"C'mon, Mils, you can do it!"

On the screen of Harry's laptop, Mila stands shakily on two chubby little legs, big eyes on Louis, who's presumably behind the camera. Louis' sisters are gathered in the background, all grinning and encouraging her.

Slowly, Mila takes a wobbly step towards the camera. Lottie erupts into cheers while Louis coaxes her, his voice getting more and more excited the closer she gets. When she finally reaches him, he lifts her up with one arm, the camera soaring upwards as well before the video comes to a stop.

It's three-thirty in the morning. Harry had tried to sleep, sprawled out on the bed in his childhood room, but he couldn't stop thinking about the events of that night. Nine hours ago he was just a person, he was only really responsible for himself. Now he's a dad.

Louis had emailed him a link to a folder of videos and pictures of Mila. He's been looking at all of them, sometimes playing the videos two or three times. It stings, watching them and knowing he should've been there.

He knows if he had answered Louis' calls, and found out that they had a baby, he wouldn't be where he is now. He would've left it all behind, gone back home to be with them. There'd be no band, no One Direction. It's weird to even think about his life turning out so differently.

The glow of his laptop screen is the only light in the room until his phone lights up from where it lays on the mattress. Camille is calling him. He ponders whether the time difference slipped her mind, or if she just doesn't care.

He accepts the call and holds his mobile up to his ear. "Camille, hi."

"Harry, mon chéri. You did not respond to my picture, did you not like it?"

Up until now, the last thing on his mind was the naked picture Camille had sent him during dinner that night. Harry winces a little thinking about it, how Mila was right next to him. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Was at dinner with my mum, no phones at the table."

"Such a good boy," Camille coos. "I miss you so much already."

"Yeah, miss you too," Harry says softly. "Um. It's almost four in the morning here."

"Oh, is it? I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Harry stares at the frozen image of Mila on the screen, swallowing thickly. "It's nice to hear your voice," He adds on.

"I know," Camille teases, and Harry wrinkles his nose to hold back a laugh. "I didn't mean to call you so late. Or, early? I can call you back later."

"Okay," Harry nods, although she can't see him. "Talk to you later."

"Later, mon amour."

The call leaves Harry feeling warm, grinning to himself until he looks back down at the image of Mila on his laptop. Suddenly Camille isn't the most important thing on his mind anymore.

He's only home for two weeks. Then he's away until Christmas, and for months after that. He has to spend as much time with her as he can before he leaves, has to convince Louis that he's all in on the whole dad thing. As scary as that is.

He looks up when he hears the bedroom door start to open, furrowing his eyebrows when his mum appears. She raises her eyebrows, seemingly surprised he's awake. "Babe, what're you doing up?"

"Was gonna ask you the same thing," Harry admits, reaching over and turning on the lamp sitting on his bedside table. Anne walks over, in her bathrobe and pyjamas, and Harry moves over so she can sit next to him.

"Sometimes when you're home, I just like to watch you sleep," She admits. "It's nice to know you're here, in your bed."

"That's a little creepy," Harry teases, but he grins. Anne gives him a look before her eyes land on his laptop, and her whole face softens.

"Is...is that her?" She asks quietly. Harry turns his laptop a little so it's facing her.

"Yeah," He mumbles.

"She does look just like you," His mum reaches up and squeezes his arm. Harry smiles a little. "What's her name?"

"Mila Eloise Tomlinson," He says softly. "I brought her flowers, and she told me I need a haircut."

Anne laughs, squeezing his arm again, but her eyes stay stuck to the picture of her. "She's beautiful," She says, and Harry nods in agreement. "Why...why didn't Louis tell you? That's so unlike him."

"He tried," Harry explains. "It's...my fault. He called me a bunch of times, I didn't answer. I was just..."

"You were hurt," His mum finishes, and Harry sighs. "It's not your fault, love."

"I don't know how to be a dad," Harry admits. Anne frowns. "I told him that I was all in, and I was gonna be there, but. I don't even know if I can. I didn't have the nine months to prepare, I just...kinda got thrown into it."

"Harry," Anne says gently. "Love. You're going to be a great dad."

Harry's voice is shaky, and soft when he mumbles "You think so?"

"Yes, baby, I do," Anne nods, smiling at him warmly. "And, I know you. You have a big heart, the biggest. Even though your circumstances are a little...different...I know you'll figure it out."

Harry can't help but grin. "Thanks, Mum."

Anne grabs him by the cheeks, bringing his head down so she can kiss his forehead. "No matter how big and famous you get, you'll always be my baby, y'know."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "That line is getting old."

