Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September, 2025

It’s done! The beast is finished.

(This is the place to scroll on to Chapter One if you’re not in the mood for my ramblings about what made this fic happen.)

When I started this journey in 2023, I was only seven months into fic reading—thirteen years in the fandom, and not once had I touched a fic. I love literature, I’ve studied literature, but real people fanfiction always felt too invasive, too close to home I guess, especially given the parasocial bond I’ve had with these five boys since day one, (it’s worrisome, really).

Then came November 2022: a broken arm (so much for ‘parasocial bond’), surgery, a hospital stay, and unreliable WiFi. The universe has a dark sense of humour.

What shall I say, one click led to another, and I tumbled down an ao3 rabbit hole I’ll never be able to climb back out of. I binged for hours, weeks—whom am I kidding? Months!

I found works that eclipsed much of my literature-studies reading list, works that ruined me and put me back together, and fics that healed things I didn’t know where broken. And somewhere along the way, I felt the need to give something back to this amazing community. That’s how this “little journey” began.

On Sunday, May 21st, 2023 I created a doc called fic2.

On May 22nd I renamed it Good Grief.

That these words are written 28 months after starting and the stats of my Scrivener look like this



—is just another joke of the universe.

The idea for this plot was born while navigating my own upheavals. Losses I couldn’t escape, changes I couldn’t undo.

I learned the hard way that death is a part of life as much as love is. Though we celebrate one, the other is being pushed aside, outsourced to hospitals, hospices—basically anywhere but close to us. What we don't see, doesn't exist.

Yet, it does exist. Painfully so.

I’m not gonna lie, I thought I understood grief. In less than three years, I lost five of my closest and most beloved people, and then three more followed soon after. So when I started to write this rollercoaster, I believed myself more than well-versed in the gut-wrenching truth that no matter the level of grief you’re subjected to, your own life goes on, whether you like it or not.

From the start, this story was meant to portray how loss, grief, love, and laughter go hand in hand. Because if I’ve learned one thing, both from research and from experience, it’s that discussing the hard topics in advance can and does ease the unimaginable pain when grief inevitably hits.

Never in a million years, though, had I thought that I'd be mourning the loss of one of the boys during this process.

Yet here I am.

On October 16th, 2024, Mister Liam Payne tragically passed away.

At that time I was 346,559 words into this story. A story about Louis losing his best friend.

And nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for it.

It broke me. More than I will ever let someone know.

I am not a superstitious person in any way. But the little evil voice in the back of my head, whispering, “You’ve called it” is something I will have to live with for the rest of my days.

Finishing this story was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life. For multiple reasons.

I struggled. A lot. Still do.

Friendships were formed over this, friendships were dampened over this.

But in the end I owed it to myself, to my betas, to the fic fandom that has given me so much over the past three years, and last but not least to Liam to push through this beast.

To grieve is to honour the memories we’ve created with someone while we grapple with their absence.

This is me honouring 15 years of memories.

This is me honouring one special night in a hotel bar, where I still don’t know who needed the talk more—you or I.

I wish my words had had the same impact on you as yours had on me.

Sometimes life even fucks up pinky promises.

This is me grappling with your absence.

RIP Liam

Until we meet again.

xxx

❤️

“Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.”

George Bernard Shaw.

So, have that laugh, have that cry, have that laugh while you cry or have that cry while you laugh, but never cease to make the best out the time you have, because we’re all just arguing about our timescale given.

My special thanks goes out to the dearest Hands And Knees For Two Days Straight squat. Without you girls, I’d probably still be stuck somewhere around chapter 10.

Thank you for your friendship. Thank you for your support. Thank you for being the OT4 I needed to push through.

I will never be able to repay you.

Please know that you’ll always be in my heart.

❤️💛🧡💚💙

Disclaimer:

This product contains traces of life and death and everything that can happen in between.

There’s swearing, sarcasm, banter, smut, an attempted assault and a very happy ending.

Nothing in this story is so graphic that an average emotionally stable adult couldn’t cope with it.

To what extend you consider yourself emotionally stable is not up to the author to decide.

By continuing to read, you agree not to come at the author for personal issues that might, respectfully, be better discussed with a therapist. So take care of yourself, my friend.

Several studies (e.g., Jones et al., 2020; Bellet et al., 2018) suggest that trigger warnings do not reduce immediate distress when exposed to potentially upsetting content. They also don’t tend to prevent people from engaging with the material, but they might increase anxiety by emphasising the potential for harm, and may unintentionally reinforce avoidance behaviours.

I don’t intend to increase your anxiety. That’s why you won’t find special warnings for potentially upsetting scenes, none of them are very graphic either way. What I can promise is this: everything you’re about to read has been written with intention, balanced by humour, sarcasm, and a thoroughly considered healing arc for every single character.

There are a couple of sentences that, with the knowledge of today, I’d probably write differently. But at the time they were written with intent, so I decided to leave them in. As a wise man has engraved on his chest: it is what it is. 

AI was used to scavenge commas, spelling variants, and Louis’ bloody possessive “s” to spare my betas from having to correct the same shit over and over again. Other than that: every simile, triad, and em-dash is mine. I refuse to let chatGPT ruin 30 years of proper use of punctuation in English.

If you still think something sounds AI-ish, blame my non-native autistic arse for picking it up in way too many AI written fics and student essays. It’s a pestilence I can’t seem to escape.

Let’s just face it: we’re all doomed to live with this plague we feed ourselves anyway by now.

There will be links to pictures or songs in this fic. If you don’t want to disrupt your reading flow by clicking on them here’s the link to the masterpost where I will add additional visuals or audios as we go. 

Now, have fun, and please don’t be shy about letting me know what you think of this “little” story.

All the love

Faith

Chapter One 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Louis yelped and darted toward the spinning witches’ hat carousel at the far end of the playground. Two primary school kids had wound it up so tightly that, the moment they let go, it whipped into a dizzying blur, catapulting a little girl who had climbed onto it straight toward the trees lining the park.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, catching her mid-air just in time. The impact knocked the breath out of him, but he managed to steady them both. “That was a close call! Are you okay, love?”

He looked down at the blonde bundle dressed in faint rose in his arms. She couldn’t have been older than three, and now clung to his chest, too shocked to even breathe.

“AVA!” A female voice cried out frantically as Louis gently inspected her for harm. Her tiny hands clutched his jacket, her face buried in his shoulder, trembling but unhurt.

“Christ, Ava,” the woman gasped, rushing to his side. Strangely, she didn’t reach for her daughter but instead placed a hand on Louis’ arm. Louis resisted the urge to pull away.

“Thank you—thank you so much! Are you alright, darling?” she said, finally glancing at the little girl, but instantly back at Louis not even waiting for an answer. “Gosh, I was only distracted for a split second and when I looked up, she was gone and you were already sprinting to fetch her,” she added, batting her fake eyelashes.

Louis bit back a scoff. Split second, my arse. The group of four mums—all looking exactly the same with their long, flat-ironed blond hair, meticulously plucked brows, and matching wardrobes in fifty shades of mumfluencer beige—had barely moved since he’d arrived at the playground with Milly and Ruby nearly forty-five minutes ago. The biggest effort they’d shown during the past hour was to snap the “cutest” totally-not-staged Instagram shots of their wunderkinds. The rest of the time, they’d been side-eyeing other people, whispering, and passing judgement, all while their unattended offspring trampled over sandcastles, buckets, and spades.

God, did he despise these pretentious, social media mum snobs.

“Yeah, happens to the best,” he said, tone polite but edged with sarcasm that sailed right over her head. “Mind if I hand you your daughter back now?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she stammered, hastily taking Ava into her arms. She gave the girl a quick once-over before promptly setting her back down.

“Caroline,” she said, thrusting her hand out, and stepping even closer. Too close. Louis flinched, instinctively leaning back. There really wasn’t much that irritated him more than people invading his personal space.

Caroline’s gaze swept over him, starting at his face and sliding down the length of his body before settling somewhere around his collarbone. He cringed but forced himself to stay composed.

He hadn’t even planned on being here. One minute he was shaking hands over a multi-million-pound software deal, the next he was sprinting across the playground in Brioni. Or was it Prada? Who cared. Okay, his sisters cared since most likely it had been one of them who made him buy it.

Anyway. All it took to get here was one call from Gladys. “I’m not feeling great, sweetheart. Could you pick up the girls?” She had said, and no, he couldn’t.

He was supposed to have lunch with a bunch of other suits, celebrating their merger. But of course he did; just like every other day since Ben was in hospital. Again.

It wasn’t even a question anymore. Ben was his best mate, the girls were Louis’ godchildren, and the only ones holding their little universe together since the diagnosis were his Nan and Gladys—Ben’s mum.

So, of course he said yes, and didn’t even swing by home to change.

Now, he was the utterly overdressed weirdo sweating through his way too expensive navy suit and white shirt on this May 3rd. At least he’d had the decency to get rid of the matching tie.

Although, throwing a quick glance to Caroline, he wasn’t sure the open top two buttons were working in his favour right now. He felt like a piece of prey under the glare of a mating-ambitious bird.

Louis ran a hand through his hair. Christ. How had he gone from boardrooms to babysitting in a single breath? Again.

He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to think about how much easier it used to be.

Ben had always been the sturdy one. A walking dad joke in human form even when he didn’t have children yet. Unshakeable, gentle, deeply uncool in the best way. Louis had never needed to step up like this, not full-time. He was the one who could happily lose eighteen hours a day in his office if it meant everyone he loved never had to worry about money, bills, or broken boilers. That was how he showed up—by making sure no one else had to panic. But now the panic had moved in anyway.

Since the diagnosis, everything had cracked open. And no matter how many zeroes Tomcare Solutions racked up each quarter…there was no way of buying a way out.

First came the chemo, then the surgeries, and now this endless hospital stay that had stretched into its fourth week.

Louis didn’t like to think about how pale Ben looked last time they facetimed. Or how small the girls seemed when they asked when Daddy would come home. He just didn’t know.

He wasn’t good at this stuff. He was a loner. And perfectly happy as such. He’d always only thought of himself as the backup. The godparent. The extra. But lately, it felt less like standing in and more like juggling the whole thing, which was okay, because—well, he loved those silly little buggers. And still, between Ben’s treatment, Gladys’ dodgy health post-stroke, and two nearly-three-year-olds who could destroy a living room in under twelve seconds, he was…coping. Sort of.

At least on paper, he still looked like a man who had his shit together—designer suit, smart watch, curated stubble. A proper professional. He’d built a whole business on that image. Knew exactly how to use it, too.

But standing here, shirt clinging to his back, collar wide open, brown brogues kicked aside to dig his feet into warm sand, it felt like wearing a costume from a different life. One he didn’t have time to put away before stepping into this one.

And judging by the way Caroline was eyeing him—like she’d just found a Daddy-shaped snack—he probably should’ve come in trackies.

She was still standing there, far too close for his liking, holding out her hand and not taking her eyes off him.

“Louis,” he answered finally, accepting her outstretched hand for a quick handshake, already ready to retreat. He turned to glance at Ruby and Milly, who were peacefully sitting in the sand, shoving their toy excavators and dump trucks from point A to point B, blissfully minding their own business.

“Nice to meet you, Louis,” she cooed. “I’ve seen you around a few times over the last couple of weeks. Your daughters are so lovely, totally different from this whirlwind. You can’t let her out of sight for a split second,” nodding to her daughter, who was now stumbling around the swings, dangerously close to a pair of kicking feet.

Louis inhaled sharply at the sight.

“Godchildren,” he said, his tone clipped, as the kid miraculously remained unscathed. “Just babysitting.”

“Oh, how lovely! That’s such a nice thing for you to do. Kids sure do seem to love you, judging by the way they cling to you,” she said somewhat smirking with a short look to her own daughter who was now trying to climb up the slide tower. “Not a single parent then?”

“Nope, not a single parent,” he replied, pressing his thumb into the palm of his hand to ease his discomfort.

Her smile broadened and she flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder exposing her tanned collarbone under a light cream crocheted cardigan; her three friends were low-key side-eyeing them, pondering whether to come over or not.

“Oh, single godfather then?” she asked, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “I assume, as I’ve only seen you alone with the two darlings…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, could you be more blunt, he thought when the ringtone of his phone saved him from answering.

“Sorry, gotta take this one,” he said, as he took a few steps aside and turned around before picking up.

“Hi, please tell me you’re in the neighbourhood. Code rainbow, Li, code rainbow!”

Liam snorted through the phone. “Tommo, again? I can’t keep saving your sorry arse every time yet another bird you won’t give the slightest chance throws herself at you, mate. You’ve seriously gotta learn how to ditch them on your own—or for the love of everything that’s holy, just let one pull you already! They can’t possibly all be shite. Anyways, where are you? I was heading back to the office but wasn’t sure if you’d still be there.”

“Pleeeeease, I’m at the park with the girls and the dumbfluencer mum-mafia is tackling me. It’s four of them! Four! It’s like throwing a piece of meat into a flock of vultures. Me being the meat! Damnit, Payno! She asked if I was a single-parent-slash-godfather twirling her stupid hair around her finger mere seconds after I prevented her daughter from smashing her head on a tree trunk! She didn’t even check on her. Grant her another five minutes and she’ll lasso me with her bra, forgetting she has a kid in the first place!”

A loud laugh bursted out of the speaker.

“Fine. I was already heading your way. Just parked at the coffee shop, give me a sec.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me till you’re here! I’ll fire your arse!”

“Aww princess, be nice to your Wookie Bear if you want me to get you out of there with your pants still on.”

“I swear to God, Payno, don’t make me slap you!”

“Maybe I enjoy a well-placed—”

“OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HURRY!” he hissed, throwing a glimpse at the four women that were still ogling him, obviously waiting for him to end his call.

“Darling, no swearing in front of the children,” Liam’s voice rang out from behind. Louis spun around just in time to see the exceptionally fit, brown-haired lad hop over the playground’s barrier giving Louis his biggest grin.

With a slight slap on Louis’ bum, he hung up the phone, let it slide into the back pocket of his black fitted suit trousers that really didn’t leave anything to the imagination and pecked Louis on his cheek.

“There you are WOOKIE BEAR!” Louis simpered loud enough for the dumbfluencers to hear.

“Hi pumpkin, missed you, how are my three favourite princesses?” Liam chirped, putting his muscled arm around Louis’ waist, and pulling him in close.

Dressed in a dark green polo insolently accentuating his brawny upper body, Louis had to admit that Liam was quite the sight, and he thanked God for the umpteenth time that Liam moved in next door at the age of five and ever since had been one of Louis’ best mates in the world. Still, he tensed at the physical contact and made a mental note to get him back later for calling him “princess” in public.

Liam’s arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed by Brandy, Mandy, Randy, and Sandy—or whatever their names were. The second Louis hung up, the pack of them began to approach again, their interest now doubled.

And Louis? Well, Louis’ momentary self-preservation mechanism was to start cooing. Totally not over-exaggeratedly of course. “I am sooo sorry for the interruption, please meet my partner Liam. I would gladly resume our little chat, Caroline, but unfortunately, Liam and I have a few things to discuss for our wedding in September,” and just because he could he then batted eyelashes on his turn, and maybe even threw the most cringeworthy love stare at Liam.

“Oh,” Brandy-Caroline stammered, “You’re engaged! That’s um, that’s wonderful, congratulations. A late summer wedding, how lovely. Nice to meet you Liam, your fiancé is quite the catch if I dare say so.” He threw a bit up in his mouth.”We were just…um,” she blushed, “We… I just wanted to thank him again for saving my daughter from flying off that hell of a spinner. He’s really got some amazing reflexes, so um yeah, thank you.”

