Chapter Text
The kitchen felt stretched thin with mid-day light, golden across the floor tiles. Louis paced slow circles, phone in hand, the clock ticking loud in his head. It was Saturday, and he’d been meant to go kid-free tonight — his mum was covering someone’s shift as a favor but had promised she’d be home in time to watch Phoenix. Her shift was running longer than planned however, and his dad was already gone for dinner with an old friend, a plan that had been on the calendar for weeks.
That left him standing there, jacket over one arm, torn between texting Liam and Zayn that he couldn’t make it and trying to find a solution. Niall would be disappointed beyond words if all four of his mates didn’t show up for him and… that meant Harry would be there.
At the table, Lottie was meant to be working through a stack of maths problems. Her workbook lay open, pen idle on the page, her phone glowing in her hand instead.
Phoenix was on the floor at the fridge with his Do-sah and playing with his magnet letters while humming tunelessly under his breath.
Louis stopped pacing. “Lot.”
She didn’t look up. “Two minutes.”
“Not two minutes. I need a favour.”
“That’s never good,” she muttered, flipping her phone face-down and finally meeting his eye. “What is it?”
Louis rubbed the back of his neck. “Mum’s still stuck at work, Dad’s out, and Niall’s match is in less than half an hour. Can you watch Phoenix? Just until mum is home? I’ll pay.”
Lottie perked right up, eyebrows arched. “Pay, huh? Go on then.”
He groaned. “Don’t make this a thing.”
“Everything’s a thing,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Tenner.”
“Tenner?”
“Per hour.”
Louis stared at her. “You’re taking the piss.”
She grinned. “Alright, fine. A tenner total and the last Kit Kat in the cupboard.”
“You’re ruthless,” Louis said, but the weight in his chest shifted lighter.
“I’m a broke teenage girl,” she corrected primly, though her smile betrayed her. “And anyway, I help mum with him when you’re working so I know what I’m doing— which means I’m worth the pay.”
Louis crouched down to Phoenix’s level. “Hear that, lad? You’re hanging with Aunt Tottie for a bit. You be super good for her, yeah?”
“Daddy bye bye now?” He asked.
“Yeah but Nanny’ll be home soon, and then I’ll be back before bedtime.” He kissed the top of his curls,
“Better be, I’m not agreeing to bath time or singing your stupid Green Day songs to put him to sleep.” Lottie told him.
“Couple of hours. That’s all.” He told them both.
Phoenix pressed a magnetic letter T into Lottie’s hand solemnly, as if it were payment in kind.
“See?” He said with a smile. “He’s already excited to play with you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lottie said and moved to sit with him on the floor. “Go on before I change my mind. I babysit the girls all the time and Phoenix loves me. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay, yeah,” Louis hovered at the doorway, jacket in one hand, phone in the other. “Just text or call if you need me.”
He looked back once more — his sister cross-legged on the floor, Phoenix pressed close to her side, Do-sah tucked safely under his arm. The guilt was there, pulling hard, but he forced himself to breathe through it.
“Couple of hours,” he muttered under his breath. “He’ll be fine. It’s not bad to want a break.”
And then he pulled the door shut behind him, the evening air cool against his skin.
The school yard was busier than Louis expected for a Saturday. Cars lined the curb, boots sloshed through patches of half-frozen mud, and the sharp smell of damp grass hung heavy in the air.
The low sun had left the pitch in a patchwork of gold shadows, glinting off the railings where clusters of parents leaned, including Niall’s mum and stepdad.
Louis spotted them straightaway—Zayn with his hood draped over his head, hands shoved in his pockets, and Liam beside him, tall and steady, clapping along with the warm-ups as if he were already somebody’s dad on the sidelines.
“Thought you’d bailed.” Zayn said when Louis came up beside them.
“Yeah, well,” Louis muttered, shoving his own hands deep into his jacket pockets, “life’s complicated.”
“Understatement of the year,” Liam murmured, then added in a louder, lighter tone, “You’ve not missed much. Just Niall pretending he’s Beckham.”
On the pitch, Niall was stretching like a pro—arms high overhead, legs splayed wide. Louis huffed a laugh. “Looks more like he’s doing yoga.”
Zayn groaned loudly as Niall fumbled his first touch during a passing drill. “Tragic yet adorable.”
Louis leaned into the rail, and for the first time all day, he began to really relax. The banter flowed easy—digs at homework, complaints about teachers, half-serious arguments over whose trainers were the muddiest already.
