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Three days before the first show of the X Factor tour and Harry had tonsillitis, again. Louis sighed at the young boy lying next to him and was still forever grateful that he himself had his removed when he was just eleven; because he had to skip the almost whole of Year 5 and the majority of Year 6 because of this infection, his mother had argued and argued with the doctor for a year and a half before Louis’ torment was over.
Harry, on the other hand...
This was the third time this year and they had only just entered April. The other times weren’t as bad because they were only doing photo shoots and Harry didn’t have to talk, or more to the point sing, and the makeup could fix his pale face and photoshop could do the same with his sometimes bloodshot eyes. That didn’t change the fact that all Harry wanted to do was lay in bed and mope, however. It was hard enough waking Harry up on the best of days to go to shoots or vocal practice or meetings or interviews, let alone when he was ill.
Harry had made Louis climb into the same bed as him that night, not being able to sleep otherwise because of the slow ache in his throat and being away from home. Even though he and Louis had moved into an apartment around three months ago, Harry still got homesick and missed Anne, his mother, a lot. They had only moved in together because London was closer to everything that they needed; Niall, Liam and Zayn had their own apartments only blocks away and Harry could have gotten his own place if he wished but Louis had insisted that Harry shared an apartment with him, as he was the eldest member of the band and Harry was the youngest. Harry also secretly didn’t want to be alone, knowing exactly what would happen if he was.
“Lo..u..” Harry croaked out, breaking Louis’ train of thought as he watched the young boy stir, not being able to say more because of the fire in his throat.
“Shh,” Louis consoled him. “Don’t try and speak. Three days is enough to make this go away.” That was a lie and Louis knew it; Harry needed a week at least to get over things like this. He was horrible at getting over things and excellent at catching them, which wasn’t really the best situation for the ‘lead singer’ of One Direction. Harry shook his head and buried himself into his pillow, whining in pain and then grunting in frustration at whining; both of which just hurt his throat more.
Louis reluctantly pulled himself up and out of bed, walking through to the kitchen to put the kettle on and make himself a cup of tea and pour Harry a glass of milk. Louis knew it was the only thing he’d drink, for Harry hated water, and Louis knew trying to get him to drink a Lemsip would be impossible. He felt sorry for the youngest boy, because he knew exactly how it felt to be laid in a bed not being able to speak, eat or drink, and he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, let alone his best friend.
Louis could feel the heat radiating off of Harry as he walked back into the room with the two cups in hand; he hadn’t noticed it before because he’d shared a room – and a bed – with the younger lad and so must’ve gotten used to the temperature. Feeling Harry’s forehead, he came to the conclusion that Harry must’ve picked something up somewhere, again, and developed a fever along with the tonsillitis. Louis had experienced this once or twice in his five years of the torturous returning infection (he couldn’t remember the first six – he was able to block it from his memory) and knew how horrible it felt. It also meant that Harry had most likely caught the spring flu that'd been going around, which only meant that it’d take longer for Harry to get over. It took Fizzy three weeks this time last year – the Tomlinson family were prone to getting tonsillitis. Louis joked that it was just more reason for Harry to become one of them.
Louis curled back up into Harry’s bed and wrapped his arms around the boy in an attempt to comfort him. Harry snuggled into Louis instinctively and it was only then when Louis realized how bad Harry had got it; he pressed two fingers to Harry's neck and could feel his pulse thumping through the swollen glands in his throat. They were larger than anything Harry had had before and also larger than Louis could remember of his own, though he tried to push it from his mind more often than not so his memory could be a bit twisted.
“Thank… you,” Harry croaked out as Louis passed him the glass of milk. Harry cracked his green eyes open for the first time since actually waking up and they were glistening with thick wetness; from tears or from tiredness Louis couldn’t tell. He was about to reply with ‘shhh, don’t speak Haz, I know it hurts a lot’ when Harry took in a dry breath and started to cough a hacking cough which would probably send Louis into panic if he had not seen this play out before, which he had when Fizzy had caught the same thing last year. Louis was sure it was the same; he could already see the parallels easily.
First to third day - hacking cough, stupidly high temperature, inflamed tonsils.
Fourth to seventh day - hacking cough, snivelly nose, reasonably high temperature, aching back, inflamed tonsils.
