harry's stuff if they wanted to make it on time. But Liam speaking up again held him back.
“Also, management called and wanted me to tell you guys that the meet and greet today will start about an hour earlier, so around six, and soundcheck will be cut short accordingly.“
“Why?“ Louis groaned, already feeling stress settle into his muscles and bones. It just felt like too much; everything was too much constantly, nowadays, and Harry’s unmoving presence behind him made dealing with it harder.
“Apparently there are more fans with meet and greet tickets than usual. It was a bigger contest with a wider range of prices or something, so lots of them got dealt out. I’m not quite sure, but come on, it won’t be bad,“ Liam prodded, having noticed Louis’ reluctance.
“I know, I know. It’s not because of the fans or whatever, I just —,“ he sighed and willed himself to pull it together. “Don’t mind me, honestly. I’m just tired. I will let Harry know about the changes and we will be down in an hour.“
After hearing Liam’s departing words, Louis pressed the red button on the touchscreen of his mobile and let it fall somewhere between the blankets and pillows covering the bed around him. He turned to look at Harry for the first time this morning. His curls were mussed up, his face creased from the pillows and his eyes void of emotion as he stared right back at Louis.
Louis swallowed. “We’re supposed to be at the bus in an hour,“ he said, knowing that Harry wouldn't be up for more conversation anyway. While he left the bed and made his way to the bathroom he added: “Oh, and the meet and greet will start around six today.“ He didn’t wait for a reaction as he closed the door behind him, allowing himself to lean against it for a second or two. He couldn't remember when talking to Harry became something he feared. It’s just that knowing Harry won't grant him any more attention than strictly necessary hurt. It fucking hurt to feel like every word spend on Louis was a waste to Harry.
It’s new, all of this. Their almost cold behaviour towards each other, the total disregard of pleasantries or even a kiss to start the morning. It certainly wasn't Louis who started this. Harry was the one to ignore Louis’ morning greetings and Harry was the one to lean away when Louis went in for morning kisses. The first time, Louis regarded it as a simple bad day, and even afterwards he found excuse after excuse until he simply couldn't anymore. Harry’s unwillingness to show him any more affection than the occasional quick fuck provided was just too blatant.
Louis was so tired of all of this.
After calming himself down with a hand pressed firmly against his chest, he attended his usual morning routine and re-entered the main room a mere ten minutes later, only to find Harry snoring again. He rolled his eyes and started packing their stuff, which was wildly scattered around the room even though they only spent a few nights here. It didn’t take long for Harry to wake once more, disturbed by the ruckus Louis was making. Under other circumstanced Louis would have found his disgruntled face cute. Now, when it was clearly directed at him, he just turned away with a heavily beating heart and kept his eyes down.
How did they end up here, like this, so torn apart? Louis really didn’t know, despite spending nights on end trying to figure it all out. But, what he knew was this: if they didn't attempt to fix this mess sometime soon, there would be nothing left to fix. The thought alone left him nauseous.
- - -
When they all met up an hour later, Louis walked straight inside and to the back of the bus, where they had a small common area with an installed TV and various gaming systems. He fell down onto one of the dark leather couches and pressed his eyes shut, balling his fists tightly. He felt like screaming. Harry hadn't so much as spoken five words to him back in their hotel room, simply grabbed their suitcases as soon as Louis had finished packing them and left. Louis sat staring after him with shaking hands, and it took him a bit before he managed to gather himself up and follow his boyfriend out of the room.
A gentle touch on his shoulder startled him and, for a wonderfully ludicrous moment, he thought it might be Harry — asking him if he wanted a cuppa as well, or cuddling up to him. He inwardly shook his head at himself as he looked up and saw Zayn standing above him, a concerned look on his handsome face.
Zayn was the only one Louis had talked to about this Harry situation. Not that it helped anything, as Zayn couldn't give him any advice, understanding Harry’s apparent problem just as much as Louis, meaning: not at all. Harry acted normal towards the rest of the boys, was friendly and chummy as ever with the crew and pleasant to all interviewers or TV hosts. A sweetheart with the fans, of course. It seemed the only problem he had lay within Louis and Louis couldn't for the life of him think of what he could have done to make Harry seemingly despise him so much.