It was nothing, really, but it felt like a relief. Just lads being lads, the world pared down to the pitch and their laughter. Nothing more.
Then Harry arrived.
He came from the car park, curls wild in the wind, shoulders drawn up like he wasn’t sure where to land. His eyes scanned the crowd and snagged on them. Louis’s stomach lurched, though he forced himself to look casual, arms crossed against the chill.
Niall spotted him from the warm-up circle and waved like mad. Harry lifted his hand in return, smile bright but nervous. He edged toward the rail, and Zayn shifted without thinking, opening the circle so Harry could slot in. Liam greeted him with an easy nod, no fuss.
“Almost cold, isn’t it?” Harry said, half-smiling at Louis.
“Yeah,” Louis answered, shoulders hunching deeper into his jacket. “Suppose it’s the price of standing about on a muddy pitch in September.”
Harry huffed a laugh, shifting closer to the rail. “Reckon I didn’t dress for it.”
Louis glanced sideways at him, smirking faintly. “What, didn’t your mum tell you to wear a hat and scarf with it being so chilly?”
“She did,” Harry admitted, grinning. “I ignored her. Thought I’d look daft.”
“You look daft without them,” Louis said, but there was no bite to it.
“Gonna catch a cold.” Zayn chimed in.
Harry laughed again, brighter this time, and Louis found himself smiling too. The tension eased a notch, the kind of warmth that wasn’t from the air.
On the pitch, Niall went for the ball but missed by a mile. Liam groaned like it was a personal insult, dragging a hand down his face.
“Damn,” Louis muttered.
“Painful,” Zayn agreed, eyes crinkling.
“Think he meant to do that?” Harry asked.
“Not a chance.” Louis told him. They both snorted, shoulders brushing as they leaned against the rail.
For a moment they just stood there, the noise of the game filling the space between them. Harry shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, rocking back on his heels before tipping his head toward Louis.
“You come to these a lot?”
Louis shook his head. “I mean, it’s the first game of the season but not usually. I love footie but our school team sucks.”
Harry nodded slowly, not pressing. “Glad you came tonight at least.”
Louis felt the words settle somewhere in his chest, unexpected and heavier than they should’ve been. He ducked his head, hiding the smile tugging at his mouth.
“Bet you ten quid he falls flat on his arse before halftime,” Zayn spoke up, nodding toward Niall.
“I’ll take that,” Liam said with absolute confidence, clapping as Niall managed to keep possession. “He’s got this. Try being a little more supportive.”
Harry laughed, shoulders still shaking, and when it finally quieted, his sleeve stayed pressed against Louis’s. He didn’t shift away.
“So,” Harry said, voice low enough it didn’t carry far, “you ever play?”
Louis blinked. “Football? Yeah. Couple years back.”
“Any good?”
Louis smirked. “Better than Niall.”
Harry barked a laugh, covering it with his hand too late. Louis felt it spark warm in his chest, proud he’d gotten it out of him.
“You’re cruel,” Harry said, still grinning.
“Just honest.” Louis shrugged. “I really was good. Ask Liam.”
“Reckon you’d be quick. One of those lads who looks wiry but surprises you.”
Louis raised his brows. “That meant to be a compliment?”
“’Course,” Harry said easily. “You don’t hand those out to just anyone, you know.”
Louis ducked his head, biting back the smile tugging at his mouth.
Down the rail, Liam had caught on. He gave Zayn a subtle nudge. “Let’s shift, better view from over there.”
“What? We can see fine—”
“Come on,” Liam said firmly, dragging him a few feet along. Zayn grumbled, but went, leaving Louis and Harry with a sliver more space. Enough to feel different.
Louis noticed. So did Harry. Their shoulders brushed again, deliberate now, like they’d been waiting for Liam and Zayn to almost give them permission.
Harry tilted his head, studying Louis out of the corner of his eye. “Bet you were cocky on the pitch.”
Louis smirked. “Nah, I was always called sassy.”
Harry grinned, dimples flashing before he bit them back. “Should’ve known.”
On the field, the whistle blew sharp, players shouting as the ball skidded over the mud. Louis barely looked; he was too aware of the warmth along his arm, the way Harry leaned a fraction closer when the crowd pressed forward.
“Suppose you are the type,” Harry said, voice dipped low, playful.
