I wished morning would just hurry up and get here already. I felt like I'd been waiting a lifetime yet it was only 4:26, and counting. I couldn't sleep to pass the time, tried that multiple times both voluntarily and accidentally but every time I got marginally close to unconsciousness my chest would tighten and my throat would tickle and I'd fall into another god awful fit of coughs that made me rise upright like I was coming out of a grave.
I'd been coughing for the last few days after managing to pick up a cold a week or so ago, on and off but nothing anywhere near the bark that was stampeding through my chest now, at 4:27 in the morning.
I rolled over with a quiet sound, resting a hand on my aching chest. The poor thing was under a fair amount of stress and it was hurting. I huffed a quick cough to relieve the tightness, hoping that it wouldn't trigger anything more. Bad idea apparently.
My whole body shook and there were tears prickling at my eyes thanks to the force behind the sudden fit and after spitting a glob of who fucking knows what into a tissue and biffing it onto the floor halfheartedly I sagged heavily back into the mound of pillows I had created for myself.
I realised I was wheezing and uttered a shallow curse.
I had exactly 36 hours to kick this thing before the next concert and to me wheezing like an old man with a oxygen tank trailing behind him wasn't a good thing at all.
I cuddled my duvet into my chest and tried to relax. I really needed to get some sleep, at least try to lessen the force of whatever this was. Zero hours snoozing wouldn't help me at all. Tomorrow, or today I supposed, was empty so at least I'd have more time to rest up but who was to say this sleepless thing wouldn't carry on all the way up until concert day? Then I really would be screwed.
I could literally feel the temperature dropping around me and wondered if I'd been stupid enough to leave the window open. I was way too tired to actually get up and check though so I just tucked the duvet under my feet and curled up into a ball as small as I could manage without getting a cramp.
'Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep.'
The mantra echoed through my head as I tried to force my brain into shutting down.
***
Next thing I know I'm coughing myself awake, feeling like I'm trying to expel my insides. My eyes are squeezed shut but I can see the light from underneath my lids, meaning that I must've somehow managed to fall asleep. It was a small triumph though, because now I felt far worse.
My chest was on fire and rattling hard with every cough, convulsing painfully along with the blood rushing through my head. My throat felt scraped and raw and I was sweating buckets despite feeling freezing cold.
Add a fever to the lengthening list of reasons why I'm contemplating just ending myself.
My head was swimming but I still understood that I was sick and the fact that my lungs only felt like they were filling up a quarter with oxygen wasn't very assuring.
I cleared my throat with a steadying hand holding the bed beside me.
I wiped my other hand across my forehead to find it utterly drenched in sweat and grimaced tiredly, wiping the dampness onto the identically damp sheets.
Okay, time to medicate before I coughed myself to death.
I tried to move quickly to the kitchen where the cough medicine was, hoping not to have an attack someplace that was not my bedroom, but I felt like I had just wandered into somebody else's house. The fever was screwing with my head and it was beginning to make me upset no matter how many times I told myself to ignore it.
What if I died from coughing to hard, like actually coughed up my lungs?
I finally made it to the kitchen and flopped over the counter, barely catching myself before the side of my head collided with the marble. I stretched out one arm and pulled the bottle of liquid close to me before chasing down a couple of mouthfuls. Seemed accurate enough to me.
The damn stuff did the exact opposite to what it said it would on the label as it slid down my throat, making my chest compact and tighten. I hurriedly poured a glass of water and downed that, hoping it would stop the fit but halfway down the glass my throat rebelled and I spluttered, spitting water everywhere as I started coughing.
Again.
I slammed the glass down and grabbed the counter with both hands to keep myself on my feet as the loud violent barks fled my body.
And this time I was scared. Not the kind of scared like my favourite TV show was going to end, more like scared my life was going to end. I felt like I was choking, a pair of hands that I couldn't pry off wrapped around my neck and the reason I couldn't pry them off was because they just weren't there.
Even when the coughing stopped I still felt like I was gasping for breath, sweaty and shaky and terrified that it was going to happen again. Somewhere at the back of my head I knew it was stupid, I knew that I wasn't going to die from a frigging cough, but it was buried too deep and the larger part of me that was seriously panicking over-ruled the only sane thought I had.
