Harley

VIII

Truth is

everybody is

going to

hurt you:

you just

gotta find

the ones

worth suffering

for.

The pain hit him in waves, the nausea, the headache, and the itch took his body like a fire with a forest. He could barely get out of bed in the morning to open a window to cure his fever, and he could barely lift a bottled water to quench the dryness of his mouth. He sat on the floor by the door, lightly tapping at it as tears rolled down his cheeks, and the nag of bile pulled at his throat. "Please," he rasped as he weakly reached for the handle. "I need something."

Louis sat opposite side of the door, he listened to Harry's pleas, and he listened to his boy struggle to keep himself composed. He leaned his head on the door, tapping his fingers against his knee for every time Harry lazily knocked. "Louis," he heard the weak rasp. "Please."

Louis bit his lip pulling his knees closer to his chest resting his chin on them, he closed his eyes trying to ignore Harry's pleas, and it was harder than he could have ever imagined. "Lou, it hurts so bad," Harry whimpered. "I don't know if you can hear this, but it hurts. I need you to let me out."

Louis sighed squeezing his legs closer to him, and he shook his head "no" knowing Harry couldn't see him. Harry will start to feel better, and he will be back to normal in no time. That bartender was ashes now, so part of his anger toward him has diminished. "I can't," he whispered. "Haz, you can do this baby. You're stronger than the craving."

Harry's restless tapping stopped for a moment, and Louis' hand pause at his knee waiting for the next reps. "Please," he whimpered. "I need something just to take the edge off."

Louis finally moved, he pulled himself up to stand, and then stared at the door for a moment. Liam had told him not to coddle Harry during this, but how could he listen to his boy plea with him. Maybe if Louis just held him for a while then everything would be okay.

He opened the door, and the first thing he saw was the bucket near the bed nearly filled to the brim of bile. Next he saw Harry, pitiful looking at that, and all thoughts of keeping Harry close to him wiped his mind. "Up you get," Louis said, hooking his hands under Harry's arm. He reeked with sweat and vomit, and Louis had to will himself to not gag at the stench. "We're gonna get you washed up."

There was nothing sexual about seeing Harry naked this time, he couldn't stand so he sat in the bath barely acknowledging the world around him, and relaxing as Louis' hands washed over him. Scrubbing away the sin that he was bathed in for the last few months. Louis took his time, making sure to get Harry completely clean, and Louis gently began washing Harry's hair feeling the boy relax into his hands.

Louis helped Harry out of the bath, and wrapped a towel around him, and grabbed another to dry Harry's hair. He knew Harry hated using a hair dryer , he claimed that it dried out his hair and made it all crunchy and dry, so Louis began to massage the towel into Harry's hair. He ruffled it a little and wrung it out softly as Harry clang to the towel around his body. "Okay then," Louis hummed leaving Harry's hair damp, and then moved to dry Harry's body.

After Harry was dried and dressed Louis moved Harry back to the spare room, and laid him down on the bed. "Get some rest, love." Louis pressed a quick kiss to Harry's forehead then turned to look at the mess the usually clean boy has left.