“Okay?“ Zayn asked lowly and Louis’ shoulders slumped in answer.
After throwing a cautious glance around and realising they were alone he mumbled: “He doesn't even notice me anymore, Zayn. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn't even look at me. I don't know how much longer I can take this before I’m just going to snap. I wish I knew how he came to be like this. I just — I love him so much, still. Like, what changed for him?“ He couldn't help getting chocked up and Zayn was quick to sit down next to him and pull him against his chest.
“Oh Lou,“ he sighed, helplessly.
“If he would only just end it to spare me a bit of sanity. But he doesn’t. Why, Zayn? If he can’t stand to even be in the same room with me while we are both awake why doesn't he just break up with me?“
“But you don't want that, Lou,“ Zayn said.
Louis took a shaky breath. „Of course I don't. That’s why I wouldn't ever break up with him. But he is so cold and distant all the time and I don't understand why he would want this for himself. He must be miserable with me, really. So, why does he stay? Out of pity? Because he thinks I wouldn't be able to take it if he left me?“ His gut turned in an unpleasant way as he spoke those words, realising that maybe they were in fact true. “If that is the case then that's even worse, Zayn. Do you think he stays out of pity? Oh my god, I’m so pathetic.“ He buried himself deeper into Zayn’s side, not willing to acknowledge anything anymore.
Zayn remained silent and Louis’ knew it was because he didn’t know how to respond. He just stroked Louis’ back and hummed softly, while Louis fought every breath he took, all of them keeping him agonisingly alive.
- - -
The obvious way to solve problems in an adult relationship like Louis and Harry had one was, of course, to talk about them. But Louis was a coward, at least in this regard. He was a hundred percent sure that, if he attempted to speak to Harry about this challenging situation they found themselves in, all it would end up in was one thing: a break-up. And that was still something Louis couldn't even contemplate.
Not that they had much of a relationship left, frankly. Apart from the sex, which was few and far between and lacking every little bit of the love, care and desire they used to share with each other, there wasn't much happening between the two of them. Just the satisfaction of basic instincts.
If Louis were even just a little bit stronger he would have ended this shipwreck of a relationship months ago.
As it is, he clung to even the tiniest shimmer of hope that Harry, the old Harry, the one who had loved him just as desperately as Louis still loves him now, would return someday from wherever he got lost.
- - -
The bus drove directly to the concert venue as soon as they entered the next city on their tour schedule. Normally, they would have been given a couple of hours off in their hotel rooms to at least have some time to wind down between two concert nights. As the backstage meetings with the fans were supposed to start in a little less than three hours, though, and they had to at least do some kind of soundcheck before they went on stage properly, there was no time for a stop at their hotel.
Louis felt like death on two legs. He couldn't express how thankful he was that they were almost at the end of the US chapter of their tour. Returning to England sounded like the sweetest dream to him. He couldn't wait to see his mum and sisters, confident they would be able to bring an honest smile onto his face and true warmth to his heart in a matter of seconds.
With a deep breath Louis jumped out the bus and followed the rest of the boys into the venue through the hidden back-entrance. Nobody was around, but their bodyguards surrounded them anyway, ready to tackle any advancing danger.
Zayn grabbed Louis’ hand to drag him along, as he was lagging behind. He was still so exhausted, despite catching up on missed sleep in the bus. It was like this stressful situation with Harry literally drained all the life out of him. This probably wasn't healthy anymore.
They were given some time to freshen up in the dressing rooms and Louis kept his head low as he wordlessly followed Zayn. Harry and him have shared a dressing room for as long as he can remember, but honestly, Louis couldn't even imagine spending more time in silence, all the while trying not to crack because of Harry’s rejecting demeanour towards him. He would rather ask Caroline to take the outfits she chose for him for the night to Zayn’s room.
“Oh god,“ he whined as soon as the door closed behind them. Harry hadn't even turned around when Louis hadn't followed him into their room and instead kicked the door shut behind him with a bang. He didn't care. He just didn’t.
