as it is || harry styles au

thirteen

tw // emetophobia

i v o r y

     Jamie and I slept in until ten o'clock.

We woke up a couple times during the night with some false alarms, but he didn't get sick again.  I slept long enough to get up with a coherent mind. A full and busy one, but coherent.

Mom must've changed Jamie's sheets and cleaned his room up when she'd gotten home last night because she had told me he'd woken up throwing up over everything yet nothing looked out of place. Even though we were currently at a stalemate, I appreciated her relentlessly for doing everything she could for my son.

     As soon as I got up, I checked Jamie's temperature, glad to see it was normal. I called his school and let them know he wouldn't be coming in and that I'd bring them a doctor's note the next day to excuse his absence. Jamie went through a shower next to cleanse away all the bad shit from yesterday and then I let him soak in the bath until he complained the water was too cold. Only after I sat with him at the kitchen table to watch him eat some lightly buttered toast without any mishaps did I head back up to shower myself and brush my teeth.

     Once I got out, I checked my phone to see several missed texts from throughout the early morning.

     Zuri: Hope Jamie's doing better!! Harry updated me and said he got you guys home. Call whenever you can.

     Mom: Don't come into work today. We have it covered here. Take care of Jamie. Love you

    Unknown: How's Jamie feeling?

     I was embarrassed to admit that I recognized the unknown number to be Harry's despite the context. His and Mom's numbers were the only ones I knew by heart. Zuri must have had given him mine last night.

     I replied to his text first.

     —He was able to keep some toast down. He's now living it up, parked on the couch watching his favorite tv show.

     —I don't know how to thank you for last night. You had no reason to help us, especially as much as you did, but I owe you.

     Just as I hit send, the short conversation between Harry and I right before he left the night before popped into my head.

     I sure owed him answers.

     I brought Jamie his favorite drinking cup full of water. "Drink up, Jay. You still feeling okay?"

     "My head hurts."

     "Then maybe we should turn off the TV so the brightness doesnt—"

     "No," he groaned. "It doesn't hurt that bad, Momma."

     I chucked. Of course it didn't.

     My phone rang back on the kitchen table. I gently ran my fingers front to back through Jamie's hair. "Keep taking small sips of water, bud. Hydration will help your headache go away."

     I returned to the kitchen and saw Harry was the one calling. Even though my heart nearly leapt into my throat, I still picked up the phone.

     "Hey."

     "You don't owe me anything for yesterday. I'm just glad the little guy is feeling better."

     It felt so surreal to be talking to Harry over the phone when that was the one thing I'd avoided doing for six years.