I Hated Everything About You (Larry Stylinson) [Completed]

Chappy 9

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_Harry_

The boys didn't even have to say anything the next day to make me feel bad, the guilt was written all over my stupid face. I should have known after hearing him sing the first time a couple days ago, that something had been up with Louis yesterday. But of course, I was too preoccupied worrying about the whole of the band to think about him.

How rude of me. How stupid.

We may not have been able to figure it out yesterday afternoon, but as soon as we all woke up today, it was obvious. Louis had been sick- and now, thanks to us (me mostly) pushing him, it was way worse. He hadn't even gotten out of his room until noon, and that's only because the other three boys had rushed in there and jumped on him. Which made him run to the bathroom, where he was sick to his stomach.

I was such an ass.

He then took a shower, and came down an hour later, holding onto the railing for dear life the whole way down the stairs. Liam, Niall, and Zayn all apologized a million times to him, but Louis only shook his head and whispered that it wasn't their fault, they hadn't known.

He had tried to stay down here with us, but after a sip of tea, and fifteen minutes of him shivering (even though he had about seven layers of clothes on), he motioned that he was going back upstairs, and the boys all sympthetically nodded.

I didn't. I just sat there, probably looking moody and annoyed. I was such an ass.

But so was he!

If he hadn't felt well, why hadn't he told someone for frogs sakes! We could have stopped, he could have rested up, and we would be ready for tomorrow. Now, underneath all the care and worry for our poor bandmate, we were all stressed and anxious- how were we supposed to pass the next round when Louis looked like hell and could barely croak let alone sing.

Thanks to his stubborness, we may not be able to get through. Great. If we had practiced for nothing, I would kill him. Just thinking about it got me so angry I got up and went down the hall, throwing on a random pair of shoes and slamming the front door on my way out.

_Niall_

Louis, the poor lad, had looked like hell when he had woken up, and I had felt so bad for kneeing him in the chops once I found out how sick he was. He had slowly but surely made his way down, and as a kind of apology, I gave him a nice steaming cup of tea and some cough syrup, watching as he shivered at the kitchen table.

Under the five shirts, vest, sweater and scarf, I'm sure he was covered in goosebumps- I've always hated those. As a kid I would try to poke them all back into my skin (not that it ever worked. My cold fingers usually made it worse actually). Anyways, after a while, he just pointed upstairs, made a pillow sign with his hands, and then scooted his booty up the stairs like he was climbing Mount Everest.

He would probably be at least a little better if we hadn't made him rehearse so much yesterday- it also probably didn't help when Harry told him he was no good at singing- knowing Louis' personality (even if it's only a weeks worth of it), it was easy to tell that that could have made him push himself even harder, the bloody idiot. I still was a little curious about why he hadn't mentioned he wasn't feeling well...was he worried that we would be angry? Hmm.

I shot a glare over in Harry's direction, and I could see in my peripheral view that Zayn was doing the same thing. If he had just been nicer to the guy, maybe this wouldn't have happened. After a couple seconds though, it became obvious that I could stare at Harry all day and he wouldn't notice, that's how caught up in his own thoughts he was.