“Someone’s got to be,” Louis shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Harry laughed under his breath, and Louis felt the sound more than he heard it, humming through the space between them. For a second, it was just the two of them — noise and shouts blurring around the edges, their little corner carved out against the rail.
Then Harry nudged him with his elbow, softer this time, almost careful. “You’ve got that look, though.”
Louis glanced over, brow creasing. “What look?”
“Just a glimmer in your eyes. Like you’re here,” Harry said, his voice low enough not to carry, “but not really here.”
Louis gave a half-laugh, eyes darting back to the pitch. “Just tired.”
Harry studied him, not teasing now, just curious. “Tired like you’ve got something you’re nervous to say… or tired like you haven’t slept in a week?”
The words landed too close, and Louis’s chest tightened. Was Harry catching on to the way Louis’s stomach turned over whenever he smiled, the crush Louis thought he was hiding or… was he picking up on something bigger, closer to the truth Louis couldn’t let out? The truth about how he was standing on the sidelines trying to look like a normal seventeen-year-old while he had a little son waiting at home.
He forced a shrug, voice as casual as he could manage. “Little bit of both, maybe.”
Harry’s lips tugged into the faintest smile, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, almost blushing as he turned back toward the pitch, their sleeves still brushing.
Before they knew it the whistle blew sharp, and a cheer rolled across the pitch. Niall’s team had clinched it, somehow. He came off with mud on his knees and that cocky grin stretching ear to ear, soaking up the hollers like he’d scored the winning goal in a stadium ten times the size.
Zayn was shouting like an idiot, hands cupped around his mouth. Liam clapped hard enough that Louis swore his palms had to sting. The lot of them were laughing, voices tumbling over one another as they spilled ideas—chips, maybe the café in town, maybe just wandering until they found something open.
Louis felt the pull of it instantly. He could almost see it: the five of them squeezed into a booth that smelled of vinegar and grease, salt on their fingers, steam rising from fresh chips. He could hear Zayn’s voice carrying on as he fussed over Niall, Niall soaking it in and bragging about his goals, Liam encouraging it all. Most of all, maybe, Harry beside him close enough their knees touched under the table.
The picture was so clear but then he checked the time. Reality crashed hard. Lottie, Phoenix. The promise he’d made to be back.
His throat tightened. He forced the words out. “Can’t. Gotta get home. Promised I’d be back at a certain time.”
Harry turned to him, surprise flickering across his face before it gentled. He was clearly as disappointed as Louis was but sweetly being careful to not make Louos feel bad.
Louis shifted awkwardly, searching for something to fill the silence. “It was nice, though. I had fun.”
Harry’s mouth curved, not wide but warm, accepting. “Yeah, me too.”
Louis nodded, shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, and started for home after telling everyone bye, the tug-of-war tearing at his chest with every step.
Behind him, the noise swelled—Niall’s bragging, Zayn’s banter, Harry’s laugh mixing with it all. Louis kept walking. A crunch of footsteps hurried up behind him though.
“Lou.” Liam jogged to catch up, falling into step beside him.
Louis tensed, knowing what Liam wanted. Liam always knew; Louis couldn’t hide anything from him.
He kept his voice low, careful with the distance between them and the rest of the lads still back by the pitch. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“Don’t look fine.”
Louis sighed, shaking his head. “I just wish I could go. That’s all. But I’ve got to get Phoenix to bed. Daddy duty calls.”
Liam’s eyes searched his, worry written plain, but he didn’t push. He only gave a small nod, steady and quiet but wishing so badly that he could change things for his best mate. “Alright. Text me later though.”
Louis swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his chest, and turned down the path, each step dragging with the weight of both worlds pulling him in opposite directions.
The walk home should’ve been nothing — five, maybe ten minutes across familiar streets — but Louis felt wrung out by every step. His chest still buzzed with the echo of Harry’s smile.
Harry had been into it. Into him. Louis wasn’t imagining it.
But then the doubt clawed up just as quick. Harry hadn’t a clue who he really was — not just Louis Tomlinson, lad leaning on the rail, smirking at the mud and the mess, flirting like he had the right. He didn’t know Louis was already a father. He didn’t know about Phoenix. And if he did…
Louis’s gut twisted. No way Harry would look at him the same. Not when he could have literally anyone else, someone who wasn’t shackled to nappies, bedtime stories, Calpol and the constant grind of parental responsibility.
