"In the best interest of the child, I grant shared custody between Mr. Brantley and Ms. Wilson."

Harry blinks, just staring up at the judge. That can't be right. He couldn't have possibly given shared custody to someone who hit their child like that-there were pictures, Harry showed them to the judge, to the jury, watched as his client broke down in tears having to look at what that monster did to her son. And now he gets shared custody. Harry's going to be sick.

He tried so hard, did everything he possibly could to win this case, and it still wasn't enough. A child - a four-year-old - is in danger. And he couldn't prevent it. He has to hold his breath so as not to start crying right there. Elaine, his client, does start crying. This case has kept him at the office until the middle of the night, kept him away from his husband and his own four year old daughter, caused him to consume so much caffeine he's been constantly shaking. All for nothing.

He tries to say something to Elaine before they leave the courtroom, apologise or give her some comfort or something, but she turns away from him, and her mother leads her away. He can't blame her, but it makes him feel infinitely worse.

When he gets back to the office, one of his bosses is in his office waiting for him. He looks angry, Harry knows he'll be missing dinner again tonight. "You should have won that case."

"I know, sir," Harry says quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You're our only attorney who went to court today and lost," His boss tells him, voice flat, eyes searing into Harry's. Harry swallows thickly, but doesn't say anything. His boss moves out of the way to reveal a stack of papers resting on Harry's desk, almost as tall as his computer monitor. "You are not leaving this room until you have gone through every one of these files. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry says. His boss just nods, brushing passed Harry as he leaves the room. Harry walks over and sits down at his desk, trembling hands picking up the file on top and immediately getting to work.

♛

When he arrives home that night, it's pitch black outside. Gracie must have gone to bed a couple of hours ago, although he knows sometimes Louis has a hard time putting her down on his own. He turns his car off, rubbing at his eyes and preparing himself for the argument he's sure will ensue when he gets inside.

He grabs his bag and makes his way inside. The kitchen is empty. He hangs his keys and sets his bag down on the floor, hoping Louis is already in bed so he can crawl into it and not have to talk about why he was so late coming home.

Wishful thinking. The washroom door down the hall opens, and Louis comes walking out with a yawn. He stops when he sees Harry, not frowning, but certainly not smiling. He looks him over for a second before saying "There's leftover pasta in the fridge."

"'M not hungry," Harry mumbles, shrugging his jacket off. "'M just gonna go to bed."

Louis looks at him for a moment, like he's unable to decide whether or not he wants to open his mouth, but he does. He always does. "You didn't eat breakfast." Harry ignores him, kicking his dress shoes off and leaving them by the door. He can feel Louis' eyes following him. "And you didn't pack a lunch, and I didn't get a text or anything that the credit card was charged-"

"Jesus, Louis, what's your point?" Harry huffs.

"You're not eating," Louis raises his voice, crossing his arms. "My husband is fucking starving himself, that's my point."

"I'm fine," Harry goes to walk towards the stairs, but Louis steps in front of him, and he sighs. "Not tonight, Louis, please."

"Can you please just sit down?" Louis all but orders. "Take ten minutes to sit down and eat something. Please."

Harry frowns, but he reluctantly obeys, sitting at the table while Louis goes to the fridge and retrieves the leftovers. He takes the plastic wrap off, sticking it in the microwave before turning to look at Harry. "How much farther are you going to take this, Harry?"

Harry doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say. Louis sighs, looking Harry up and down before turning back to the microwave. When he turns his head, Harry can see theres still dirt on his cheek from work that day, and guilt drips over him.

He knows Louis works hard, knows he probably has stress at work too, but Harry hates this, hates that he's the sole provider for their family, and that despite that, he gets shit on for it. And no matter how many times he tells himself its not Louis' fault, and that it shouldn't matter, he can't help the resentment that lives in the back of his mind. That if Louis had a higher paying job, Harry wouldn't have to be coming home so late and working himself until he's sick. He feels horrible that the thought is even in his head.

Louis sets the bowl down in front of him, and Harry thanks him quietly. Louis doesn't leave, stays standing over the table, and says "You don't look very good."

"Says the one with mud on his face," Harry mutters around a mouthful of pasta. Fuck, he was so hungry. He didn't even realise until he had food in front of him.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Louis sighs again, but he rubs at his cheek with his hand in an attempt to get it off. "I know that this job is important to you, but I wish you weren't killing yourself over it. You look sick."

Harry feels sick at his words, eyes trained on his food. "Is that why you've stopped kissing me?" He practically whispers.

"Harry," Louis says softly.

"I can't remember the last time you did," Harry looks up at him, eyes feeling wet. He can remember, actually, he's counted. It's been seventeen days. Louis closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y'don't touch me in bed, you barely look at me half the time."

"Don't change the subject," Louis raises his voice again. "I don't know much about being a lawyer, admittedly, but I know it can't be worth choosing over your family, or your own fucking health."

