This House (l.s.)

2

"Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight" – Phyllis Diller

The second time Louis gets suspicious is when he hears Harry in the bathroom having a hushed conversation on his cell phone.

"I can't talk right now, but I'll see you in the morning, okay? We'll meet at Starbucks. Okay, yeah, goodnight," Harry says softly, his voice sounding too fond. When he comes back into the bedroom, Louis is on his bed with his laptop, his glasses perched on his nose.

"So, who was that?" Louis asks, a bit bitterly.

"Oh, just a friend from work. We're meeting up for breakfast," Harry shrugs, sitting on the bed next to Louis and rubbing his back.

"What?" Louis asks, turning his head to face his husband. "You have enough time to eat breakfast on a Saturday and you're not eating with your family? I don't even think the kids know what you look like anymore."

"Don't over exaggerate, Lou," Harry rolls his eyes. "I'm just meeting up with a friend."

"What about your fucking family, Harry?!" Louis almost screams. "I think we deserve the attention."

"I'm doing this for you guys!" Harry shouts, angry. "I'm supporting all of you. Not like you work."

"What?" Louis almost whispers. "I can't believe you said that. We have five kids and you always told me you wanted me to stay home with them so we wouldn't have to leave them with strangers. I had dreams too, Harry. I went to university, I have a degree, I wanted a lot, but when I got pregnant with Lucas and found out you were really going through with becoming a doctor, I forgot about those dreams for our family. But now? Now you're picking a career over all of us. Finances are not an issue and you damn well know it. You're unbelievable."

He gets off the bed and leaves the room quickly. He ends up on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up his dinner. Stress tends to do this to him now. His stomach churns in agony whenever he gets upset and it always ends up pouring its contents out.

"Daddy?" Gabriella asks softly and tentatively. Louis coughs, looking at the door with watery eyes, his throat burning.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Why aren't you asleep?" Louis asks with a ragged voice.

"I heard you and Papa yelling," she sniffs as though she's been crying.

"Oh, no, sweetie, everything is okay. We just had a little fight," Louis says, standing up on shaky legs and rinsing his mouth out.

"Do you and Papa still love each other?" she asks softly.

"Of course we do. It was just a fight, baby," Louis answers softly, sitting on the floor and pulling her into a tight hug. "We'll always love each other."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Louis kisses her forehead and stands up, picking her up and bringing her to the kitchen to make them warm milk with honey, his signature drink for nighttime sadness. He carries her back up to bed after they've each had their milk, tucking her in and giving her tons of little kisses, just to show her how much he loves her.

After, he trudges up to the spare bedroom and buries his face into the pillow and letting out a few ugly sobs, pretending everything is okay, that Harry's just going through stuff and everything will be okay.