Still, for one flicker of a moment Louis had felt like just a lad again — part of the group, laughing until his stomach hurt, Harry pressed warm against his side. It would’ve been easy to say yes to chips, to imagine himself sat in a booth, knees brushing under the table, his biggest worry whether Niall stole a handful off his plate.
The thought tempted him, then gutted him. Because he wasn’t just a lad. He was a dad. He chose to be a dad and he’d sworn— standing at Clair’s casket— that he would always, always do right by their son.
By the time he turned up the path to the house, the guilt had curdled sharp in his chest. He hated that he’d even let himself play with the idea of what life would be like if he wasn’t a dad and hated himself even more for not being able to rid himself of wanting to explore more with Harry.
The front door opened to noise. Phoenix’s whines carried from the hallway, and Louis found him sat on the bottom stair, cheeks blotchy, fists rubbing his eyes. Louis knew straight away he wasn’t just simply sitting there; he was on the naughty step.
Lottie’s voice cut through from the sitting room, pitched with teenage annoyance. “Why am I the one cleaning it? He’s the one who did it!”
Louis’s stomach dropped.
Mark’s voice carried, “Because you were meant to be watching him not your phone.”
Johanna then appeared from the kitchen just as he shut the door behind him. Her face was calm, but her eyes said enough. “There was a bit of a moment while you were gone. Before I got home your sister gave him the crayons but failed to supervise him with them. He then decided to attempt drawing a masterpiece all over the wall.”
Louis’s gaze shot to the sitting room — sure enough, a fresh scrawl of colour stretched across the wallpaper, Lottie scrubbing with a wet cloth and muttering under her breath. The weight hit Louis all at once. He’d barely managed one match with his mates, and even that had ended in chaos at home. His chest squeezed with frustration, hot and mean.
“Brilliant,” he snapped, the word aimed at no one and everyone at once. He dropped his jacket, voice rising without thought. “I can’t even go for two bloody hours without something happening!”
Phoenix lip wobbling harder. “Sorry, Daddy,” he hiccupped.
Louis’s temper spiked anyway. “Sorry doesn’t fix the wall, does it? You know better Leonard Phoenix! I try to have a little time with my mates and come home to—”
“Louis.” Johanna’s voice was sharp enough to cut him off.
Phoenix was sobbing with his fingers in his mouth now, slobber and snot all over his face. He didn’t fully know what his daddy was saying but he knew his daddy was really mad at him.
Mark had come in from the hall, expression steady. “That’s enough, son.”
Louis’s breath came fast, throat tight, words tangled between anger and guilt. “You don’t get it— I just wanted—”
“We do get it,” Johanna said firmly. “We’ve been there. Tired, stressed, just wanting a break. You can’t take it out on him though, Lou.”
Mark crouched in front of Phoenix, who was still hiccupping on the stair. His tone was low, even. “Right, lad. We color on paper not the walls. You’re going to help Aunt Tottie clean it. Grandad’ll show you how to wipe the wall.” He held out a hand, waiting until Phoenix slid off the step and placed his small fingers into his.
“Sorry,” He cried again.
“I know you, lad. Time out is over though.” Mark said, taking his hand. “No more tears. You’re forgiven. Just have to clean up the mess now.”
As Mark led him into the sitting room, Johanna touched Louis’s arm, her voice softening. “Kitchen darling. Let’s have some tea and get you calmed down.”
Louis sagged under it, guilt already clawing up his throat. He let her guide him through, the kettle already humming on the counter. She pressed a mug into his hands, the smell of tea curling up like something solid to hold onto.
“Breathe, Lou,” she said, her hand still firm on his shoulder. “There’s no judgement, alright? You just need a minute.”
Louis gripped the mug, the warmth seeping into his palms as his chest heaved, the crash of the evening catching up with him in one brutal wave.
Johanna settled opposite him at the table, her own cup untouched. She studied him for a long moment, soft but unflinching. “You know, when you were little, it was just me. Your biological father bailed. Your grandparents worked full time. It was just me on my own with a baby and not a clue what I was doing.”
Louis blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, but… you managed.”
She gave a faint laugh, shaking her head. “Managed? Louis, I cried more nights than I care to admit. I snapped at you when it wasn’t your fault, I hated myself for it, and then I’d sit on the floor beside your cot feeling like the worst mum alive. There were days I thought I’d ruined both our lives before they’d even started.”
