there's a playlist for this story on my spotify 😛😛

"Is this up to your standards?"

Harry looks up from his phone to see Louis standing there, wearing a nice sweater and some jeans, clearly not happy about it. Harry grins, though. "You look so handsome," He coos. The grumpiness in Louis' face melts into a soft smile.

"Well, thank you," He says, pushing his hair out of his face. It's swept up in the way Harry likes. Layla comes in as well, wearing a little blue dress, her hair up in pigtails.

"Who is this lady, anyways?" She asks, and Louis can't stop the loud laugh from coming out of his mouth. Harry stifles his, and holds his hand out for Layla take. He pulls her up onto the sofa, Louis walking over and sitting next to him.

"Well, you know how Nana Jay is Daddy's mummy?" Harry asks gently, and Layla nods. "Well, this lady is my Mummy."

"You have a mummy?" Layla asks.

"I do," Harry laughs a little as Layla climbs into his lap. "You know how I carried you in my tummy?" Layla nods. Harry can see the fond smile on Louis' face. "And Nana Jay carried Daddy in hers. My mummy carried me in hers, too."

"How did I get in your tummy?" Layla asks.

"That's...a conversation for a different day," Louis replies. Harry nudges him a little with his elbow.

"Why don't we see her?" Layla asks.

Harry twists his mouth a little. He hates sugarcoating things with her–lying about things for the sake of preserving her innocence. He also doesn't want to ruin her positive, sunshine-y six year old outlook on the world.

"Well. You know how sometimes you and Doris fight?" Harry asks gently, feeling Louis rest his hand on the small of his back, silently reminding him that he's there. Layla nods. "And you need to take a break and separate from her for a little while?"

"Like when she wouldn't let me play with her Barbies," Layla scowls. Harry smiles, fond, and nods.

"Exactly," He says. "'S kind of like what happened with my Mummy. We got in a fight, and I needed to take a break."

"What was the fight about?" Layla asks.

Harry thinks for a second. He can't tell Layla it was about her. "You know, it was so long ago I don't even remember," He hears Louis snicker behind him. Smart ass. "I was seventeen. You were still in my tummy. But, the point is, she said sorry. And it's nice to forgive people."

Layla thinks it over. "Have you ever seen her, Daddy?" She asks, looking over at Louis. Louis bites back any rude remarks he has and smiles instead.

"Yeah, I have," He nods. "It was a long time ago, though."

"Was she nice?" Layla asks. "Will she like me?"

"She's gonna love you, Layla," Harry assures, and Louis hums in agreement. "She was very excited to meet you, and I'm going to make sure she's going to be very nice to you, okay?"

Layla nods. "Okay," She says. "Can I play with my toys before she comes?"

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Layla's cheek that makes her squeal. "Sure, bub, but she should be here in ten minutes," He warns. Layla climbs off his lap and runs back down the corridor. Louis gently tucks one of Harry's curls behind his ear, and Harry leans into him a little.

"You okay?" He asks softly, kissing the top of Harry's head.

"Yeah," Harry nods, grinning a little when Louis rests his hand on his flat tummy. "Do you think it's the right thing? To introduce her to my mum when...she probably won't be here too much longer?"

"I think so," Louis assures, nodding his head. "I think it'll be good for Anne, and as much as she pisses me off...I want her to be able to meet Layla too. And I don't want Layla to grow up and be upset that she never got to."

Harry doesn't know how he got so lucky; how he scored someone so thoughtful and supportive and understanding. He leans back and kisses Louis, feeling Louis' arm around him tighten and pull him closer.

When they separate, Louis is blushing like that kiss was his first, a huge grin on his face. "What was that for?" He asks.

"I just love you," Harry replies.

♛

"Louis, stop, she's gonna be here any minute," Harry huffs, fixing his hair in the mirror hanging in the lounge. Layla runs passed, Louis chasing behind her as she squeals.

"'M just fooling around, H," Louis waves him off, cornering Layla as she giggles. "What're you gonna do now, tough guy?"

