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17. He's Sick

He's sick

Harry: Hearing Harry cough for what seemed like the hundredth time, you rolled over to face him. "Sorry," he muttered," I'll go get on the couch." Propping yourself up on your elbow, you shook your head. "Hush," you cooed, reaching up to feel his forehead. "I feel awful," he pouted, coughing once more. You leaned over, kissing his temple. "I'll go make you some tea and get some medicine." "Thank you," he sniffled, cuddling deeper into the bed

Liam: "I can't be sick!" Liam proclaimed, "We have a dinner to go to!" You laughed at his somewhat frantic state. "It's okay, Li," you said, "My parents will understand." He frowned, grabbing a tissue to shield his sneeze. "They're going to hate me." You laughed once more. "Liam! My parents love you. Hush with that." He sighed, "You go to dinner and see them. I'm going back to bed." You could tell that it was killing him to relent, but you could also tell how sick he was. "No, I'm gonna take care of you. Let me call my parents and I'll be right up." "Okay. Thank you," he said, trudging down the hall.

Louis: You took a sip of your orange juice, smirking as Louis appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "How you feeling?" you asked, somewhat amused as Louis held his head in his hands. "I'm never drinking that much again," he moaned, taking a deep breath. "Funny," you said, sitting a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him, "You always say that, but you never -." "Woman, don't," he scolded, causing you to laugh. "Eat," you commanded, "and drink." "No more drinking!" "Water," you laughed, "Drink water, Louis."

Niall: "I'm going to cut my ears off," Niall whined, tugging anxiously at his right ear. You sighed, running a finger through his hair he leaned against you, "You can't cut your ears off just because of an ear infection." "But it hurts!" You nodded, "I know it does, Ni. When's the last time you put drops in?" He frowned, "I dunno, like, this morning?" You laughed, "Babe, you're supposed to put them in every four hours. You're never gonna get better if you don't do what you're supposed to do." "I'm just forgetful."

Zayn: Quietly opening the door, you peered into the dark bedroom to see how your boyfriend was doing. He had come home with a migraine, only wanting to sleep and enjoy the quiet. You couldn't help it, though; it was only instinct to check on him. "What's up, Boo?" you heard him whisper. "Sorry," you shyly replied, "I just wanted to check on you. I didn't mean to wake you up." "You didn't. I can't sleep; my head is pounding." You sighed, feeling awful that he was, well, feeling awful. "Come lay down with me. Please?" You couldn't say no.