1D: Sick Fics

Harry: really sick

I let out another round of coughs. I cough into my arm and Louis looks concerned at me.

"Harry, you don't sound good. You sound like your hacking up a lung."

My voice was shot. It was scratchy, my throat hurt with every breathe, and I was coughing every few seconds. Not to mention, I think I have a fever.
"Gee, thanks Louis." I mutter, my voice cracking.

"Sorry mate, what's wrong?"

We were all lounging on the couch, waiting for our individual turns to go record.

"My throat is shot Louis."

"Than what are you doing here? Go home to that pretty girlfriend of yours!"

I lean my head back against the couch and smile a little.
"I'm fine. My head is pounding. It's making my eyes hurt."

"You should just go home. There's nothing you can do with your voice sounding like shit." Niall states.

"Niall!" Louis throws a pillow at him.

"What he means to say is that, you cant record when your voice is shot. Go home and get some rest Harry." Louis puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"I'm just going to try to do my session. Than instead of waiting for everyone to finish like I usually do, I'll just head home."

Louis gives me a "you should go home now" look. Sassy Louis.

"Harry, come on. We have to hurry. We're off schedule." Eric comes in and says sternly. Liam enters and takes my spot on the couch. I enter the booth and put the headphones on. I cough into my arm and give Eric a thumbs up. The audio to the new song starts playing, but I can't stop coughing. The track stops and Eric comes walking in.

"Harry, are you alright? You can't sing a word!"

"I think I'm a bit under the weather." My head was pounding and the bright lights weren't helping. Some nausea passed through my lower abdomen and I burp into my fist.

"You defiantly can't record. Go home and get some rest. We can wait for your vocals lad."

"Thanks. I think that's a good idea." I stumble out of the booth and past the boys. They eye me up and down with confused and concerned glances. I'm to tired to explain, not to mention my throat hurts, so I move past them sluggishly without saying a word. I get in my car and rub my slightly bloated stomach. I sniff and wipe the sweat off my brow. My mouth starts watering and I shake my head. I quickly find a safe place to pullover. I bring my car to the side of the road, hop out, and bend over dry heaving. A mucus comes up my throat and dribbles from my mouth. I stand there coughing, trying to regain my breathe. I grab a tissue from the car and wipe my mouth. I take a swig of my water and get back in the car shakily. I sigh, and quickly but safely get home. I slowly walk in the house and kick off my gold boots. (❤️)
I slowly go up the stairs, and collapse onto the bed. I hear someone coming up the stairs. With shaky hands, I starts unbuttoning my shirt.

"Harry, what are you doing home? Why didn't you say hi?"

"I'm sick." I say simply. Y/n walks over to the bed and puts my shaky hands down. She slowly finishes unbuttoning my shirt and takes it off of me. She sets it on the dresser and feels my forehead.

"You feel a little warm. Not bad at all. What's not feeling good?"

"Everything." I get under the blankets and lay on my side.

She sits on the bed and rubs my back.
My stomach churns and I flip over to my other side. I throw my arm over the bed and point to the trash can in the corner of the room. Y/n slowly gets up and grabs it for me. I sit up a little and look into the trash can. I look over at y/n who is smiling sympathetically, rubbing my long strands of hair out of the way. I heave and spit bitter stomach acid from my lips. It burns my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Y/n rubs wide circles on my bare back. Nothing solid comes up, only mucus and stomach acid. I was so weak. I collapse back down and bury my head in my pillow.

"Maybe we should go to the doctor Harry. You look terrible, and you never get so weak and sickly."

"I don't want to move." I groan.

"I'll call the doctor. He can come here." Y/n pulls her phone out and steps out of the room. I pull the covers over my head, hoping to find warmth, block out sounds, and make it darker. Y/n comes back in a few moments later. I hear her climb in the bed and I move the blanket off my head. She kisses my head softly and hands me a water bottle. I take it and sit up a little. I take a few sips than set it down. I lay back down, facing her.

"The doctor will be here in a few minutes baby. Can I do anything for you?"

"I'm exhausted and I feel horrible. I wish there was something you could do to make it go away." I whimper.

"I know. I wish I could make it go away too. Why'd you go in to work today?"

"Because I thought I could do my session. I guess not. I think I got worse through out the day."

She nods. The chime of the doorbell rings and I wince and groan from the unexpected loud noise.

Y/n hops out of the bed, which makes my stomach lurch. I sit up and grab the trash can. I'm bent over, releasing bile when y/n and Dr. Kevin enter the room. I look up and y/n sits by me on the bed. I hand her the trash can. She goes to set it in the bathroom.

"Hello, and how are we doing today?"
Dr. Kevin speaks up.

"Not good Doc." I mutter.

The doctor takes his stuff out of his case and starts doing an exam on me. He does regular check up type things, while I struggle to even keep my eyes open.

"Harry, your fine."

"He's not fine! He's sick! Look at him!"

"What I mean is, you have nothing severe at all! You have a sinus infection. They usually appear in children, way younger than you. It's all the mucus in your body draining out. When you have a runny nose, the mucus can drain out into your stomach. This causes you to vomit.
The headaches are from your sinuses. A hot shower or bath helps right away with that. The soreness of the throat is again the mucus. Just keep blowing that nose Mr. Styles." The doctor says cheerfully. I give him a stern look, not at all amused.

He clears his throat.
"You should be better in about a day or
Two."

"Thank you." Y/n walks the doctor out while I take off my jeans and put on sweatpants. I cough into my arm, making my head hurt some more.

Y/n hugs me from behind.

"How about I make you some soup, sicky?"

"Yes please." I croak.

Y/n leaves and I hop into the bed, turning the tv on. I turn the column down and lean my head against the headboard. Y/n comes up shortly after and hands me a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. I take a bite and smile. She gets under the covers and I put my head on shoulder. I take about three more bites, but my stomach rumbles and I set the bowl on the bedside take.

"I'm full."

Y/n grins a little and kisses my cheek.

"Feel better my Hazza."

"I will y/n."