Seventh day onwards for about a week and a half - little higher temperature than normal, hacking cough, sneezing fits all over the place, inflamed tonsils and “generally feeling like shit all the fucking time” in the words of Felicity Tomlinson. Fizzy still had a little bit of the cough on bad days, which would return in full force whenever she got sick.
“Harry,” Louis consoled him, rubbing circles into his back. “Shh, it’s okay...”
Louis didn’t get a reply and he didn’t expect to; as Harry finally stopped coughing he slumped back into his earlier position on his bed, and it was only then that it occurred to Louis that he could probably catch what Harry had, even though he had no tonsils.
He didn’t care.
They laid together for half an hour more when Louis decided to get up and have a shower, though had no idea what to do afterwards. He let the hot water flow over his back and wondered whether he should ring Anne because Harry looked really sick, but decided against it, not wanting to worry her – for she worried too much already. Louis got out of the shower and went into his own room, slipping on a pair of old chinos, a vest and a long sleeved fleece for it was cold for an April morning, and wandered back to Harry. He was sat up in bed and looked flushed, though was shivering with the blanket wrapped around him as much as possible.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Louis suggested, the idea being cliché but he couldn’t come up with anything else. Harry nodded his head and swung his legs out of the covers and shivered in the cool air that smacked his bare skin, a wave of vertigo washing over him making him stumble and grasp the edge of the bed to keep his balance. Louis rushed forward to aid the boy and Harry leant the majority of his weight on the Doncaster boy’s arm and they made their way through to the spacious living room of their shared apartment with Harry’s duvet in tow.
“Bambi,” Harry choked out, smiling a little. Louis remembers that interview like it was yesterday; they’d done the whole ‘first date’ thing over and over because it was cute, and a good time for the both of them.
Louis dug Bambi out of the bottom of the DVD drawer as Harry grabbed the remote for the TV and the DVD player, making himself comfortable by creating a blanket worm out of his covers.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Louis pouted at Harry and plonked down in the sofa as far as way from Harry as he could, trying not to let his smile break through his lips. Harry whined and pouted back, opening up the blanket worm and shivering, gesturing for Louis to come and snuggle with him while watching the movie. Louis grinned, bounding over to Harry in two strides and threw himself down next to him. Harry muffled a groan and wrapped his arms around Louis, and Louis pulled the blanket over them both, knowing that he’d get too hot lying on the sofa with Harry’s body heat as well as his own and the duvet, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He knew that Harry usually slept through films anyway and in this state it was almost inevitable that he would end up snoring lightly against Louis before the half-way point of the movie. Harry was about to rest his head on Louis' tattooed chest before stiffening up and pulling back.
“Lou... I’m gonna-” Harry coughed and Louis tried to shush him but Harry shook his head, “I’m gonna get you sick,” Louis could barely hear him but knew exactly what he was scared of; even in sickness his eyes were full of concern and was always thinking about others. Louis loved that in Harry.
“I don’t care,” Louis replied honestly, looking into Harry’s eyes and his smile was small but caring. “You’re sick and have to be looked after and if that means I get sick then so be it. We do live together after all.”
“But-”
“No buts, now shush and watch the movie,” Louis smiled and Harry sighed in defeat, going against his better judgement and snuggling up to Louis, using his covers to keep the coldness of the room-temperature outside world out of his personal blanket fort.
As Louis expected, Harry was out cold within twenty minutes, and Louis was easily able to slip out of the white fluffy worm that was Harry’s duvet and wrapped Harry back up in his absence. He walked through into the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich even though it had only just turned eleven, and opened up his laptop.
Quickly tweeting “Thought I’d be cute and watch Bambi with Haz, but he’s asleep already. He’s sick tho, so I can’t really blame him much! x”, a flood of mentions come through, all saying the same “get well soon Harry!” and “is he okay?:(”. Louis replied to one girl and explained that he had a fever quite alike to Fizzy’s a year ago and he’d be fine soon, and as soon as it was sent his phone rang. He checked the caller ID; the name “Mother dearest” flashed up (she’d put that in herself) and he hit accept.
Hi mum, Louis smiled.
Hey Louis, you alright?