Layla thinks for a moment before diving between Louis' legs, crawling through and scrambling to get up. "Ha-ha!" She calls as she runs away.

"Little shit," Louis mutters under his breath.

"Louis," Harry sighs. Louis wraps his arm around Harry's waist and presses a quick kiss to the back of his head before running after Layla. It's like having two kids, Harry thinks as he stares at himself in the mirror.

He looks tired. The skin underneath is eyes is dark, and he looks pale. Louis had kissed his face that morning and told him he was glowing. He doesn't see that. He sees someone who's estranged mother is dying, and who's stressed out to the max with a hyper kid, and another one on the way. He's exhausted, and it shows.

There's a knock on the door, and Harry's stomach sinks. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment longer before moving to the door, sighing shakily.

Anne is standing there, looking sicker than she did last time he saw her. It makes him a little nauseous. Despite this, he manages a grin and says, "Hi, Mum."

"Hi," She greets, quiet.

"Um, come in," Harry steps to the side so Anne can enter. "Louis, come here, please!"

Louis, of course, walks out with Layla over his shoulder, Layla squealing and kicking his chest. Louis' a little out of breath, but he's grinning, and Harry almost forgives him for embarrassing him. He clears his throat pointedly, and watches as Louis puts Layla down and straightens out his sweater.

"Uh, you remember Louis," Harry says. This is awkward. He doesn't know what to do, or say. Louis just gives Anne a charming grin, sticking his hand out towards her, cheeks still flushed from chasing Layla around.

"Lovely to see you again," He says. Harry can tell he's trying his best to sound sincere.

"Lovely to see you too," Anne shakes his hand. She looks so guilty. Good.

"'N this is Layla," Layla gets shy all of a sudden, moving to hide behind Harry's leg. Harry crouches down so he's her height, holding his hand out to her. She takes it, and Harry pulls her forward gently. "Layla, love, this is my mummy. I was telling you about her, remember?"

Layla looks up at Anne. She sticks her hand out to her, like she had seen her Daddy do. "My name is Layla Jay Tomlinson," She says. Anne smiles, amused, and shakes Layla's hand.

"Very nice to meet you," She says. "I've heard so much about you."

"Good," Layla says. Louis snorts. "Wanna see my room?"

"Layla," Harry grins, fond. "Maybe our guest would like to sit down for a mo'?"

"I don't mind," Anne assures, her voice still sheepish. Layla grabs Anne's hand again, this time holding it, and Harry watches as his mother's face shifts.

"C'mon!" Layla drags Anne out of the lounge and down the corridor to her room. Louis rests his hand on Harry's hip, leaning over and kissing him.

"You good?" He asks.

"Yeah," Harry says softly, smiling at Louis wearily. "'M fine."

♛

"And when we played Duck Duck Goose, I got to be the goose!"

"Sounds like a very eventful day," Harry grins fondly, glancing up at Louis, who has the same look on his face. There are some days he laments the fact that Layla is as much of a chatterbox as her dad, but today he's grateful for it. The more she talks to his mum, the less he has to. "You think you could finish your broccoli, please?"

"I don't like broccoli," Layla wrinkles her nose, her expression looking strikingly similar to Louis'. It's almost scary.

"You did last week," Louis points out, the broccoli on his plate still untouched.

"That was last week," Layla argues. "This week I don't like it."

Even Anne snickers at that, her body language still shy. Harry sighs. "No ice cream until you finish your broccoli, Layla."

Layla huffs, but she stabs the steamed broccoli with her little fork and stuffs it in her mouth. The ice cream thing works every time. Harry smirks triumphantly, going back to eating his own plate.

"What's your favourite colour?" Layla asks Anne, her mouth full.

"Layla," Louis chastises, his tone stern, but his grin still fond. "No talking with your mouth full, please. No one wants to see your chewed-up broccoli."

"Papa does!" Layla yelps. Harry makes a face.

"Papa does not," He assures. Layla pouts, but looks back to Anne for an answer.

"Um," Anne twists her mouth. "Purple, I'd say."

