Harley

IV

*sorry if this sucks or s short. Major writers block*

You're too mean,

I don't like you,

fuck you anyway

You make me

wanna scream at

the top of

my lungs

It hurts but

I won't fight

you

You suck anyway

You make me

wanna die, 

Harry shivered as he heaved again, and Louis soothed Harry rubbing his back, and pulling his hair away from his face. Withdrawl had not been kind to Harry. Harry shivered again feeling the nag of more vomit, but he hadn't eaten anything yet. So he spat a final time into the toilet, and flushed watching what bile went down the drain. Harry pulled back wiping his mouth, and Louis immediately came to his aid to help him stand to his feet. Harry used the mouth wash, and a wet washcloth to help him clean up a bit, and then Louis led him to the bedroom. "Help me get this off," Harry whined lifting his shirt. Louis helped him, taking the sweaty shirt off him, and putting it in the hamper. "Please," Harry whined as he laid down. "Lay with me?"

"I'm going to make you some tea first," Louis said pushing his fingers through Harry's sweaty hair. "Is that okay?"

Harry nodded as he buried his face into the pillow, and Louis quickly went down stairs sighing. He knew withdraws would be hard for Harry, but he had no idea that it would be all hours of pain. "Hello, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Hello Rosita," Louis gave her a tight smile. "Can you make a cup of tea real quick?"

Rosita nodded smiling starting a pot of tea, and Louis sat at the island and laid his head down his eyes slipping shut. He can't remember a time he was this tired, tired was putting it lightly, he was exhausted. "Rough morning?"

"My morning, my night, my yesterday. I haven't properly slept since two weeks ago, after we fucked."

As if on cue Louis heard the familiar sound of feet thumping toward the bathroom, and then a door slamming against the wall. Then the wreching of Harry. "He doesn't even have anything to throw up."

"Go check on him, I'll bring this up to him when it's done."

Louis made the journey up the stairs toward the bathroom, and Louis' chest ached as he examines Harry's position. On his knees, both hands supporting himself (barely) on the bowl, and a drip of saliva dripping from his mouth. "You okay?" Louis asked.

"It hurts," Harry mumbled. "Everything hurts. I can't sleep. I've got chills. I can't stop puking."

"Pains of withdrawl."

***

Louis and Harry laid in bed, Harry shivering against Louis, but sweating through the sheets. His teeth chattering, but his forehead burning up. Louis spooned him tight, one hand rubbing Harry's arm, and the other raking through his sweaty hair. "Sir," Rosita poked her head in. "Ms. Edwards is here. Says it's an emergency to due with Penguins?"

"Tell her to handle-"

"Go," Harry mumbled. "I can mange a few hours."

"I can't leave-"