“Oh, bless you, darling,” Liam purred. “He really is the absolute best. I guess all his football training didn’t just benefit this bum,” he winked and squeezed Louis’ right butt cheek.

Gonna staple a list of appropriate behaviour to your forehead first thing in the morning, bloody hell. And then knock you out with the goddamn stapler, Louis thought, biting his inner lip and grinning tightly. If he happened to pinch Liam’s waist just a bit too hard that was on pure accident.

“It sure didn’t,” Caroline chuckled, throwing yet another glance at Louis’ bottom. “Well, then I’ll no longer keep you lovebirds from your chat. It was a pleasure meeting you. Best wishes for the wedding and thanks again for the impeccable catch,” she pointed her head towards the toddler. “Bye then, see you around.”

Once she was out of earshot Louis snarled, “My bum? Seriously, Payno?”

“Hey, it is a good bum, don’t blame me!” he laughed. “So, is it just me or did I hear you say thanks for saving me YET AGAIN from major embarrassment and total incompetence in the flirting department, Liam, bestest friend in the whole wide world?”

“I’m not incompetent in the flirting department. I may have slight deficiencies in the dumping business, but really, how’s it my fault that I attract the shallowest of all out there? Besides, you’ve been working for me for 15 years and not once have I fired your drunk arse, you owe me.”

“Only because most of the time you’re too baked to even tell if I’m drunk or not. She was hot though, could totally have let her shag you for a change, she seemed quite fond of your dumping business,” he teased, making a beeline towards the two toddlers before Louis could hit him with the spade. “Hey, my lovely little sunshines, how are my two favourite girls? Wooow that’s some impressive building skills, did you dig that hole all on your own, or were you just helping Louis to dig himself one?”

“Limaaaa,” Ruby squeaked darting straight into Liam’s arms, “Look, I got piggy tails.” She pointed to her dark hair fixed in the smallest pigtails he’s ever seen. “Loulou did it,” she proudly smiled at him like he’d hung her the stars and started twirling.

“Wow, you look amazing, Sweetie, the best piggy tails I’ve ever seen on a two-year-old,” he patted her back and smiled. “And you, Milly, you didn’t want Louis to make you any piggy tails?”

The toddler shyly shook her head, not looking up, silently loading the dump truck with sand.

“She still refuses to speak?” he whispered towards Louis, raising an eyebrow.

Louis shrugged his shoulders, his lips pressed to a straight line. “Can’t blame her, can ya?”

“How is he? Have you been to the hospital yet?”

Louis faltered. “Li, you know I…” he stuttered, flinching back in horror.

“Yeah, mate I know,” Liam said compassionately. “It just sucks so much. Did Gladys say anything?”

“Not really, she just rang me up in the middle of the Commsmith meeting, asking me to pick up the girls from nursery because she wasn’t feeling too well. I didn’t dare ask,” he murmured. “Nan is taking them for the night. They really need to fix him soon.”

“Lou, you know he won’t...”

“They’re gonna fix him, Li, they will!”

“Mate.”

“Don’t ‘mate’ me, he’s gonna be fine! He always is.” He planted himself on the ground next to the toddlers and began to ram the little yellow plastic spade into the sand.

Liam sighed. Louis could feel his worried brown teddy bear eyes fixed on the back of his’ head, watching him stubbornly digging and broadening the girls’ construction site hole.

The situation with Ben was…tense. He and Louis had grown up practically like brothers. Ben’s mum, Gladys, and Louis’ Nan, Jen, had been inseparable since the dawn of time—just like Ben and Louis. Whether it was birthdays, Christmases, or random Tuesdays, the Burkes and Tomlinsons had been constants in each other’s lives. And once the Payne family moved in next door, they’d become part of the mix too. It was just…family.

That’s what made everything now so hard to bear.

“Is Gladys still refusing to go to a proper physiotherapy clinic?” Liam asked, letting sand run through his fingers.

“The only way she’d agree was if Nan came too. But good luck with that—every stroke rehab centre’s been jammed since the damn pandemic, and the NHS is still using it as an excuse for falling apart. Even if I managed to get them into a private place, there’s no way they’d go along with it while Ben’s still off track. You know how the old girls are—stubborn as hell.”

“Stubborn, huh? Oh, wouldn’t I know.” Liam smirked and nudged Louis’ side with the tip of his shoe.

“Shut up.”

Louis leaned back and watched Ruby collect pebbles to fill her truck. The fun fact with the Tomlinson-Burkes was that Ben’s mum was actually older than Louis’ Nan, yet Ben and Louis were the same age. It had always struck Louis as odd—like the Burkes had skipped a generation. And no, it was totally not because the Tomlinson women shot out babies like a confetti cannon at New Year’s, no matter what Ben said. Anyway. His Nan, at seventy, could still run circles around most people, but Gladys wasn’t as lucky. The strokes had slowed her down, and no matter how much she loved the twins, keeping up with two whirlwind toddlers while Ben got his treatment was too much, not that she would ever admit so.

Liam shuffled his feet through the sand, as he cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should maybe talk to him again about trying to find—“

Louis jerked around, staring at him in bewilderment. “Did someone hit you on the head, lad? Because if not, I’ll gladly offer,” he grunted, knowing perfectly well to whom Liam was alluding.

They fell silent, both knowing better than to push that train of thought. He glanced toward Ruby and Milly, still happily digging in the sand. Their mum hadn’t even lasted six hours after they were born.

As much as he’d like to romanticise their story, she basically was a hook-up on a drunken night at the pub and Ben didn’t know about the existence of the kids until the maternal ward of the Summerstone General Hospital had called to inform him that the mother of his children had taken off, leaving nothing but two newborns and a note containing his name, phone number and the sentence: “If their dad can’t take them, please find them a caring family.”

Louis could still remember the call. The stunned silence from Ben. The way he’d clutched the edge of Louis’ kitchen counter when the paternity test came back positive two days later and Ben had asked him to get his siblings’ car seats and drive him to the clinic, now!

The image of Ben holding two screaming newborns had stuck with Louis. Awkward arms cradling both girls at once, his expression a wild mix of fear and determination. “Guess I’m a dad, then,” he’d said, his voice cracking on the word “dad.”

But the truth was, Ben had already been fighting an uphill battle before the twins came along. The cancer diagnosis—Stage III colon cancer, the same shit that had taken his dad—had hit him like a freight train just six weeks earlier. He’d barely had time to process that blow when the phone call from the hospital came.

For the first six months it all went fine. Although Ben’s treatments were a constant rollercoaster, he turned out to be a real baby whisperer. On his not-so-well days, Gladys, Nan, and Louis helped out as much as they could and they made things work.

Month seven then brought the news that the cancer had spread. Two days later, Gladys had her first stroke. Ben had to stay in hospital more and more often. The new round of chemotherapy took its toll on him and with Gladys in recovery, the twins were shuffled from one set of hands to the next, passed between godparents, grandparents, nursery, and anyone who could step in when needed, mostly Louis though.

He had lost count of how many nights he’d spent at Ben’s, rocking one baby while trying to calm the other until either his Nan or Lottie, Louis’ eldest sister, came along in the morning picking them up for nursery and granting Louis another hour to go home and get ready for work. It was somehow working, but at a cost.

Which was why, when the house next to his went up for sale, Louis hadn’t hesitated to buy it, turning it into fully accessible flats, and moved his grandparents and Gladys in. He’d even made sure there was a flat for Ben, just in case.

Not that anyone ever dared say that out loud. Not Ben, and certainly not Louis.

They didn’t even need to because for a while things had seemed better. Ben’s third round of chemo had gone well, and he finally seemed stronger, more like himself again. The twins turned one, then two, two and a half, and Ben was fine.

Until, well, he wasn’t.

Louis sighed, glancing at Ruby and Milly. For now, they were happy, giggling in the sandpit. But lately, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was teetering on the edge. The twins deserved stability, but it felt like every time things started to settle, the ground shifted beneath them.

Because if he had learned one thing over time it was that when shit hit the fan in the Tomlinson and Burke households, it hit with a capital H.

“You okay? Want me to change the subject?” Liam’s voice cut through his thoughts, soft but steady.

Louis blinked, shaking off the heavy feeling in his chest and nodded.

“So, how did it go this morning?”

“What?”

“The Commsmith meeting.”

“Oh, yeah. Went smoothly. They signed without any further discussion. Guess that makes us the market leader now.”

“Whoop whoop” Liam blurted, “Tommo, I am so fucking proud of you, man. Look at you, Mister-Sassy-Pants-I-Failed-My-A-Levels-Twice-But-Conquered-The-World-On-My-Own. Who would have thought that teaching yourself programming to cheat at Sid Meier’s Civilization would get you to sunbathe at 3 o’clock on a workday, not giving two flying shits about your bloody 5k-suit being planted in a dirty old sandpit that strolling cats have most likely been using as a litter box since 1959.”

“Eww, Payno!!” he shouted, immediately turning towards the toddlers in the sand pit. “Girls, don’t put anything in your mouth that looks like truffles.”

“What’s toiffis?” Ruby giggled.

“Just don’t put anything in your mouth, Sweetie.” He raked the spade over the ground, relieved that the black pebbles were indeed just pebbles.

“So, pub tonight? Gotta proper celebrate my fiancé becoming one of the richest fuckers in town,” Liam teased with a blinding smile.

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Pub at seven?” Liam asked.

“It’s Wednesday.”

“And?”

“Friday’s pub night.”

“You’re 35 and own your own company, I think you won’t get into trouble for going to the pub twice in a week.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine. Pub at seven.”

“Alright then. Gotta go, mate. My boss is quite a tit if I don’t figure out what to do with the 120 new people he acquired a few hours ago. Chief People & Operating Officer my arse, he should rename it Chief Herding Officer and pay me in tequila.” He grunted playfully, patting Louis on the back and taking a step back to plant little pecks on the heads of both girls.

“In your dreams,” Louis shot back. “You’d bankrupt us in a week. Juice packs it is, lad.”

Liam let out a loud laugh. “Bye Tommo, bye princesses.”

“Yeah right. Just leave me behind. A piece of prey for the vultures!” Louis frowned.

“You’re gonna be fine, sugar plum. I licked all over you, they don’t want you anymore. Rule no. 1 in the international vulture handbook: lick prey to call dibs.”

“Yuck, go already!” Louis waggled the spade, threatening to spank Liam’s rear.

“Bye, hun.”

“Bye...Hey, Payno. Thanks for being the close second bestest friend in the whole wide world.” Louis murmured, burying his toes in the sand, and strenuously trying to avoid looking up.

Liam grinned victoriously.

“Get your arse to the hospital to see him already. I mean it!” He blew Louis two kisses, hopped back over the barrier, and disappeared between parked cars.

Chapter Text

“Shit,” Harry muttered. The paper in his hand trembled as his eyes traced the bold letters in front of him: Benjamin Burke.

He blinked, staring at the name, then the birth date, and back to the name.

“Fucking hell.”

His stomach churned, and his grip tightened on the page. No, no. This couldn’t be. But fuck, the details…they lined up too perfectly.

Benjamin Burke, born Sept. 21st, 1991. There was literally no chance that there were two people running around sharing this name and the birth date.

Harry barely had time to process the sting behind his ribs, before his work phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced down. EMC meeting, 10 minutes.

“Of course,” he muttered bitterly. There was no time to think, not even time to breathe. Because honestly, there never was.

With a reluctant sigh, Harry shoved the paper into the file on his desk and grabbed his tablet. He was late. Again.

The hospital buildings stretched endlessly as he strode toward the meeting room on the other side of the site, his mind racing with too much all at once: the shortage of beds, the state of his ward, the never-ending admission requests piling up on his desk, and the suffocating knowledge that none of it would matter the second he sat down in that sterile boardroom.

Not even if one of those admissions was a former schoolmate.

And wasn’t that just the cherry on top?

Instead of actually working—actually helping patients—he had to attend yet another bloody Executive Management Committee meeting. Another couple of hours wasted listening to smug suits nodding along to William Selby’s monologues, as if a two-line text wouldn’t be enough to summarise the archaic bullshit that came out of that man.

God, he hated wasting time. He was a doctor, after all, a bloody good one at that. But becoming head of the palliative care department at thirty had come with a price.

Committees. Way too many fucking committees.

Harry still wasn’t sure how it had happened, but two years ago—probably for the lack of options at the time—he’d been made spokesperson of the Executive Quality Committee at Summerstone General hospital.

Now, every quarter, he got the dubious honour of reporting to the Executive Management Committee about what worked, what didn’t, and what desperately needed to be fixed.

He might as well have been reporting back to a cactus.

The thing was, the EMC was exactly how you’d expect a committee of one of the oldest and biggest hospitals in Manchester to be: a parade of grey suits, smug smirks, and patronising comments. Seventeen men, two token women, and him—the lone thirty-three-year-old gay in defiance of the monochrome dress code.

Did it make him stick out like Elmer the Patchwork Elephant? Absolutely.

Did he care? Not in the slightest.

But Selby did.

Selby—head of the EMC, absolute tosser, and all-around menace to hospital funding—had a particular habit of peppering meetings with homophobic slurs and patronising nicknames. Kid. Nancy. Sissy. Harry had heard them all. He’d also stopped reacting to them months ago, but that didn’t mean it grated any less.

The worst part though was that when William Selby spoke, the other eighteen members nodded in unison like a row of bobblehead dachshunds on the rear shelf of a 1985 Mercedes Benz.

Today was no different.

Harry wasn’t even sure if they’d heard him when he explained—again—that the palliative care ward needed modernising and at least five more beds. The space existed. The staff existed. He just needed the bloody funding to make it usable.

But no. Instead of listening and caring about the fact that they’d been forced to turn patients away for months now the bloody committee sat there, nodding along to Selby’s bullshit like it was gospel.

It wasn’t just frustrating—it was unbearable.

By the time the meeting finally ended, Harry was ready to throw axes.

He stepped out Building 26, fury bubbling hotter with every step. His irritation peaked as he crossed the patio and trudged through the dull, but perfectly renovated, grey hallway in Building 27, the identical sterile white doorways grating on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

By the time he reached the first floor of Building 28, he was a walking storm, slamming the door open and nearly taking Niall’s head off in the process—the Irish lad he’d called his best mate since year 12.

“Blimey, Styles!” the light brunet huffed, stumbling against the wall, projecting his tuna sandwich straight into the plastering, where it slowly slid down to finally scatter all over the floor. “Fucking hell, who shat in your Cheerios this morning? You’ve got a face like a smacked arse,” he added, staring at the angry red patches on Harry’s cheeks and neck, but Harry continued wordlessly trudging to his office, slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck was that?” Niall asked with a questioning look at the red-haired woman sticking her head out of the first door of the hallway.

“EMC meeting,” she shrugged. “Don’t you dare pick that up and put it in your mouth, Nialler,” she warned, nodding at the tuna mess on the wall.

“I’m not weary of life, have you seen this place?” he replied, shuddering before catching the kitchen roll she threw his way and wiping the sandwich mess away.

“Better go check on him, shouldn’t I?” he muttered, trying to aim for the dustbin but missing tragically, causing yet another mess.

“Thought you weren’t weary of life?” the red-haired chuckled.

“Wish me luck,” Niall muttered heading towards Harry’s office.

“Luck!” Annie shouted back as he knocked warily on Harry’s door.

“Go away!” Harry’s gravelly voice bellowed from the other side.

