My Gay Roommate (L.S)

Twenty

I nod. "I don't want pizza again. I wa-" I begin coughing again, throat tickling and it feels like someone has a clamp on my rib cage, pressing it closer and closer together. I feel Louis' hand on my back, patting and rubbing it. Once the coughing fit subsides, I continue with a strained voice. "-Want some honey chicken wings, maybe a prawn cracker or tw-tw-" And back to the coughing.

 I swear to fucking God if this coughing fit doesn't end.

"Baby, I order you to go back to bed and get some rest, love. You sound like you're going to die any minute!" He teases, pecking my cheek. "Go on, I'll bring you in some medicine and a tea."

I nod. "Cuddles?"

He smiles. "I'll cuddle you until it's me squeezing the life out of you and not that cough."

I stand. "Alright then." I begin walking and when did the walls begin to tilt?

I cough and it hurts my chest. It takes the breath out of me as I go, tears and snot streaming slightly. I put my hands on my knees, coughing and wanting the stuff in my chest to bloody budge. I can't seem to catch my breath and it makes me light headed.

Of course. Welcome, bloody welcome anxiety. Jesus, why? Why do you show up at the most inconvenient times?! 

Because I can't catch my breath, it makes my brain flitter with thoughts, negative ones. What if you collapse on the floor? What if we really are dying and we won't wake up ever again, just non existent?

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"Jesus, Harry!" Louis says, coming into the hallway. He grabs my arm, slinking an arm over my shoulder. "Come on, grandpa, let's get you to bed."

I want to laugh at his joke, or pout but my chest hurts a lot and this cough hasn't subsided and I really think I can't breathe.

I grab my chest, the pain unbearable. Twist the bloody knife now. It feels like it, a knife in my chest. I grip onto Louis' arm, eyes wide. I can't find my voice and when the cough ends, I can't get my breath.

"Harry?" He asks warily. "You okay?"

I shake my head. "I-" words get stuck in my throat with the phlegm and I feel the world tilt. 

"Shit! Zayn! Zayn!" He yells behind him. "Baby, I know it's probably not the best time to say this, but fucking breathe, love, try and get a deep breath. Zayn!" He rushes out.

I hear footsteps. "What's happening?" Zayn asks.

Louis waves his hand in the air. "I don't know! Get his inhaler! I- I saw it in the top drawer of his desk when I was snooping a few days ago!" He turns to me. "We can talk about me snooping another time, baby, I'm going to lower you to the floor okay?" He gently tugs me down to the floor, all the while, my breath gets thinner and thinner.

He lays me into the fetal position, rubbing my back. Zayn runs back in, handing him my blue plastic covered inhaler. Louis brings it up to my lips but the button doesn't do anything. He frowns, brows creased, brings it up to his ear and shakes it. 

Rolling his eyes, he sticks it out to Zayn. "It's fucking empty, you idiot!"

Zayn puts his hands up in defence. "How the hell was I supposed to know that! What do we do?"

"I-I don't know!" He yells back.

My vision begins to blur, like an unfocused camera, the voices sounding underwater. I grasp onto Louis' hand, looking up at him, heart pounding, anxiety swirling, breath leaving. I feel my eyes roll back and I'm consumed into darkness.