This is very much happening.

Harry is at Louis' doorstep, flowers in his hand, motorcycle helmet tucked under his other arm. They're for Mila, is that stupid? He wanted to bring her something, she's his daughter, after all (the thought makes him want to be sick), but he doesn't know much about her. Or, anything, really.

Louis and Mila live in a little two story house not too far from Louis' mum's. It actually kind of fascinates Harry that he would still remember exactly how to get there from his own house, how he can picture the route he took almost everyday to see Louis. He would drive the old Subaru he bought off of his stepdad, and a bike before that, to see Louis after school.

He wonders if Louis expects him to be some pompous asshole now that he's a singer. He could be. He supposes he wouldn't know, since he usually only hangs around with people who are also possibly pompous assholes. Sighing, he rings the doorbell, palms sweaty.

The door swings open, but no one is there. Not until Harry's eyes slowly sink down to see Mila standing there, bright blue eyes staring up at him. She's his. Her eyebrows furrow together. "Y're late. Daddy said."

Harry blinks, taken aback. "Oh, um, 'm sorry," He says once he finds his words. "I had to stop somewhere."

Mila eyes him suspiciously. "Tight trousers," She mentions. Oh, she's all Louis. Every bit of her. Harry can't help but let out a surprised laugh. He squats down in front of her so they're eye-to-eye.

"Here, these are for you," He hands her the bouquet, and her little eyes light up, delighted. "Pretty flowers for a pretty girl."

"'S that the same line you used on Taylor Swift?"

Harry looks up, past Mila's head of curls, and sees Louis there, an amused smile on his lips. It shifts into something more stern when he looks down at Mila, hands on his hips. "Mila Eloise, what have I said about answering the door without me?"

"Sorry, Daddy," Mila pouts before holding her flowers up over her head. "Look! Flowers!"

"They're lovely, peanut," Louis nods. "D'you want me to put them in a vase for you? So they can get some water?"

"No!" Mila holds the bouquet to her chest, the plastic wrap around it crinkling. "My flowers!"

Louis smiles weakly, shaking his head. His gaze shifts back up to Harry, eyes softening a little. "Hi."

"Hi," Harry's legs feel a bit shaky. Louis reaches and grabs Mila from behind, scooping her up and holding her on his hip. He steps back from the door, silently allowing Harry to finally step inside. "Do you, um, want me to take my shoes off?"

Louis grins, shutting the door behind Harry. "You can if you'd like," He shrugs. "We're not that formal of a family."

"Your mum always liked us to," Harry says, kicking his boots off and placing them next to each other by the door. "Figured it'd be nice to ask."

Louis' face becomes softer, like he hadn't expected Harry to remember that. Harry places his motorcycle helmet on top of his shoes. "You rode your bike?" Mila asks. Harry smiles, nodding.

"I did," He says. "Do you like to ride bikes?"

"Mhm!" Mila nods. "'Ve still got train wheels, though."

"Train-ing wheels, love," Louis corrects with a fond smile. "And, we're working on it."

"Ah," Harry nods. Louis meets his eyes again, biting his bottom lip. Harry can't believe how beautiful he still is. It gives him a feeling in his stomach that no one else has been able to give him, not even Camille.

"Um, dinner's almost ready," Louis mentions, pink dusting his cheeks. "Do you want to come sit?"

"Sure," Harry gives him a small smile. He follows Louis out of the foyer, into the kitchen. There's a small, round table with four chairs, a little pink booster seat on one of them. Louis places Mila down in that one, her little hands still wrapped around the stems of her flowers.

"Why don't we put those down while we eat, Mils?" Louis suggests, slowly reaching for the bouquet. Mila is quick to pull them away from him.

"Daddy!" Mila whines.

"Just while we eat, love, you need two hands," Louis coaxes, holding his hand out. "I bet they're thirsty, we can put them in a vase so they can drink some water."

Mila looks suspicious, but she ends up handing them over to Louis anyways. Louis snickers, proud of himself for winning that battle, before walking over to the cabinets. He stands on his tiptoes to reach a vase on one of the top shelves, going to fill it with water from the tap. Harry feels sixteen again, enamored with his every move.

"Daddy cuts hair."

Mila snaps Harry out of his thoughts, looking over at her. "Huh?"

"Daddy cuts hair," Mila repeats, pursing her little lips. "I 'fink you need it."

"Mila Eloise," Louis scolds, but a laugh bubbles out of him, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He shakes his head, setting her bouquet into the vase full of water. "I am so sorry, we're still figuring out what a filter is."

