1D SickFics 🤕🤒🤧 (REQUESTS OPEN)

1: Zayn Sick

Prompt: Zayn's sick but the boys don't believe him. Then they see how sick he actually is and take care of him.

Set around mid 2013.

Zayn's POV:

The second I woke up, I regretted it, massively. My head was pounding along to my heartbeat, and my heartbeat was booming in my ears. The light shining through the hotel blinds was not doing my aching head any good, and every move I made sent a nauseating feeling through me.

I rolled over as slowly and gently as possible, trying not to bustle my stomach or head too much. The alarm clock shot blinding, red digits at me, alerting me of the time. 06:28. In two minutes, Liam would come in and make sure I was awake. Obviously I was, but I desperately wanted to be asleep again. I audibly groaned as I recalled the activities of the day; 3 interviews in a row for SugarScape; a meeting with Modest! management about random shit that none of us are arsed about; then rehearsals and sound check, preparing for the 9pm concert.

As promised, two minutes later a knock shook me from my dreading daze.

"Zayn? You awake? We gotta get ready for the interviews." Liam said as I heard footsteps coming towards my bed. His voice had a slight rushed and kind of angsty tone to it.

" 'm not feelin' good Li." I carried out the last sylable, emphasizing my point as much as possible.

"C'mon Z,"He huffed, " We're all tired, but faking sick? That's just stupid. Get up and ready and be down in ten." With that he walked out, leaving me alone as I sobbed at the slight thought of leaving my bed. Why was I so emotional? Add fever to the list of agonising symptoms then.

I uncovered my face from its previous position under the covers, and sat up, inhaling deeply as a sickly feeling rushed into my stomach. I knew I was going to be sick soon by the way my stomach loudly bubbled and churned inside me, but there was no immediate rush. I moved my way to the edge of the bed, keeping a firm hand grounded on my belly. Standing up with caution as my vision spun and my head throbbed worryingly, I stumbled my way to the connected bathroom.

I crouched down in front of the white porcelain bowl, cringing at the thought of painting it with last night's dinner. As if on cue, a wet gag escaped my lips, followed by a dry and painful cough. Saliva pooled in my cheeks as I clamped my mouth shut, the unforgettable feeling of vomit rising in my throat not going unnoticed. My mouth shot open again as I released a hot wave of sick, and let me tell you know, room service pizza doesn't taste as good the second time around. I heaved and choked as another round came up, then another.

This went on for what felt like hours, and when I'd managed to gather the strength to leave the toilet, I'd already used up the ten minutes Liam gave me. As fast as my fatigued body would let me, I got dressed and did my normal necessities in the bathroom. I then grabbed my phone before meeting the boys in Niall's room, where we'd agreed to always meet in hotels when staying in seperate rooms.

"Zayn! We were supposed to leave five minutes ago! Where were you?!"

"I'm sorry Li, I said I didn't feel well. I was sick in the toilet." I whined. Usually I tried to hide all evidence of weakness, but I felt so ill I really couldn't give two fucks right now.

"Cut it out Zayn. Liam already told us about your little facade so don't even try it. It's stupid!" I looked over at Niall and Harry, hoping they'd back me up. With the way I felt, I could only imagine how dreadful I looked too. I could've sworn I saw a glimpse of sympathy in their eyes, but if I did, they quickly covered it up with a vacuous expression.

"Yeah c'mon, Z. There's no point in faking sick. It's just a couple of interviews." All hope of any TLC I could get was crushed when those words left Harry's mouth, and even more so when Niall nodded in agreement.