“Chin up, Lou! I know it's hard. To be honest, I would love to give Harry a piece of my mind. But, you know as well as I do that you can’t expect anything as long as you do not at least try to talk to him.“
“I can’t,“ Louis replied instantly, and a little desperately. „Zayn, I can’t, seriously.“ He wasn't even able to find the right words in front of Zayn. How would he ever stand up to Harry and demand they talk?
Zayn threw him a pitying look and searched for his cigarettes in his backpack, which he had thrown carelessly onto the next available surface. Louis wordlessly held his hand open. He dropped down onto the worn couch next to Zayn and, for the first time, took in their surroundings. It was by far not the most luxurious or classy dressing room that was ever assigned to them, but it was more than alright. Used often and regularly by many people, so much was obvious, but Louis had to admit he liked it. It felt pleasant, sitting here for the moment, smoking a cigarette and leaning onto Zayn’s bony shoulder.
They were, of course, not granted much time. It felt like he only blinked and already he was standing on stage for soundcheck. This was by far the most annoying thing about this whole career of being a professional singer and what not. He couldn't for the life of him remember what was said or done during the two hours they spent on stage. He sang when his cues arrived and quietly stared around the empty stadium when he was done. Niall came up to him twice to ask if he was feeling okay, but Louis wasn't able to do more than force a smile and nod.
Back in Zayn’s dressing room he changed into his first stage outfit. Caroline had brought him black skinny jeans and a greyish shirt which said ‘not heartbroken’ in small, blue letters right over his left breast. Louis’ eyes nearly bulged as he saw it. Then he chucked the shirt straight across the room in hopes of not having to ever see it again. Zayn frowned heavily, but said nothing. The bundle of cloth remained on the floor and neither boy looked at it again. Instead, Zayn handed Louis the shirt which was supposed to belong to Zayn’s second outfit. Louis shot him a grateful smile and pulled the dark red scoop neck over his head.
Then he worked hard to paste a smile onto his face. This had got to be his worst day in a long time. Although things with Harry hadn't been great for months, most often he still was able to enjoy the time with the boys, enjoy the fans, enjoy the singing, the incredible feeling of being literally worshipped by thousands of people. Today, everything seemed terrible. He felt the nausea from this morning return, but a lady with a clipboard in hand poked her head through the open doorway and collected them to the first round of meet and greets before he was able to fight it back or take a pill.
Feeling queasy as fuck, he walked to the backstage area and waved to the small group of fans that was gathered there and not currently preoccupied with one of the other boys. Liam and Niall were right in the middle of the room already, writing their signatures on CD covers, shirts and phone cases with happy smiles, while Harry was taking a picture with a little blond girl who couldn't be older than ten years. Louis wasn't able to contain the fond smile that fleetingly moved his lips, but it was gone as soon as Harry’s eyes met Louis’ in an offish stare. A split second later, without showing a hint of recognition, Harry turned to the next girl waiting in line, who had her iPhone ready and prepared for a selfie.
Louis literally felt his stomach turn and he let out a strangled retching sound before his brain was even able to catch up with what was happening. He reflexively pressed his left hand over his mouth and, ignoring the fans that were coming up to him with overjoyed expressions, bolted out of the room.
The nearest bathroom was a few doors down the corridor and Louis rushed through the door and fell in front of the toilet in the first stall he reached. He retched again and again and bitter bile made its way out of Louis’ mouth, a sign that he hadn't eaten much of anything in the last 24 hours. He felt sweat accumulate on his forehead and soak the back of his shirt. Tears made their way down his cheeks, provoked by the pungent smell hitting his nose and the disgusting taste left in his mouth.
Helpless to stop his chocking he stayed put above the toilet bowl, when suddenly there was a big hand touching his back and his heart skipped a beat, or three. Of all the moments, Harry naturally had to choose this one to act like a caring boyfriend. His deep voice mumbled sympathetic words into Louis’ ear as he continued stroking his back.
Louis wanted to bash his head into the cold porcelain bowl of the toilet to just make everything stop. Weak as he was, he let himself lean back into Harry’s caresses. He was so desperate for his affection.