"Th-That's okay," Harry can't help but smile a little. He looks back over to Mila. "You're probably right, it is a bit long."

Mila reaches up and touches one of her own curls, eyes trained on Harry's. "The same!" She observes. "Daddy, our hair's the same!"

Louis' expression is unreadable. He smiles at her, but there's something in his eyes Harry can't quite figure out. "Yeah, love, it is the same," He turns the stovetop burner off, opening a different cabinet and pulling three bowls out of it. "Hope you're in the mood for Paw Patrol mac n' cheese, Harry Styles, 'cos that's about all we eat in this house."

Harry has no idea what Paw Patrol is. He laughs a little, though, his hands still shaking as he slides them down his thighs. His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a text from Camille.

Missing you, mon chéri x

Attached is a mirror selfie, and it takes Harry a moment to process the fact that she is wearing absolutely nothing. He stifles the choking sound he makes in the back of his throat, quickly turning his phone off, cheeks warm. This feels wrong, everything about it, his daughter is sitting right next to him.

Holy shit. His daughter. He and Louis have a daughter, Louis who broke his heart. Louis who he counted on to be with him when he was seventeen and thrust into the spotlight and scared out of his mind. Louis.

He stands up from the kitchen table. "Um, where's your washroom?" He chokes out.

Louis turns around from putting bright yellow mac n' cheese into a bowl, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees how pale Harry must look right now. "Um, down the corridor. First door to your left."

"Thanks," Harry rushes out of Louis' kitchen to the washroom. He switches the light on, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.

He tries to regulate his breathing, but he can't. Is this what a panic attack feels like? He rubs at his eyes. Mila is perfect, is the thing, adorable and all Louis' sass and spunk and bluntness. And he's in no position to be a father. He'll be traveling the world for almost seven months. He's the least responsible person he knows. He'd ruin her, he'd mess it all up.

But, Louis' been doing this all on his own. So, as scary as it is, he has to step up, doesn't he? Has to make up for lost time, do what he can to help out now that he knows he's a father.

God, why didn't he just pick up Louis' calls?

With a shaky sigh, he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, willing himself to man up and head back out there. When he does, Louis is sitting at the table, and Harry can tell when he looks at him that his eyes are worried.

"Alright?" Louis asks, then wrinkles his nose, probably realizing how redundant of a question that was.

"Um, yeah," Harry sits across from him, forcing a small smile. "Just washing up for dinner."

He looks down at the bowl in front of him. His trainer would kill him if he knew he was about to eat this. Yet, he picks up his fork and takes a bite. He doesn't think he's tasted anything better in his life.

"Oh my god," He says, feeling Louis look up at him again. "This is amazing."

"Mhm!" Mila agrees, scooping some into her mouth.

Louis' eyebrows knit together, but he laughs. "It's...mac n' cheese from a box."

"I never get to eat anything like this anymore," Harry admits, going back for another bite. "You think they make protein shakes that taste exactly like this?"

Louis wrinkles his nose again, this time with disgust. "I bloody hope not."

"'N the Paw 'Trol ones taste the best," Mila tells him, shoveling more into her mouth. Harry looks down and sees that they are shaped like little dogs. He knows he didn't eat this as a kid, but the taste is so familiar, and reminds him of something pleasant.

"Phoebe liked this," He realises.

"Phoebe?" Louis questions.

"Your sister," Harry explains. "She liked the ones shaped like unicorns or summat. Your mum made it for their birthday one year, 'cos it was her favourite. 'N she made pizza for Daisy."

Louis blinks in surprise, his face almost unbearably soft. "You remember that?"

Harry gives him a small smile. "We dated for two years. Of course I remember. I didn't just...leave 'n forget everything."

Louis' surprise turns into a genuine smile, shaking his head and looking down at his food. There's so much that he's thinking right now, Harry can tell, but he doesn't say anything.

The rest of dinner goes just as awkwardly, with a few funny comments from Mila that break the tension. Mila gets a tiny bowl of ice cream for successfully eating all of her dinner, and Louis cleans up while Harry sits and watches.

"You sure you don't need any help?" He asks, biting his bottom lip. He'd feel a lot more at ease if Louis let him do something rather than just sitting there.

Louis gives him a small smile, but it's genuine, shaking his head. "Just a few dishes, I'm sure," He says, stacking them and putting them in the sink to rinse. "You want some ice cream too? Mila doesn't usually like to share it, but I'm sure she'll make an exception for our dinner guest."

Mila scrunches her nose up, like Louis does. "I s'pose."