I staggered back, sobbing and panting, until I hit the other line of counter-tops and shrunk down the wall onto my butt. My body felt like it was on fire and my pulse was thumping throughout every part of it, loud and rapid.
Hot tears were pooling in my lap but I couldn't've stopped them if I'd tried. I couldn't think, didn't even realise that my phone was barely three metres away plugged into the wall and that it would only take a single press of a button to have someone over.
***
Liam's POV
So far today I hadn't heard a word from Harry. Niall and Louis had come over this morning as we had planned the day before but the youngest of us hadn't turned up and none of our texts had been answered. He was usually prompt, organised and quick to reply to texts as his phone was kept in the back pocket of whatever pants he decided to wear, so it was kind of worrying.
"I'm sure he's just sleeping in, he's still getting over that cold. Or maybe he forgot," Niall said, trying to put a stop to the frantic chewing on my lip but he didn't seem to believable of his own words so it wasn't overly helpful.
Louis frowned as he voiced exactly the thoughts that were going through my head, "surely he would've texted if he thought he wasn't up to it though, at least told us he wouldn't be here."
"Will it be weird if we go over to check on him?"
I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. I didn't want to appear too over protective, and if he really was just sleeping I could imagine him being more than a little confused as to why we felt the need to invade his apartment.
Louis finally quit his pacing across the living room, grabbing his jacket off the couch, "who cares, I'm in."
Niall nodded firmly in agreement, "yeah, let's go."
I sighed in relief. The worrying feeling was growing stronger and I couldn't help but think that something was wrong. Call it instinct, or whatever, but I couldn't ignore it.
"Alright, I'll drive," I said.
***
"We're probably over reacting," Niall said just as I went to knock on Harry's front door, once again sounding very unconvincing.
Louis leaned past me and knocked on the wood with his knuckles a few times. I held my breath as I waited for Harry to open the door, perky green eyes and all. Thirty seconds later my lungs were beginning to ache from lack of air and Harry still hadn't opened up.
"He could've gone out?"
"No, I'm going in," I uttered, sliding my own key to the place into the lock and twisting it open with a flick of my wrist. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, "Haz, you in here?"
"Harry! Where are ya?" Louis called out, eyes scanning over the front room.
A choked sob came from the kitchen and I raced in there, making wet footprints on the carpet. The others followed.
Upon first glance I didn't even see Harry.
I frowned in confusion and stepped further inside.
"L-Liam!"
My eyes finally landed on the trembling ball of sweaty limbs curled up on the tiles, crying and gasping. Apparently I was right to be worried.
"Oh god. . ." Niall muttered just behind me.
Oh god was right, Harry was a mess. His face looked absolutely tragic, pale and splotchy, and kind of yellow. His eyes were red and painful, how long had he been crying for?
I crouched down in front of him , rubbing my hand up and down his forearm in what I hoped was a soothing manner, "Haz, can you tell us what's the matter?"
"Pl-please don't l-let it h-happen a-again!" Harry blubbered, desperately grabbing onto my arms with a surprising amount of strength.
"I'm gonna go see if I can find a thermometer," Niall offered with a frightened look on his face.
I nodded before turning back to Harry, "yeah, go quickly."
"Don't let what happen again, Curly? What's got you in such a state?"
My heart was thumping. I didn't know what to do. Would it be wise to call an ambulance? What if it was something serious?
"I'm g-gonna die L-liam!" he wailed, clutching at his throat and inhaling a sharp and shallow breath.
"You're not going to die, Harry," Louis promised as he hurriedly knelt down beside me with wide afraid blue eyes, searching over Harry's patchy face.
"Got it," Niall puffed as he ran back into the room. I managed to turn around and duck out of the way before the flying instrument hit me in the face.
I didn't bother saying anything, it wasn't the right place or time. I quickly took Harry's temperature and read over the abnormally high numbers. He hadn't even got to 39.9 earlier in the week when he'd been full of sneezes and headaches. Something was going on but I had no idea what.
"Please try and tell us what's wrong Hazza, we don't know what to do," Louis pleaded, probably feeling just as useless as I did.
Then he started coughing and let me tell you, it was bloody horrible.
He latched onto both mine and Lou's arms and bawled his eyes out in terror as the violent hacks flooded through him, making his entire body shake and convulse even harder than it already had been. As if the coughing wasn't already scary enough, his breath was coming out in wheezing gasps and he was crying out about dying.