When he was finally able to lift his head he realised he was shaking all over. Harry pulled him to his feet as if he was weighing nothing at all and turned him around gently. His eyes settled onto Louis’ surely pale face as he asked: “All better? Do you need anything?“
Louis wanted to scream that nothing, nothing at all, was better. That he needed him, Harry, more than anything else in the world, more than food and water and oxygen, but that Harry didn't seem to feel the same way about him any longer and that he was at his wits end, that he was losing his goddamn mind because he felt like the air was punched out of his lungs everytime Harry turned his back on him without acknowledging him.
Instead, he just meekly shook his head and pushed past Harry with his head down, still feeling his back burn where Harry’s hands had lain.
- - -
After he had jogged back to the dressing room to quickly brush his teeth and use some deodorant, he returned with an apologetic smile to the backstage area. He made sure to give every fan an extra big hug, because they had to wait for him for so long. None of them, thankfully, asked about what had happened and only one girl seemed to be aware of his overall poor state, as she told him to get well soon with a sincere smile. He tried to smile back at her reassuringly, quite certain however that he hadn’t succeeded.
The boys, of course, bombarded him with questions as soon as the last fan was out the door. Harry stayed behind Zayn, Niall and Liam, and it would probably seem as if he couldn't give two shits. Yet, that he was biting at his left thumbnail incessantly let Louis know that he did. Even if only a little bit, he did still care about Louis’ well-being.
“Guys, calm down. Everything is good. I felt a little nauseous all day, but now that everything’s out I’m fine. Maybe I ate something bad last night, who knows?“ Louis, of course, knew that this wasn't the case, because he didn't even eat anything last night. Harry’s hasty departure from their last venue stole his appetite straight away. He bet that it was all down to the stress he felt all day, thus there was no need to waste more time thinking about it.
“Are you sure?“ Niall asked with furrowed brows, his blond hair ruffled from his restless hands.
Louis smiled widely at him and it didn't even take effort. Niall was lovely and it warmed Louis heart that he, along with the other boys, was so concerned for him. Unnecessary as it may be.
“Yes, I am! No worries, Ni.“
They dropped the topic and, after Louis assured them fifty times that he was more than fit to attend the concert, all trotted away to do whatever they planned on doing in their limited free time. For Louis it simply meant a fresh brew and a nap on Zayn’s dressing room couch.
- - -
The concert went of without a hitch, as Louis knew it would. It had been a great show, too — the fans were extremely loud and obviously happy and he was able to catch sight of quite a few Larry Stylinson signs. Even though he couldn't show it, he was secretly delighted by the support. The only thing hurting Louis was that the fans seemed to believe more in their love than Harry did nowadays.
Harry, who was once again stoically ignoring Louis. How great! Louis felt like he was going to break out into hysterical laughter any minute. Just a few hours prior Harry was murmuring sweet nothings into Louis’ ear while he was retching over a toilet bowl and now — it was like that never even happened. Harry didn't spare him a glance as he exited the venue in a rental car, driving of into the city.
Louis was, once again, left staring after him.
- - -
It was exactly a week later that Louis awoke with a start in his bunk bed on the tour bus, sweating and shaking and feeling so dizzy he feared he was going to pass out. He had to strain to sit up in his bed and clamped his hand around the post stabilising the beds to have some kind of hold. His body wouldn't stop trembling, though, and the sudden rush of nausea didn't help his situation at all. He felt sweat building up on his forehead. What the hell was going on?
“Zayn,“ he croaked out, his voice meek.
He sagged back into the bed, not able to hold himself upright any longer, and realisation dawned on him. He must be coming down with something. The thought made Louis’ skin crawl. If he hated one thing, it was being sick. The feeling of not being able to fend for himself. And now that he couldn't even count on Harry being there and caring for him, the prospect of spending days alone in bed, far far away from home, sounded like torture.
Before he could drown in his miserable thoughts, Zayn’s dimly lit silhouette appeared before his bed. His hair was matted to his head from turning so much in his sleep and Louis guessed there was a furrow between his eyebrows.
“What? What’s wrong?“, he asked tiredly and settled down on the bed next to Louis.