Louis’s chest tightened. “Mum—”
“But here’s the thing,” she said gently, leaning in. “You didn’t remember those moments. What you remembered was love. A full belly, bedtime stories, me being there even though I was a mess. And that’s what Phoenix will remember too. You’re here. You show up. You love him. That’s what matters; not your weak moments or your mistakes or any forgetfulness when it comes to calpol.”
Louis dropped his gaze to the tea, his throat aching. “I just… I love my son so much and I have no regrets but sometimes I wish I could be like them. Liam, Zayn, Niall, Harry. Just—normal. Out late celebrating a win, laughing about stupid things and no worry about what’s waiting when I walk back in the door.”
Johanna reached across and laid her hand over his, steady and warm. “Of course you do. You’re seventeen, love. Wanting that doesn’t mean you love Phoenix any less or that you regret him. It means you’re human. I promise Clair would have had these same feeling my darling.”
Tears burned at the back of his eyes, but he blinked hard against them. “I swore to Clair I’d never let him down. And then I come home tonight and… I lost it. I scared him.”
“You’re not perfect, Louis. None of us are. But you’re learning, same as I did.”
Louis swallowed, his voice small. “Doesn’t feel like enough sometimes.”
Johanna squeezed his hand. “It never will, not in your head. That’s the curse of loving someone the way you love that boy. You’ll always feel like you should do more. But the truth is—you already do enough for him. More than enough.”
Louis closed his eyes as she hugged, the words landing heavy but warm. “Thanks mum. I just lost myself but— gotta shake it off and keep going right?”
“That’s it, exactly.” She smiled. “Finish your tea, get your baring and then go back to him. Show him you’re never too big to say sorry when you’re wrong and then hug it out.”
Louis finished the last of his tea, the warmth sitting heavy in his chest, steadying him enough to get up. Johanna gave his arm one last squeeze before letting him go.
In the sitting room, Mark was crouched beside Phoenix, guiding his little hand over the cloth to wipe away the last streaks of crayon. Phoenix’s face was blotchy, lashes stuck together from tears, his whole body tense with that nervous energy toddlers carried when they weren’t sure if they were still in trouble.
Louis’s heart twisted.
“I’ll take it from here, Dad,” Louis said softly.
Mark straightened, giving him a look that said more than words — firm, but supportive — before passing the cloth to Louis and heading for the kitchen.
Louis crouched down so he was eye level with his boy. Phoenix glanced up quickly, then back down at the wall, chewing his lip.
“Hey,” Louis said, his voice gentler than before. “Daddy is sorry for shouting. That wasn’t fair. I got cross, but not with you. Not really.”
He pulled Phoenix into his arms and restated himself, “Daddy’s sorry for yelling. Daddy’s sorry for scaring you.”
Phoenix’s mouth trembled, his little fingers twisting in his shirt.
Louis smoothed his curls back, waiting until Phoenix’s eyes flicked up to his. “I’m not mad at you, Phoenix. But colouring on the wall? That’s naughty. Walls aren’t for crayons.”
Phoenix sniffled, nodding. “Color on paper?”
“That’s right,” Louis said, managing a small smile. “Color on paper.”
He pulled him close, hugging him tight until Phoenix’s small arms clung back. Relief eased through Louis’s chest, heavy but healing. “And no matter what, I love you. Always.”
Phoenix’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. “Love Daddy and do-sah.”
Louis kissed his hair, breathing him in. “Love you and your do-sah too, lad.” He pulled back just enough to tap his nose. “Now, come on. It’s bath time. Let’s get you cleaned up for bed.”
Phoenix gave a little nod, thumb slipping into his mouth as Louis scooped him up, the weight of him familiar and grounding. The crayons, the shouting, the guilt — it would all linger, Louis knew. But right now, there was bath water to run, pyjamas to find, and a boy who needed the bedtime routine that made the world feel steady again.
Louis carried him upstairs, whispering as they went. “Paper next time, yeah? No more wall art.”
Phoenix mumbled around his thumb, “No more wall art,” and rested his head on Louis’s shoulder.
And just like that, the evening moved forward.
Louis shifted Phoenix higher against his chest and started up the stairs, pressing a kiss into his curls. The house had quieted, but Louis’s insides still felt like a live wire. He pushed it down. Right now, it was about Phoenix.
“Bath time, yeah?” he murmured.
Phoenix nodded around his thumb.