"Doesn't make it less true," Anne mumbles into his hair, squeezing his cheeks.

♛

"Harry, hi."

"Hey," Harry clears his throat, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. "Sorry, I know it's early."

"No, no," Louis says, but Harry can tell by his voice that he's fighting back a yawn as he does. "'S fine. Mila's been jumping on my bed since seven, anyways, what's up?"

"I was, um," Harry sighs. "Just wondering when I could see her again? I'm sorry, I know you're probably busy, but I'm only home for two weeks, and-" He stops when Louis laughs into the phone.

"Of course you can see her again," Louis says, endeared. Harry feels his cheeks become warm. "I mean, we usually go to the farmer's market on Sunday mornings, you could tag along."

Harry deflates a little. "Um, I'd like to," He says. "But, I can't."

"Oh, right," Louis says softly. "Paps and cameras and teenage girls throwing their training bras at you."

Harry blinks. "Training bras?"

"Well, I can just text you when we get back," Louis offers. "We're usually only there for an hour or so, anyways, Mila is not a shopping girl."

"Your daughter doesn't like shopping?" Harry asks, amused.

"I know, I know," Louis giggles. "She can only hang on for so long before she starts whining. She got that from you."

"Oi!" Harry protests, and Louis giggles again. "I never whine."

"Yes you did!" Louis argues. "I could never take you anywhere unless there was food. I would ask to go to the shops to get two things and it would be the end of the world for you."

"Because you'd stand there for twenty minutes trying to figure out which peanut butter brand is better!" Harry points out, laughing a little.

"Well, I'm not spending my hard-earned money on subpar peanut butter."

"It was always my money," Harry points out.

"Well. That's what boyfriends are for."

Harry shakes his head, his cheeks warm and lips turned up into a smile. "Y'got me there," He can say, hearing Louis snicker. "Alright, well. Text me when you're back."

"Will do, see you in a bit."

"See you," Harry says, and they hang up.

♛

This time Mila doesn't answer the door. Louis does, wearing black skinny jeans and a navy blue sweater that brings out his eyes. He smiles up at him, and for a split second the feeling Harry gets in his stomach has him convinced he's sixteen again.

"Hi," He greets, leaning into the door, grinning up at him. Harry manages a weak smile, holding a travel cup of tea out to him.

"Hey, I stopped and got tea on the way," He says, and Louis smiles with delight. "You still take it with half a sugar and milk, I hope?"

"I love that you come bearing gifts," Louis takes the cuppa from him, stepping aside so he can come in. "Yeah, I do, thanks."

Harry steps inside, his motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. "Mila passed out on the sofa as soon as we got back," Louis explains, rolling his eyes as Harry kicks off his shoes. "But you're welcome to wait it out. Her naps usually never last long."

"Oh, okay," Harry nods, setting his helmet on top of his shoes before standing back up. Louis gives him a shy smile, wrapping both his hands around his tea.

"Um, here, let me give you some money for this," He says, starting towards the kitchen.

"No, Louis, it's on me," He follows him, running his hand through his hair nervously. Louis ignores him, picking up his wallet off the counter. He hands him a fiver, but Harry just pushes his hand away. "Seriously. I got it."

"Y'sure?" Louis asks, and Harry nods. "At least let me make you something to eat, have you had lunch?"

"Ah, no, but," Harry shrugs. "I'm...kind of on a diet."

Louis looks him up and down. "You're on a diet?"

"Yeah, uh, we have a nutritionist and stuff," Harry explains. "To keep us in shape for tour and stuff. It's pretty strict. I'm supposed to go on a juice cleanse next week."

"That sounds miserable," Louis admits, shaking his head. Harry laughs a little. "What d'you even eat? Raw chicken and protein powder straight out of the container?"

Harry lets out a real laugh, sitting down at the breakfast bar while Louis puts away produce he must've bought at the farmers market. "I do eat chicken, but it's not usually raw," He says with a smile, amused. "I dunno. Protein shakes for breakfast, plain chicken n' veggies for lunch. I usually don't eat much for dinner."

Louis stops what he's doing, a serious look striking his face as he turns to look at him. "That doesn't sound very healthy, Harry."

Harry pauses, suddenly feeling very self conscious. "You...don't think so?"

"I mean, I'm not a nutritionist or anything," Louis shrugs. "But you're, like, six foot two. I think Mila eats more than that in a day."

"'M only six foot one," Harry says quietly.