Louis took a deep breath before attempting an answer, still feeling incredibly weak. “Don’t know,“ he got out. “Feel really bad, Z. ‘m so hot and dizzy.“
Zayn immediately put a hand to Louis forehead, feeling for his temperature. “You’re really hot, Lou,“ he stated, uneasily. “I’m going to get you a glass of water and a cold flannel, okay? Maybe a pill, if I can find one. If nothing helps I’m getting Paul to make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. You're surely coming down with something.“
Louis shuddered, and this time not only because he lost the control over his shaking body. He really didn't want to be ill. There was no time for it, too, seeing that they had to finish the US leg of their tour. That left hoping that some water and a flannel would make the sickening feeling that had befallen him disappear. He sighed listlessly and let his eyes fall shut while he listened to Zayn rummaging around at the front of the bus.
- - -
When he blinked awake again he thought it must have been the steady motions of the driving tour bus that had him lulled into such a deep sleep. He lifted his head to look for Zayn or the glass of water he was promised, but soon realised he wasn't actually on the bus anymore.
It took a moment for his eyes to make sense of his surroundings. He was in a room with walls painted in sunny yellow tones. There was a big window opposite his bed, with the curtains drawn. Nothing of the space was familiar to him, least of all the steady dripping of the IV that was plugged into his left forearm.
What the …
A door to his right opened with a slight squeak and Louis’ attention was instantly drawn to it. Into the room walked a brunette woman in a white lab coat. She had a friendly smile on her lips and a collection of papers in her hand.
“Hello, Louis. It’s good to see you awake,“ she said when she came to stand next to his bed, which he now realised seemed to be located in some kind of hospital or private clinic.
“What happened? Who are you?“ Louis asked immediately. His voice sounded rough, as it had all too often lately.
“My name is Annabelle Dearing and I’m a doctor here at the Carter-Hill-Clinic. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is, Louis?“
Louis stared at the woman before him for a bit, trying to assess her. She appeared nice enough and although he was really confused about how he came to be here, he relaxed slightly.
“I was on the tour bus with Zayn, feeling quite unwell. I was shaking ... dizzy. Zayn wanted to get me water and a pill and while I waited for him to return I guess I fell asleep again and then I — I woke up here. What happened?“ He felt puzzled frown form on his face as he asked again.
Dr. Dearing took some notes on a clipboard she had taken from the table by the window, before she reached for the patient file that was clipped to the bottom of Louis’ bed. Louis was sure they contained his entire medical history and, presumably, all the information on why he was brought here in the first place. When she looked up after finishing skimming a specific page she began to speak again.
“It’s good that you remember all this, as you should,“ she stated firstly. “You were brought here about four hours ago — you suffered a syncope, which simply means that you fainted. The syncope was caused by very low blood pressure and also mild dehydration, for which we have attached the IV. Your friends and crew members told me that you woke up a few times while they arranged for you to be brought here, only for you to fall right back into unconsciousness, but I’m certain that you have no recollection of any of this. That’s nothing to worry about, anyway. I’m glad you are awake now. Please tell me, how are you feeling?“
Louis took in the news in stride. He had kind of expected that something like this had happened — he had felt so awful back in his bunk bed that his body probably couldn't do anything but shut down completely. His mum was a nurse and therefore he knew that a syncope was not necessarily something he had to worry about. Obviously, the question remained why he suddenly had low blood pressure, as he hadn't had any problems like this before, but he was sure Dr. Dearing would tell him about it soon enough.
“I’m doing fine,“ he answered truthfully. “The dizziness is gone, I’m not uncontrollably shaking anymore and I don't have the urge to puke up everything I ate in the last few days, so.“
He tried for a small smile, which Dr. Dearing returned. “That is great news, Louis. If anything should change, please let me or a nurse know asap.“ After he nodded in promise, she proceeded. “I’m sure you must be wondering what happened, as your medical file tells me you are not prone to low blood pressure. We ran a few tests, took some blood and urine samples, the usual. Even though we don't have every result back yet I have a pretty good idea what might be up with you. And no need to worry, if it is what I suspect it’s nothing bad at all.“
Louis nodded again, following her words and waiting for her to get to the point.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions first, to make sure I’m not totally on the wrong track here, alright?“
“Yeah, go on,“ Louis agreed, while he pulled the blanket up to his neck, feeling a bit chilly. He wanted to ask for Harry, wanted to know if his boyfriend was here, concerned for his well-being, or if he was out and about in the city, not even knowing about the state Louis was in. He wanted Zayn, Liam, Niall — just a familiar face, maybe a strong hand to hold. He wasn't afraid of Dr. Dearing or the result of the tests, just a little uncomfortable alone in this strange clinic.
