Misfit (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

We're Going To The Doctor

I'm so sick of throwing up. Groaning, I climb onto the bed, and rest my back against the headboard. This is not normal. I've been throwing up since morning. Thank God, Harry didn't notice that. Otherwise, he would've never gone to the ball. I hope his discussion with his father went well. I hear the front door being opened and closed. I think Harry's home.
"Harry? Is that you?" I yell from our room. I don't have the energy to get up and meet him.
"Yeah, it's me." Harry yells back. Suddenly, I hear glass shattering. What is he doing down there?
"I'm fine! Don't come!" He yells. I was about to get up and go downstairs to check on him, he knows me too well.
"I hope you're not breaking plates in anger!"
"No, I'm not! Go to sleep!" I can't sleep while he's making so much noise downstairs. I hope he doesn't get cut by the glass. Let's just go and see what he's up to.
"Harry, are you okay?" I ask him as I enter the kitchen. He's not here, but shards of glass are scattered all over the floor. Maybe he's in the lounge. I head over to the lounge and sure enough, Harry is lying on the couch with his hand over his eyes. Due to his slow breathing, I think he's asleep. He must have been extremely tired because he fell asleep the minute he lay down.
"Harry?" I murmur as I stand next to him. He doesn't respond, and my doubts are confirmed. Sighing, I walk over to his feet, and take of his right shoe. Once I've taken off his left shoe, I glance around the room for a blanket. I don't think there's one downstairs.
"Up we go." I murmur as I head upstairs. I grab the blanket off our bed and descend the stairs. Placing it over Harry, I smile at his peaceful expression. He's hurting more than he let's me know. I don't think anyone knows about his emotions. They're all so oblivious. Harry, doesn't share much either.
"Goodnight." I murmur as I head back upstairs. As I enter our room, I realize just how cold this house is. Sniffing, I open the chest that's lying near our bed. The blankets aren't thick, but I grab the thickest one of the lot. It's been a long day, and I'm so happy it's come to an end.
******
"Mus." I hear Harry's voice as I feel someone shaking me.
"What?" I groan, rolling over. I want to sleep for a little while longer.
"Get up. I need to take you to see a doctor." My eyes fly open, but I can't seem to get up.
"Why?" I ask him, confused.
"You're on fire." Harry turns around and smiles at me. "Literally."
"It's hard to take you seriously when you say things like that." I smile back at him, and try my best to push myself up, using my elbows. My efforts are in vain.
"You have an extremely high temperature, and you were vomiting all night." Harry takes off his shirt, and replaces it with a new one. "To top that off, you slept with an extremely thin blanket."
"This blanket isn't that thin." I defend the soft blanket.
"Why did you give me the thick one? I could have slept without it." Harry turns around, scowling.
"Are you really going to argue with me regarding blankets?" I ask him, raising my eyebrows.
"Well, no." He pouts and knits his eyebrows together. "But, only because you're sick." I chuckle at his childish behavior. Harry grins, and walks over to me. "Get up and get ready."
"Yeah, one second." I say, pushing myself up using my elbows again. Why can't I get up? Frustrated, I groan.
"What happened?" Harry asks me, coming over to me.
"Nothing," I murmur. I don't like being helpless.
"Why aren't you getting up?" Harry glances at my body, and raises a questioning eyebrow at me.
"I-I can't," I mumble.
"Pardon?"
"I can't get up." I say, louder this time.
"What happened to you? Did you break something?" Harry takes a seat next to me, and takes my hand in his. His face is clouded with worry.
"No, I didn't break anything. But, I can't get up."
"I'm carrying you to the doctor, something is seriously wrong." Harry states, getting up.
"No, you're not!" I state, crossing my arms over my chest. Harry stares at me for a second, and then his hands slide underneath my back and thighs, and he picks me up bridal style.
"Put me down!" I punch his chest with both of my fists. Harry chuckles, and starts to walk towards the exit of our room.
"My seven year old cousin can punch better than you." He states, grinning.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm a tough guy." Harry says as he descends the stairs.
"Sure." I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Harry, I need to change. I'm in my night clothes."
"Why didn't you say that earlier?" Harry pouts, and turns around. "I'll have to change you and climb the stairs again."
"What?! No, you're not changing me."
"Then you have to go to the doctor's clinic in your night clothes." Harry turns back around and I sigh in defeat. He has changed his clothes, and freshened up, but he's not allowing me to do so.
"I'll get my revenge," I murmur.
"I heard that." Sarcastically, I smile at Harry, and place my head on his chest. I close my eyes. I'm still sleepy. Surprisingly, the movement of his steps is calming. I feel myself drifting off.
"Sweet dreams." I hear Harry say.