Niall entered anyway. The blinds were closed, and Harry lounged on his dark brown leather sofa, letting his long limbs dangle over the armrest, throwing a tennis ball to the opposite wall, and catching it again.

“What part of go away do I need to spell out?”

“The one where I’m your best friend, psychologist in this department, and morally and ethically bound to keep you happy to prevent my life from being shite. How was EMC?” He asked, sliding half of his bum onto the sideboard almost swiping two binders to the floor.

“Magical. It was a dream.”

“H, you could crack macadamias with those furrowed brows. What happened?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

Niall fumbled with the binders to prevent them from tipping over. “Do I need to get Zayn?”

“Ugh.” Harry hurled the ball against the wall, knocking off a picture frame and snorting in frustration.

“Stupid Selby happened. On the plus side he only called me Nancy once. On the negative side, we’re yet again not being granted more beds, let alone any form of funding to make this hellhole of a building bearable,” he growled.

Building 28 was one of the few remaining old ones on the renewed hospital site. Built as a mental asylum back in the 1840s, there were only two of the original, charming Victorian buildings left and they were far off the beaten track from all the other buildings. Fortunately for Harry, the department of palliative care was located in one of them. It was enchanting, but it was old and in desperate need of renovation. Costs that the EMC was not willing to face, especially not if it was Harry to ask, no matter how good of a job he and his team did or how high the demand was for more beds.

Niall had quietly moved over to the fridge and tossed him a can of lemonade.

“That bad, eh?”

“It’s like talking to walls. Ignorant, hypocritical, abrasive, dumb walls. Not that I seriously expected a different outcome, it’s just so utterly deflating.” He heaved a sigh and flicked the can open, taking a large sip. “The day was already shit when I came in this morning. Did you see the list of new admission requests? Two from gynaecology, two from respiratory, and one from gastroenterology. Not that it matters, we’re at full capacity anyway.” Harry’s frown morphed into something concern-like as he got up from the sofa, opened the blinds and ambled to his desk. A hush fell when he reached for a piece of paper from the department of gastroenterology and handed it over.

Niall held his hand out for it and took a look. “Colon cancer Stage IV, metastases in liver and lungs. Born in 1991? Jeez, only thirty-five?” he inhaled sharply.

Harry gnawed on his thumb. Crestfallen he murmured, “Look at the name”.

“Benjamin Burke?…Benjamin Burke…huh…wait a minute,” Niall gasped. “Oh fuck! Ben Burke?? As in Tomlinson-Burke Ben Burke?” His face lapsed into pure shock.

“Yep, as in Tomlinson-Burke Ben Burke,” Harry’s voice lightly trembled as he stood and stared out of the window.

“Fucking hell. That’s…wow…that’s… holy shit, that’s bad. Are you gonna have to turn him down?” He had put his own can of lemonade down on Harry’s desk and gazed at the paper in sheer disbelief.

“Of course I’m not gonna turn him down!!” He shoved a form into his upper drawer. “Don’t care if I need to put a bed in the hallway! Jesus, how could I turn him down?” He chugged his lemonade and crushed the can with his hand before looking at Niall. “You know he’s got a set of two-year-old twins?”

Niall ran his palm over his face. “Shit. No, I didn’t know that. Haven’t seen or heard from the guy since we left school. Bloody hell. You know the mum?”

“The mum is non-existent.”

“The mum is what??” Niall gasped, leaning half-heartedly back to the sideboard.

“Remember the one with the fake name that bunked off from the maternity ward some time ago? Was her.”

“Dear Lord. I… I… Bloody hell, I don’t know what to say.”

He ran his hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the paper, shaking his head.

“What about Tommo? Have you had the chance to talk to him since…?” he said, looking up to Harry, who was pressing his thumb to his lower lip, nibbling at the inside of his lips. “That lad must really have screwed up big time in a former life for Karma to mess with him like this. First his mum, then his sister, now his best mate…fuck.”

Harry tried his best to swallow the lump in his throat but failed miserably.

Harry couldn’t remember Ben Burke and Louis Tomlinson being anything other than attached at the hip. Harry was just about to turn fifteen when he moved to the suburbs of Manchester and started sixth form at Saint Dolores College in the middle of the school year.

Being the new kid was hard enough, but being the weird new kid—thanks to skipping both year two and year five making him the youngest sixth former in the history of the school—was a whole other ordeal. Weird new kid or not, Harry was quite impressed by the two older boys who had a way of charming their way out of any situation—or into one, depending on their mood. And to be fair, they got into plenty of situations.

There was the time they skipped every homework assignment for a term and somehow managed to talk their way out of detention. Or the time they broke into the school claiming one of them had “forgotten his asthma inhaler” (neither had ever shown the faintest sign of respiratory issues). But the pièce de résistance? The day they managed to dig out a frickin’ WWII hand-grenade with a mini excavator that a construction worker had left unattended with the keys in the ignition before heading to lunch break.

The whole school had to be evacuated for the rest of the day. It was equally disturbing as hilarious. Without thinking twice, one could easily say they were never up to any good, but they were highly entertaining. Loud, vivid, quick-witted, funny as hell and Harry secretly dreamt of befriending them. Well, maybe his dreams had become a tad more graphic a year later when football practice was in full swing and on a remarkably hot Wednesday afternoon in May, in a dirty old sixth-form college dressing room, he accidentally barged in on a very much naked, freshly showered Louis fucking Tomlinson bent over to get clean shorts out of his sports bag.

Not to be dramatic, but it was a sight that had burnt itself on the inside of his eyelids. There was only one hitch: based on his expression, little did said Tomlinson know that when it came to flight or fight, Harry’s innate reaction was to shock freeze. Which is why a certain 16-year-old Harry Edward Styles may or may not have stood there, staring far too long for everyone’s comfort—especially Louis’—before finally bolting and promptly smashing his shoulder into the door frame on the way out.

Needless to say that this incident, paired with the fact that they had been attending the same maths class for months without exchanging so much as a single word, weren’t the best premises to get a laddy lad buddyship going.

There was no point in denying: being an introvert at times came with a price. Yet, being a gay 16-year-old introvert in year 13, gifted with an IQ of 145 in a northern sixth-form college, secretly wanking to the image of his straight senior schoolmates’ perfectly peachy tush resided more on the mortification side of any popularity scale.

Thank fuck for the arrival of an effervescent Irish lad a couple of weeks after Harry’s move to Manchester. If it hadn’t been for him and his simple refusal to let Harry dwell in his shell his last two school years would probably have been a pretty lonely experience.

But luckily one fateful day in November, the classroom door popped open and a compact, blue-eyed brunet with blond highlights stepped in. He took the free seat next to Harry without even bothering to ask and by the time the bell rang, Harry knew all about his parents’ divorce, him staying with his dad and his brother, the tragic passing of some fish named Tom and Jerry, a mild case of OCD, a childhood friend named Michael—although it didn’t become clear whether he was real or imaginary—and that for the love of God, the only possibility to get the lad to shut up seemed to be to stuff food down his throat. Yet Harry liked him. Very much so.

He would even go so far as to say that it was only for his new friend that he managed to bear the sheer panic that came over him anytime a certain Burke or Tomlinson so much as crossed the same hallway as him.

To this day he couldn’t even say whether Louis ever told Ben about “the incident,” all he knew was that any time he came across either one, it was weird as fuck, and they didn’t speak. Ever.

Mocking, bullying, even attacking…Harry would probably have been ok with all of it. Yet nothing like that ever happened—and it for sure wasn’t for the high moral standards or the pure hearts of both boys that they left him alone. No, they could perfectly be a pain in the arse to any one else. But with Harry, all there was, was staring and pure awkward silence, totally out of character, cringeworthy silence. Even Niall didn’t find words to explain it.

So yeah, it had come as an utter shock when he’d seen the patient’s name Benjamin Burke as a possible new admission first thing this morning, and it had certainly not only been for the fact that no thirty-five-year-old should ever see the insides of a palliative care unit.

“Mate?”

Harry startled as a ball of scrunched paper landed straight on his forehead. Niall’s look hit him like the one of a disappointed parent. “Jeez, Harry, please, tell me you outgrew your Tomlinson shock-freeze phase.” Harry awkwardly pressed his lips together. Niall rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of free beds, have you already been to see Ms. Stalworth? If it’s any help, I just had an appointment with her daughter this morning and she mentioned that the family was talking about taking her home if that’s an option.” Niall continued.

“Oh? No, I haven’t done my rounds yet. But yes, that could totally be an option”. Mrs Stalworth had explicitly refused to be transferred to St. John’s Hospice, but Harry was positive that care at home was what she would have wished for in the first place, had she not been too afraid to impose on her family.

“Well, better get on the phone then.” Niall straightened his back, brushed his palms together and checked the clock. “Anyways, ya comin’ to the pub later? Karaoke night. I promised Zayn, Mitch, and Annie.”

“Yeah, no, thanks, I’ll skip. Just wanna make sure we can admit him by tomorrow and then I’ll head home, questioning my life choices.”

Niall replied with three consoling pats on his back before heading to the door.

“Nialler?”

“Hmm?”

“Could you please make sure you don’t get too wasted? Don’t want y’all to be hungover if he, the family, or the kids need immediate support,” he uttered, his voice low and on the verge of trembling.

Instead of an answer Niall turned on his heel and shot straight towards Harry’s chest, pulling him in into a tight hug. “We’ll make it work, H, we always make it work.”

Chapter Text

“We’re hooooome!” Louis yelled, kicking the door to Nan’s flat open with his foot. He struggled to juggle two knocked-out toddlers, a giant nappy bag, and a sand toy bag as he squeezed through the doorway.

“Hey, munchkins,” his Nan’s voice rang out of the kitchen before joining them in the hallway. It smelled deliciously of apple tarts and Louis couldn’t wait to finally sit down for a minute. As much as he loved the twins, he wasn’t really used to chasing them through a park in blistering heat for three hours straight and by now he was so done, that he envied them for their ability to just nap wherever they were.

“Jesus Christ, Louis!” Nan exclaimed, pointing at the trail of sand that had trickled out of the bag and probably could be traced back to his car, if not to the park. “Don’t you dare move!” She took Ruby off his arm, and gently carried her to the living room, where his grandad was watching TV, greeting him with a silent wave.

Louis dropped both bags with a thud that turned out to be way louder than he intended, and Milly fluttered on his arm. Another load of sand poured out of the toy bag.

“Really?” his Nan muttered with a raised eyebrow coming back from the living room.

“Wot? Didn’t move,” he grumbled. He kicked his shoes off, balancing the sleeping toddler on his hip. More sand scattered across the floor.

She shook her head with a cheeky smile and silently took Milly from him.

“Dustpan, brush, pantry,” she ordered, carrying the little girl to the living room too. “And don’t even think about using the hoover—you’ll wake them!”

He rolled his eyes and walked towards the pantry.

“I saw that!!” Nan scolded from the other room as he was reaching for the dustpan and brush attached to the back of the door and started to sweep up the mess he’d caused.

Once he’d gathered everything into the pan, he glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. Hearing Nan rummaging for a blanket in the living room, he opened the window and dumped the dirt outside.

“You know we have dustbins?” he heard her say standing in the door frame. Dang her and her sixth sense for his shortcuts.

“You know I could get you a cleaner?” he retorted with a smirk.

“You could get me five cleaners and I wouldn’t make an exception to the rules in this house: you spill it, you wipe it.”

He silently smiled, pulled Nan to his side, and gave her a peck on the temple.

Household chores were his personal nemesis, but he couldn’t help smiling. His family had a way of keeping him down to earth. Ever since his entrepreneurship had skyrocketed and he had gone from failing his A-Levels not only once but twice to appearing on the Sunday Times “Rich list under 30” within 8 years, his life had changed dramatically. Too often, he noticed that once people recognised him, basic politeness morphed into outright arse-kissing. It grossed him out. Not that he’d ever admit it to them, but he was beyond grateful for the way his family made sure his success never went to his head. Even if it meant making him scrub floors on his hands and knees...in a suit.

“It’s after five, Nan, better wake them up, otherwise they’ll party till midnight,” he said, tossing the dustpan and brush back into the pantry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to let them fall asleep in the first place but the minute they were in their car seats, they were out.”

“It’s okay, poppet. If they need it, they need it. C’mere,” she hugged him and pecked him on the cheek. “How was your day? Wanna sit down with me for some tea and a slice of apple tart?”

“I’m gross Nan, I’d really like to get out of these rags and have a shower.”

“As you like, dear. I just want to let you know, it’s either tea while being gross or dinner while being clean, but you, my love, are going to sit down with me today. I haven’t seen you properly in what? Almost two weeks?” She cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek.

He looked down, leaned into her touch, secretly grinding his teeth. He knew perfectly well that he couldn’t dodge her any longer. It wasn’t even that he wanted to dodge her, but yes, he wanted to dodge her. Ben hadn’t been able to leave the hospital for almost four weeks, and Louis hadn’t visited once. Of course, he’d called and facetimed, but he hadn’t actually seen him in 26 days—probably the longest stretch since, well, ever. And while Louis was pretty good at making excuses and blaming the Commsmith deal or the babysitting or the traffic or the alignment of the stars, he knew damn well that his Nan wouldn’t take any of his shit.

“I’ve already made plans with Liam to hit the pub later, so I guess tea it is?”

Nan smiled, guiding him toward the kitchen. The sweet, buttery scent of apple tart still in the air, and the kettle hummed softly on the counter.

Nan’s kitchen was his favourite place in the house—a perfect blend of modern white cabinets with copper handles and rustic wooden furniture, cosy and familiar. A large wooden dining table in the middle of the room held enough space for the majority of the family right in front of a small balcony from which you had the perfect view of both her own and his garden.

“Is Grandad not joining us?” he asked.

“Nah, he’s caught in an episode of The Repair Shop, you get my undivided attention, poppet.”

Louis sat down at the table with a sigh, stretching his arms high above his head, burying one foot under his thigh while Nan walked towards the cabinets.

“I’m really sorry, Nan, we had this huge merger going on that cost me a helluvalot of nerves,” he was quick to explain, totally not pursuing a hidden agenda to keep the talk away from everything personal. “We’ve signed the final contracts just this morning. Did I tell you that we now have to integrate 120 new people into our processes? It’s going to be so fun, actually I’m really excited. They built this amazing communication tool that I would really like to implement into our own systems. It gives me the ick that in 2026 businesses still communicate via fax and post-its and print their shit with dot matrix printers.”

“Language, dear.” She took two mugs and plates out of the cabinet, sliced the apple tart and brought the plates over to the table.

“For real, Nan, I’ve seen printers older than me,” he said, all but inhaling the slice. “Please, they’d rather invest in buying 3D printers to be able to make their own spare parts for repairing those old things than to put into effect intelligent digital systems! It’s bonkers! What do they think? That cloud-based solutions will go away anytime soon? That storing their own operational data in separate databases for every department will enhance communication and productivity? Seriously, just thinking about how much information gets lost on the way or how much data is outdated or duplicated…gives me the creeps. It’s such a waste of time and potential.”

While Nan served the tea and sat down opposite him, he went on rambling about the perks of new technology and complex business processes, on how to improve operational efficiency, the endless possibilities to raise productivity and how easily businesses and companies could accelerate their workflows, and as proud as his Nan was for his passion and achievements, he perfectly knew she didn’t understand a single word but still looked at him lovingly.

“You do know that I am beyond proud of you?” she said, when he finally paused to drink his tea. “You have achieved so much. It fills my heart with so much joy that you’ve found your true passion in your work.” She gently put her palm on his forearm and he immediately flinched.