As if she were able to read his mind, Dr. Dearing stopped herself from asking the first question and instead said: “Your bandmates are waiting right outside the door for you and they can come in as soon as we are done here, I promise. We’ll make it fast.“
“Thank you,“ Louis replied, grateful and instantly calmer, and then tried to pay attention to the questions she asked. She wanted to know about the medical history of his family, about hereditary illnesses and certain medications he might be taking.
“I don’t take anything regularly,“ he said, before he haltingly added “Well, except, does birth control count? I’ve taken those pills since I found out that I’m able to get pregnant when I was, like 15, I guess.“
“Okay, yes, that certainly counts. So, you have been aware that you can get pregnant for quite some time?“ Dr. Dearing made sure.
Louis scowled, reluctant of the direction the conversation had taken. He despised talking about this stuff. He had never really given it much thought, as he wasn't willing to ever get pregnant anyway, and he had never spoken to anyone about it, except for his mum.
He knew many men would give anything to be in his position. Only about 20% of the male population were in possession of the gene which caused for a functioning uterus to develop next to the typical male sexual characteristics. Lots of homosexual men would love to be able to bring their own babies into this world, instead of waiting for years on end to get one out of a difficult adoption process or by engaging a surrogate. But it was never for Louis. He would gladly hand this gene over to anyone willing to have it. This wasn't supposed to mean he didn't want to have children — of course he wanted to, more than anything, that was out of the question, but — he just didn't want it this way.
His mum couldn't understand his attitude towards the matter and Louis was sure many other people wouldn't either. Especially Harry, who was so obsessed with babies ... if Louis had ever told him that he was in fact able to get pregnant and then announced in the same sentence that he didn't ever plan on being pregnant — he didn't think Harry would ever forgive him for that.
Not that anything really could make the situation they were currently in any worse, but …
“Yes,“ he therefore answered, a little delayed. He hoped that was it on the matter.
“Do you have regular sexual intercourse with other males? I would guess you do, since otherwise taking birth control wouldn't be a necessity.“ Noticing his hesitancy she added, “You can tell me and I promise I will treat this information with the utmost confidentiality. Carter-Hill-Clinic is renowned for its discretion in working with people who are in the public eye.“
Louis bit his lip before he nodded his head slowly.
He really hoped Dr. Dearing would keep this promise, otherwise all the efforts management made throughout the last five years to push him and Harry as far as possible into the closet would have been in vain. Louis wouldn't care all that much, honestly, if it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to be outed to the world through some tabloid story sold by a doctor or nurse desperate for quick money. When he finally got his chance to be honest about his sexuality, someday, he wanted to do it entirely his way — and preferably with Harry right beside him, holding his hand through it all; the good and the bad.
“Have you had any sexual intercourse in the last three months? Maybe without any further contraception, apart from the birth control pills?“ Dr. Dearing continued her questioning, not seeming bothered by the intimacy of this talk. Louis felt a flush rise in his cheeks. This really got very private very quickly. He had never had a doctor question him on his sexual behaviour.
“I think so, yes. The last time maybe, like, a month ago?“ Louis lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “And without a condom. Ha—, my boyfriend and I, we mostly forgo them. We are both clean and get tested regularly, so we don't really see the need for them.“ He had to stop himself from blurting out Harry’s name, because if any of this should still somehow make it’s way to the media, there was no need to drag Harry into it, too.
Dr. Dearing nodded slowly and jotted down some more notes on her clipboard, before pressing it to her chest. She had another warm smile on her lips when she looked into Louis’ eyes. “Well, Louis, that’s all the questions for now. From all the information I’ve gathered I think my original suspicion was quite on point. It appears that you are pregnant.“
A moment of stifling silence fell over the room as soon as the words were out.
