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Harry launched himself onto the bed happily, bouncing slightly with his landing. “Do you want me to make you some pancakes?” he asked, shaking the still-asleep Louis’ arm.
“Ugh,” Louis said in response, turning his head into the pillow.
“Is that an ‘I’m tired’ ugh or an ‘I don’t want any pancakes’ ugh?”
“Not now, Harry,” Louis moaned into the pillow, swatting Harry’s hand away.
“Are you sick?” Harry asked, trying to lean so he could see Louis’ face.
“Please stop talking,” Louis said, trying to pull the blankets over his head.
“I’m guessing headache,” Harry said. “Do you want some Tylenol?”
“Yes,” Louis said quietly. “And turn off the light.”
Harry jumped up, flicking the light off on his way to the bathroom. He’d never seen Louis have a headache or even get sick- he was always just Louis, running around and being silly.
“Tylenol or Motrin?” Harry yelled back to the bedroom, peering into the cabinet.
“Stop yelling,” Louis groaned, barely audible.
Harry grabbed the Tylenol, since that was the more standard of the two medicines, and then he went to get a drink for Louis.
When he got back to the bedroom, Louis was hunched into a strange position, arms folded over his head and his butt sticking up in the air under the sheets.
“What are you doing, Lou?”
“I don’t know,” Louis said. “I couldn’t get comfortable, and it’s just too hot.”
“Do you think you have a fever?” Harry asked, setting the medicine and water down beside him. “I can get a thermometer.”
“Would it matter? The Tylenol will bring it down if I do.”
Louis snatched the medicine and quickly got out two tablets, swallowing them before slumping back onto the bed, throwing one of his arms across the bed over the sheets.
“Do you want me to get a fan?” Harry asked.
“I’m fine,” Louis said.
“Obviously not.”
“Are you going to act like this every time I have a headache?”
“It’s just so weird,” Harry said, sitting on the bed beside him. “You’re never sick.”
“Once in a blue moon,” Louis said.
Harry reached out to brush Louis’ hair back, and ended up absent mindedly stroking his cheek. “Do you want anything at all?”
“Can I have a popsicle?” Louis asked, his eyes still closed tightly.
“We don’t have any popsicles,” Harry said.
“Of course not,” Louis said. “Get your hand off, it’s too hot.”
Harry pulled his hand back, frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Louis said, rolling his face back into the pillow. “Just give me two hours in the dark and I’ll be back to normal.”
“If you say so,” Harry said, standing up. He leaned down to place a kiss at the back of Louis’ neck. “Feel better.”
Louis’ hand made a half-hearted wave and Harry left, closing the door to keep out any light and noise.
He didn’t like Louis feeling bad. It was awful. The boy became cranky and rather depressing. Harry got sick sometimes- colds, headaches…but it was often enough that Louis knew to just leave him on the couch with a bottle of water until he felt better. Harry didn’t know how Louis wanted to be treated when he felt bad.
It seemed like he was the ‘leave me to wallow in my pain’ type, but it was possible that he actually wanted attention and just didn’t want to show it.
Harry decided to leave Louis be, and hoped desperately that Louis wouldn’t get sick ever again. That was ridiculous, of course. And Harry knew that it wasn’t just because he felt lost or inadequate, but also because he loved Louis too much to see him hurting.