There we go, he thought, putting the fork down on his empty plate, picking up the last crumbs of the apple tart with his finger. They’ve been through this a thousand times. “Nan…”

“Yes, dear?” she said, pulling her arm back to stir her tea.

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Come on, we both know what’s coming next.”

“What do you mean, dear?” She raised her eyebrows, nonchalantly nipping at her tea mug, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Yada yada yada, ‘but work isn’t everything, you need to find joy outside of the office too, you need to find someone to take care of and let take care of you…’” he sighed dramatically.

“Oh. Where’s that coming from, love, aren’t you happy outside of the office?” she threw him a knowing look over the frame of her glasses.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no!! You cheeky minx.” He wagged his finger at her. “You don’t get to put that on me now. You were totally up to grilling me, don’t act like it was me taking this route.”

“Louis, sweetie, I would never grill you for your personal life choices,” she taunted with an impish grin.

“But since you’ve brought it up, how are you holding up outside of work?” she brought the tea pot to her pursed lips and took another small sip.

“Nan, seriously!” He pressed his lips together and leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Gladys told me you still haven’t gone to see Ben?”

“Nan, I mean it. Come on, you know my stance on hospitals. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I just… I can’t.” Nan put her mug down, tilted her head slightly and looked him straight in the eye.

“Poppet, I love you more than anything, and you know I will never allow you to be deliberately hurt. Especially not when you’re hurting yourself. You have to go see him, Louis. You will never forgive yourself if you don’t.”

Louis darted off the chair towards the sink with his empty tea mug and plate tightly clenched in his hand.

“Why is everyone acting like he’s not coming home? He’s getting chemo and any treatment available. If he needs another surgery, he’ll have it. He’ll be fine! I checked the hospital, I checked the doctors, he’s got the best oncologists in the goddamn region, I made sure he gets everything he needs; he’ll be fine!” He slammed his empty tea mug and the plate a little too hard into the sink. “He’ll be fine. Nan, he’ll be fine,” he repeated as if he needed to convince himself, then added under his breath, “It’s not like with Mum and Fizz, he actually has a chance! I won’t set a damn foot into that hospital. Anytime I did I went home alone.”

Nan looked at him sorrow stricken. And it hit him hard. The unadulterated weariness in her eyes left no doubt that she knew exactly how he felt. How could she not? She’d been the one waiting outside the emergency room at Summerstone General, dreading the moment her grandson arrived. She’d had to tell him his mum—her daughter, a mum of seven—hadn’t survived the car crash. Two weeks before his nineteenth birthday.

He knew that having to witness the hurt, the exasperation, the pain, the desperation—basically every feeling she felt herself—in her teenage first-born grandchild, shredded the few remaining bits of her heart to pieces. As young as he was, Louis had always been aware that she had never really had the chance to mourn the loss of her child, because one school dropout, six minors and a diabetic, wheelchair-bound husband needed at least one stable adult to guide them through the dark.

Little did they know at that point that the dark was about to become even darker when only eighteen months later they had to relive the almost same scenario when his 4-year-old baby sister had been brought to the intensive care unit after being in a bathing accident at the local open-air pool and didn’t make it. If it hadn’t been for Gladys and the Payne family, Louis was sure none of them would have known how to even get up in the morning.

So, yes, he was aware with every inch of his strained body that Nan wasn’t better off than he was. And that made him even more distressed. After all, she had never seen Ben as anything other than her eighth grandchild. He’d sell his soul to prevent her from reliving the same anguish all over again. Yet he didn’t know how, and it made his heart bleed.

There was only one difference between the two of them: Nan had been visiting Ben regularly. She was bravely facing what Louis dreaded the most. She had talked intensely to him in the last three weeks, and Louis was petrified to eventually learn he was done fighting. A possibility that he wasn’t even close to admitting, let alone to accepting.

So here they were, blissfully ignorant on how to get his troubled and stubborn arse to the hospital. It was somewhat common knowledge that he had developed serious anxiety regarding anything hospital related, but it wasn’t as if he ever talked about it or accepted any sort of help. Anytime anyone tried to bring up the topic, he shut it down on the spot and had to leave for some very urgent work-related thing. What was that saying again? Once is an accident, twice a coincidence, three times is a pattern.

Nan got up from the table, walked over to him, stopped behind him and rubbed her thumb gently over his shoulder.

“Love, I know you hurt. You don’t need to say it, I see it. And you have every right to be hurting. We all do. And you are right, it’s not like with your mum and Fizzy. You need to talk to him. He wants to talk to you. In person. He made Gladys and me promise that we’d get you there soon. Don’t make me break my promise to him.” As her pleading look landed on him it felt like glowing fireballs propelled right through his intestines.

He fiddled nervously with the dishcloth, before taking his smartphone out of his pocket, her palm burning a prickling hole into his shoulder blade. “Jeez, Nan, look at the time, I need to run, gotta take a shower and meet up with Liam, are you sure you can deal with the two monsters?”

Nan heaved a sigh and dropped her hand, making him crumble internally. There it was again, his pattern, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Alright,” she finally said, the expression of sorrow marring her otherwise soft features. “I’ll leave you to that. Don’t you worry about us. We’ll be alright. I’ll send them into a food coma with some bangers and mash and then we’ll call it a night. Is it just Liam and you out for tonight?”

“Lottie, Lewis, and Jess may join as well; and of course Oli will be there.”

“Ah, Jess.” Nan said, straightening the tea towel on the rack.

“Ugh, no, Nan, we are so not having this conversation now,” he objected, pecking her on the cheek before running out of the kitchen to find his shoes in the hallway. “I love you, please don’t worry. I’ll think about it, okay? I just might need a little more time.” He shouted back to the kitchen, but Nan had already followed him.

She pulled him in, squeezing him tight. “I’ll always worry about you, poppet.”

Louis was already proper baked when he walked up the stairs to The Hermit‘s Hare.

Though some weeks ago he had decided to cut back on smoking alone at home because he considered it slightly pathetic, the talk with his Nan and the stress of the last few weeks had made a quick spliff seem about right to set the mood for the evening.

After all, The Hermit‘s Hare had essentially become an extension of his living room a long time ago, so he didn’t really mind already being high as a kite when walking through the door.

The pub was exactly how he believed tourists envisioned British pubs: a large dark wooden counter with ornamental mirrors behind it, dark patterned floors, textured walls plastered in old, framed photographs, surrounded by a mix of old plates, knick knacks and trinkets. Despite its remarkable size it oozed familiarity and cosiness. Liam, Ben, him, and a couple of other lads had come here pretty much every Friday since his early days as an entrepreneur. It was the perfect place to wind down, an unpretentious setting to feel at ease and where everybody knew everybody. The fact that the owner was one of his oldest mates and Louis lived within walking distance didn’t hurt either.

Like Louis, Oli wasn’t a big fan of change, so he put all his effort into pleasing his regulars and keeping hooligans and drunks out of the picture. One of his best ideas in Louis’ opinion was to put a huge sign outside which stated:

No food

-

Crap beer

-

Bad hospitality

Although there was food, exceptionally good food even, although the selection of beers left no wishes unfulfilled and Louis had not once felt the urge to criticise the hospitality, the sign was bold enough to keep pretentious snobs out and the regulars happy. That there was live music every second Friday from nine to eleven was his cherry on top. Apart from that two-hour slot, the pub was always quiet enough to have a good talk, but not so quiet that it felt awkward.

Louis loved coming here. One of the main reasons was that here, he could be just Louis; nobody gave two flying fucks about CEO Tomlinson.

His sister Lottie, her husband Lewis, and Liam were already seated at a table in a corner not too far away from the bar yet far enough to have a certain privacy.

“Oi, oi!” he exclaimed cheerfully and was greeted by frantic drums on the table.

“Tommooooo, my man,” Oli shouted from behind the counter and darted out to pull Louis into an almost suffocating hug. Louis tensed displeasingly, as the ginger proceeded to clap him firmly on the back, cheering, “Good to see you, mate. Congratulations! The guys told me about your deal, fucking proud of you, man. That’s some massive news.”

Louis grinned, his cheeks heating under Oli’s exuberance. “Yeah, yeah, thank you,” he said, wriggling in the hug but not quite breaking free. “Now, take that stinking thing out of my face and get me a pint and steak and chips, will you?” He tugged at the damp towel hanging precariously over Oli’s shoulder, giggling despite himself.

No, taking a compliment didn’t make him feel like a proper douchebag at all. And no, sarcasm and diverting techniques were totally not his coping mechanisms to get out of situations that made him uncomfortable. Absolutely not. He knew he deserved all the cheers, but he just couldn't bring himself to enjoy being the centre of attention.

Just as he was squirming free of Oli’s tight grip, he got pulled into the next hug. Jesus fucking Christ, why did all his mates have to be so bloody tactile? Behind him Jess had appeared and slung her ebony-skinned arm around his waist, her almost black, long, bouncy corkscrew curls tickling his neck. Jess was another friend from school. They met when they both had turned seventeen. Actually, it was at Jess’ birthday party, where they’d ended up shagging in some random bedroom, pissed out of their minds, and both agreeing the next day that it was all fun and games but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they’d ever fall for each other.

They’d remained friends though. Good friends. With the occasional benefits.

They finally sat down, and Louis praised the slow, steady, and relaxing calm the weed was providing to his otherwise racing mind.

He and Liam took turns in recounting everything their friends wanted to know about the huge merger the company had finalised, and he couldn’t be more grateful that they all were pussyfooting around the topic of Ben. They all knew about the elephant in the room but fortunately chose to shove him under the staircase for the time being.

“…and that’s when my phone rang, and he called for Code Rainbow yet again!” Liam roared.

Lottie snorted and squeezed Louis’ thigh, “Aaaaawww you poor thing. Again?”

The first time Liam had faked being Louis’ gay fiancé was in a bar at least ten years ago. They’d all had far too much to drink, and Louis had found himself cornered by a blonde who was exceptionally keen on getting into his pants. Swamped and skittish as he was, Liam took pity on him and jumped right to his side to save him from his misery. Not that Louis didn’t like to get hit on—heaven forbid, he’d had his fair share of attempted hook-ups, but every single time he realised at some point that it wasn’t going to be worth the proverbial or literal shot. His only problem was that he was way too nice to tell them.

Growing up with five sisters had left him completely and utterly ill-equipped to deal with tantrums, tears or even the faintest whiff of disappointment. He’d spent most of his life bending over backwards to keep the girls happy, and somewhere along the line, that same impulse had extended to nearly every woman he’d ever met.

Once Louis discovered that the “gay exit” was a brilliantly convenient way to let the women who hit on him down without hurting their feelings, he may or may not have made extensive use of the rescue; to the point that a single rainbow emoji via text had become Liam’s cue.

“Jesus, Louis, what did she do this time?” Lottie laughed, “chewing with an open mouth? The nostrils too flaring? Or did she breathe too loudly?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that superficial!” he said, pretending to be appalled.

Liam almost choked on his pint. “Louis, mate, you have the most hilarious and stupid reasons to ditch potential hookups I’ve heard in my whole life. And I’ve gone through gay bar dating for the last 15 years! Please share with the class, what was the reason you ended the date with Lewis’ colleague?”

“She didn’t like tacos,” Louis grumbled. “C’mon, what person suggests a Mexican restaurant only to reveal they don’t like tacos? Are you kiddin’ me? It’s tacos!”

“And why wouldn’t you see the one again you met at the coffee shop?”

“Oooh, I know that one,” Lottie squealed, “she pronounced Italy as eye-tally.”

They all burst out laughing and even Louis giggled.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!! DRINKING GAME!!” Liam blurted out. “This is gonna be fun. We’ll throw out names and whoever knows the reason why he ditched the girl rings the bell and gets to enlighten the group. The others have to take shots. Louis, you take one whenever the right reason is assigned to the right girl,” he clapped his hands in enthusiasm.

“Dear Lord,” Lottie sighed, “we’ll be wasted in no time.”

“Exactly!” He cheered, bolting to Oli to get the bell from the counter and some booze. “Tequila or Vodka?” he yelled over.

“Vodka!” Louis was quick to shout.

Only seconds later a bottle of vodka and five shot glasses decorated the table and Liam blurted:

“I’ll go first. Sooooo, what was wrong with Rebecca, the teacher?”

“Didn’t like memes,” Lewis hit the bell. Louis nodded.

Shots for Lottie, Liam, Louis, and Jess.

Lewis went on. “What was her name again, the one you met at that conference? Claire?”

Bing.

“Ate her cereal with water instead of milk and laughed like a sheep,” Lottie yelled out. Louis took a shot, followed by Lewis, Liam, and Jess.

“Mylah?” Lottie called next.

“Who was Mylah again?” Liam asked with a confused look.

“The red-head from the club a few weeks ago.”

Jess hit the bell:

“She said cats were superior to dogs.”

Lottie made a honking sound. “Wrrooooooooong, that was Chrystle. Mylah was the one to eat peas one at a time.”

Louis cackled, bringing the back of his hand in front of his mouth. “Yeah, that was annoying as fuck.”

Shot for Jess.

“Willow?” she continued.

Nobody chimed the bell and Jess triumphed:

“Nobody? She was the one who voted Green party.”

“What’s wrong with voting Green party?” Lottie smacked Louis on the head.

“Eyyyy! Nothing is wrong with voting Green party, but she voted Green because IT WAS HER FAVOURITE COLOUR!” He answered, fixing his fringe.

Five rounds later, they were all proper pissed and hysterically laughing.

“Seriously???? SHE HAD HER WHATSAPP SET UP TO A FUNNY FONT?” Liam snorted, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Wot?!” Louis replied disgusted. “What’s our future supposed to look like?? Wedding invitations in Comic Sans? Pregnancy announcement in Papyrus??? Lottie, please, back me up!!”

“Sorry, bro, you dumped one ‘cause she had an AOL email address.”

“AOL, LOTTIE!!! AOL!!! She might as well have sent out carrier pigeons or carved messages into stones!!”

They all were gasping for air. “Now that we’ve established that our dear Louis William is a judgemental fucker with commitment issues, have you noted it’s Karaoke night?” Liam exclaimed.

“Not a judgemental fucker and no commitment issues!” Louis protested.

“Oh, come on, when was the last time you got proper banged? And no, you don’t count!” he gesticulated towards Jess who sounded like she was about to suffocate in between giggle fits.

“How long have you had each other on and off on bootie call?? Eighteen years?! You know what happens in bloody eighteen years? NEWBORNS ARE ALLOWED TO DRIVE! THEY ARE ALLOWED TO VOTE for God’s sake! EVEN FOR THEIR FAVOURITE COLOUR PARTY,” Liam screamed in affected indignation.

The noise level in the pub had dramatically risen once Karaoke had started and it was getting harder to understand each other so they wrapped up their game—totally not because another round would have sent them straight into the abyss.

“Hey, isn’t that your secretary?” Lottie nudged his shoulder, pointing at a slender, dark-haired person who had taken over the mic just as Madonna’s Vogue pulsed from the speakers.

Louis raised his eyebrows, mentally tallying his drinks. The person performing on the Karaoke stage, hovering their hands over their body while grinding down and shaking their hips, totally looked like his secretary, Kyle Watson. But…not like any version of Kyle he’d seen in eight years.

Kyle was a forty-something bloke, not particularly tall, with lean shoulders and a wiry frame. He had delicate, almost pretty features—high cheekbones, sharp jawline, lashes long enough to make most people jealous. Usually, his dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and there was a quiet toughness about him, a kind of don’t-mess-with-me vibe, the way he’d stand with his shoulders square and his jaw set like he could handle himself in a fight.