Louis’ brain wasn't processing fast enough. Pregnant — did she really say pregnant? He felt as if he got punched in the stomach, twice. He threw a helpless glance at Dr. Dearing, his heart beating a mile a minute, and then let his head fall forward into his open palms. This was not possible. He took care, god damn it. He always took care! He never once forgot to take a pill in the last eight years — this was just not possible.
“How? I don't understand. I took those bloody birth control pills every single day! Every fucking bloody stupid day — this can't be happening.“ Louis' voice was shaking and he wasn’t sure whether it was from anger or desperation.
Dr. Dearing's expression turned more somber as she realised that her news have not been what Louis expected, much less wanted, to hear. She looked concerned as she walked closer to Louis and took one of his wrists, measuring his pulse.
“Okay, Louis, first I need you to calm down, please. Take some deep breaths and lean back.“
Louis did as he was told. He wasn't able to form a clear thought or wish or opinion on anything anyway. Might as well listen to the doctor. If he knew one thing it was that fainting again wouldn't help at all.
“The thing with those pills is,“ began Dr. Dearing when Louis finally was able to breath easy again, “that they work pretty great for a long time, years and years. But, while a woman can take one kind of birth control pill for her whole entire life if she so desires, many men experience that their medication stops having the desired effect after a few years — meaning they don't prevent pregnancy any longer. That’s why men are encouraged to go for check-ups far more regularly and also switch their brand of pill after a maximum of five years. Has your OB/GYN never told you about this?“
Louis simply shook his head. It was not like he regularly went to an OB/GYN. When his GP found out about the gene, all Louis wanted was a birth control pill and be done with it all. So his mum took him to an OB/GYN who asked him questions in order to figure out which brand would be the best fit for him and after, Louis just went to whatever pharmacy to get it when he ran low. He never went back to the OB/GYN, seeing no need for it, and he never talked about it with his GP again, as it wasn't of any more importance.
Thus, apparently, Louis had to thank himself for this. If he hadn't so entirely ignored this essential part of himself, he would have known about the decreasing effects of the birth control pill and he could have prevented all this.
“Is this why I fainted, then?“, he asked, not knowing what else to say as silence settled once again. “And why I’ve been feeling nauseous as well? Because — because there is —“ He helplessly gestured to his stomach, not knowing how to form a sentence that contained the words baby or pregnancy.
Dr. Dearing nodded slowly, still holding onto the wrist she took Louis’ pulse from before.
“How do you feel about this, Louis?“ She asked gingerly.
Louis didn't know. Except — maybe he did. “I don't — I can’t — How do you — make it go away?“ he stuttered out, the words muddling together in his mouth as his breathing picked up again. It was awful to even think about it, about ending it all right away, but thinking about anything else seemed even worse.
This just couldn't be happening.
Dr. Dearing pressed a button on the handrail of Louis’ bed, before she spoke up again. “Louis, I can’t and I won’t do anything at all today. You are obviously distraught and in no position to make such an important decision this very moment. You should rest a little and talk it over with your boyfriend later, as I’m sure he has lots of things to say about this as well. And then, after I have given you some informational leaflets, you can make an informed decision together. Alright?“
Louis blinked at her absently. She had lost him as soon as the word boyfriend had left her lips. He had to tell Harry. The thought made his heart stutter in his chest. Harry wouldn't ever, ever let him get away with this. He wouldn't ever agree to — end it. But, what else was there to hold onto? Their relationship was as good as non-existent. They hadn't talked in months, not properly anyway. What kind of future had they with each other? And what kind of future would they provide for this — this baby? Why were they even kidding themselves anymore? Why didn't they just let go and maybe give their friendship a second chance — save what they could save?
Funny how all it took was an unplanned pregnancy for Louis to finally see clearly. To finally face the reality of it all … It didn't stop the burning in his eyes, in his heart and all over his skin, though — the certainty that he and Harry weren't meant to be, after all. That there was nothing left except for Louis’ inexhaustible love and Harry’s reluctance to let got.
Louis felt his world crash and burn around him in the most violent way and all he could do was curl into himself to bury his face in his pillow, trying hard not to let tears escape. The door opened again, although Louis’ wasn't really aware of it, too far gone inside his own head. He noticed, however, that the nurse who had walked in put a new IV bag up.
After that, everything slowly became blurry and dark and utterly calm.
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