"That's mine too!" Layla gasps, grinning in delight. Harry can't help but think about how nice this could be, Layla having a relationship with his mum. If only. "May I be excused? I hafta' wee."

The first half of that was polite, at least. Harry presses his lips together to keep from laughing. "Sure, Bug. Make sure you flush."

"I know!" She huffs as she slides out of her chair. Recent events say otherwise. As soon as she's gone, Harry watches Louis look up at Anne, his face settled like he's deep in thought. Harry's trying to subconsciously tell him to be nice.

"How've you been feeling?" Louis asks after a moment. Harry lets out a silent breath of relief. Anne looks up at him like she's surprised, clearing her throat and setting her fork down.

"Okay," She says. "A little nauseous sometimes."

"The chemo'll do that to you," Louis nods understandingly. "I was nauseous for months, Haz remembers." Harry nods, but doesn't say anything. He wants to watch how Louis and his Mum interact.

"Oh, I'm," Anne clears her throat again. "I'm not doing it. Chemo."

"Oh," Louis raises his eyebrows. "So, what're you doin', then? I know a little bit about the other treatments, but defo not as much."

Anne swallows thickly, looking down at her plate. "I'm not doing anything," She admits. Harry feels like he just got punched in the gut. He furrows his eyebrows, setting his own fork down and leaning back in his chair.

"What?" He asks after a moment. "So you're just...letting it kill you?"

"Harry," Louis says softly. Harry ignores him.

"Anything I do would just be dragging it on," Anne says timidly, shaking her head. "'S already terminal."

"No, I know, but," Harry sighs. "'S not just you that you're effecting. It's me, and Gemma, and now my kid."

"Harry, love," Louis says, his tone gentle as he reaches over and grabs Harry's elbow. Harry knows he's trying to stop him from saying something he'll regret, but he nudges him away anyways.

"Harry, I can't do chemo," Anne says, her voice quiet as she looks up from her plate. "'M not strong enough. Surgery isn't an option, and all of the other treatments are just as harsh. I can't do it. 'S not...worth living for four more weeks, to be frank."

Harry knows, deep down, it's her decision. He knows he's being immature, because he's tired, and hormonal, and sad, but he can't bring himself to care. He stands up out of his chair and storms out of the kitchen. He can hear Louis apologising on his behalf, and Layla walking out of the washroom and asking where Papa is going.

He hears Louis telling Layla to show Anne the picture she drew at school that day before following Harry to their bedroom, closing the door behind them. "Harry," Louis says, his voice still soft and gentle as Harry buries his face in his hands. "Bub, what's going on with you?"

"I fucking hate this," Harry sniffles, feeling Louis put his hands on his shoulders. Louis pulls Harry's hands off of his face so he can wrap him up in his arms, holding him to his chest.

"I know, pumpkin," Louis mumbles into Harry's hair, kissing the top of his head. "But you remember how shitty it was when I was doin' chemo. I was sick all the time. I was ready to refuse treatment too."

"But you didn't," Harry chokes out. "And she is."

"She's gettin' older, love," Louis says, his voice quiet. "And we already know how severe it is. If she doesn't think she can do it, we can't change her mind." Louis rubs his back, letting Harry bury his face in his chest. "You understood when I told you I couldn't do another round, remember?"

"Because you're a good person," Harry sniffles. "She doesn't get to just give up before she makes up for how terrible she was."

He's being selfish. He knows. He can't bring himself to care. He's always told Louis what he was thinking, unfiltered. Louis squeezes him, holding him tight. "I know," Louis whispers, soothing him the same way he would comfort Layla. "It's not fair."

Harry looks up at Louis, his eyes wet. "I love you," He says softly. Louis gives him a sad smile. "I'm being shitty."

"Only a little," Louis says, clearly teasing him. Harry pouts. "You okay? Don't wanna leave Layla out there with her too long–she's gonna drive her up a wall."

Harry grins, leaning up and kissing him. He thinks, maybe, he can do this with Louis at his side.