But this? This was a whole other side of Kyle.

The person on stage had their hair down, styled in the same waves his sisters only managed to conjure with bizarre hot iron thingies. Their eyes were outlined in dramatic, smoky makeup, lips glossed and shining under the stage lights. They wore heels that made their legs look endless, paired with a rather short skirt, and Louis could swear that there was a bra shining through the fitted, sheer black blouse. Somehow, even with all the glitter and glam, there was still something distinctly Kyle about the way they owned the stage, like they knew exactly what kind of effect they were having on the room.

Louis blinked, half-expecting his brain to catch up and tell him he was wrong. But the longer he watched, the more certain he became. This was Kyle—his quiet, no-nonsense, leather-jacket-wearing secretary. Only…tonight, Kyle was dazzling.

“Huh,” he deadpanned. “Well, that’s something new.” But before he could go into details—not that after six-ish shots his general condition would have allowed him to do so—the person had finished their performance and was no longer to be seen.

The group of three blokes and a girl from two tables next to them had taken over. Meanwhile Liam drooled at the sight of the very fit, dark-haired guy with a face like a Middle Eastern angel, dark eyes, the most perfect symmetrical brows, and cheekbones to die for. Given the not-so-furtive glances the guy kept sneaking back at Liam, the drooling seemed mutual. He and his friend had just finished an enthusiastic round of belting, “Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie” at a petite, ginger girl—who a third, lanky, bearded guy was barely managing to keep from dancing on the table—when Louis caught the two men discreetly ogling each other.

But now that the cheekbone God was singing Umbrella by Rihanna with a forbidden good falsetto, a smoky texture, and an ability to seamlessly transition from chest to head voice, Liam seemed completely lost.

“Hey, still breathing over there?” he nudged him.

“Nope. Our children will be beautiful, intelligent and have angelic voices!” he exhaled, dashing off to the DJ to give his own request.

“He does know that’s not how it works, right?” Lottie questioned belly laughing but Liam had already gone to take over the mic.

The moment Let Me Love You by Mario tuned in and Liam started full-on serenading the neighbouring-table, Louis wasn’t so sure whether it was the alcohol mixed with weed or the obscene amount of sap, but either way he had trouble stopping himself from laying down and retching.

“Lads, ladies, that’s my cue. Better head home before it gets ugly.”

Chapter Text

Harry sat in the grass, his back leaned against the old apple tree, staring at the paperwork on his knees. His night had been utter shit—waking up every two hours, jittery, tense, and drenched in the kind of dreams he didn’t want to unpack. By 4:30 a.m., he gave up. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well come to the hospital early and watch the sunrise from the garden. Edda and Wilbur, the ward’s two therapy dogs, weren’t quite as enthusiastic about the idea and prompty fell back asleep at his side.

The cool morning air settled his nerves—at least, a little.

He often came here to clear his head when his mind felt like it was spiralling, or simply to go over dull paperwork. Something about sitting under a tree, the tickling of the lush, fresh grass under his palm, the smell of blossoms and chirping birds kept him together and soothed whatever feelings threatened to overwhelm him. The palliative care ward might have been neglected in funding, falling apart at the seams, but this garden? This little piece of peace? It was worth protecting.

He glanced down at the waiting list in his lap, his stomach twisting. Five more beds could be filled instantly, and yet, he was lucky he’d even managed to clear one. A single damn bed. It had taken two hours of calls, favours, and far too much grovelling just to get Ben transferred. And now? Now he just had to wait for Ben to be brought over by patient transport, then walk in there and—what? Pretend this was just another patient?

Jesus.

Harry closed his eyes, pressing his head against the tree trunk, inhaling deeply. He had done this job for ten years. He had broken the worst news a doctor could break more often than he could think of. He had watched countless patients and families fight, grieve, and let go. And yet, the prospect of seeing Benjamin Burke in that hospital bed, and by extension possibly running into Louis Tomlinson again, made his gut wrench. For the first time in ten years Harry genuinely wished he was anywhere but here.

He forced himself to focus on his breathing, counting the inhales, the exhales, concentrating on the soft rustling of the trees when Niall’s voice rang out of nowhere.

“Hiya, thought you’d be here.” He threw his rucksack on the ground, startling Wilbur for a second, and let himself fall backwards into the grass. “How are you holding up?”

“Hey. Yeah, fine. I guess. I dunno.” He stared for a short while at the sky then rubbed his palms over his face, straightened his back and slung his arms around his knees. “Don’t really want to go in, you know.”

“I figured. Brought coffee and croissants,” Niall announced.

“You always”—Harry airquoted—“‘bring’ coffee and croissants.”

“Yeah, but today I didn’t eat them before arriving,” Niall grinned, holding out a white paper bag.

“Where’s the coffee?” Harry asked, looking at the empty paper cup in Niall’s hand.

“Tzz, ungrateful twat. As if you didn’t prefer tea anyway,” he hissed, smirking. “I’ll make you one in your office. C’mon, let’s go.” And with that he dragged Harry up.

Two hours, two croissants, two coffees, and one pep talk later, Harry found himself staring at a closed patient’s room door. A very eager Niall and a half comatose Zayn had tried their best to calm his nerves before he came here, yet his heart was pounding like a train down the tracks. He’d run his hands at least five times over his trouser legs and still, they felt clammy.

Okay, he thought, just go in, introduce yourself and that’s it. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re gonna be fine. Maybe if he repeated it often enough he’d drain out the little shitty voice in his head whispering, “You are, but what if Ben isn’t?”

It’s been 17 years, he most likely won’t even remember you. Yeah. He won’t remember you. It’s not even like you’d been friends or anything.

Harry took a deep breath, steadied himself for a minute, knocked and pressed down the door handle.

Keeping his expression open and sympathetic, he stepped through the door.

Harry had learned a long time ago that a positive first impression was key for gaining his patients’ trust, fuck if he’d jeopardised that today because of stupid nerves. He squared his shoulders and introduced himself with his regular deep and steady voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Burke, I’m Dr. Harry Styles, your attending consultant and head of this department.” He held Ben’s gaze, offering a small, steady smile. “As much as I would have preferred to meet you somewhere else, I’d like to welcome you to my ward.”

Yeah, that was good. Solid. No wavering, no stuttering.

“Harry,” the pale man rustled out, looking exhausted but he smiled up from his bed. “Kinda hoped it’d be you in charge of me. Didn’t think I’d get that lucky.” He paused to take a breath.

Fuck. This was not how Harry expected Ben’s reaction to be.

“You remember me?” he asked, surprised. His heart was about to jump out of his throat, and he tried his best to hide the little shake in his hands.

“How could I not?” Ben replied, “It’s not like there’d been a shitload of scientific geniuses at Saint Dolores outshining the whole sixth form at the age of sixteen. You were brilliant,” he chuckled, a little out of breath. “Surreal and weird, but brilliant. Man, I am so glad that it’s you of all people to be my consultant.”

Harry internally flinched. Okay, so Ben remembered. And yet he was talking to him. Harry felt like he’d been catapulted into a parallel universe.

“May I?” he gestured towards the visitor chair. Ben nodded. Harry pushed it next to Ben’s bed and sat down, fighting hard to defy the turmoil crawling inside his chest. Genius, brilliant…

He probably should feel flattered but all he could think was, “Fuck”.

He twisted the skin on his ring finger, slid slightly back and forth on his seat before hooking his feet around the chair legs.

Yes, he’d been the kid with all the answers in school and then some more, but this wasn’t school.

This was real life.

This was terminal, metastasised cancer Stage IV and Harry didn’t have a magic wand.

How was he supposed to live up to expectations built on an almost 20-year-old quirky college reputation?

“Ben, I…” he started, but before he could even think of putting the expectations into perspective Ben already cut him off.

“Harry, listen. I know we haven’t seen each other since college so you probably don’t know anything about me.” He shuffled in his bed to sit more upright. “I didn’t even finish school. I’m not a fancy academic and knew shit all about medicine until two years ago. But I’m not dumb. I know where this journey is going.” He needed to pause to cough and catch his breath. “I’m not here for you to magically fix me and make me walk out of here as if nothing ever happened. I mean, I wouldn’t oppose it if you did, but I know that’s not how this works.”

Harry watched him carefully, waiting patiently for him to finish his sentences. It was obvious that he had trouble breathing and he noticed a slight rustling that probably indicated some sort of fluid in Ben’s lungs making it harder for him to breathe and speak.

“Please don’t judge me for being blunt or insensitive, I’m not one for sugar-coating things. I had my fair share of people walking on eggshells around me over the past months. I know this is my final stop and I am ready for it.” His fingers tapped absently against the sheets. “I am not afraid of death. But I’m scared shitless of getting there.”

Harry tugged at his shirt collar and bit back a sigh of relief.

Welcome to the twisted world of palliative care, where a patient’s fear of dying is a relief for the doctor.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up involuntarily as he relaxed in the chair.

This was his expertise. This was why he had chosen this path. The gnawing fear of not being enough yet again—the one that had haunted him since the day the man in front of him, his best friend, and the whole school had consequently ignored him—had no place here.

He wasn’t here to cure. He was here to make this bearable. All of it. The pain, the nausea, the stress, the panic…because quality of life was not just about managing symptoms. It was about holding people together when everything else was falling apart.

So, Ben knew, and that made Harry feel considerably more at ease. To be fair he had become accustomed to all sorts of situations with new patients coming from surgical or oncological wards. Most of them arrived with no real grasp for their prognosis. Too many colleagues avoided the talk, skirting around reality in the name of preserving hope. Patients got the rundown on chemo and surgeries—but no one told them they were dying. That part was often left to Harry, so it took him somewhat by surprise that Ben was so sorted and straightforward, especially given it was their first talk ever, but he appreciated it a lot.

“You’re afraid of dying but not of death.” He repeated. “I promise you that is something we can deal with. We get that a lot. So, let me ask point-blank, do you want us to jump in straight away or would you rather go a little slower today and recover from your transfer?”

“Shoot me.” Ben replied.

“That’s a service we don’t offer,” slipped out of Harry’s mouth and he instantly wanted to slap himself.

Silence.

Ben blinked at him, unmoving. Too much, too soon. Damnit Styles.

Then, finally—a snort. Actually, Ben was laughing so hard he had to clutch his chest.

Harry exhaled, tension slipping from his shoulders. Thank fuck. There had been several occasions over the years where his rather dark sense of humour and his occasional dysfunctional brain-to-mouth-filter had backfired to the point he wished for the ground to swallow him whole. But if Ben could roll with this humour this was going to be a hell of a lot easier.

They talked for well over an hour—about their lives since school, about Ben’s condition, about pain treatment, and, of course, the fears that weighed on him most.

It turned out that his biggest concern was the effect of his lung condition. As Harry had suspected, the fluid in Ben’s lungs was building up, making it harder to breathe. The thought of suffocating—of being fully conscious as his body failed him—was the thing that sent him into spirals of panic at night.

Harry took his time to explain things carefully. If it got worse, they could drain the fluid. If that ever stopped working, there were other options, medication to sedate him just enough to make the situation tolerable. “No matter what,” Harry assured him, “even in the worst-case scenario we make sure you won’t suffer.”

Ben listened carefully to every word Harry said and was visibly relieved to learn that his terminal condition didn’t mean there were no options to ensure a certain life quality for as long as possible.

“Do you remember Niall Horan?” Harry finally asked after discussing all the aspects of his treatment options.

Ben looked up in surprise. “The Irish chatter boxfrom back in school?”

Harry laughed. “Yes, exactly that one. Well, he still doesn’t shut up but now he gets paid to do so. He’s one of our psychologists, one of the best if I dare say so, I would highly recommend talking to him about your panic attacks and whatever worries you. This offer is for your relatives as well. The psychotherapy team is there to support both you and your family, kids included.”

“Dear Lord. That guy chewed your ear off for two years straight while being glued to your hip and then you went on working with him by choice?” Ben blurted out, eyes wide, watching Harry smirk and nod. “Jesus Christ, I pray for your level of resilience.”

“You’re one to talk about being glued to the hip and resilience. I’m still shocked to find you here without having to surgically remove a certain Tomlinson from your side,” Harry quipped.

Ben faltered and his facial expressions became sombre. Harry stumbled.

“Oh,” he stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep…”

“No, no. It’s okay,” his lank body seemed to shrink even more into the bed sheets. “Well, no, it’s actually not okay, but you couldn’t know,” his breath hitched. “He’s still my best mate. Has always been, will always be. It’s just, jeez, I dunno what to say. We talk, we facetime, he’s taking care of my kids, he’s actually the best, you know what I mean, he just… I’m… He… He won’t fucking come to visit me,” his voice broke and Harry could swear his eyes had just turned a little watery.

“I need to talk to him so badly. There are things I simply can’t do over the phone. But he won’t put a damn foot into a hospital. And I can’t even blame him. He… well… no, that’s not my story to tell…” he cut himself off. “He’s got his reasons. And I do want to respect that. But I have to talk to him. It eats me alive! … Oh, um, can I still say things like that in here or is that too morbid?”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hey, H., sorry for interrupting. There’s a pharma bloke outside looking for you, and I don’t know what to tell him, Annie is on lunch break.”

“Hey Zayn, come meet Ben Burke. Ben and I went to school together. Ben, this is Zayn Malik, he’s our arts and music therapist.”

“Hi.” Ben nodded, leaning over for a handshake.

“Hi.”

They both shook hands.

“Arts and music therapy? That sounds cool. Does the offer for support also count for stubborn childhood mates? I may or may not know somebody who could use a word or two—or a good smack with some drumsticks.” Ben muttered towards Harry.

“If he’s willing to, we’re glad to help wherever we can.”

“Willing? You mean like as in voluntarily? I knew there was a catch,” Ben sighed. “Ain’t gonna happen then.”

His tone was definitely meant to be jovial, but he couldn’t fool Harry. The sadness in his eyes had already given away that he was deeply affected under his pretence of banter.

“Zayn, any ideas on how to bring someone around who doesn’t want to put a foot into a hospital?” Harry asked, trying to keep Ben’s supposed light-hearted tone.

Zayn cocked an eyebrow and nodded towards the bed. “You know these things have wheels and there’s a park just outside this door, don’t ya?”

Ben tilted his head in surprise and peered intently at Zayn. “A park?”

“Uhm yeah,” Harry answered. “You couldn’t see the back of the building when patient transport brought you over this morning but we do in fact have a giant garden out there. It’s packed with flowers, fruit trees, benches and even a playground. As long as you’re feeling good enough, we can bring you outside any time.

“A playground?” Ben said, astonished, straightening his upper body to fetch a look out of the window. “Huh, that could actually work.”

“Damnit, Payno”, Louis muttered to himself, sitting aghast in his office at arse o’clock before anybody in their right state of mind would even think about putting a foot into the office. His eyes were fixed on his screen. Running on only 4 hours of sleep, at least two hours before any human being should ever be assaulted with something as appalling as daylight, he had found three different concepts on how to integrate the 120 new people into their existing company structures in his inbox. In a neat and precise presentation, Liam had thought about what seemed like every potential option, risk and possibility the merger could bring HR-wise.

Louis was swamped. “Fucking hell, this is detailed.” His brain wasn’t built for Liam-level thinking, especially not at 7 a.m. after one too many shots. For the umpteenth time he questioned how on earth he managed to end up here, responsible for a shit ton of people, when he couldn’t even be trusted with his sister’s fern during her two weeks’ honeymoon. If he fucked this up, he didn’t only fuck up his own source of income, but that of hundreds and hundreds of families, weirdos, and nutheads.