Harry looks over at her, ice cream on the tip of her button nose, and then down at the bowl of ice cream in front of her. It looks really, really good, actually, but "Ah, no thank you, I shouldn't."

Louis looks dissatisfied with that answer, but doesn't say anything else, rinsing out the yellow-stained bowls and keeping an eye on Mila. "After ice cream, we're putting on some PJs and brushing our teeth, okay?"

"One story?" Mila asks, clasping her hands together, big doe eyes pleading to him. Louis sighs, but he's smiling at her with so much adoration. He used to look at Harry like that, Harry can't help but think.

"Fine. One," He nods. Mila grins, satisfied, before shoveling more chocolate ice cream into her mouth. Harry feels like he's intruding, like he's sitting in on a stranger's life. Mila looks up at him, staring unashamedly, like only a child that small can.

"Y've got some on your nose," Harry can't help but point out, tapping the tip of his own nose with his finger. Mila crosses her eyes, trying to see for herself, and it makes Harry let out a genuine laugh.

She huffs, frustrated she can't, before dipping her finger into her bowl. She leans across the table and smears it onto the tip of Harry's nose, giggling mischievously. "Y've got some on your nooose," She mocks in a deep voice.

He hears Louis stifle a laugh. Mila looks so pleased with herself. "Would've never been able to guess who's been raisin' her, Lou," The nickname slips out easily, and he's almost embarrassed, but he sees how Louis grins, waiting until Mila's head is turned to flip him off. His signature comeback hasn't changed, it seems.

Mila finishes her ice cream soon enough, and Louis gives Harry a napkin to wipe the ice cream from his nose before bringing Mila up to bed, telling Harry to feel free to wait in the lounge while he puts her down.

Once he's alone, Harry stands up from the kitchen table, poking his head through an entryway to what he assumes is the lounge. It's small, dimly light, and cozy. The furniture is beat up, a fireplace with a mantle covered in picture frames above it. Harry approaches it, almost tripping on a toy truck as he does.

There's a few pictures of Louis' sisters, and his mum. There's a picture of Ernest and Doris (which he stares at for a while, because they were babies the last time he saw them, and in this picture they're standing up). But, for the most part, they're of Mila.

Mila as a baby, sitting in the grass or being held by Louis or standing on chubby little legs, wearing little matching outfits or a bathing suit or just in a nappy. Swinging on a swing or sitting in a little baby pool or laying in a cot. It's all there, right in front of him, the memories he should've been there for.

He stops at one picture, actually picking it up and looking at it closely. It's Louis, sitting up in a hospital bed with a bundle in his arms. He looks young, the same as he did when he and Harry were together. His cheeks and nose are pink, eyes watery and rimmed red, the baby in the crook of his arms so tiny Harry can barely see her.

"Sorry 'bout that, she just so happened to pick the longest storybook she owns."

Harry turns around to see Louis standing in the entryway of the lounge, the picture frame still in his hands. Louis notices it, then, and bites his lip.

"D'you have any more pictures?" Harry asks quietly, looking back down to the own in his hand. He wants to see all of it, wants to soak in all he's missed. Louis looks endeared, but also terrified.

"Um, yeah," He walks further into the lounge, squatting down in front of a short bookshelf and pulling out a thick photo album. He sits himself down on the sofa, looking up at Harry expectedly. Harry sets the picture frame back on the mantle, walking over and sitting down beside him sheepishly.

Louis opens it, the first picture being one of a tiny baby in a cot, clearly still in the hospital. There's a tube going up their nose, and some wires attached to their skin. "That's her when she was just born," Louis tells him, a warmness to his voice that Harry recognises.

"Was she sick or summat?" He asks, unable to help the concern laced in his words.

"She came a month early," Louis explains, flipping to the next page, which shows a couple more pictures of her in the same cot. "She was in the NICU in these."

"Why?" Harry asks. "Why was she early, I mean."

"She was just so eager to come out and see this pretty face, I suppose," Louis shrugs coyly, snickering when Harry wrinkles his nose and laughs. "I dunno, actually. There really wasn't a reason."

"She's healthy now, though, right?" Harry assures, fiddling with the rings on his fingers nervously. Louis smiles at him.

"Yeah, she is, she was only there for a week," He says. "She was tiny, they just wanted her to get a bit bigger before they sent her home."

Louis flips the page again, but there aren't any more pictures of Mila. Instead, it's a photo of him holding Ernie on top of a round baby bump, grinning at him while Ernie giggles. Louis groans a little. "We don't have to look at these-"

He tries to flip to the next page, but Harry stops him, taking more time to study the photo. If he had thought it through for even a second, he wouldn't have said it, but he can't help it when he coos "You look so cute."

