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8

"I'd love to have you come for dinner," Harry offers switching the phone to speaker placing it next to him on the rug.

He sat on his knees in Liam's room sorting through his clothes attempting to find the old smaller ones he originally had planned to donate. While Harry couldn't wait to take the new one out shopping in full, his original trip ending short and only meant for a few outfits to last them until Zayn got back, Harry knew he needed to bide his time when bringing his newest out into the public eye.

He's reminded of Niall's homecoming in the media, the haunting images floating around of Zayn's skirting about with the new Skip, the rumor of divorce dripping in the background on a non-stop loop in Harry's brain.

He refused to live through that again, and he wouldn't stoop low enough to put Zayn through that.

"What would I do with Charlie?"

"Bring him," Harry encourages only half listening to his sister's protests on the very idea of bringing her new submissive to dinner, his eyes are fixated on a shirt he'd pulled from the bottom of Liam's dresser stuffed in the back under a pile of sheets, he feels tears pool in his eyes seeing the worn printed words on the fabric, Big Brother, swallowing past the burning lump in his throat he sighs, "Did I do the right thing?"

Gemma's one-sided argument with herself is cut short, she hums on the other line in question, "Having second thoughts?"

"No," Harry mutters lowering the shirt to his lap, the darkening fabric revealing the tears that coursed down his cheeks from the memory of giving Liam the shirt.

"God," he sniffles using the fabric to dab at his eyes, "I-I just don't understand where it all went wrong," 

"No one can handle a skip that refuses to submit," Gemma assures knowing from experience, Charlie had been signed for three months ago, and the woman had originally planned on getting a skip, however, seeing Niall and how he tormented her brother changed her mind entirely.

"I'll come for dinner," she adds, "I'll get Collin to watch Charlie," 

Pulling open the bedroom door, Louis shuffles into the hallway checking to see if Harry was standing there. He swallows past the burning lump in his throat stepping closer to the stairs, pausing once more to scan his surroundings. He expected the master to pop up at any second.

Reaching the stairs, Louis takes a shaky inhale glancing at the foyer below, coast was clear.

Taking the steps one at a time, Louis freezes when the silence is interrupted by a voice he'd heard all morning, a voice that he thought belonged to a man that wanted to sign him to fuck him, not to fuck with him and make him a fucking toddler.

Hardening his glare, Louis mentally prepared the argument he planned to have with said man, he cleared his throat following the man's voice until he stood in a room lined with bookcases, Harry sitting on a chair facing the windows, he was on the phone, his look flickering from outside to the boy that had just stormed in.

The emerald eyes meet the oceanic orbs, "Hi baby,"

"I'm not your baby,"

"Gem, I'll see you at dinner," ending his conversation, Harry stands from the chair offering Louis a smile, "Did you have a good nap?"

"W-where is my file? You-you said-"

"Daddy-"

"Don't say, Daddy," Louis whines closing the gap between the pair in the room once he spots his file on an end table next to the sofa, Harry retrieves it before the boy can, he keeps it to his chest motioning for Louis to appease him first by having a look around the room, "This is our sitting room," the man announces, "Mostly where we read," he gestures toward the bookcases lining the walls, "Do not stack Daddy's books, they're just for reading," he muses, "You'll have blocks-"