Because the thing was, Louis had a heart for the misfits. Polished résumés bored him to death, so when he started Tomcare at nineteen, any time the company expanded and he needed fill a position, he preferred to hire the ones other companies wouldn’t touch. The “weirdos and nutheads,” as he called them with affection, had proven to be his most loyal people.

Tomcare thrived on trust: no fixed hours, no clocking in, just one weekly team meeting to keep everyone connected. He didn’t care if work happened at 2 p.m. or 2 a.m., at home or in the office—only that it got done. Of course, when he started with this philosophy, basically everybody with an opinion had warned him that this would never work, that Tomcare would descend into immediate chaos with people ripping him off and betraying his trust, but instead his people flourished, grateful for the freedom, and the company thrived with them.

Which was exactly why this merger rattled him. Bringing in employees used to timecards and bosses breathing down their necks was risky. They weren’t set up for people to sit around and wait for somebody to tell them what to do or their shift to end. So yeah, he was bricking it. Even if deep down he knew Liam knew what he was doing, because unlike himself Liam had actually gone to university and earned his Master of Business Psychology before becoming Tomcare’s chief people officer, but he was also painfully aware that this model was just not for everybody and that inevitably he would have to face people quitting or having to let some go.

He knew and hated the fact that in the end it was up to him to make the final decisions, because eighty percent of the time he felt like he hadn’t got the slightest clue of what he was doing.

Of course, the company’s annual review clearly stated that what he was doing was working damn well, but when it came to imposter syndrome, Louis William Tomlinson was king of the hill.

“Good morning, Louis. Up so early?” Kyle’s sonorous voice echoed through the deserted open-plan office. The man had appeared in front of Louis’ office and now stuck his head through the glass door, smiling. He was dressed in tight black jeans, biker boots and wore a dark shirt loosely thrown over his shoulders. His dark, long hair–close-cropped at the sides and the lower back of his nape– was neatly tied into a tight ponytail—like always.

Louis looked up and greeted him with a welcoming nod. “G’morning. Yeah, it’s bloody early. I couldn’t sleep and since Liam worked his magic overnight, I thought I’d take advantage of the quiet to go through his concepts on how to include the Commsmith people after they move from their place to ours.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, looking impressed. “He did what? You only finalised the merge yesterday, and he’s already done a plan? Does that man ever sleep?”

“Three plans, Kyle. Three. And now I’m supposed to decide what path we’re taking. I seriously don’t know if he ever sleeps or if he just waves a magic wand.” Louis shrugged his shoulders and stood up to boil the kettle. “Tea?”

Kyle smiled, nodded, and walked over to his desk to throw his shoulder bag over his chair. “Certainly not after last night”.

Louis cocked his eyebrows and looked at him with a questioning look. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“Oh, uh…no.” Kyle stuttered, gesturing awkwardly, “I just ran into him, yesterday at the pub when he was...um...er…”

“Piss drunk?” Louis groaned, pouring the boiling water into the mugs, somehow even that sound was too loud. He really should know better by now. “That’d be somewhat on me”.

“Er, yeah that too, but I was thinking more about him leaving with the stunning handsomeness that escorted him out of the pub’s door shortly before the last order bell rang”.

“Son of a bitch, he really pulled that sexpot? Huh.” Louis deadpanned.

Kyle ran his hand to his nape, nervously starting to scratch the shaven part.

“You were at the pub as well? I didn’t see you there…” he stammered.

“Oh yeah, about that,” Louis suddenly remembered the karaoke night. “Could I maybe talk to you for a minute since we’re still alone?” He set the second tea mug on his desk and gestured for Kyle to sit down.

Shock-induced paralysis would most certainly be the term to describe Kyle’s reaction. He stood in the door, frozen, his hand still stuck to his nape and for all that Louis could see, he was hardly breathing.

“Come on, everything’s fine. Just have a seat. Won’t take long.”

Kyle slowly collected himself, dragged his feet over to the brown leather chair and sat down, taking a huge sip out of the tea mug, burning his tongue on the spot. “Fuck!”

Louis couldn’t remember ever seeing him so tense.

“Kyle, really, everything is fine. Just wanted to tell you that I saw your performance. Jesus Christ, you owned that song. Madonna’s a bloody blushing bride compared to how you smashed it. I was deeply impressed.”

Kyle looked as if a silent terror seeped inside of him causing his face to blush bright red. “Um, thanks? I guess?”

“I mean it,” Louis said with a stern voice, resting his hip on his sideboard. “You were brilliant. I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but since we’ve been working together for so long, I just don’t want to pretend to not have noticed that you looked differently from how you normally look at work, which of course we all do to a certain extent when hitting the pub on a karaoke night, but I guess you know what I mean,” he paused, eyeballing Kyle and thinking about how to continue without wanting to accidentally offend him.

When he didn’t react, Louis continued, “I won’t ask any indiscreet questions, make assumptions, or judge you for who you choose to be outside this office. I only want to make sure you know that I respect you and care about you. A lot. I want you to feel comfortable at all times here in the office. So, just in case you feel like you have to groom yourself a certain way for work that doesn’t fit with the person you are outside the office, then please know that there is absolutely no need to do so.” He paused and watched Kyle closely. Yet, he still didn’t give Louis any sort of reaction.

“I truly hope I am not overstepping or making you uncomfortable by springing it on you like that, please know that I appreciate you as my secretary a lot and not only for saving my unorganised arse daily,” he shot Kyle a large smile. “I assure you, you have my unconditional support, both as your boss and as your karaoke fanboy. Christ, look at me rambling. What I actually wanted to ask you before this verbal diarrhoea started, is whether the way I address you is okay for you, or if you’d like me to change anything in the…um…pronoun department. I mean, I can also switch depending on when we meet in the office versus meeting in the pub…I just…well…yeah, I just don’t want to address you wrong.”

Kyle finally looked up to him, seeming to slowly come out of his frozen mode. It still took him a while to blink before he slightly shook his head, visibly baffled and started to speak.

“I… I… uh… I know you value distance, but may I hug you?”

Louis was taken a little off guard by this reaction, but straightened his posture and opened his arms, “Sure, bring it in, love.”

Kyle jumped off the chair and smashed himself into the embrace. Louis felt proper squidged but held in tight.

“Thank you so much, Louis. I’m a little lost for words.” Kyle mumbled while Louis patted the back of the uh, man? with encouraging claps. They stood like that for a few seconds until Kyle was the first to break the hug. Face still bright red he cleared his throat and stepped back to put some space between them. Louis leaned back onto his sideboard.

“Um, yeah,” he fumbled for words. “I came out to my partner and close friends about a year ago. I didn’t want to hide and lie to myself any longer. Almost thirty years certainly was enough. At home I go by Keira and she/her pronouns. It’s just… I didn’t really dare to bring her to work. I love this place so much, I didn’t want to make things awkward, you know.”

That stung.

To be honest, Louis hadn’t expected it to hit so hard. He knew the company prided itself on openness, but the fact that Keira had felt the need to hide? That didn’t sit right.

"Please," he scoffed. "The only awkward thing is you feeling like you have to be someone you're not at work. Look, love, I’m not here to push you into anything. You decide what happens, when it happens, and how it happens. But if you want me to tell the team that Kyle resigned and Keira’s taking over, just say the word. I promise you, I won’t take the piss. I’ve got zero tolerance for hate or ignorance in these four walls—and neither does Liam. So, whoever you want to be here, that’s who you get to be. We’ve got your back."

At his words Keira threw herself into yet another embrace. Louis couldn’t help but notice small sniffles next to his ear and some tears wetting the fabric on his shoulder. The realisation that in all these years working so close together that he never, for a split second noticed that Kyle wasn’t her true self, made his gut wrench. The sheer thought of someone close to him struggling with their identity hit him harder than he imagined. He tightened his grip around the lithe body, swallowed hard, trying to not get too emotional himself when a light-hearted voice rang through the halls.

“Heyyyy, squishing the Tommo before sunrise and I’m not invited? I’m offended!”

Keira did a proper jump scare and Louis couldn’t help but chuckle. “Payno, you utter killjoy. Don’t know no shame, do ya?”

“Yep, that’s me, ruining a perfect moment for my own amusement.” Liam quipped. He looked decently dishevelled, lips and eyes equally swollen as he approached.

“Talking of amusement. What the heck, Li? Didn’t the sexpot have any mirrors in his house or did you just fall out of his car? And for the love of God, since when do you do your walk of shame in these halls, mate?”

Liam dramatically smashed his hand onto his chest as if having been shot through the heart and pretended to fall back, bending his knees. “Kyle! I’m appalled. You grassed me up to the boss?”

“Oi, tosser,” Louis horned in. “Don’t blame me secretary, you’re in the same rags I left you in the pub, you look like shit and reek of beer, cigs, and sex.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Keira hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were a little puffy and slightly red, but she no longer looked as mortified as she did a few seconds ago. He shot her a questioning look while Liam took his time to straighten up. She nodded barely visible, but Louis understood the assignment and shot her the biggest supporting smile he could manage.

“Don’t talk,” he held his hand up towards Liam. “Gonna squeeze every detail of last night out of you soon enough. But before that,” he deviated, “I want you to meet Keira, my new, old secretary. She was just about to head back home to sort out her thoughts.”

“No, Louis, that’s really not necess—“ Keira insisted but Louis cut her off by gently putting his palm on her forearm.

“As I said, she is going to take some days off, treat herself with a long walk in the park, a nice chat with her family or whatever she enjoys doing. She is going to take all the time she needs to sort out her thoughts and whenever she feels ready, she’ll come back as whatever person she feels comfortable to be around us.”

“Aaaaawwww Lou, that’s fantastic! Keira, it’s my pleasure!” Liam beamed, then hesitated. “Wait—am I allowed to hug you too, or is this strictly a boss thing?”

Keira let out a shaky laugh. “Oh, get over here.”

“Alright, bring it in you two. I feel a bit bad for having interrupted that special moment,” and with that he yanked them both into a bear hug.

They stayed like that for a few seconds until Liam grunted, “I really do reek, don’t I?”

“Bloody awful,” Louis panted and Keira snorted.

After having sent Keira home and Liam to the shower, the morning had stretched like bubblegum. Louis hadn’t managed to concentrate on one single task. By noon he was so cranky that he had decided to call it quits and pick up the girls from nursery just before their nap, giving him a reason to join them in laying down in the middle of the day.

Or so he thought.

The girls had other plans. When he showed up early, they were so thrilled to see him, that instead of napping, Ruby now was jumping on his bed repeatedly screaming, “Here comes the super hopper, yeah,” while Milly silently shot him offended stares for having called the toucan in her picture book parrot, and the anteater an armadillo, all while trying to prevent Ruby from flying off the bed. Louis sighed. He really really wanted that nap.

“Girls, we need to calm down and put the book aside. It’s nap time. How’d you like if afterwards we went to the playground with the big kids’ slide?”

“Loulou, no!” Ruby squeaked. “Not tired. Nana takes Milly and I to visit dad. Oooh, wook a tiga!!” she threw herself on Milly’s lap and pointed to the picture of a wildcat.

“Snow leopard,” Milly growled, pushing Ruby away. “That’s a snow leopard.”

“Oooh, a snow leopard,” Ruby cheered, “we saw snow leopards in the zoo. Can we go to the zoo? Loulou, can we go to the zoo? I want to see the snow leopard.”

Milly wriggled her bum on the mattress frowning her brows, looking up from her animal book. For whatever reasons she was yet again wearing nothing but a nappy and looked utterly adorable with her baby death stare. “Cheetah,” she groaned, shaking her head in outright disbelief. From her look she could as well have shouted, “Dear Lord, I’m surrounded by idiots,” but the sweetheart she was, she chose a non-violent “there’s no snow leopard in the zoo, only cheetahs,” yet scowled for her dear life.

Louis could eat her up. The two girls couldn’t be any more different. While Ruby was kind of a hurricane and couldn’t sit still let alone shut up for more than a quarter of a second, Milly could sit down with her books literally for hours, not speaking a single word, absorbing any kind of information like a sponge. While Ruby could dress in eighty layers of princess dresses, pirate costumes, hats, beanies and caps, Milly would strip naked on any possible occasion since the day she learned how to use her hands and feet, including weddings, birthdays, and the summer fair of the local firefighter department.

It drove Ben, Nan and Gladys crazy, but Louis figured as long as she understood the basic concept of when it’s not appropriate to flash people and she learned in time how to defend herself, he’s not going to force her to wear things she clearly didn’t like.

“So, what was that with Nan taking you to see dad?” He asked, swallowing the upcoming lump in his throat.

“Yiiieee,” Ruby squealed, ready to go for another nosedive into the pillows. “We was late for nursery. Nana was phoning dad. There’s a park in his new house, she said. We can go visit dad in the park.”

New house. Louis’ heart sunk into his stomach. So, Ben had indeed been transferred from oncology. He felt a cold rush creeping up his spine, leaving him short of breath and quivering. He knew that his Nan had wanted to tell him something, yet his crushing guilt for still not having faced Ben had made him run off yet again.

Thirty-five years. They’ve known each other for thirty-five years and the longest they hadn’t seen each other was in year seven, when his whole class went on a seven-day field trip and Ben couldn’t come because he had dislocated his shoulder in footie practice. Apart from that they had seen each other pretty much every single day since birth. Hence, when a few weeks ago Ben was admitted to the hospital after not being able to breathe properly, Louis had thought it’d be like any other time when Ben went to chemo or had to have surgery: five days tops and he’d be back home.

Come day five and he wasn’t even nearly fit enough to leave his hospital room, Louis got worried. Come day ten, Louis was anxious. Day fifteen, the feeling of anxiety had merged into panic and seamlessly into guilt. He felt awful. A complete failure as a friend. Ben was sick and Louis couldn’t even bring himself to cross the threshold of the hospital entrance to go and see him.

It wasn’t for lack of trying though. He indeed had tried. On day 16 he had driven up to Summerstone General. He had parked his car. He had stepped out and gone up to the main entrance. The same entrance he had rushed into twice after his Nan called. But this was different. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He could do it. He knew he could do it. And then an ambulance bolted into the A&E with flashing blue lights and sirens, and he froze.

Blood pounded in his ears and his heart thudded in his chest. On the spot he was paralysed and couldn’t breathe. The dreadful sensation of an invisible hand grabbing his throat and closing up his windpipe made his vision go blurry and his mind spiralling.

The lights, the sound, the unmistakable smell of disinfectant, trauma and sickness. It all came back to him. Run Run Run, his inner voice thudded, yet he couldn’t bring his legs to move. All he could do was stand there, shaking and sweating uncontrollably, fearing his life was running out of him. It took him half an hour and the help of a thoughtful, compassionate woman to get him back to his car and another 40 minutes until he felt reasonably able to drive back home and crawl into his bed, where he sobbed until he fell asleep.

Yes, he had failed his best mate. He had been making excuses and dodging questions for weeks and he felt awful. Wondering how he could ever make it up to Ben had been crippling his mind for days and today was in no way different.

The touch of a curly, warm head on his lap interrupted his spiralling. Milly had somehow managed to drag Ruby into a hug, calming her down, had put the book away and now crawled onto his lap snuggling her warm, velvety body onto his. “Loulou, want to nap on your tummy. Yes?”

“Sure, love,” he hummed, grateful for her to bring him back to the moment. He had had his fair share of anxiety and panic attacks after losing his mum and sister, but up to that day he hadn’t had one in years. He had come to even feel kind of proud that over time he had managed to shove all triggering feelings aside. He definitely didn’t want to deal with them resurfacing.