Louis blinks at him before scoffing. "I wasn't cute, I was huge," He argues, and Harry giggles, whole body becoming warm. He can't help it. This feels like a moment plucked out of their high school days, like he's reliving one of the best parts of his life. "Maybe it's a good thing she came early, I was as big as a house."

"Something about your face, I dunno," Harry says around a delighted laugh, flipping the page himself to another picture of pregnant Louis. "Adorable."

"My face was fat," Louis shakes his head, quickly flipping to another page that shows Mila again. "Here, this was her first birthday."

Mila is sat in a high chair, cake smushed all over her face and in her hands, a 1st birthday hat on top of her curls. "This is a very out-of-order photo album," Harry points out.

"I know," Louis admits, shrugging with a smile. "I had all these pictures, 'n I didn't want to lose 'em when we moved last year, so I stuffed them in here."

"Ah," Harry nods, eyes drifting to the next picture. It's the same as the one he was studying from the mantle, with Louis in a hospital bed, but this time he's looking at the camera, beaming despite his teary eyes. They're both quiet for a moment before Harry whispers, "I wish I was there."

"I know," Louis says quietly. "I'm sorry."

"'S not your fault," Harry assures, eyes still glued to the picture. He sighs. "I...I'm sorry. For not answering the calls. It was...I was heartbroken, Lou."

"I know," Louis repeats. "You were creating this whole other, incredible life for yourself, Harry. I didn't blame you for not wanting to dig shit up from the past." He pauses for a moment before adding on, cheekily, "Didn't have to change your number, though. I can take a hint."

"Oh, god, you thought I did that 'cos of you?" Harry asks, heart sinking, looking up from the picture to the sheepish smile on Louis' face. "No, God, no. Some fans got a hold of it 'n leaked it, it happens all the time now. Have to change it at least twice a year. I wasn't-I would've never done that-"

"Hey, hey," Louis laughs breathlessly, putting his hand on Harry's upper arm. The touch almost electrocutes him. "I was just taking the piss. I know you wouldn't have done that."

Harry smiles weakly, the ease he had worked up to slowly dissolving back to nerves. "And, listen," Louis continues after a beat, taking his hand away and closing the photo album. "I don't want you to feel...obligated or anything."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Obligated?"

"Y'know," Louis shrugs. "To...be a dad. 'N be a part of her life." Harry frowns. "Not that I wouldn't love for you to. 'S just...your life. It's so different from ours, 'n I know your job is demanding and you didn't ask for this."

"I want it," Harry assures, voice stern. "I'm all in."

Louis' face softens. "Are...are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry nods. "I'm, uh. Going on tour. Leaving for South America in a few weeks, and then I'll be back for December, 'n then I'm gone again until June. But, I'll figure it out."

Louis smiles, looking at him fondly. "Really? You really...want this?"

"I do," Harry assures. "It'll probably take me a little while to figure out how to...navigate this. As long as you can be patient with me, I'll find my way."

"I can be patient," Louis says softly, warm. Harry smiles back at him, biting his bottom lip.

"We're actually gonna play Wembley in January," He mentions.

"Ooh, big shot," Louis teases. Harry makes a face at him.

"I was just thinking, I mean, if you wanted," He shrugs shyly, looking down at his hands. "My mum and dad are coming, 'n the boys' families are too. I could reserve seats for you 'n Mila too."

Louis' smile widens, eyes crinkling in the corners again. Is this the right time to tell him that verse in Little Things was inspired by him? "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Harry affirms, grinning back.

"Yeah, she'd love that," Louis nods. "Although, I should warn you, I have passed along my incredible taste in music. High standards, that one."

"Oh, god," Harry groans. "She probably knows every word to ABBA's discography."

"Chiquitita is her favourite," Louis nods again, grinning wickedly. Harry rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips involuntarily turn upwards when Louis giggles.

He takes the photo album from Louis again, opening it back up and looking through it himself. He can feel Louis watch him intently.

"Um, on my laptop, 've got a folder of a bunch of videos," He mentions. "Her first steps, her first words, her birthdays. If you give me your email, I can send them to you?"

"Yes," Harry says eagerly, looking up from a picture of Mila on the beach, wearing just a happy and a little baby sun hat. "Please. I'd love that."

"Sure," Louis grins. Maybe this doesn't have to be as scary as it seems, Harry can't help but think. Maybe he can do this, can figure this out and be a dad.

Oh, shit. He forgot about Camille.