"Only," Louis snorts, shaking his head before looking back up at Harry. He sighs. "'M sorry. It's none of my business. I've just..." Louis wrinkles his nose and shakes his head again. "Never mind."

"No, what?" Harry asks, biting his lip.

Louis puts down the bag of apples in his hand, facing Harry and sighing. "I still worry about you, y'know."

Harry's cheeks become hot. He looks down at his lap. "You don't have to worry about me."

Louis just looks at him, giving him a small, sort of sad smile. "I know there's a...standard," He says. "Of how you're supposed to look, so teenage girls will continue to throw their training bras at you," Harry makes a face, and Louis giggles. "But rather than listening to all of these people telling you how you should look, I think you should be listening to your body. I mean, you have to be hungry, right?"

He is. He hadn't even noticed, he's become so used to it. He's been away from Louis for five years and he can still read him so easily. Louis must know the answer from his face, because he gives him a soft smile. "Let me make you some lunch, Harry, please."

Harry sighs softly, but he nods. "Okay," Louis' grin widens. "Thanks."

"I can make soup?" Louis offers after another sip of his tea. "You still like soup, yeah? I have my mum's recipe, you liked that one."

"Sure," Harry nods, and Louis smiles again, satisfied. "You're...you're so great." Louis' eyebrows raise up, surprised, but he smirks. Harry blushes. "I mean, you're being so great. About everything. Thank you."

"Yeah, 'course," Louis assures, warm, pulling out a cutting board. He looks up when little footsteps echo in the kitchen, smiling. "Hey, Mils, look who came back to see you."

Mila rubs at her eyes before they light up, the sleepiness dissipating from her face. "Harry!"

"Hi," Harry greets, instantly feeling soft. Mila walks closer, peering around him before pouting.

"No flowers?" She asks.

"Hey," Louis scolds, but his voice stays calm. "What do we say about gifts, Mila?"

Mila sighs. "As-ept but don't es-pect."

"Accept but don't expect," Louis nods, clearly biting back a laugh. "How was your nap, meatball?"

"Good," Mila fiddles with the strap of her dungarees. "C-Can you put on Totoro, please?"

"Since you asked so nicely," Louis puts down the knife he's been using to cut vegetables, wiping off his hands. Mila looks up at Harry.

"You watch with me?" She asks, beaming up at him expectedly.

"Sure," Harry stands up from the stool, and Mila grabs his big hand with her tiny one to lead him to the lounge. Harry's heart melts a little.

Mila watches the movie, but Harry spends most of the time watching her, studying all the bits of himself and Louis in her mannerisms and her expressions. She has all of Louis' faces, excited and bored and annoyed. She's perfect, literally the most beautiful person Harry has ever seen. When it hits him that he's her dad, his heart swells a little with pride.

"So, what is a Totoro?"

Mila furrows her eyebrows, like she's confused why he's even asking. She points to the big, grey creature on the screen. "That."

"No, I know that's him," Harry says. "But...what is he?"

Mila gives him a look, pointing to the screen again. "That."

Harry can hear Louis laughing from behind him, still making soup in the kitchen. "Ah, okay. Now I get it," He says. "Um, I have to go to the loo, I'll be right back."

"M'kay," Mila nods, her eyes not leaving the TV screen. Harry gets up off the sofa, walking back into the kitchen as Louis stirs soup in a big pot on the stove.

"She really likes that film, huh?" He says.

"'S her favourite," Louis nods, smiling. "Can't count how many times she's seen it."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, looking back into the lounge, where Mila is still staring at the screen. "Um, what else does she like?"

Louis smiles, seemingly endeared. "Well, she likes bugs," He says, still stirring the soup. "'S like, the grossest thing ever. And she likes swimming, and burritos, and Jack Johnson songs. And Abba, of course, but that's not even because of me. I mistakenly left her with Lottie and Fiz for an afternoon, and they had showed her both Mamma Mia movies."

"That couldn't have been kid-friendly," Harry says, laughing a little.

"I barely survived the amount of non-kid-friendly questions she asked me afterwards," Louis sighs. "'M glad someone finally appreciates Abba like I do, though."

"I could've saved her, I met her too late," Harry shakes his head, sorrowful, and Louis flips him off.

"Harry, hurry up!"

"Demanding," Louis observes, turning off the stovetop burner. "I have no idea where she's gotten that from."

"Right," Harry grins, shaking his head again as he makes his way to the washroom.

WHAT DO WE THINK SO FAR DO WE LIKE IT DO WE HATE IT