Chapter 21.

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"Happiness feels a lot like sorrow."

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Sometimes, as strong as people are as powerful they are, they are human and no matter how hard you try that is one thing you can't change. My mind believes that Harry thinks that because he is a gang leader that he is more than a human, but when it comes down to it, he knew that there was no way he would be able to walk away with no worries from the obvious bother that was his state of illness.

I knew he wouldn't last, there was no way he would be able to. As sick as he was, he couldn't battle it by himself, but I give him credit for how long he went before admitting it. After I went to my room there was no signs of him, I didn't even hear him come upstairs before I fell asleep. But he gave up, he knew that he just wasn't capable of keeping it to himself.

In the early hours of the morning he barged into my room, with red cheeks and a sweat covered body. His grey sweatpants refusing to stay up on his hips as he walked, while sniffles and coughs had filled his mouth and nose. He looked like a big mess, his eyes had been watering from so much coughing and his nose had constantly been running. For a brief moment, I had some sympathy towards him for his illness, but then I remembered who it was that was sick.

After telling him to go back into his room to sleep, he protested. He didn't want me in there and he knew that for me to help him I had to be checking on him constantly. That had ended him up on the largest couch downstairs, the television on low and the heat being raised to accommodate his state of sickness. Usually if he was up at such and early hour he would be grumpy and completely un-responsive, but now that he was sick, he was too weak to even fight my antics. Thank god.

If his regular rude personality had made an appearance while he was sick, I don't think I would be able to control my anger around him. I was still furious at him for the incident on the weekend, but it was unfair to tantalize him about it while he was fighting a cold. I had remembered that he had once told me I give him many headaches, maybe after he was done with being sick I would scream at him for his behavior towards me, but he will probably take the approach he does every-time I talk out which is to control me.

I had just walked into the kitchen, I took a quick glance at the clock to see it read 9:38, we had been up for four hours. It felt like eternity since he had ran into my room, but that's always how it is when Harry is house. There was really nothing to do, I cleaned the kitchen already and the laundry was already in the machines, for once I had nothing to do but I was most certainly not going to tell Harry that. Almost as if it was timed, I heard a loud cough followed by a weak call of my name.

"Arabella" Harry coughed out from the living room. My body numbly made its way over to him as his large body was sprawled out on the couch. It was actually funny to see, his tall frame scrunched onto the couch as his muscles were fighting for room in the small space to lay. I bit my lip and walked towards his body. He turned his head to look at me as his arms wiped his eyes. "Ara, I'm hungry, but my stomach still hurts. What do I do?" he asked as his lips settled into a small pout.

"Well, I was going to cook you some homemade chicken soup for lunch. Do you want to just wait until then or are you really hungry?" I asked hoping he would wait until lunchtime considering I had just cleaned the kitchen and really didn't feel like doing it again considering it is the top things of my list of chores that I hated doing. His eyebrows furrowed and his head shook.

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