In the loo, Louis set him down on the rug and let the tub start to fill before adding bubble liquid. “Let’s get you sorted, mister.” He eased him out of his little jumper, tugged the soft trousers down his legs, and unfastened the sagging nappy. The smell made him wrinkle his nose.
“Christ, you’ve been holding that in for me, eh?”
Phoenix gave a small giggle, twisting to escape, but Louis caught him with one arm. “Oi, none of that. Stand still, please.” He cleaned him quickly, dropped the dirty nappy into the bin, and kissed his temple. “All ready for the bath now. See? Not so bad.”
Phoenix leaned his head against Louis’s shoulder, thumb sliding back into his mouth.
“Come on then,” Louis said softly, scooping him back up. “Bath’ll make you feel better.”
Louis knelt on the mat, rolling his sleeves, and shut the tap off when the water sloshed at just the right height.
Phoenix crouched beside him, eyes wide as the bubbles began to gather.
“Bubbles!” he announced.
“Yeah, loads of them tonight.” Louis dropped in the little plastic boat and gave it a push. “Captain Phoenix, ready to sail?”
Phoenix clapped, grinning, and let Louis lift him in. The warm water swallowed him up, and he kicked his legs with a delighted squeal, sending bubbles flying.
“Oi, keep it in the tub.” Louis laughed, shielding his face as droplets sprayed.
“Daddy wet,” Phoenix said with a cheeky grin, splashing again.
Louis shook his head, “Yeah, cause you always have to splash in the tub, cheeky little dinosaur.”
Phoenix nodded, thumb popping free as he grabbed for the boat, steering it in uneven circles.
Louis watched him, his throat tight, but he kept his voice steady. “We’ll try and get to the park again before it’s too cold. What do you reckon? Swings? Slides?”
“Swings!” Phoenix chirped.
Louis smiled and leaned down to kiss his damp hair. “Course you choose swings. Not a fan of those tall slides yet, hmm?”
“Nixie swing.” Phoenix told him. “Do-sah swing?”
“Yeah, you can go in the toddler swing like always and hold do-sah. Daddy will push you both.”
Phoenix cheered and Louis kept talking, “Maybe after school on Tuesday we’ll go for a little bit. Daddy doesn’t work and I think it’s going to be a nice day. Can you say Tuesday?”
“Today.” Phoenix tried and giggled when Louis laughed at him.
“Swings on Tuesday. A proper lad and dad evening at the park.” Louis smiled.
“Lad and daddy!” Phoenix smiled as Louis began washing him up.
“Right, lad and daddy… mmm, and do-sah? Can he come?” Louis asked, knowing his son didn’t go anywhere without his do-sah.
“Do-sah park, lad and daddy.” He nodded. “Do-sah, Nixie, daddy, swings at park. Yes?”
Louis melted at the little attempt to carry on a proper conversation. He leaned forward and kissed his soapy wet head, “Yeah, I like that plan.”
A short bit later Louis was done cleaning him. He pulled the plug, letting the water swirl down as Phoenix’s boat spun in lopsided circles.
“Say night-night, boat,” Louis prompted.
“Night-night, boat,” Phoenix echoed, leaning over to pat it before Louis scooped him up in a towel.
He bundled him tight, rubbing him down until the squeals softened into sleepy little sighs. “There we are. Fresh and clean.” Louis kissed the top of his damp curls, then set him on the rug. “Hold still, lad. You need a nappy first.”
“Nappy.” Phoenix nodded and let his daddy help him lay down. He wriggled his toes while Louis secured the nappy on him and tugged him into soft pyjamas covered in stars. Phoenix then giggled when Louis pressed a raspberry into his tummy before fastening the last popper.
“All done,” Louis said, lifting him up. “Bedtime.”
They padded down the hall to the small room they shared, night-light already glowing in the corner.
“Book?” Phoenix asked attempting to run carefully to his bookshelf. “Nixie Book?”
“Yeah, we always do a book. Pick us a good one.” Louis told him and watched as he looked through them all carefully. He wasn’t a reader himself but loved that Phoenix was so into books.
“Puppy.” Phoenix smiled, bringing him one with a dog on the cover.
“Yeah, this is one of the books Zayn got you for your birthday. Do you remember?” His birthday was less than two months ago but Louis really didn’t know how far back toddlers could remember such things.
“Zay?” He questioned as he gave his Daddy the book.