I was completely paralysed, my muscles locked in horror.
Thank god for Niall who was able to call an ambulance while Louis and I just sat there uselessly, frozen in fear.
I heard the sirens barely five minutes later and a feeling of immense relief washed over me. Harry thought he was going to die, and he'd just about convinced me that it was true.
Thankfully by the time the paramedics came in the coughing had died down to a few per minute but he was still shaking furiously and burning with fever, along with the shallow breathing.
He was loaded into the back of the ambulance before I had time to even register what was going on and the three of us were left stranded in Harry's apartment, I didn't know what was going inside the rest of the guys but I was terrified.
"We're, uh, following then?" Niall said unsurely.
I nodded my head and dug my keys out of my pocket as I gained feeling back in my legs and hurried out of the apartment and down to the car. Niall and Louis loaded into the back as I started up the engine. I backed out of the driveway and then floored it, I needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible.
Once we got there we all rushed up to the front desk and were directed to the ED, scarily enough.
A Doctor Dennis ran into us on the way and lead us right to Harry, telling us that he had arrived only five minute earlier and had just been given some kind of sedative.
He was out cold when we got there.
"So what's wrong?" Louis rested a hand on Harry's forearm. It wasn't shaking any more at least.
"Well, first thought was pneumonia because of the struggling to breathe but from what I can tell I don't think that's what this is. Maybe a chest infection of some other sort. Some other symptoms your friend was suffering apart from the cough, like the hard trembling, increased heart rate and shortness of breath add up to something entirely different. I was told that on the way here he mentioned several times that he was going to die, and he was in quite a panic when they brought him in."
Doctor Dennis spoke in a typical doctor voice, low and quiet with every word pronounced correctly.
"So what?" Niall blurted rudely. He huffed out a quick apology.
"It's fine kid. I'm thinking, does your friend have any history with panic attacks?"
Huh.
Louis shrugged, Niall shook his head with a frown. I bit the inside of my cheek.
Doctor Dennis looked at me questioningly, which made both Niall and Liam turn on me with identical confused looks.
"Well, it was about six months ago. . ." I trailed off, feeling Niall's eyes narrowing on me.
I pulled an apologetic face, "he didn't want me to say anything, and it wasn't as bad as this."
I was beginning to get an understanding of what had happened today now. The coughing had scared the hell out of him, and I could imagine that the high fever just amplified the feeling which had sent him spiraling into a panic attack.
"That's okay, I get it. I'm quite sure that when he wakes up he'll be feeling at least a bit better, we've got him on fever reducers and a round of antibiotics to get his chest cleared up," Doctor Dennis said, "he's gonna need a week or so to get over the infection, and I suggest not leaving him alone until it's gone."
"Because of the panic attacks. . ." Louis sighed, looking lost. I'd been confused the first time, I had never guessed the Harry would break down like that.
"Precisely, we're going to move him into room 108 now and you are welcome to sit with him in there while you wait for him to wake up."
Niall nodded, "thank you."
***
When Harry woke up, he was confused. We had to explain the whole panic attack situation to him and he blushed furiously and muffled a quick cough into his arm.
Of course, nobody pushed him too hard on the subject.
I could imagine him just wanting to forget about the whole thing and I just wanted to get him better as fast as possible to make sure that this wouldn't happen again.
We had to stay until his fever went down almost to normal and then we were able to get out of there.
We practically treated him like a king back at his apartment. He always had one or more of us right beside him, as Doctor Dennis had suggested, and we were running around fulling up baths and balancing glass after glass of water, or trays of food for a solid 48 hours.
And luckily no more panic attacks happened.
He started getting sick of all the pampering after that and despite the low grade fever and the cough he was okay so we cut him some slack and let him do some things for himself. Unfortunately he couldn't do the concert but he watched from backstage while we performed and came out sometimes to talk to everyone for a few minutes when he felt up to it.
Thankfully it went away reasonably quickly as the antibiotics kicked in and he was able to get back up there just in time for the next concert where he sung as if he hadn't been in the hospital just a week before.
I'm really sorry for the super slow update this time! I've just got some important tests coming up and every time I sat down to write I felt really guilty like I should've been studying! Sorry again, hopefully this makes up for a little bit of the waiting :)