"Do you want me to stop and get you ice cream?"

"No."

"Do you want me to stop and get you...anything?"

"No."

"Harry, you've been in a pissy mood all afternoon," Louis sighs, glancing over at where Harry is in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest. "Is something wrong? Did I say something?"

Harry sighs softly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them. "No. You didn't say anything."

"Then what's the matter, love?" Louis asks gently, putting his hand on Harry's thigh. "Is it the same reason you wanted me to pick you up early? Are you just not feeling good?"

Harry sighs again, pouting a little. "People in my class were talking about me," He mumbles, his voice trembling a little. Louis furrows his eyebrows, giving Harry's thigh a gentle squeeze.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"They were talking about me, and they didn't know I was sitting behind them," Harry explains, sniffling. "They were just...talking shit. About me being pregnant," Harry swallows thickly. "They called me fat, L. It hurt my feelings."

"What the fuck?!" Louis raises his voice. "That's...that's not okay, what gives them the right to do that? Holy shit, H, baby, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Harry shakes his head, though his eyes are teary.

"No, it isn't," Louis says sternly. "But...you're not going to let a bunch of stuck-up cunts make you feel bad about yourself. You work ten times harder than them, you're ten times smarter than them, and they're just jealous."

Harry giggles through his tears, shaking his head again. "How did I get so lucky?"

"For real, Haz," Louis insists. "You work way too hard to let some tossers from law school get in your way. I'm really fucking proud of you, baby. You're incredible."

"Lou," Harry's cheeks flush.

"Now, I'm gonna ask again," Louis says. "Do you want me to stop and get you ice cream?"

Harry giggles again, exhaling shakily. "Yeah," He says after a moment. "Yes, please."

♛

"Okay, Louis, what did you write?"

Louis sighs a little, looking down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "Hey," Miriam says softly. Louis looks up at her. "This is a safe space, okay? Neither of us are going to judge what you say."

Louis sighs again, looking down at the paper again. "Okay, well, uh. I'm Harry, and I'm...stressed."

"Why're you stressed?" Miriam asks.

"Um," Louis feels really stupid. He keeps repeating to himself in his head "It's for Harry, it's for Harry, it's for Harry". "Well. I got into my dream school, and I'm studying for my dream job, but...nothing's really going as planned. Because I'm married, and pregnant, and...we have, like, no money."

"Mhm," Miriam nods. "What else?"

"Well, uh," Louis clears his throat. "I have a husband, who's incredibly handsome," Harry laughs a little from the other side of the sofa. "But...I can't help but kind of...resent him. For putting me in this position."

"What?" Harry asks softly.

"I mean," Louis shrugs. "I kinda took you away from everything. Your family, you getting to experience uni, your whole life basically."

"I-I don't think of it that way," Harry says. "I've never thought of it that way."

"Really?" Louis' genuinely shocked by that. "I've spent our entire marriage trying to make that up to you. All the shit you missed out on because of me."

"Louis," Miriam speaks up, furrowing her eyebrows. "If Harry was throwing away his whole life, why would he marry you?"

Louis blinks. "I-I don't know."

"He wouldn't," Miriam says.

"I wasn't," Harry assures. "I...loved him. I do love him. I wanted to marry him, it was completely my choice."

"Who gets married that young?" Louis scoffs.

"You did," Miriam points out.

"He was the only thing I had going for me," Louis stresses. Miriam raises her eyebrows. "I was too fucking poor and stupid to go to uni, I was working in a bar, I had nothing. And then I had him. He was the only good thing I had, and I wanted to marry him."

"But Harry had...everything. He was in uni, he was super smart, he had everything ahead of him. If I were him I probably wouldn't have married me."

"I was in love with you," Harry argues.

"You were eighteen!" Louis exclaims. "You were naïve."

"So, what, you were manipulating me or something?" Harry's voice is shaking like he's going to cry. "You were grooming me? That's bullshit. You were twenty. You were naïve too."