Yeah thanks, just Harry's sick, remember what Fizzy had?
Yeah, I saw, that's why I was calling. What's he like?
Tonsillitis, Louis heard his mum sigh in frustration, but he’s tired as well, coughing, he can’t talk; he’s got a pretty bad fever and is currently crashed on the sofa in a duvet-worm.
Sounds pretty similar to Fizzy’s thing if I’m honest.
I told you that, Jay laughed softly at Louis’ immature ‘I told you so’.
What are you gonna do about the tour? It took her like three weeks to get over it…
I know mum, I need to talk to Simon or something to see what happens in these types of situations.
They’ll just have to reschedule a couple of shows, it’s no big deal.
I know. Louis said nothing more and his mum didn’t either.
You sure you’re alright?
Yeah, I’m just worried about Harry.
He’ll be better soon. I’m sure he will sweetie.
Louis turned to the door of the kitchen with a tired and sick-looking Harry stood, leaning against the frame for support.
I would say you could talk to him as he’s now stood in the door, but I’m sure that wouldn’t end well, Louis laughed.
Tell him to text me, if he’s up to it, Jay’s kindness shone through her words.
Will do, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later, bye! I love you and the girls, Louis smiled in remembrance of his sisters.
We love you too Louis, talk soon, Jay hung up and Louis turned his full attention to Harry.
“Mum wants you to text her, if you’re up for it,” Louis said as Harry walked towards him. Harry nodded, opening up his arms for a hug. Louis wrapped his strong arms around Harry’s neck and Harry buried himself into the older boy.
“You left me,” Harry murmured, trying to get his words out better but they fell short, barely able to reach Louis’ ears. He mumbled I’m sorry back and they just stood there for another minute before Louis pulled away and Harry moaned in discomfort. Louis spoke again.
“Come on Haz, you’re sick,” Louis guided Harry back into the living room, where Bambi was still playing away to itself in the background. Harry didn’t protest and almost collapsed back down into the sofa, pulling the duvet up around him as if he was freezing. Louis sighed, hating seeing Harry in this way; he missed Harry’s adorable, bouncy and lively self already.
“Lou...” Harry mumbled, “idunfegood.”
“You don’t feel good?” Louis asked, deciphering Harry’s mashed up words. Harry nodded. “I’ll see what we’ve got in the bathroom and I’ll ask mum what Fizzy had, yeah? I can go get some stuff if need be.” Harry nodded for a second time and Louis kissed his sweaty forehead, pressing his head against Harry’s temple for a second and walking out of the front room and into the bathroom.
He opened the cupboard behind the mirror and emptied out all of the medicines, ranging from normal paracetamol to some tube of antibiotics that Louis never actually used for his leg rash a couple of months ago, to the throat soothers and tonsillitis pills for Harry. He sighed, noting that they were running low on everything and even though he didn’t want to leave Harry in this state, he had to stock up for the both of them. There was always a chance that Harry could get worse (though he hoped against it) and wanted to be fully prepared for anything.
What was he thinking? Louis was never organised. He laughed quietly at his own responsibility and went to tell Harry he was going out and wouldn’t be too long, but didn’t get a response for he was passed out on the couch in the same position Louis had left him in.
Louis left a quickly-scribbled note on the end of the sofa just in case Harry woke up and panicked and headed out, shoving Harry’s grey hoodie on, lifting the hood up and hoping it would be a decent enough cover up to stop him from getting mobbed.
Thankfully, it was.
He returned home in the hour and Harry was still wrapped up in his blankets, the TV on a blue screen of the turned off DVD player and the low hum of the speakers being on but nothing playing, Harry’s broken breathing fluxuating between deep and shallow and the occasional rumble of the fridge being the only sounds in the apartment. Louis still didn’t know why it did that.
He tried to keep quiet as he stocked up the bathroom and cleaned up a few things, before settling next to Harry’s body. Harry kept the blanket wrapped around him but sleepily untangled his arms and slung them around Louis, and Louis did the same with his own and changed the TV channel from the sofa.
They both knew it would be a long couple of weeks of Harry getting back on his feet, but they were looking forward to spending the time together, even though Harry wasn’t all it. Louis smiled to himself and held Harry tighter, enjoying the mother-hen figure for now.