Diligence [H.S.]

TWO

Chapter Song: Repeat by Luke Hemmings

...

HARRY STYLES

My eyes open slowly, and as soon as I realize the sun is beaming through my window, they squint in disgust before clenching shut.

With an annoyed groan, I blindly turn to face the other way, and I'm met with an even more unpleasant sight. Getting up is better than staring at the empty side of my bed.

I force myself to sit up swiftly, and as soon as my feet press against the rug, the dizziness is almost enough to send me back onto the mattress.

I need Aspirin...and a coffee. Maybe food.

The simple thought of eating something makes my stomach turn. I suppress a gag as my mouth warms with saliva, and bile threatens to make its way up my throat.

Alright, no food yet. 

A soft three knocks against my door is enough to distract me from the nausea that attempts to take over my morning.

"Harry?" My mum's gentle voice asks from the other side, "You awake?"

I mumble a quiet 'come in,' but it's loud enough for her to hear.

She opens the door slowly, and the loud creaking she refuses to fix with some oil echoes through my room. I see her head peek through first before she steps in fully.

"Morning, sweetheart," she says softly.

Her tone of voice makes it sound as if she's speaking to a toddler or a young child. Normally, I'd feel a bit embarrassed. Right now? With how shitty I feel? I'll take it.

"Brought you a cup of tea," she smiles as she walks over to me in her pajamas, hugging a large mug with her hands, "Thought you might need it."

"Thanks, Mum," I say hoarsely, "You didn't have to do that."

She carefully hands me the hot ceramic mug. I notice two small ears opposite the handle, and I turn it in my hands to see the two eyes and a small pink nose painted onto the side.

Andrea got her this mug.

She thought it resembled all my mum's cats.

"I know I didn't have to," she shrugs and sits next to me near my pillow.

As I take a sip of the hot tea, it doesn't comfort me the same way it usually does when I don't feel well. The warmth spreads through my throat down to my chest and stomach as I take a few sips, which helps temporarily rid my weak stomach.

In defense of my mum's tea, I'm not ill and I don't have the flu. I'm hungover, so maybe that's the difference.

"Do you have any Aspirin or something?" I ask as the pain in my head starts to get worse.

"You need to eat something first," she says apologetically.

I sigh in disappointment, but I knew she would say that.

She always insists it'll mess with my stomach, but at this moment, I don't think anything could make my stomach any worse.

As I take another gulp, I can feel her stare burning into the side of my head. I know where this is going, and it's not necessarily the first conversation I want to have in the morning—or at all.

Especially when I know she will most likely make good points and lay my feelings out that I've been trying to ignore.

"Is Gemma up?" I ask.