Larry sick fics

Harry's surgery

He's only conscious - if you can even call it that - for a few seconds. His eyes drift slowly open and all he has time to register is a beige curtain, half-open, and beyond that, a large room with several other beds. There is a steady beeping coming from somewhere nearby. It's too loud and the light in this place is too bright. Everything is so hazy and heavy that he can't even turn his head to look for - look for who? Someone important... he thinks? He's so tired...and everything is so much... he'll rest his eyes a bit, maybe that will help...

He wakes again an indeterminate amount of time later in a smaller, more warmly lit room. The first thing that registers, aside from that same irritating beep, is a strange, intense discomfort. Not pain, the sensation is far too dull to be actual pain. But something is definitely... wrong. Very wrong, and everything is too foggy to make sense of what exactly the wrong thing is. He feels something hot run down the side of his face and a low whimper escapes from his lips, unbidden. It's a soft, pitiful sound, cut short as it morphs into a gentle sob.

"Shh, shh, shh..." he hears, and then something is running through his hair.

The something is so soft and warm and comforting, so welcome in the midst of this awful, smothering confusion that all he can do in response is cry some more. The sound of his quiet, miserable weeping fills the room, drowning out the rhythmic beeping in his ears.

There is more quiet shushing from nearby, and then a warm, gentle pressure on his right hand. Someone is holding his hand, he realizes, and stroking his hair. The sensation is overwhelmingly grounding in this strange, floating confusion and he tries to grip the hand tight, but his limbs are weak and slow to respond. A whimper of frustration escapes him.

"Oh, Harry," a nearby voice sighs sympathetically.

Harry's heart swells at the sound. Even in this sluggish, disoriented state, he knows that voice. Louis. Louis is here. The thought fills him with such stark relief that he nearly bursts into tears again, but he somehow holds himself together.

When he manages to pry his eyes open, there he is. His form is blurred by Harry's tears, but there's no mistaking that face. Big, beautiful blue eyes peer down at him from behind blue-rimmed glasses, beneath a brow furrowed slightly with concern. His expression relaxes as he notices Harry's eyes focusing on him.

"There you are," Louis says with a small smile, though the worry doesn't leave his eyes. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Harry's forehead. "How are you feeling, love? Does anything hurt?"

Harry takes a second to consider. Aside from the foggy discomfort and the general sense of wrongness, there is no real pain aside from a faint, dull ache in the region of his right knee. He opens his mouth to reply, wanting to quell Louis' worry, but all that comes out when he tries to speak is a weak croak.

"Oh, hold on." Louis says, moving outside of Harry's field of vision. He's only gone for a second, but it feels like an eternity to Harry. When he returns, he's holding a large styrofoam cup with a straw. "I'm just gonna sit you up a bit, okay, love?"

Harry nods, and Louis hits a button on the side of his bed. There's a mechanical whirring as the mattress behind his back slowly lifts. It's an unsettling feeling, to be raised up like this, and his discomfort must show on his face because Louis takes hold of his hand a second later, slowly helping him sit up until he's settled comfortably.

"Here, drink some of this. The nurse said your mouth might be a bit dry when you woke up."

A bit dry is an understatement, Harry thinks as Louis holds the straw up to his lips. He feels absolutely parched. The first sip of water feels gloriously cool and refreshing on his tongue, and he drinks greedily.