After his mother's death, Louis begins to fall apart. Between his grief, the pressure to stay strong for his siblings and the stress of debuting his solo career, it all just becomes too much for him to handle.
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I don't know where that came from, but I'm in pain and I really just want him to hold me now, so I'll worry about that later. I can't breathe right; I'm still panicky, and what makes it worse is that the fall caused me to lose control of my bladder, which was quite full. Right now, I feel like it would be better if someone had their arms wrapped around me, holding me safe. I don't know how to say it though, so I just reach out my good arm for him. At my movement, he stops all forward motion, and I'm so upset that I can't grasp why. Instead, I turn to the next possible alternative.
"Papa...hold me" Papa...Harry? turns to me, figuring out my plea quickly and scooching toward me on the floor, wrapping his arms around me tightly, the leg I stepped on still stretched away from both of us.
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"Shh, love. It's alright. You're alright. What's happening in your head right now, Boobear?"
"I-I-I...my wrist!" is all I can exclaim, tentatively lifting the wrist I injured when I fell, offering it for inspection. My head is all fuzzy, I'm really confused. Am I slipping? I think I'm slipping...all I know is I want comfort.
Liam...Daddy? I don't even know, I'm so confused right now...but he comes closer, reaching for my arm, and gently turning and examining it.
"Not broken, Lou. Does it hurt a lot?" I'm not quite sure what he means by a lot, but it hurts, so I nod. "It's probably sprained or something. I'll get some ice to put on it." And with that, he gets up, going to the kitchen.
"Papa..." I sob, pulling the sore limb closer and burying my face in my arms as I continue to sob, unable to stop or calm down, still breathing erratically.
"Oh, Boobear. Shh, you're alright. Breath with Papa, love. Your wrist is going to be just fine. Daddy's getting you some ice and that will make it feel better. Hush, everything's alright." My wrist is painful, but its' not the only thing on my mind.
"Too close." I state as I remember why I tried to run. However, my words have an unintended effect as the arms around me retract a bit.
"Sorry, love. Do you want me to leave you be?"
"No!" I don't know why he's leaving. "Stay Papa! Need you!"
"Louis, boo, you're confusing me. Why did you say I was too close?"
"Before...before I ran."
At this point, Dada comes back into the conversation. "Harry, I think he means when he was upset earlier and we all started to approach him to comfort him, he got overwhelmed by how close we were and tried to run away." I nod. He nailed it.
"An'...an' no dummy!" I don't need a dummy!
"Love, we aren't going to force you to use a dummy, not right now. Daddy just thought you might like something to distract your mouth." I ignore the words, feeling completely uninterested, and just enjoy the feeling of the vibrating throat on my head. (A/N it sounds weird, but when I was a kid I loved sitting on my parents' laps and leaning my head against their necks as they talked because it vibrated cool).
