Chapter Sixteen

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I woke up and it was still dark out. I closed my eyes, hoping to fall back asleep, but I felt too hot, so I kicked off the blanket, then I felt too cold. I whined quietly, then stopped moving altogether when I felt my stomach start to churn.

Not tonight, I pleaded with myself, but stood up anyways. I pushed my hand to my mouth and was grateful that Louis had a bathroom connected to his room. I was barely able to make it to the toilet before I threw up.

As I heaved, tears fell down my face. I hated being sick. Absolutely hated it. I always acted childish and whiny. I knew I should have convinced Louis to take me to my house instead of coming here.

“Here,” Louis said, crouching down besides me to hand me a cup of water. He started rubbing my back softly while I spit out the water. When I was sure I wasn’t going to throw up on him, I fell back into him. “Poor Hazza,” he whispered, kissing my head.

“I hate being sick,” I mumbled, shivering against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis whispered in his tired tone. “Everyone gets sick.”

I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling a bubble forming in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was a burp or another round of vomiting, and the ladder soon won out. I pulled away from Louis and was back over the bowl. Louis rubbed my back and kissed my head. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he cooed softly.

When I finished, he helped me stand up and go back to the bedroom. He disappeared for a few minutes and I whimpered to myself, pulling the blanket around myself tightly. I shivered and took in a deep breath, hoping to calm down.

Louis came back with a small trash can that he put besides me, then he crawled into bed behind me and kissed my shoulder. “I hope you get feeling better soon, baby,” he whispered.

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” I mumbled sleepily. “You don’t need to get sick either.”

“Well, if I do, we can be sickie buddies, how’s that?” I chuckled, shaking my head softly. “It’s fine if I get sick, Harry. I’d rather have you around and get sick than be alone over the weekend.”

I nodded, my eyes getting heavy. “Thank you, Boobear.”

“Of course, Hazza.”

All night and well into the next day I couldn’t stop throwing up. Louis kept me in bed and babied me more than usual. He made me a light breakfast and we watched stupid movies to make me laugh and smile. Sometime in the afternoon I had noticed that I hadn’t thrown up in a while, but I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it.

Louis was dragging his fingertips over my sides lightly while he laid behind me. “How are you feeling?”

“Gross still,” I answered honestly. “I think I’m done throwing up, though.”

He kissed the back of my neck. “Good. Throwing up is one of the worst parts about being sick.”

“Agreed.”

By the end of the day I was feeling much better. I didn't tell Louis and used it as an excuse just to cuddle all night. Not that he wouldn't cuddle me if I was feeling better, but I was allowed to be so much more clingy than normal.

Louis kissed my head. “I don't want to take you home tomorrow,” he whispered.

“I don't wanna go,” I whispered back.

“Well, I'll just keep you here then.” I grinned and adjusted how I was laying so my head was on his chest. “I think it would be fun to keep you here.”

“I'd like it, so I don't know if it would be considered kidnapping. That's a bonus if it's not.”

Louis chuckled. “I don't think it is.”

“Score,” I cheered. He rolled his eyes and kissed my head before calling me a dork

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