Doll (narry)

Chapter 11

Niall tosses and turns in the bed, until he can't take the pain in his stomach anymore and finally jumps out of the warm sheets to run to the bathroom. He somehow flicks on the lights and nearly shoves his head in the toilet so he can vomit. His throat burns and hot tears run down his face with every contraction of his stomach that pushes more of the vile liquid out of his body.

Ten minutes of loud coughing from the bathroom finally wakes Harry, and once he reaches out in the bed and notices Niall isn't next to him, he launches himself to the bathroom. He sees the blond boy leaning over the toilet, hot cheek pressed against the toilet seat and breathing loudly.

"Are you okay, my love?" Harry asks, kneeling down and holding Niall's face in his hands.

"No," Niall cries, "My head hurts and I can still taste the throw up."

Harry is pained at having to watch Niall cry, "Brush your teeth while I get you some painkillers." He kisses his forehead and reaches down for his small boyfriend.

He lifts him off the floor and quickly runs out of the bathroom to look for his travelling bag in the bed room. His vision is blurry from sleep, but he needs to find for his small black silk bag that held his small utilities like a hair comb and nail clipper. When he finally finds the bottle, Harry hurries to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He ungraciously trips when his foot gets caught onto the corner of the couch, making him yelp and bite his lip in pain.

He grabs the nearest wine glass, rinses it, and fills it with some water. Niall was just putting his toothbrush down when Harry comes back into view.

"Here, doll," Harry hands the pills first and then the water when Niall has tossed them into his mouth. "Do you feel a little bit better?"

Niall weakly nods, the tear streaks on his cheeks deceiving him. His head has never pounded this hard before and his throat still has an icky sensation and taste, but he tries his best to ignore it.

"Let me take you to bed," Harry says, picking up Niall by holding the small of his back and hooking his arms underneath his knees.

Slowly, he walks to their bed, where the white sheets are now covering the floor leaving the bed bare. Niall's arms are shadowing his eyes and Harry gently lays him on his side of the bed, making sure he is in a position where he won't choke if he were to throw up again.

"Go to sleep, love," Harry whispers in Niall's ear before he dozes off. Softly caressing his side and hip, waiting for him to slowly nod off. Niall sniffles and might have choked out a sob a few times more, letting Harry whisper in his ear until his eyes finally did close and his breathing stopped being irregular.

It's a little past one in the afternoon when Niall finally opens his eyes. His head still felt heavy, but it wasn't weighed down by the endless pounding he felt before. It feels more like he hasn't slept much even though he did sleep half the day away. He turns his body in the bed until he is met with a waiting face that he has seen so many times before.

"How's the head?" Harry's voice cracks, mindlessly letting his hand comb through Niall's blond hair.

"Better than earlier," he mumbles, rolling in the sheets and flipping his pillow to press his cheek against the cool side of it.

Harry kisses Niall on the forehead, then slips his hand under the sheets and lets it drift and touch across Niall's body. "I was worried about you," he sighs.

Niall mumbles something incoherent, sometimes staring at Harry, but then letting his eyes drift close and opening them up again.

"The first time I got drunk," Harry speaks suddenly, pulling Niall closer to him by his waist, "I was fifteen, my dad was on a business trip, and I forced our maid at the time to pick me up at some deserted party on the outskirts of town. I honestly don't even remember how I got there myself." The story is pointless, but he thought it could possibly make Niall feel better, or put him to sleep.