sword ◦ larry stylinson

IX

[A/N]: can Heath be Brad Pitt. brb laughing at the picture.

 ninth chapter

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, LAD? YOU look pale." Heath walked over to Harry's bed, opening the curtains to let some air in before bending down to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Mate?"

Harry shuddered and Heath frowned. He lowered his hand to Harry's back and was appalled to feel his shirt wet from the amount of sweat, "Harry, are you alright?"

"'M fine." Harry coughs into his fist, curling more into himself as he faces the wall. "W-What time is it?"

"It's ... morning." Heath shook his head before racing out of Harry's room and into the small kitchen where the others had gathered, "Conrad, come see Harry. He is not feeling well."

Conrad frowned in confused, because yesterday, the lad was actually happy and doing well. There should not be anything wrong with him. He pushed himself up from his chair and followed Heath to Harry's room, "Harry? Are you alright, my boy?"

"He's coughing and panting." Heath informed, "And he's sweating so much."

"Help me wipe off his sweat." Conrad got into action immediately, reaching into Harry's wooden drawer to grab a new shirt. He also grabbed Harry's towel and tossed it to Heath who helped Harry to sit up. Harry groaned in pain and doubled over at first, but he forced himself to sit up, slumping on the wall, "'M head hurts."

"He must have gotten the influenza." Conrad shook his head, "Harry can you take off your shirt for a bit? Help us here."

Everything in the lad was hurting; arms, torso, head and even his legs but he pushed past the pain and followed the man's orders. Conrad was awfully acting like his father today, and Harry didn't know why. The others peeked into Harry's room and found the two men wiping off Harry's sweat and lettinh him change into a new shirt.

One of them said, "You should take him to the surgeon. He will need it. He does not look good."

"They will only give him useless 'medicine'. Harry will be fine after a few days. One of you; inform one of the lords so they can let Harry rest for at least a week." Conrad ordered, and one of the sword smiths stepped out of the commotion to possibly tell one of the lords.

"'M fine." Harry insists, but falls back into his bed and curls back into a ball, "It is just lack of sleep."

"You've slept later before but all you got was a pessimistic attitude the next day. This is not acceptable." Conrad walked out of the room and to their small kitchen to grab a glass of water. He returned to find Heath sitting on the concrete floor as he questioned Harry, "Does anything hurt? Mario went to the lords to inform you that you will not be working for a couple of days."

"What?" Harry frowned, weakly attempting to push himself up on his elbows before he realized that he was unable to, "I do not need to rest."

"Tell yourself that." Conrad entered the room and beckoned Harry to sit up again for him to drink some water, "Go drink some water."

Harry grabbed the glass and drank a single gulp, but Conrad was having none of it, "Drink all of it. You have to stay dehydrated. And do not even think of standing up from that bed."

Harry clutched the glass in his hands, ".. I.. apologize? But-" He coughs, a few drops of water landing on his shirt. Heath sighed, "Is there uh.. medicine? So I could go back to work immediately."

"I do not trust doctors." Conrad informed. "A relative of mine passed away because of the wrong medicine a doctor gave to her. Influenza is curable, and the person who has it only has to rest and stay hydrated. It is not going to last for a week: or unless you stay stubborn and force yourself against the left stamina in your body."