This is a request by Larrybieberdreams. : "Could you do one like this where Harry is actually sick but Louis doesn't believe him?"
It was a Tuesday and the boys were getting ready for an interview. Louis had gotten up first and he was sharing the bathroom vanity with Niall. Once he was done brushing his teeth and washing his face, he went to go get Harry up.
'''Kay, Haz. Time to get up. Bathroom's free," he announced to the lazy boy. He was still under the covers, laying there with his eyes closed. Louis flicked on the light, causing him to squint.
''Lou, I'm not going. I don't feel well," Harry mumbled.
''Aw, what's wrong, babe?" Louis asked while walking over to his bedside.
''I just don't feel good. And my throat hurts." Harry continued to lay there without moving.
Louis was concerned. He felt the younger boy's forehead and furled his eyebrows. ''I don't think you have a fever, but let me check." He grabbed the thermometer from the bathroom and stuck it in Harry's mouth. A minute later, the temperature read 98.7. "Your temperature's normal. At least that's good."
Harry frowned. Darn. He'd have to try harder. ''Shouldn't it say 98.6? Maybe it's starting to climb."
''Everyone's different. It's not always exactly 98.6 all the time." Louis was pretty smart and he knew things like this. But sometimes it didn't work so well with Harry's intentions. ''You wouldn't by any chance be trying to get out of the interview this morning, would you?" He eyed him down suspiciously.
''Me? Come on, Lou. Why would I do that?" he asked, unconvincingly. Harry was a bad liar and Louis knew it.
''Well, just yesterday you were complaining about how they're probably going to ask us about Larry again and I know you hate that," Louis said, hands on his hips. ''It'd make sense that you decided to fake sick again. I mean this makes, what? Twice? Yeah, it's twice now in a month that you've pretended to be sick so you could get out of something. Now am I right?" Louis was being serious. There was no laughter behind his eyes. He was waiting for an answer.
He was on to him. He had no choice. He sat himself up against the headrest of the bed and sighed. ''Okay, okay, I was faking it." Harry stopped to see Louis nod, his face giving away an 'I-knew-it' kind of look. He had dropped his hands from his hips and were now at his sides.
''I just hate interviews. I never know what to say," Harry confessed, his eyes kept down to the ground.
''It's okay, Harry. We'll practice some more on the way over. You'll see." They all ended up going to the interview and it went just fine. None of the interviewers even mentioned anything about Larry. Harry was relieved.
ONE WEEK LATER
Harry's alarm clock woke him up from a fitful sleep. His mind hadn't shut off the whole night and he'd been having all sorts of weird dreams. He only had gotten real sleep the last three hours of the night. It was his turn to get up first since Louis had been getting up before him the last two nights. He rose up out of bed and stood up. The second he did, his head began to spin. His body felt heavy and weak. He leaned on the bedpost for support.
What was happening to him? He couldn't really be getting sick, could he? Louis wouldn't have any of that. He'd already cried wolf two times in the last four weeks. He couldn't do it again. He didn't think that Louis would believe him this time. He carefully made his way to the vanity sink. He flipped the switch, almost blinding himself with the bright lights. He squinted. The lights were aggravating his already pounding head. He rushed to brush his teeth and wash his face. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, created from the sweat on the back of his neck.