camp cherry | hs

twenty three

king

warning at the start: mention of sickness (throwing up)

✩︎

HANA

I do manage to convince Harry to attend dinner, although he remains pretty much silent for the whole time. Ella and Nadia notice but decidedly don't mention it. He squeezes my hand every time he wants to add something to the conversation.

He only gets through one half of his burrito until he's rushing to the nearest bathroom to throw up, my feet carrying me to him as fast as they can and my hand resting on his back to rub soothing circles as he retches over the toilet, being sick a few times before he sits back and refuses the water I offer him.

"Harry, you need to drink."

"I don't want it. I just want to stop feeling so sick."

"Can I take you to the nurse?" I suggest, wondering if this cause of his sickness was his dad or a stomach bug he had caught.

"No, she'll see the bruises, my dad will find out if I tell her the truth," he denies, his eyes flashing in panic at the thought.

"Okay, we won't, you don't have to." I comfort him, not wanting to push it too far and have him flip, "I just want you to feel better."

"Cherry?"

"Yeah?"

"You mean everything to me. Thank you so much for saving me," he speaks seriously and slowly, the meaning of his statement conveyed clearly.

I don't know exactly how to respond so I just allow his eyes to flutter closed, "let's go back to your cabin, yeah? We can watch a movie."

"Hold on," I'm halfway through pulling him up when he suddenly gags and falls back down, throwing up again. So, I repeat the process. Fortunately, Harry accepts the water this time and then we finally make it to his cabin and he seems to feel a little better after being sick.

He lays on his bed, my head on his lower stomach, his hands playing with my hair and drawing lines on my face which make me feel dizzy.

"While you were passed out, Taylor told me you get high a lot."

"Yeah, he usually comes round on Sunday nights with a load of weed and we get stoned."

"I've not done that in ages."

"You can come if you want?" he offers, his hips wiggling absentmindedly underneath me to the rhythm of Arrow Through Me, one of my favourites from his extensive collection that I had exclaimed in joy when I came across it.

"I'd love to come," I tease, smiling up at him, "but really, yeah, I'll join you."

"Sounds good. He usually comes at nine-ish. We just forget about everything for a while."

"Fun," I turn on my side, admiring his firm chest and poking his stomach playfully, Harry squirming at the ticklish feeling, "I'm tired."

"Have a nap, Cherry."

"Hm, can I use you as a pillow? You're squishy," I mumble, moving my head to get comfy on his stomach.

"Squishy? I don't do physical activity every day and go to the gym all the time for squishy, Cherry. I'm ripped," he boasts, smiling confidently when I look at him, unimpressed.

I lift his t-shirt, poking at the admittedly tiny layer of fat covering his abs, "squishy." Harry just rolls his eyes, frowning as he inspects his stomach, "you're fit as fuck, Harry." His pout lifts into a smile at my truthful compliment.