Sick On Tour

ch.2| too many questions

When Harry next awoke, it was still dark out, not even the birds outside had begun chirping yet.

It was when he turned over to try and fall back asleep that his gut let out a god awful whine, leaving him squeezing his eyes shut as his hands cradled his stomach.

So, he still felt sick, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could go without nearly bursting into tears.

When he realised just how hot he was feeling, he quickly pulled his shirt over his head, kicking his blankets off of his body. The chill of the room was there for barley a moment before his temperature overtook it all.

"For fuck sake." He mumbled to himself, hands pressing into his eyelids as he swallowed thickly.

Again, his stomach churned and swirled, and the feeling to throw up was becoming prominent.

Only, Harry hated throwing up — absolutely despised it.

So when his stomach gave a sudden lurch that left him needing to gag, he stayed in bed, telling himself it would go away if he ignored it.

It was stupid of him really, and only made him feel worse when the feeling returned. He could taste the sourness that was bile rising in his throat, and he swallowed another time wanting to get rid off it.

Though, Harry was sent rushing to his feet when a gag managed to push its way past his lips. He held a hand to his mouth and muffled a gag behind his fingers.

His limbs felt heavy and knocked almost carelessly against the confined space of the tour bus. He could only hope it didn't awake the other four boys.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, he only had to kneel, knees dropping to the floor heavily, and already his chin was hovering over the porcelain bowl.

Letting out a wet cough, he cringed at what he was feeling; body damp with sweat, stomach forcing up his last meal and head spinning with each breath.

His hands clasped at either side of the toilet, knuckles turning white due to his tight grip. His chest rose fast as his breaths quickened with each anticipating moment.

It was only seconds later that his stomach muscles cramped painfully and he was soon retching.

His body shook with each heave, one of his hands moving to clutch his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

Harry could feel how fast his heart was beating, and could feel the vast expanding of his lungs under his palm. He coughed again, spitting into the liquid in front of him.

"Harry, are you throwing up in there?"

Shit, Harry thought, he'd forgotten Liam was a light sleeper, and the sound of his rather loud gagging and vomiting had obviously woken him up.

"Yeah, I feel better now, it's okay."

There was no point in lying to Liam, he'd most certainly heard and if he wasn't already telling Louis then he definitely would be in the morning.

Before Harry could wonder if Liam had gone back to bed, the bathroom door was opening, Liam — still looking asleep — standing in the doorway.

"Oh, mate, you look awful." Liam frowned in concern.

"Wow, thanks Li." Harry joked, cracking a smile before he was sent into another coughing fit. He leant over the toilet bowl in fear his stomach had decided it wasn't done.

"No, seriously... have you been feeling ill for long?" He stepped closer towards Harry, reaching out a hand to feel for his temperature.

"Had a bit of a headache." Harry told him, hand subconsciously brushing against his stomach again.