Still My Idiots // One Direction [Book 2: Idiot Series]

Chapter Eight - Sick and in Love

Mica.

I woke up the next morning with a sore throat, a headache and a pain from the thong sticking into my bum. I groaned loudly and rolled onto my back, cracking my eyes open to stare at my ceiling. The light shining in my room pained me even more, so I avoided eye contact with me window. After a while of staring, I got up and changed the pajama's I was in. I changed into an over sized T-shirt and a pair of Harry's checkered pajama pants.

I trudged tiredly down the stairs and into the sitting room, surprised when I saw Harry was asleep on the couch. I hadn't even noticed he wasn't asleep next to me this morning in my room.

His arms were crossed and his head was turned to the side, his eyes pinched shut and his face scrunched up. I walked over and sat cross-legged in front of the couch, staring right at Harry's agitated face. He seemed sad, frustrated, bothered.

I leaned in and kissed his nose, forcing myself to smile as I sat back. Harry's nose twitched before he slowly pulled his eyes open, blinking a bit to adjust to the sudden light. He turned his entire body on his side and smiled at me. "Mornin'," he croaked as he stretched a bit, his voice deep and groggy and his eyes dark.

"Morning," I whispered, simply staring into his eyes. He stared back with an amused expression.

"You okay?" he asked. I shrugged, playing wth my fingers as I stared. He bit his lip and nodded in understanding. "Want some breakfast?"

I nodded gratefully. Harry sat up and I stood, following him into the kitchen as he trudged in. I sat at the counter and smiled as I watched him get the cereal and pour two bowls; one for me and one for him. He walked over and sat across from me, pushing one of the bowls towards me. "How're you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Shit. Tired. Hungover. Sick," I told him. Harry chuckled and nodded, his smile soon falling. He took a spoon of his cereal before looking up at me.

"Do you remember... what I told you yesterday?" he asked slowly, carefully.

"Yeah, my dad." Harry sighed and bit his lip, nodding a small, sad nod.

"There's more bad news."

"Ugh," I groaned, "what is it?" I buried my face in my hands, running them through my hair as I looked up at Harry.

"They can't get your dad's body over here so they're burying him and Canada and, um... Mica, we can't bring you to Canada," Harry said, his voice slow and sad and tired; oh, so tired. I was making him tired.

I lifted my head up quickly, glaring at him nonetheless.

"Why the fuck not?!" I yelled, dropping my spoon into the bowl. Harry looked at me, slowly putting his spoon down. He stared at me, but I couldn't tell his expression, no matter how long my eyes glared in to his.

"Mica, we're not your legal guardians. We can't take you out of the state, we're not your guardians," he said softly, his brows furrowed on his face.

"Well who is my guardian, then?" I asked, angrily. Harry froze. He didn't say another word on the subject. And neither did I.

We didn't talk to each other for the majority of the day. I was mad at him, no matter how much I knew none of this was his fault. I spent my day in the big T-shirt and Harry's pajamas. I also spent my day throwing up and having my hair being pulled back by Niall who was happy to run after me to the bathroom each and every time. By the hour of four, I had thrown up four times.

I threw my guts up into the toilet, and possibly a lung as well because there was nothing else to throw up. Niall pulled my hair back and rubbed my back for the fourth time today. Once it was all up, I rested my head on the toilet seat, panting a bit. "Sorry," I choked out, my voice shaking. 

"S'okay, kiddo, we've all been there. Even though you shouldn't have been." Niall's Irish accent ran through my ears, making me give a weak, two-second smile.

I didn't have the energy to get up after that, I just sat there. Niall stood over me for a while, rubbing my back. After a minute, he left and came back a few seconds later with a glass of water.

"Thanks," I said, my voice croaky and raspy, "but I think I'll just lie here, you can go." I took a gulp of the water, swallowing it with a breath.

"You sure?" he asked, continuing to rub my back.

"Yeah, no need for you to stand there and stare at me," I told him. Niall nodded and kissed my head before walking out of the bathroom. I took a deep, shaky breath as I sat with my head on the toilet seat.

I stayed like that for about ten minutes with my eyes shut until I heard someone open the bathroom door and walk towards me. I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me back from the toilet seat. They wrapped their arm around my waist and another slipped under my legs as they carried me away from the room, up the stairs and into my own bedroom.

As I was softly being laid down onto my bed, I smelled Harry's scent. When I opened my eyes, he was climbing into bed with me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him without saying a word. He kissed my head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, continuing to kiss my head. "I'm so sorry about your dad, and I'm sorry he was never there for you, and I'm sorry we never came to visit you or call you or even tweet you like we promised. I'm sorry you had to practically grow up alone, and I'm sorry you ended up getting shitfaced all the time. And I'm seriously fucking sorry I can't take you to your dad's funeral. I love you, Mica, I'm sorry."

By the time Harry had stopped talking, tears were falling down my cheeks. I sniffled and took a deep breath before nuzzling my face into his chest.

"Y-you said you l-l-loved me," I choked out, chuckling a little as tears rolled down my cheeks. He grabbed my face, making me look up at him. He smiled and I smiled back as he wiped the tears from my face.

"Of course I love you, dumbass," he joked. I spurted a laugh as I wrapped my arms around him too, hugging him tightly.

"Well, I love you too."