He leaned himself back onto the pillow, stroking Milly’s back while she snuggled her whole body up on his chest.

Ruby yawned. She grabbed her dummy and slid onto his side; her chubby little hand positioned onto his wrist. It was a terrible habit. Whenever she was about to fall asleep, she started pinching or twirling the delicate skin on the inner side of his wrist as some sort of self-soothing gesture. It hurt like hell, but it was a price Louis was willing to pay for her to fall asleep approximately ten times quicker. “Let me just quickly turn off the light, yes?” he reached for the nightstand to turn on Eggy Egg, the nightlight, made sure enough pillows were draped around them to prevent the girls from crashing to the floor, and switched off the light. Ruby’s hand immediately went back to his wrist and he felt her little nails digging into his skin. Somehow the pain made him feel grounded.

It took them no more than five minutes to doze off, Louis tried his best to follow their lead but failed miserably. When he finally gave up and took his phone out to text Liam, he saw that he had a couple of unread messages from Ben.

Ben [12:38]: Oi, dickhead. What r u up to? Sorry for bailing lads’ night out, hope you had a good one?

Louis let out a disquiet breath. Bailing. Yeah right. Tosser.

Ben [12:52]: Tommmoooooooo, I’m booooooored. Entertain me!!!

Ben [13:13]: Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me, Mum and Nan, so you probs don’t know yet. I moved from oncology to palliative…sounds shit I know but was the right choice. Not just coz they have beer 🙌

I swear this is in no way hospital like. They’ve got a fucking conservatory and an orchard. Proper Victorian. Feel like bloody Darcy will come around on a white horse to get Elizabeth any minute. Anyway. Please…if somehow you manage, come around.

Ben [13:21]: Seriously, get the kids and come along, apparently there’s a playground out there. You don’t need to face A&E, I swear... I’ll deny having said it, but I do miss your ugly face. Call me when you can. OK?

His chest tightened. Totally only because Milly was crushing his lungs. And the lump in his throat surely just came from the lunch he had gulped in a hurry and was now sitting in his stomach. That must be it. It certainly wasn’t the feeling of shame weighing on his shoulders. Shame and remorse for having disappointed the one person that had always been there for him, no matter what, no questions asked.

Who was he kidding? It was eating him up alive. Neither was it fair to Ben, nor was it fair to the girls. They hadn’t seen their dad for weeks, given the oncology ward never got rid of the pandemic restriction mode and still didn’t allow the kids to visit. They deserved to finally see him. And with Ben offering to meet outside, he surely must feel better. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t allow him to go out in a park or on a playground, if it wasn’t for him being better, would they?

He took in a deep breath, the floral and fruity scent of Milly’s baby shampoo shooting up his nostrils. The mix of jasmine, rose, something berry- or pineapple-like and a whole lot of baby instantaneously soothed his nerves.

Ben is feeling better. He can go outside.

He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into the curly ball of fluff on his chest, come on, don’t overthink. Before he could yet again talk himself out of it, he grabbed the phone, typed and hit the send button.

Louis [13:58]: Hey mate, the girls are napping, can’t call right now. Tell me about that playground. Where do I find it? When shall we be there?

Fuck. Why did it suddenly feel like 40°C in this bedroom? And why wasn’t Milly waking up when his heartbeat was thudding like a fucking marching band? He tried to loosen the collar of his shirt without stirring too much. The last thing he needed was for the girls to wake up right now, when he was feeling like drowning in a pool of his own sweat, trying to catch a hint of air through a twisted windpipe.

Ben [13:58]: You coming?? For real? Don’t shit with me Tomlinson.

Chapter Text

Louis clung to the steering wheel, neck stiff and jaw clenched. His fingers were thrumming to the sound of the radio and his lower lip was already flush pink from all the biting he had done since Ben texted him the whereabouts of the clinic’s playground. In the backseat one very well-rested, thrilled two-year-old was having the time of her life, while the other one clung equally tight to Tommy Turtle, her beloved stuffed animal.

♫ The pancake disappointed me at breakfast, yes, it's true.
But there are many other things that this pancake can do.
I'd like to think that pancakes are a bit like me and you.
We roll and we roll and we roll and we roll like a disappointing pancake.
We roll and we roll and we roll and we roll like a disappointing pancake.
We roll and we roll and we roll and we roll, not so disappointing pancake. ♫

“Loulou, play it again!!!” Ruby squeaked.

Louis sighed and restarted the song. For the third time. Stupid pancake. As if he hadn’t been feeling like a disappointing pancake himself for the last few weeks. He had weighed in the pros and cons to overrule the toddler’s music dictatorship, but since he had learned the hard way that it was either the pancake, Jingle Bells, or a hissy fit from hell, the pancake it was. Very disappointing.

Two more rounds of pancakes, some serious eye twitches and teeth grinding later, he drove into the car park, took three deep breaths before releasing the girls from their car seats and sent Ben a text that they’d arrived. The reply came on the spot.

Ben [15:24] Can’t wait to see you. I’m already there.

Louis’ heart sank into his stomach.

“Loulou, come now.” Ruby had immediately jumped out of the car and was tugging on his pant leg; Milly was still sitting in her car seat.

“Coming, sweetie, just give me a second to fetch your sandbox toys from the boot.” He swung his rucksack over the shoulder, grabbed the toy bag and leaned back into the car to get Milly out.

“Want me to carry you, luv?” he asked compassionately. The toddler hadn’t spoken a word since he mentioned where they were going, and Louis’ heart ached for her. He could relate to her entirely. Just like himself, she didn’t handle change very well. It had taken her weeks of tears and sleep deprivation to finally acclimate to staying with Nan or Louis overnight. He could totally see how bringing Ben back to the table, after almost a month of not seeing him, unsettled her.

She silently nodded and buried her head into Tommy Turtle as he lifted her onto his hip, fumbling a ring sling over his shoulder and her bum. He quickly pondered about taking the pushchair but dismissed the thought immediately. He wasn’t gonna admit though, that the main reason for his decision was that right now he benefitted as much from the comforting physical contact as she did, if not even more. But nobody needed to know that.

It took them less than ten minutes to reach the park at the back of building 28. Ten minutes that seriously made him re-evaluate his life choices, especially those related to smoking way too much, not sleeping enough and getting way too little physical exercise. He was panting like a dog.

They’d just passed the orchard when Ruby broke away from holding his hand and made a beeline towards the playground, squeaking in delight.

“Steady on, princess, steady on,” he heard Ben before seeing him.

“Ruby!” he shouted, but the girl had already swung her arms around her dad who was sitting in a wheelchair in the shadow of an old chestnut tree. “Jesus Christ, sorry mate, dang she’s fast,” he gasped approaching them.

“Loulou, look, Daddy’s come to play,” Ruby chortled, bouncing on Ben’s lap with the biggest smile she could possibly bring to her face, and with that she proceeded to pour down her whole verbiage onto the poor guy, reporting their every day in excruciating detail.

“Ruby, please be gentle!” he pleaded, perfectly knowing that it was in vain because the girl only had two settings: off or full-blown power mode. And she for sure wasn’t off right now.

Ben laughed. “It’s okay, I can handle her. Hey mate. Jeez, good to see you.” He opened his arm and gestured Louis into a welcoming hug.

Louis swallowed dry in his throat and leaned into a quick hug with Milly on his hip, a rucksack, and a toy bag on his back.

“Hi princess,” Ben gently stroked over Milly’s head, stilling immediately at the little girl shying away.

Louis’ guts wrenched at the pained look Ben shot for a split second, right before recollecting himself and making silly faces to Ruby.

Louis wriggled himself out of the ring sling without letting Milly go and flung the toy bag into the sandpit, panting yet again before sitting down on a bench right next to Ben, Milly still close to his chest and slightly caressing her back.

“Damn Tommo, you sound like you need lung treatment more than I do,” he taunted watching Ruby darting off towards the slide, giggling and blabbering something incomprehensible.

“Yeah, yeah, just make fun of me after bringing a whole damn household, kids included, to a hike from the car to the playground. Seriously, how much stuff do 2-year-olds possibly need?”

Ben laughed, leading to an immediate coughing fit, gasping for air in a way that made Louis‘ blood freeze.

He squelched the need to jump up and pound Ben’s back like he would do with the girls anytime they choked on something, instead he frantically looked around to find someone from the medical staff but there was none. He watched Ben carefully, instantly ready to run back to the building and scream for help if necessary.

“It’s fine, Louis,” Ben reassured mid coughing. “Keeps happening, gimme a sec.”

The coughs had brought colour to his otherwise pale face as he pounded his fist to his ribcage and tried to clear his throat the best he could. Louis had gone completely tense, not daring to take his eyes off Ben. He looked exhausted. Louis couldn’t help but internally cringe at the sight of his best mate, looking like a shadow of himself.

His cheeks were sunken in, making his dark blue eyes pop out more than they ever had. His arms looked tiny and weak compared to the well-defined, muscular shape they used to have. His whole demeanour had gone from top dog to frail kitten within a few months. Louis knew he had lost weight. There was no denying, even from seeing him only via FaceTime. But seeing him right here, in the flesh, with at least 30 to 40 pounds less, there was no way to overlook how vulnerable and fragile he had become and it scared Louis shitless. He still was coughing, yet Louis was genuinely afraid that patting his back a little too hard would break him in two.

“Why aren’t there bloody doctors here? They can’t just leave you here alone without any help, fucking hell,” he mumbled, fishing out one of the girls’ drinking bottles from his rucksack and handing it over to Ben.

He took a small sip and finally managed to soothe the irritation in his throat and chest.

“Thanks,” he rasped, handing the bottle back. “This is the part that really sucks.” For a split second his eyes had gone wide, and he wagged his head, as if trying to shake it off him and sort himself.

Louis’ gaze was still fixed on him, his shoulders tense, and the expression on his face strained.

“It’s okay, Louis.”

“It most certainly isn’t,” he snapped. “You’ve not been staying in this stupid hospital and paying for private treatment for almost a month for irresponsible medical staff to leave you gasping for air unsupervised on a fucking playground.”

Ben smirked and bumped his fist into Louis’ shoulder. “Chill, mate. I’m fine. They’ve already cared more in the few hours I’ve been here than the entirety of oncologists I’ve seen over the past two years.

Louis rammed his foot into the ground kicking a pebble across the sandpit, his thumb making fast little circles on Milly’s back.

It didn’t seem like Ben was still in immediate danger or bound to have another suffocation attack, but Louis remained proper strained. He had never been one to react mildly when it came to protecting the ones he loved. He’d always gone from nil to hundred within a split second to make sure they were taken good care of, he just couldn’t help it.

“Guess we should talk?” Ben murmured, still slightly gasping for air.

Louis motioned his head towards Milly, signalling that he first wanted to get her to play with Ruby. Ben nodded.

It took him quite some time to engage both girls into building a sandcastle, but finally they sat down with their toy construction-vehicle fleet and started digging holes and ditches on their own.

“How is she coping?” Ben asked, tilting his head towards Milly. Louis sat back on the bench, fidgeting with the strings of his rucksack. As much as he appreciated Ben for not immediately jumping down his throat for having been a shit friend all these past weeks, the elephant in the room made his heart beat in his head. He shuffled on the bench and brought one knee up his chest, wrapping his arms around it and started swaying slightly.

“She’s…well…um, she’s fine, I guess? Since they have been spending the night with me or Nan, it’s become a lot better. Guess it was a little too much inconsistency for her when we all took turns at your place. Gladys and Lottie had some pretty rough nights with her waking up about a million times an hour asking when you’d be home and not being able to settle. Nursery works fine though, apparently, she didn’t close up too much with the other kids. But any change in routine and she withdraws all together. Poor Payno hasn’t got as much as a hello for weeks. That’s why we have stopped spending the nights at your place, and just let them sleep at mine or Nan’s. I hope that’s okay for you?”

Ben nodded in approval. “Of course, whatever works best for you guys.” They both went silent, watching the girls play.

“Tommo, I’m so sorry for putting you all thr—”

“You are? Oh shut up! I am sorry, Ben, Jesus, I am so sorry!” Louis blurted out, cutting him off mid-sentence, he just couldn’t hold back any longer. “I should have been here for you the whole damn time. Fuck. I tried, I honestly tried. I couldn’t even pass the fucking entry door.” He ran his hand through his hair, shifting his weight from one butt cheek to the other, averting any form of eye contact. “I am so deeply sorry for being such a shit frie–“

“Cut it, Tommo!” Ben interrupted firmly. “For weeks you’ve been breaking your balls to make sure the girls are fine, you’ve been handling Nan, Mum and Payno on top of running a bloody nine figure business. For Christ’s sake, Louis, you’re the most insane workaholic I’ve ever come across and you didn’t bat an eyelid to take care of my kids. I don’t wanna hear crap about you being a shit friend.” His frail but still sharp look lingered on Louis' face. “So, you’ve got a problem with hospitals, and I happen to be bound to one. That sucks, but so what. It’s not like you didn’t give a shit,” his voice broke, running out of air, the rattling in his chest clearly hearable.

“Ben, I…”

“Louis, please. You’re here. You brought the girls. That’s all I care about right now. And I couldn’t be more grateful. So shut the fuck up with that beating yourself up bullshit, will you.”

They fell into silence.

Minutes passed where neither of them spoke a word and they just watched the toddlers that had moved on to climbing up the climbing frame and chuting down the slide.

“Are they giving you something for your breathing issues?” Louis broke the silence after a while, still not really daring to look Ben in the eye.

“There’s not much they can do. There’s an increase of fluids building in my lungs presumably caused by a small tumour. They’re planning on removing the thing tomorrow and withdrawing the liquid by suction, but they need to put me under anaesthesia to do so. Hopefully that’ll bring a certain relief.”

“You’re in pain?”

“Not at the moment. Not gonna lie, the last weeks were shit, they didn’t dare give me the good stuff, I guess for fear of killing me,” he huffed out a sneering laugh, “That’s different on this ward. First thing I got were some dope arse opioids, enabling me to sit here with you guys in the first place.

Louis had gone tense. “You’re telling me it’s a good thing they don’t care about side effects?” He hissed, pulse rising. “They’re supposed to make you better, not to fuck you up even worse.”

“They’re supposed to ensure my life quality till I—”

“Please, don’t.” Louis darted off the bench, ripping out some plastic food containers from his rucksack and positioning them on the bench for the girls to picnic.

“Louis, you know why I’m here—”

“Grapes? Cookies?” he shoved a container into Ben’s face.

“Grapes? Seriously? You brought fruit and cookies? You? What the…” Ben almost choked throwing an incredulous glance at the food containers and then to Louis. “They are even cut in halves! Bloody ‘ell, mate.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, anyway, the reason I asked to be transferred to palliative care is decidedly not for them to make me—”

“Ben, please. I just, I can’t yet. Can we just pretend—” he swallowed dryly. “Cookie? Please?”

Ben fell silent and shot him a sympathetic look, declining the cookie by slowly shaking his head. To Louis’ relief he decided to not push the talk any further.

“I want cookies, Loulou,” Ruby screeched, running towards them, slightly waddling.

“Sweetie, could it be that you need a new nappy?” He snatched her and sniffed her butt, immediately grimacing in disgust.

Ben burst out laughing. “Dear Lord, Tommo, you’ve really become the mummiest of all mummies.”

Louis flung a handful of grapes towards him and flipped him off. “Shut up, you twat.”

