Larry One Shots

The Only One

LOUIS' POV

I woke up, groaning as I felt movements beside me. Harry wiggled, well more like ripped himself out of my arms (of what I could feel).

I closed my eyes again, not wanting to get up, but the cold that hit me when Harry left the bed made it impossible to fall asleep again.

Pressing the button of my phone so it would light up I read 2:34 a.m.

Okay, now I was worried.

Why would Harry get up at 2:34?

Suddenly I heard our bathroom door smash and scrambled out of bed immediately, tripping and nearly falling over the blanket Harry had kicked out.

"Haz?! Are you okay?" I shouted towards the bathroom, making my way there with quick steps.

I then heard something splutter into the toilet and scrunched my nose up but went into the room anyways.

Growing up with so many younger siblings kind of made it impossible to not see anyone throwing up ever. (That didn't make it any less disgusting though).

I opened the bathroom door dropping to the floor next to Harry, softly rubbing his back while he emptied his stomach.

His curls were sticking to his neck but I held them back from his face anyways, we don't wanna have those pretty curlies full with puke, do we?

Harry was sobbing lightly, making me scoot closer to comfort him.

When he was done (well for the moment) with throwing up, I quickly flushed the toilet, getting up to get him some water.

Ugh, it still smelled absolutely disgusting.

Harry had his knees pulled up to his chest, his head resting on his knees.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, handing him the water with a concerned smile.

"Thanks..you don't have t-" he started but his voice sounded raspy and it sure as hell was painful to talk right after throwing up so I shushed him.

"Don't talk babe" I said softly when he tried to protest. "C'mon we'll get you back to bed, I'll take a bucket with us so you don't have to get up if you feel like throwing up, okay baby?"

Harry nodded gratefully, letting me help him to his feet. He swayed slightly and I hardened my grip on him, afraid he'd fall. "Dizzy?" I asked and he nodded again.

I slowly helped him to bed and then tucked him in, adding an extra blanket. Then I left to the bathroom, earning a whine from Harry. I shot him a quick smile.

At the bathroom I grabbed a towel, a glass of water and a bucket and (with some troubles) carried it all back to our bedroom.

Harry was already asleep, curled up to a ball and looking pale. His forehead was sweaty and I immediately worried, touching it with the back of my hand to check his temperature.

And sure he was warmer than one was supposed to be. I removed one blanket so maybe he wasn't feeling like in the bloody gates of hell.

My poor baby.

I went back to bed nonetheless, carefully and not very tightly wrapping one arm around Harry's waist.

Every hour I woke up, checking Harry's temperature and (if needed) changed his blanket.

One time he was sweating and I had to take new blankets, the next time he was shivering so badly his teeth chattered.

To say I was worried was a huge understatement. My baby was ill, how else was I supposed to feel?