“Yep, Zayn.” Louis nodded and scooped him up before sitting on the little bed. “I‘ll have to tell him you chose one of his books for bed tonight.”
“Book bed night.” Phoenix tried to copy as he snuggled into Louis’ chest the moment he was given his do-sah.
Louis opened the book, reading slowly, letting Phoenix point and name things on the page. They lingered longer than the words needed, both stretching out the moment.
When the book was shut, Phoenix rolled into his side, eyes heavy. Louis shifted onto his back, letting his son curl into him as he began to sing, voice low and familiar in the quiet: Green Day, the same song he always used.
Phoenix’s lids fluttered, then stilled, his breathing evening out against Louis’s side.
Louis kept singing a little longer, softer and softer, until the last note faded. He pressed a kiss into his boy’s curls as he got up, whispering, “Mummy and Daddy love you. Always.”
Phoenix didn’t stir, only sighed in his sleep, clutching Do-sah closer.
He straightened, rolling his shoulders as he pulled his jumper over his head. Saturday night. He could change, maybe head downstairs for a bit, grab a snack and pretend he wasn’t knackered while watching a film.
He’d just pulled his T-shirt loose when a chime from his phone in his pocket played.
Phoenix stirred instantly, thumb twitching toward his mouth.
“Shit,” Louis hissed under his breath, fumbling for the phone. He yanked it free, thumb darting to flick it onto vibrate before another notification hit. He stood frozen, holding his breath until Phoenix settled again, curling tighter into his blankets.
Louis’s phone buzzed in his hand, Niall’s name flooding the screen.
Niall: LADS. I can’t cope. I actually cannot cope. I’m lying here like some kind of Victorian woman about to faint because my HEART is too full.
Niall: First proper match and I had my OWN gang screaming their heads off for me the whole way through For the first time in my time?? Who gets that?? WHO??
Niall: I’ll never forget it. Not even when I’m eighty and dribbling into a cup of tea. I’ll be like “remember when my lads turned up and made me feel like Messi?” and the nurses will tell me to shut up but I WON’T.
Niall: Genuinely though—thank you. It meant the world. More than I can put into words, and you know I never shut up so that’s saying something.
Louis smiled, biting his lip to keep the laugh quiet so he wouldn’t wake Phoenix. It was classic Niall. It was ridiculous, dramatic, pure— but underneath, it was raw. Gratitude dressed up in capital letters and nonsense. He meant every word.
The chat went quiet long enough for Louis to finish getting his trousers off. Liam’s bubble blinked up as he stood in only his pants.
Liam: Always here, mate. Wouldn’t miss it.
Louis read it before grabbing pajama bottoms. Louis hummed at the words, agreeing like Liam had said them aloud to the room. Solid. Simple.
His pulled on his bottoms and then picked up the phone, thumbs hovered, but before he could type, Zayn’s reply landed.
Zayn: Yeah. You’re stuck with us too. Deal with it.
Louis smiled, softer this time. He tossed his clothes into the hamper then sat on his own bed as another buzz came. He expected more from Niall, but it was just digits — an unsaved number.
Unknown: You’re welcome Ni. This friendship group is something special. Feels good being part of it.
Louis froze. His stomach flipped. Of course. It had to be Harry.
He sat up straighter, thumbing a reply to Niall in the new five person group text, ‘Loved getting to be there for you tonight. Sorry I couldn’t make it for the celebration dinner after.’
Louis then grinned and added the number into his contacts before he lost his nerve. His grin widened, stupid and giddy, as he flicked into a new message window. His hands trembled just enough to make him mistype, but he corrected it quick.
‘I assume this is Harry?’
He hit send before he could second-guess himself, shoving a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath at how ridiculous he felt.
Louis the flicked out of it, into the quieter thread with just him, Liam, and Zayn. Liam had affectionately titled it ‘The Power Puff Girls’ despite Zayn’s protest.
The grin faded, as he vented about his evening to the two people who he could always trust to just hear him out when he needed an ear.
‘Got home to chaos. Lottie wasn’t paying attention and Phoenix coloured on the walls. I lost it. Mum and Dad had to step in.’
He stopped, exhaled hard, then typed again.
‘Cooled off after. Said sorry. Got him into the bath and then read to him. He chose one of the books you bought him, Zayn.’
Zayn: ‘Sorry to hear about the chaos when you got home. Love that he’s enjoying the books though.’
