Chapter 40

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I've taken longer than usual to update, so this chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones.

Back to Bliss & Harry, she's been poorly. Let's see if she gets better.

I have absolutely no idea how artists handle their health issues whilst touring. For the purposes of this story only, Harry Styles Live On Tour has a list of doctors to contact

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Forty

S...

........ath

S..ath...

Sath? Really?

Was that all that I could come up with?

I was trying to say Sorry and bath. Meaning that I was, of course, sorry and that I was in desperate need of a bathroom.

But things weren't exactly working for me at the moment. They rather seemed to be stacked against me. There was also the fact that I had my hands firmly clasped against my mouth, just in case another wave of nausea decided to burst forth.

I was utterly and completely mortified. I was beyond mortified, I was dying of shame.

I had emptied the entire contents of my stomach over Harry's designer shoes. I found no comfort in the fact that since I had eaten very little today the damage wasn't as bad as it would have been at any other given time. There were no mitigating factors, there was even an audience.

I had humiliated myself above redemption, in front of an entire room full of people. The door to the scene of the crime, Harry's dressing room, was ajar, so the people in the hallway might also have gotten wind of my predicament.

"Sath? Is that a medicine's name, Bliss?" Lou asked, not unkindly.

"You 've finally gone and done it, Harold," Louis said in a mocking tone, "You've made the poor girl puke at the mere sight of you. I knew it was only a matter of time."

Niall just stood there staring, from me to the floor, to Harry, to Lou, to Louis, his mouth slightly agape.

"Jeesus, you're useless the lot of you," Harry said, reaching out to me.

I tried to back away, but my treacherous legs refused to cooperate. I was a smelly mess, not worthy of standing next to Harry, who had a heavenly scent around him. Yes, he had been granting interviews, hugging fans, mucking about with his friends and pirouetting in stage, but he was still extremely yummy.

Harry placed an arm around my shoulders, and gently nudge me in the direction of the bathroom, softly murmuring "it's all right, I've got you."

He sat me in the loo. I buried my entire face in my hands, I just could not face him. I could not even muster enough courage to look at his boots, knowing that they used to be so beautiful before I spoiled them.

Harry was busy at the sink, opening and closing the taps. Trying to clean his boots, no doubt.

I was wrong, he had been occupied at the sink for me. "Here," he said, still gently "I just dampened this face cloth for you, try cleaning your face with it."

I took the proffered washcloth, of course, and attempted to wipe my mouth in a dainty and ladylike fashion, under Harry's concerned supervision.

"Here's what we'll do, Bliss." Harry said in a very patient voice, "I'll give you a tiny sip of water, and a bit of Emetrol, and then we'll wait and see if your tummy can handle that."

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