"Yeah, you don't, yet you always have something to say about it," Harry would stand up if he wasn't so tired. "All those nice, expensive nursery schools we've been looking at? We would never be able to afford those if it weren't for my job."

"And we'd be fine without them," Louis argues. "It's fucking nursery school, not prep school. I never went to an expensive one."

"Exactly," Harry deadpans, but immediately frowns.

"Wow," Louis scoffs, laughing bitterly.

"No, I'm sorry, that was low," Harry shakes his head. "I didn't mean that."

"No, you did," Louis says. Harry sighs. "You're obsessed with money, it's insane. It's fucking sad, actually."

"Someone has to be!" Harry points out, the adrenaline from his frustration allowing him to stand up out of his chair. "If I didn't work none of us would be eating!"

"Yeah, I get it, we already know how you feel about my job," Louis huffs. "Y'know, I make more than my mum ever did when there was six of us, and we were fine. There's nothing wrong with the way I was raised."

"I know that," Harry says.

"You don't act like it!" Louis says. "You're basically killing yourself so Gracie doesn't grow up like I did."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry says. "Your insecurities about your upbringing have nothing to do with me. You told me yourself you didn't get a good education in Doncaster, that you want different for her. I want Gracie to go to a good school, and I don't see anything wrong with that."

"What's wrong with that is she's going to grow up to be stuck up," Louis argues. "Should change her last name to Styles."

"Why do you always have to take it so far?" Harry asks, much quieter than before.

"I'm frustrated!" Louis practically yells. "No matter what I say to you, how much I try to make you see that you're taking this way too far, it doesn't get through to you. I don't know what to do anymore," Louis takes in a shuddering breath.

"It's just a job," Harry says, but his eyes are filling with tears. "We're not children anymore. We need money. I have to work."

"'M fucking losing you, Harry," Louis says sternly. "You're turning into your dad."

His words make Harry gasp out a sob, the tears starting to stream down his cheeks. "Don't fucking say that," He chokes out. Louis doesn't apologise. "Why would you say that to me?"

"Am I wrong?" Louis asks, and Harry doesn't feel like he can give him an honest "yes", but. He's standing there crying in front of him, and Louis doesn't seem effected whatsoever. "I don't even give a shit about me anymore. I just wish Gracie was important enough to you."

"She is," Harry hiccups.

"You barely see her!" Louis exclaims. Harry wipes his eyes. "You've always been a perfectionist, and I used to admire it, but I never thought you would take it this far. You care way too much about all the wrong things."

"I care about you," Harry says, still crying, arms wrapped around himself. "And Gracie. That's why I work in the first place. And 'm gonna keep working this hard. So I can provide for both of you, even if it means you can't even bring yourself to kiss me anymore. That's how much I care about you."

"That's fucked up!" Louis shouts. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"Just fucking leave me already!" Harry shouts even louder, unable to contain his crying.

"I-What?" Louis blanches.

"Kick me out, divorce me, I don't care anymore,"Harry sobs. He picks up his bowl of pasta and slams it down on the floor. Louis finally shuts up, just staring at him, eyes widening a little. "No matter what I do it's never going to be enough for you, so just fucking leave me! Stop wasting your time screaming at me every night when you clearly don't even love me anymore!"

"I still love you," Louis' voice shakes. "I'm always gonna love you, Harry."

"This isn't love," Harry shakes his head, hiccuping out another sob. "It isn't. This isn't what I wanted." He sinks to the kitchen floor, burying his face in his trembling hands.

Louis doesn't even let a second go by before he's on the floor with him, wrapping him up in his arms. Harry doesn't even have the energy to be mad. He buries his face in Louis' jumper. "This is so fucked up."

"I know," Louis mumbles, closing his eyes, nose pressed into Harry's hair. "Fuck. I know. I'm sorry."

Harry sniffles, closing his eyes as Louis rubs his back. "We shouldn't have gotten married."

"I know," Louis repeats, holding Harry tighter. "We were too young. We didn't know."

"We still are," Harry whispers.

"I'm sorry, baby," Louis mumbles. "About everything. All of it. I'm sorry we were so young."

Harry just cries, gripping Louis' jumper. Louis runs his hand over Harrys hair, getting it out of his face, and holds him on the kitchen floor. "I'll make you something else to eat," Louis says softly, voice still shaking. "And I'll clean up the mess. And we can get you to bed."

"Can you just hold me for a few more minutes?" Harry whimpers. Louis sniffles, kissing the top of Harry's head.

"Sure," He says quietly. "I'll hold you as long as you want, love."

It's another thirty minutes before Harry allows Louis to get up so he can clean the mess off the floor and make him some toast. He eats, changes, and Louis kisses him before they go to bed, and Louis holds him for the rest of the night.