Chapter Text
It had been a brutal few weeks.
Liam had barely slept, constantly bouncing between studios in London and L.A., his schedule jam-packed with meetings, vocal sessions, and long, exhausting nights spent trying to meet Management’s ever-growing expectations.
The rest of the boys had noticed, of course, they had. Liam had been quieter lately, always with a coffee in hand, dark circles forming under his eyes, and that tell-tale fidgetiness that came when he was running on nothing but caffeine and sheer willpower.
"Mate, you need to slow down," Niall had said just two nights ago, lounging on the couch with a sandwich in hand as Liam paced the hotel suite, earbuds in and phone pressed to his ear.
Liam had waived him off, muttering about just needing to finish this last track. But the truth was, he hadn’t eaten properly in days, and sleep? A distant memory.
So it wasn't a surprise... not really when he crashed. They were halfway through a rehearsal when Liam suddenly froze mid-step, his face pale as a sheet.
He clutched his stomach, a pained expression flashing across his features, and then he staggered. Harry was at his side instantly; one arm wrapped securely around his waist.
"Whoa, whoa, Liam... hey," Harry said, lowering him gently to sit on the edge of the stage. "You alright, mate?"
"Just... stomach," Liam mumbled, eyes squeezed shut, and he was trembling slightly. "Think I'm gonna be sick."
“Alright, that’s it,” Zayn muttered, tossing his mic to the side and coming over. “We’re done for today.”
No one argued.
Liam didn’t even protest, telling them they were dealing with something serious. Louis and Niall disappeared to grab water, crackers, and a damp cloth while Zayn helped Harry get Liam up to the suite, one arm slung around his shoulders.
Liam was burning up by the time they got him tucked into the bed. He tried to argue, sit up, and say he just needed to power through it, but Harry simply placed a large hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down.
“You’re not doing anything but resting,” Harry said softly but firmly, brushing damp strands of hair from Liam’s forehead. “You’ve been running on fumes for weeks. We’ve got you now, yeah?”
Liam’s resistance melted under the weight of Harry’s concern. He gave a small nod, letting his eyes drift shut briefly before his face twisted with discomfort again.
“Stomach hurts,” he murmured, voice barely audible.
“I know, love,” Harry said, shifting the covers so he could slide in behind him. “C’mere.”
Harry guided Liam to rest against his chest with practiced ease, pulling him in gently but securely. Liam sighed shakily, the warmth and strength of Harry’s presence grounding him.
Harry’s arms wrapped around him, one hand resting lightly on Liam’s stomach, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along his side.
“There you go,” Harry whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Just breathe.”
Liam let out a quiet, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering closed again as the tension slowly started to melt from his body.
A moment later, Niall came in with a lukewarm cloth, which Zayn took to gently dab at Liam’s flushed face.
“Did he eat anything today?” Louis asked, concern etched on his face.
“Half a banana at breakfast,” Niall said grimly.
“No wonder he’s wrecked,” Zayn muttered. He climbed onto the bed, sitting beside Liam’s legs and rubbing his back gently, circularly.
Between Harry's slow strokes across his stomach and sides and Zayn's calming touch on his back, Liam drifted. He still felt awful, his stomach was a mess, and the fever was making his head swim, but the care of his boys wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, voice hoarse.
“You don’t have to thank us,” Harry said, slightly tightening his hold. “Just rest now.”