"Okay, let's breathe for a second," Miriam interrupts. "I think we're getting a little off topic."

"Isn't this what we're supposed to do in therapy?" Louis grumbles, clearly aggravated. "Talk about our fucking feelings or whatever?"

"Louis," Miriam says sternly. It reminds Louis a little too much of his mother. Louis swallows thickly and leans back into the sofa. "I think it's pretty clear your head is telling you things that just aren't tangible. Your insecurities are getting the better of you."

Louis sighs, gritting his teeth. "I don't believe it," He admits quietly. "He gave up so much to be with me."

"I didn't give anything up," Harry points out. "Without you, without your support, I don't know that I would've even gotten through school. You were the reason I pushed myself so much. Why I worked so hard."

Louis' chest clenches a little. He twitches his nose, the corners of his eyes burning with tears. He won't let himself fucking cry in couples therapy. That's so stupid. "There you go," Miriam smirks. "The lies you've been telling yourself, they've been debunked."

"Yeah," Louis says, voice thick with tears. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Should we move on to what Harry wrote?" Miriam suggests, giving them a small smile. Her hijab is pink, a soft, muted shade. It's Harry's favourite colour. Louis can't help himself from thinking about it.

Harry takes his piece of paper out of his pocket. It's neatly folded, and when he unfolds it Louis can see it's typed. He snorts, a fond smile on his face. Harry gives him a playful glare, and Louis mumbles "Try-hard."

"Shut up," Harry laughs, and then clears his throat. "Okay. So. I'm Louis, and I'm twenty, and my husband just told me he's pregnant. And we've only been married for two months, not to mention I'm still working at a bar for minimum wage."

"And...we asked my mum for help. Financially. And she said no. She was pregnant at the time, though, but I didn't know yet, so I was really ticked off. And, uh, everything's kind of a mess. I can't sleep, I have insomnia because I'm so stressed. But I'm trying to be strong and keep a brave face because I don't want to freak my husband out over how fucked we are."

Harry looks up from his paper. "That's...that's all I got."

"He hit it on the nose," Louis comments.

"You had insomnia?" Miriam asks. "When did it stop?"

Louis laughs bitterly. "Um. It didn't," He shakes his head. "I still never sleep."

"How much would you say you sleep per week?" Miriam asks.

"Uh," Louis blows out a puff of air, adding up the numbers in his head. "Like...twenty to twenty four."

Miriam just blinks, looking a little flustered. "Do you know how much you should be getting?" She asks, and Louis shakes his head. "At least sixty."

"Yeesh," Louis mutters.

"Have you gone to a doctor about this?" Miriam asks. "It's hard to work on a whole marriage when you're sleep deprived."

"Um, yeah," Louis shrugs. "They've gotten me on a whole bunch of sleep medications. They didn't work."

"Okay," Miriam nods. "Would you be open to trying a medication for anxiety?"

"I don't have anxiety," Louis says.

"If you can't sleep at night because you're so stressed, I'd say you have anxiety," Miriam raises her eyebrows. "I'm going to write you a prescription for Alprazolam."

"Are you allowed to give prescriptions?" Louis furrows his eyebrows.

Miriam glances up from her notepad and raises an eyebrow. "Do you think I'd prescribe you something if I'm not qualified to do so?"

Harry snorts, and Louis can't help but smile. "No. I guess not."

"Exactly," Miriam smirks. "Now. This week's homework. I want you to write a list of reasons you love each other."

"How many reasons?" Harry asks. Louis shakes his head slightly. Such a perfectionist.

"Hm," Miriam twists her mouth in thought. "How about...nine. Nine reasons you love each other. When's the last time you two have had a date night?"

"Um," Louis makes a face. "Like...four years? Shit."

"Then your other piece of homework is to go on a date," She says. "It can be anything. You can go anywhere. Just spend some time alone. No Gracie, as lovely as she sounds."

"Okay," Harry says softly. "Okay. That's...doable."