Harry Styles Shots

35. Down.

            I groaned as I heard my phone ringing again. My head hurts like a bitch and my nose is stuffed to the extreme. I feel horrible.

I grabbed my phone after blindly trying to reach it several times.

"Hello?" I said groggily.

"Baby, where have you been? I've been worried sick for the last couple of hours." Harry's worried voice came through the phone.

"Oh Harry, I'm really sorry, I didn't hear my phone."

"That's okay, tell me are you okay?" He asked.

"Not really." I shrugged.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm really sick." I said rubbing my eyes.

"What exactly are you feeling?" He said, hearing rustling on the other end.

"Stomach ache, back pain and everything in between. Coughing, sneezing." I replied.

"Oh poor baby, I'll be over in a few okay? Don't get out of bed and stay put." He said and it sounded like he was getting into his car.

"Harry you don't have to come over, I know you had plans tonight and all." I said after sneezing.

"Nonsense, I'm coming, just try to stay under the blanket until I get there." He said strictly.

"Okay, I love you." I said laying down under the warm blanket.

"I love you more." And he hang up.

As far as I was concerned, there wasn't anything worse than the flu. Ask me three days ago, and I would have told you that rush hour traffic, obnoxious co-workers, and ferris wheels were up there with terrible things. But now, with my head spinning and my body constantly switching from hot to cold with no warning, the flu had definitely taken the number one spot on that list.

I opened my eyes momentarily, letting my hand reach around on the couch for the remote. If I were going to die here in the living room of my flat, at least it would be with some dignity and the sweet sound of netflix as background noise.

"(Y/N)?"Harry's voice sounded around the apartment half an hour later. "I'm sorry I'm late baby, I had to get you some stuff."

"Oh love you look horrible." He said, a grimace on his face.

"Well thanks," I mumbled out, sarcasm intended. "I feel fantastic."

He let out a laugh and looked at me with admiration. His face, which was marked with concern and care, felt too close for comfort. I probably reeked of sweat thanks to the fever.

"Why didn't you tell me you were this poorly?" He muttered, his hand coming to cup my cheek. His hands were cool from the winter, providing much needed relief for my hot face.

Why didn't I tell him? Well–there were a few reasons, really. For one, while I hadn't been dating Harry very long, I'd definitely learned that he was the type of guy to overreact. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but if I told him that I had a fever or the chills or any type of illness, I wouldn't have put it past him to show up like this, but likely with a medical team or strap me into his car to take me to the doctor.

"I'm okay," I told him, forcing a small smile on my face, which only seemed to make my entire body hurt more.

"(Y/N)," He sighed as he stood up from the couch. I watched him as he took off his wool coat and the scarf that was around his neck. He tossed them to the armchair besides us and moved my legs to make some room for him to sit.

"What are you doing? Don't you have plans with Mitch tonight?"

He ignored my question as he fixed my blanket to cover me more, up to my neck and down to my toes, smoothing out the wrinkles, looking over at me once he thought he did a good job. "No," he said. "I've got plans with you."