I Do?

Chipped Polish

A piece of cooked duck sits on the plate in front of Harry along with a potato dish and vegetables. The food is alright, he decides, but nothing extraordinary. He probably would have preferred a meal from a fast-food chain than the dish that sits in front of him.

His father's voice cuts through the silence of the table, "So, Gemma, how did rehab go?" Harry takes a bite of his duck, deciding to mind his business. The less he has to talk the better.

"We have a guest," His mom's voice chastises. Harry glances up at her voice and locks eyes with his mom from across the table.

The golden locket that lays on her chest looks shinner than normal, but everything about the woman is the same as it's always been. Little lines surround her eyes and lips, evidence of her age. Harry can tell that it's been a while since his mom has visited the hair salon because of the whisps of gray at her temples.

Harry hears Louis clear his throat next to him. The table feels crowded in a way that it usually doesn't. While the oak wood was made for ten chairs, usually only four sit around it. Louis and he had to go digging in the basement to find the spare for Louis to use for the meal. The space that Louis takes up next to Harry fills the usual void that surrounds Harry at the table.

"Louis, yes, how are you doing! You're so quiet over there I almost forgot about you," His father chuckles loudly, making the room echo. Harry turns to Louis, watching as a smile starts to bloom at the ends of his lips as he finishes his bite.

Before Louis has the chance, Gemma starts. "You know," She says loudly. Harry's green eyes dart towards her, "A lot of things start to make sense when you take a look at the past. For instance, look at Hazza. He painted his nails when he was a kid, and you can't use the excuse you use now. You weren't trying to impress girls back then, were you baby brother? It's just... crazy how everything works out. Say, Louis, have you listened to 'Sweater Weather' by any chance?"

Harry's heart drops as he realizes what Gemma's done and he tears his gaze away from her. There's a chance his father may not have caught on to what Gemma was implying, but Louis did. Surely Louis knows and can put it all together, but it's not true.

"Take it back," Harry whispers. His green eyes stare daggers into his plate, not allowing himself to look up at her in fear of what might happen. He doesn't want to lose himself, but he already feels like he drowning and the last thing he needs is for Gemma to hold his head under the water.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me, baby brother," Gemma asks innocently. He doesn't have to look up to know she's smirking. She's proud of herself. She's taken a sledgehammer to Harry's carefully constructed life and shattered it, and she's proud of herself.

"I said," Harry breathes. He's unable to hold back his anger anymore as he stands abruptly, kicking the chair out of his way and bringing his hand down on the oak table loudly. "Take it back! I'm not a fucking fairy, alright! I'm a fucking man."

"Don't yell at the table," His mother's voice cries.

"You're not a fucking man, you're a child. Sit your ass down," His father adds.

Harry's eyes fall on Gemma, a startled look in her eyes. He narrows his gaze at her, unable to stop the flow of words that come spiraling out of his mouth."You take that back right now, Gemma, or I swear to god. I'm not a fucking faggot and don't you dare assume anything about me or my life. You have no fucking right to assume shit about me or Louis."

"Harry Edward Styles if you don't have a seat at my table!"

A chorus of protests erupts in the dining room, but Harry can't hear anything over his own ragged breathing. His heartbeat washes away the harsh words of his father, his mother's tears, and his sister's laughter. He's drowning in the sea of it all and he's still standing. Why he is he still standing?

He makes eye contact with Gemma from across the room and he feels himself starting to move towards her, seeing red, wishing to make her feel how he does, but he feels something else before he can. He can feel a cool hand taking his, momentarily cooling the fire that's burning in his cheeks and body. For a moment, he calms down.

Harry turns towards the feeling and sees Louis sitting next to him. Louis looks as calm as ever, not a hair out of place. Harry knows he must look a mess and his attention shifts entirely to Louis. How stupid was he to try and pick a fight with Gemma at the table with Louis watching? Almost as quickly as the fire started and doused by Louis' cool hand does another wave of embarrassment crash over him and he's drowning again, except this time his own tears are choking him and blurring his vision.

The lights from the chandelier seem to become brighter and the sounds of his family hit him in waves along with his own emotions. He can't breathe. Oh god, he feels like he's going to throw up and choke to death at the dining room table and he does the only thing he can think of.

His memories are what drive Harry away from the table. Blinded by the light from the chandelier and his tears, his feet guide him to a quieter part of the space, somewhere he can attempt to breathe without choking.

Gemma's words tower over him again as Harry collapses into a dark corner. He brings his hands to his eyes and his feet to his chin as he lets everything attack him at once. The echoes of his sister's laughter surround him, biting and tearing away at him.

Then, the cool.

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Hey guys!! Larrentine's day begins!! Be on your toes today, multiple updates to come ;) -B