He stared at the blinking cursor, smiled faintly at Zayn’s reply then text back, ‘Feel like I failed tonight. But at least he’s safe and loved. That has to count for something, right?’
The message went out, and Louis sat back against the wall, the glow of the screen casting shadows up over his face. The typing dots blinked, disappeared, then blinked again. It was Liam first.
Liam: ‘You didn’t fail. You learned. And like you said, He’s safe and he knows you love him. Nothing else matters more.’
A second later, Zayn chimed in, blunt but grounding in that way only he could manage.
Zayn: ‘Don’t tear yourself apart, Lou.‘
Louis swallowed, throat aching, and pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes. For a moment, he just let the words sit with him. This was why he needed them—their voices cutting through the noise in his head, steadying him when he couldn’t do it himself.
He typed back, ‘Thanks. Don’t know what I’d do without you two.’
Liam: ‘We don’t plan on letting you find out.’
Louis’s lips tugged into the faintest smile. He locked the phone and went to set it down but another text pulled him back in. It was Harry.
Just like that the upset feelings faded.
Harry: ‘It is, in the flesh!’
There was an attached photo of him giving a giant, cheesy grin. Louis saw it and felt his face flush over. He was so thankful no one else could see him now as he saved the photo.
Harry: ‘This has to be either Liam and Louis.’
Louis smiled and replied, ‘Yeah, it’s Louis.’ He then sent, ‘Been trying to exchange numbers with each other for weeks and Niall is the one to finally make it happen.’
Louis bit his lip waiting for another reply then grinned when it came through.
Harry: ‘Don’t tell him! We’ll never hear the end of how he pulled off the impossible or something.’
Louis: ‘Exactly. He’ll start acting like he deserves a medal.’
The dots blinked.
Harry: Or a statue in the school courtyard.
Louis snorted, shaking his head.
Louis: Reckon he’d pose for it himself.
Harry: Lol! I can see that! He’s so wild but honestly? I really enjoy him. Got so lucky when the school paired he and I up.
Louis leaned back against his headboard, chewing at his lip while his thumbs hovered.
Louis: Yeah? I imagine it must’ve been a lot, moving here suddenly.
The dots blinked.
Harry: It was. New place, new faces. Could’ve been rough. But… it hasn’t felt like that.
Louis: Cause of Niall?
Harry: Cause of all of you. Niall to be young, wild and free with. Zayn to talk books and keep me from failing English. Liam bonding us all together with how loyal and protective he is.
Louis laughed quietly into the dark. ‘Accurate.’
There was a pause before Harry’s next message landed.
Harry: And then there’s you.
Louis’s chest tightened. His thumbs froze above the keyboard. ‘Me?’
Harry: Yeah. You’re the one who makes me smile.
Louis swallowed, heat rushing up the back of his neck. He curled onto his side, phone clutched close, grinning like a fool at a screen that glowed too bright in the dark.
He wanted to ask more. He wanted to push. But instead, he tapped out something safer, ‘Guess I’ll take that as a compliment then.’
Harry: Good. Cause it was, Lou.
Louis stared at Harry’s last text, heart hammering in his chest, fingers already moving to reply before a sound cut through the quiet — soft at first, then sharper.
“No no!”
Louis’s head whipped toward the toddler bed. Phoenix shifted under the covers, little fists clenching in his sleep. His face twisted before he let out a louder cry, frightened and broken, “Daddy!”
Louis’s stomach dropped. The phone slipped from his hand onto the duvet as he was already moving, crossing the room in quick strides.
“Bad duckies! Daddy—bad duckies!” His body shook as he stretched for him.
Louis’s stomach dropped. The phone slipped from his hand onto the duvet as he was already moving, crossing the room in quick strides.
“Shh, I’ve got you, lad,” he whispered, scooping Phoenix up against his chest. The boy clung to him instantly, trembling, burying his wet face into Louis’s shirt.
Louis sank back onto the edge of His own bed, curling around him, one hand stroking through damp curls, the other rubbing steady circles over his back. “It’s alright. Just a dream. No bad duckies here. You’re safe.”
Phoenix’s sobs hitched, loud and hiccuping, but Louis kept whispering, patient and soft, rocking him in the low glow of the nightlight before softly singing Green Day until the cries dulled into whimpers.
Behind him, the phone buzzed once, the screen flashing in the dark with Harry’s name. Louis didn’t turn. His world, in that moment, was the boy sleeping once again, now in his arms, needing him to be the safe place.