Looking after Louis

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I'm avoiding him again. I guess it was supposed to be awkward, considering we were both straight not even two months ago, and we'd had sex. Not even drunk sex. Mated sex. Which was the best sex I'd ever had. It compared to nothing. I hated that I even thought about it. That I thought about it often.

The weirdest bit about it all was how Alphas avoided Louis for the first half of the week after I'd knot him.

He'd noticed it straight away. Like the one time he went down in the lift. He worried the whole way down and I had to wait at the bottom for him. To intervene if necessary, but the Alpha all but runs out, dodging me like the plague.

What was that about?

By the end of the week, it was back to normal. The gazes they gave him, but he barely noticed if it wasn't for my anger.

We hadn't sniffed for a whole week again. It was worse this time, because I couldn't see us going back. How could we? We'd been too intimate. He couldn't even look at me without blushing, leaving me remembering sex far too well, how good he'd looked after. I'd seen him at his most vulnerable, and so intimately.

I thought about him every day this week, trying to think of a way to sniff him again. Failing with each thought. I missed it. I was struggling. It was hurting my not having it.

This week we were in Norway, and it was quite cold. Louis decided it was in fact freezing, and had to wear a jumper all the time, and then sometimes even a coat. He hates being cold.

I wake up one morning to my phone ringing loudly, making me grunt as I slap for it.

"'Lo?" I manage, voice too deep from sleep.

"Hi, Harry," A female voice says. "Just to let you know, the gig has been cancelled tonight. You won't need to come to soundcheck."

I groan. Thank God. I'm tired.

"Okay," I reply. "Any reason why?"

She's typing away in the background, clicking at her mouse.

"Yeah," She replies. "Zayn rang earlier. Louis' really ill and-,"

I hang up straight away, sitting up sharply. Louis' ill? He's asleep. I can't sense anything. How ill is he?

Fuck. I'm already out of bed, dressing messily in whatever clothing is on the floor, leaving my hotel room barefoot to pace towards Louis' hotel room.

I knock loudly, needing to see him. Fuck. I just need to see he's okay, and then I can go.

The door opens to Zayn who looks surprised to see me, eyes dropping to my crumpled tshirt and skinny jeans.

"Oh, it's you," He says, eyeing my messy bed hair. "What's up?"

What do you mean what's up?! Where is he? Is he dying? Let me see him. Fuck.

"Is he okay?" I panic. "Management rang me to say our date had been cancelled and I'd been sleeping-,"

"Come in, he's asleep." Zayn replies and stands aside. Of course he's asleep. I can feel it, Zayn.

Getting in the room, I'm aware of the sleeping lump in the middle of the bed, duvet completely over him. It can only be him, especially with how small he is.

"Why is he sleeping under there?" I ask Zayn, confused.

"He said it made him feel warmer," Zayn responds. "To hide."

Falling to his Omega needs because he was that ill. I should've been here to look after him, to make him feel safe.

"How is he?" I have to ask because only he has seen him.

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