After having given both girls a quick change of nappies and having fed them pretty much everything his rucksack contained, they kept their talk light. When Louis went off to push the twins on the swings, he noticed that Ben kept dozing off and his guts started wrenching again.

The playground wasn’t that far from the building but in the whole ninety minutes they’d been there, not once did a doctor or nurse come to check on Ben, which irritated Louis massively. No, it pissed him off. Monumentally.

“Hey, mate,” he lightly stroked over Ben’s shoulder, “I think it’s time to call it quits and get you back to your bed, innit?”

Ben startled slightly and grabbed his phone. “Yeah, sorry, I’m kind of worn out. Sucks that even doing nothing tires me out.”

“Let me just grab the girls and their stuff and we’ll bring you back.”

“No need to. I already sent a text to be picked up,” he waggled the little black smartphone in the air that wasn’t his regular iPhone, as Louis only noticed now.

“You texted? Whom?”

“Are you shitting me, Tomlinson? You developed that patient guidance/alarm system yourself, sold it to the hospital and got me mum a fully equipped, elderly-friendly flat with the profit. Who do you think I texted? The pope?” he slapped him on the chest with the smartphone-like device. “But thanks for the offer to bring me back in. Means more to me than you can ever imagine.”

“Damnit, Burke, c’mere you proper sap,” Louis flung his rucksack back to the floor and pulled Ben into a tight hug. “So, when is this procedure tomorrow? Want me to come?”

“Harry, Christ, you’re making me dizzy. Sure you don’t want a smoke?” Zayn grunted, taking a deep drag, holding out the pack and a lighter.

Harry shook his head in refusal and continued to drum his fingers on the railing. He had joined Zayn on the balcony of his arts & music room for his smoking break ten minutes ago but hadn’t managed to stand still for a second.

“Then spill, what’s going on, for God’s sake. You’re insufferable!”

“I am not insufferable. You’re just grumpy,” he huffed, holding one of the hospital’s smart devices in a tight grip and leaning way over the railing. He came up on his toes and stretched his neck to have a small glimpse around the old chestnut tree blocking the sight to the ward’s playground.

“Babes, you’ve been pacing this balcony like a sleep deprived, emotionally dysregulated toddler on a sugar rush since you’ve stepped out and you’re checking your messages every four seconds. What’s the matter? And for God’s sake stop leaning so far over that railing, you’re giving me heart attacks, you twat!” He yanked him back and shoved him onto one of the metal-wooden patio bench.

Harry groaned but leaned back.

“Speak!”

“S’nothing.”

“Nah-ah, Styles. You can try to fool Niall, but you’re not gonna fool me. What is it?”

“S’stupid,” he mumbled, bringing his upper body forward towards his knees to throw yet another glance at the device’s black display.

“You’re stupid.”

“Heeey!”

“Not getting younger here, mind finally enlightening me?”

“It’s Ben, he’s still out there.”

“And? The guy hasn’t seen his kids for weeks, didn’t expect him to want to head back after 10 minutes. What’s it been, an hour and a half? Let the man be, Harry, he’ll send an alarm if something’s wrong or when they’re done.”

“I know, it’s just…ugh. I don’t know. His best mate brought the kids, and I remember the guy from back in school. Haven’t seen him for ages.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow, took another drag and knocked the ash of the cig. “Guy from school, huh? Someone special?”

Harry flinched. Someone special. He ran his hand through his short, curly hair, scratching his scalp. No, nobody special. Just the owner of the butt that after years of inner conflict and hesitation to and fro undeniably manifested Harry’s gay awakening. The guy whose sheer existence was largely responsible for Harry being here in the first place. The guy who prevented… No. We’re not going down that road. “Don’t look at me like that, Zaynie, it’s not what you think!”

“And what do I think, babes?”

“We’ve never been a thing. He may unwillingly have had a certain influence on some of my life decisions, but he most certainly doesn’t even know I exist.”

Zayn watched him motionless, eyebrow still raised until he let out a small chuckle.

“So, what you’re putting in such eloquent words, H. E. Styles, is that the lad was the object of your teenage wet dreams?”

“Jeez, no!” Harry flushed and aimed to kick Zayn’s shin. “Insufferable my arse. You’re the insufferable one!”

“And you can’t lie for shit.”

“I AM NOT DISCUSSING MY TEENAGE WET DREAMS WITH Y—”

A beep rang through the air and the device’s screen lit up. Harry jumped up and tapped the screen. “It’s Ben, he wants to get picked up.”

“And let me guess, you’re gonna do that yourself because we’re short on nursing staff?”

“We are short on nursing staff today!”

Zayn grinned, stood up, flicked the stub into the ashtray and started humming. “You climb onto the bonnet, and you're licking the windscreen, I've never seen anything so obscene,” he dramatically arched his back, popped his bum out and let his hand slide down his thigh.

Harry smacked him on the back of his head. “Oh, stop it, you twat, and go back to work. I’ll get him,” he hissed and tapped the device to reply to the request. Zayn got to the patio door, held it open for Harry and followed him inside. Then he followed him through the studio and out in the hallway.

Once in the stairway, Harry jerked to a halt. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Oh babes, aren’t you sweet. You seriously thought you could keep me from throwing a look at your teenage wanking material? Do you really not know me at all? I’m appalled, young Styles, appalled.”

“I hate you so much. At least take the dogs.”

“Aww, you love me, babes. They’ll survive ten minutes on their own,” he winked and flung his arm around Harry’s waist, leading him down the stairs.

They reached the park within minutes and walked the short distance in silence until the path made the turn for the playground and they caught a glimpse of the family’s gathering.

“Father, Son, and Holy Fuck. THAT’s the guy?” Zayn gushed, slamming his arm towards Harry’s chest. “Harry?” His arm had hit into a void as he let a whistling sound slip through his teeth.

A few feet behind him Harry had stopped and now stood motionless, swallowing dry, eyes wide open. On the playground, in the shadow of the old, giant chestnut tree, Ben sat in his wheelchair and next to him a slender, delicate man in a knitted, meadow green polo shirt and black jeans squatted down. A curly toddler was bouncing on his knee while he was trying to fiddle a baby sling over his shoulder and the toddler’s bum. Luckily, they were far enough apart to not have been heard or noticed, because Zayn was still making sounds that could only be considered as decently unprofessional.

“Harry?” Zayn had approached and nudged his shoulder. “You breathing?”

Harry stood and stared.

“Babes?” he snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s face. “Okay, he is a handsome fucker but come on, no need to turn into a wax figure or collapse.”

Harry shuddered. A nipping trepidation laced up his rib cage leaving him with shallow breaths. His heart leapt into his throat, and he couldn’t feel either his arms or legs. How could he ever think it’d be a good idea to fetch Ben himself? This was an utterly stupid idea. Totally, entirely, downright stupid.

It’d been 15 years since he last had taken so much as a glimpse at Louis. And even then, seeing him burst into the waiting area of the A&E, he had been hiding behind a vending machine, trying not to hyperventilate, that was how much of a sissy he was. But Christ, he wasn’t eighteen anymore. He had turned thirty-three in February and definitely had seen his fair share of handsome men since then. But this… this… bloody hell… this was Louis fucking Tomlinson.

Louis-mesmerising-blue-eyes-and-butt-to-die-for-Tomlinson. And attached to his chest in a frickin’ ring sling was a darling little ball of dark curls nuzzling her face into the small swale between his neck and his collarbones. He heard Zayn talking, but all he wanted to do was scream: “You hear that sound, you hear that?! That’s my non-existent ovaries bouncing and begging for mercy.”

Yes, he’d studied medicine, and yes, he knew it was hormonally not possible, but right at this moment, he wasn’t convinced that what he was feeling in his chest wasn’t some sort of weird male lactogenesis. Damn you, bloody Tomlinson.

“Harry, seriously. Do I need to slap you? Come on, Ben is waiting.” Zayn grouched, pulling Harry’s forearm. “By all means, the lad was at the pub yesterday. He’s one of the mates of the guy I—” he stalled, “Nevermind, I’m not gonna embarrass you, you know that don’t ya?”

“Zayn, I—, he—, fucking hell. Look at him. Christ, just look at him.” Harry rasped.

Zayn laughed, “Found your way back to life then?” He gave Harry a few reassuring pats on the back and nudged him to move.

Once they had passed the chestnut tree, Ben caught sight of them, waved and started coughing. Louis startled and lightly slapped his back, throwing a gloomy glance at the two approaching men.

“Harry, Zayn, well isn’t that a service to be picked up by the head consultant himself. Come here, you two. Want you to meet the pain in the rear I call my best mate since forever.” Ben panted in between coughs. “Louis, this is Zayn Malik, music and art therapist, if you ever feel the need to get creative, he’s your man,” he smirked towards Louis. “And this one, you might remember. Harry Styles, consultant and Head of Department of the palliative ward, formerly also known as Saint Dolores’ sixth form whiz, Harry Styles.”

Harry blushed. Louis’ mouth had flown open for a split second, only to morph into a tight, unreadable line, staring at him with keen, blue-greyish eyes that ran shivers down his spine. His right hand rested on the back of the toddler, while the left one gripped the handle of his rucksack so tight that his knuckles had turned white. Beautiful, smooth, masculine knuckles bathed in a soft, glowing, tawny tan, accentuating the salient veins on the sinewy back of his hand. Harry swallowed dry.

None of them said a word.

“Oh well, isn’t that nice.” Zayn sighed. “Hi, I’m Zayn, I think I remember you from the pub yesterday?” He reached out his hand.

“You were stoned and pulled me mate.” Louis deadpanned, ignoring the hand.

“Tommo, for Christ’s sake,” Ben called out, looking at him in disbelief.

Louis shrugged his shoulders, not letting his gaze slip away from Harry. “What? He was stoned and pulled Payno. And you? Are you hungover and wrecked too, or is there another reason why none of you gave a monkey’s about looking out for Ben over the last two hours while he was gasping for air?” He snapped at Harry.

“Bloody ’ell—”

“Please, Ben, language,” he hissed, covering Milly’s ear with his hand, gently pushing her other ear to his shoulder.

“Oh, isn’t he a delight,” Zayn mumbled towards Harry who still stood there silent and immobile.

Ben shot Louis a look that could have cut diamonds. “Louis, you can’t just—”

“Weeeeeheee, you got curls like Milly!” a blithesome, squeaky voice rang out as an overly excited, 35-inch piggy tailed whirlwind bolted towards the four men. “Ooooh, and you’s eyes like me”. She giggled, pressing her tiny index into Harry’s thigh.

He startled, realising the toddler was talking to him. “Oh, hi there.” He greeted with a sympathetic smile and slowly kneeled down to her. “Let me see, oh wow, you are right, your eyes really are green like mine.” He pointed at the toddler in the carrier. “So, I assume this is Milly, and who are you?”

“I am Ruby!” She beamed.

“Hi Ruby, I am Harry. It’s my pleasure to meet you. I am your daddy’s doctor and here to bring him back to his room before he falls asleep in his wheelchair. I do hope you are okay with that?”

Ruby harrumphed, looking at him with furrowed brows. “You not a doctor. You have not a ghost sheet.”

“A ghost sheet?” Harry asked slightly baffled before snorting with laughter. “Do you mean a white doctor’s coat?”

Ruby nodded, ogling him.

“No, I don’t wear lab coats. I don’t like them. I feel like a lot of patients get scared when they see someone in a white coat entering their room. And I don’t want my patients to be scared. I am here to take care of them and help them to feel as good as possible for their situation, not to make them feel uncomfortable or anxious.”

Louis let out a dismissive, hissing sound and Ben immediately kicked him.

“But I do have a pair of these,” he pulled a stethoscope out of the back of his trousers, feeling Louis’ piercing stare needling his cheeks, but he refused to look up. “Do Milly and her turtle friend also want to have a look?” He turned to Milly making sure he didn’t let his eyes stray to Louis’ face.

Milly curled deeper into the carrier while Ruby grabbed the lower part of the stethoscope and held it to her ear. Harry turned back to her, respecting Milly’s obvious wish for privacy.

“That’s the part that transmits the sound. And these two buds are put into the ears to better hear it.”

Ruby brought the chest piece to her mouth like a microphone. “You help Daddy heal?”

Harry’s gaze turned from Ruby to Ben for reassurance. Talking to kids about their parents’ illnesses was the most sensitive thing in his job, especially when he didn’t know where they stood. While he did have a certain experience with kids given that they also took care of palliative children, he’d rather have Niall or Zayn leading these kinds of conversations, both having had additional training in children’s psychology.

Ben understood his hesitation instantly and shot him a discreet approving nod.

“I help Daddy to not be in pain and be able to spend some more time with you as long as his body is strong enough to do so.”

“Ah, okay,” was all she said as she tilted her small head to the side and eyeballed his fingertips. “You nails are pwetty.”

“Thank you. Do you like the colours?” He wiggled his nails that were painted alternately in dark blue and tuna red.

“It’s pwetty. I like pink more. Pink like we painted Loulou’s nails.”

Harry’s heart missed two beats. He only had noticed Louis’ knuckles, beautiful, prominent knuckles, his nails however had been hidden in the tight grip. It took everything in him to not stare.

Ben snorted. “I beg your pardon, you did what now??” he looked aghast at Louis, snatching his hand, not seeing any nail polish.

“Hey!” Louis gnarled as he pulled away. Ben shot him a questioning look. “What? Lotts forgot a bottle at my place and the girls wanted to try it out. What do I know if that stuff is toxic for toddlers, so I let them paint my toes instead until I could ask Lottie.”

“Your toes?” Ben held his clenched fist tight to his mouth, desperately trying to muffle his laughing outburst while gasping for air.

Zayn bit his lower lip in amusement as Louis grit his teeth. “Oh, bite me!” He grumbled, slamming his rucksack onto his shoulder and snatching the toy bag. “Are we going to keep on playing stupid games or will one of the two gentlemen finally start doing their effing job and bring you back to your room?”

Harry held out his hand to Ruby. “It was my pleasure Miss Ruby and Miss Milly. I guess Louis is right, it’s time to get your daddy back in.” Ruby grabbed his hand and shook it with her whole body strength, making Harry giggle. Milly curled up and hid behind Tommy Turtle.

“Damn right, Louis is right,” he heard a muffled growl uttered through clenched teeth from behind the curly toddlers’ head.

“Come here princess, let me hug you,” Ben said, opening his arms for Ruby to climb onto his lap, which she enthusiastically did. Louis cautiously leaned down bringing Milly closer to him, but she just nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, holding on to her plushie for dear life. Ben gently stroked her hair, planting a small kiss on the back of her head.

“See you tomorrow, mate,” Louis murmured, giving Ben a quick hug before taking Ruby’s hand and walking out of the playground without so much as a word to Harry or Zayn.

“Well, wasn’t that fun.” Zayn scoffed, clicking the fork of his lighter.

Ben raised his eyebrows, eyes wide open and shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, I am so sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. I swear normally he’s not an arse.”

“It’s okay,” Harry uttered, stepping behind the wheelchair to loosen the brakes. “He’s just worried.”

“And a dickhead.”

“Zayn!” Harry scolded. “Ready to head back, Ben?”

“Yeah, thanks, mate. For picking me up and for not jumping down his throat.”

“Just let us get you back. It’s fine. He was right though; we didn’t check on you,” he turned to Zayn, “And you, you did get stoned although I asked you all to not.”

“You asked to not get hammered. I wasn’t hammered,” he meekly pushed through his teeth.

Ben’s impish, crinkled eyes landed on him, watching him fidget with his lighter, avoiding his eyes. “But you did pull Liam?”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t even know you.”