Have I forgotten how to love; remind me once again

Chapter Thirty-Three

A/N This work will have thirty-four chapters, so we're almost done by now - which is good because I leave tomorrow for three months. 

It's a familiar but unwelcome worry that wakes Louis up, but it's eased a bit when he finds Harry sleeping calmly against his chest. Then he's reminded of the fact that's it's probably an effect of the morphine, not a sign of health, and his worry returns.

He stays still though, attempting to remain in this moment as long as possible, sucking up the peace of it all because Louis knows he isn't guaranteed another moment like this. Morphine or not.

Of course, luck seems to have run out by now, and it isn't long before Harry is shuffling against Louis' body, small noises Louis can't quite identify accompanying the motion, until Harry is looking up at him with groggy eyes.

"I feel sick", he groans, attempting to sit up in the bed but only when Louis reluctantly helps him up is the attempt successful. "I'll call a nurse here for something against the nausea," he offers and Harry nods feverishly. "Please", he croaks, looking almost green in the face.

Hurriedly, Louis rolls off the side of the bed - rather clumsily due to his sleepy state and the fact that the bed has a railing to prevent people from rolling off. Mostly due to the latter.

He succeeds though, rushing to the hallway and grabbing the first hospital personnel he sees, dragging a young medical student back to the room. Only when they reach the room does Louis let go and the man kindly informs him that he isn't allowed to issue medication, but that he will find someone who can in a second.

"Hurry", Louis simply says, his focus returned to Harry who is crouched over in the bed, breathing heavily. "Love? It'll just be a minute". The response is a heaving from Harry and then he's throwing up over himself and the bed, halfway attempting to do it over the side instead, but failing miserably due to lack of coordination.

Rushing to his side, Louis is about to call out for help when a doctor enters, instantly rushing to aid. Louis has seen him before but can't quite place him, and honestly, he doesn't give a fuck. "Help him", he pleads, not sure what to do, so he ends up just holding Harry's hand as the boy throws up again and again.

Instead of the pills, a syringe is pulled out from the corner cabinet, and the doctor explains. "I cannot give you pills against nausea when you're throwing up, so I have to inject it directly into your bloodstream". Harry just nods miserably between heaving and attempting to catch his breath.

The good thing about the injection is how quickly it works and within five minutes Harry can fall back onto the pillows, a sheer layer of sweat decorating his forehead. Louis grabs a paper towel from the bathroom and dabs him dry, but Harry doesn't even open his eyes, cheeks flaming red.

The doctor leaves, assuring them that there will be someone to help clean up in a second, and Louis sits back in his chair, reaching for Harry's hand as he usually does, but Harry moves away, instead covering his face.

Louis isn't surprised when the next words out of Harry's mouth is an apology. "I'm sorry", the boy whispers, and Louis can't phantom why Harry finds it necessary to utter those words, yet he still hums out a comforting reply, "Love, there's nothing to be sorry for", he says, removing Harry's hand gently from his face and holding on to it so he can keep looking his boy in the eyes. It hurts to see the sorrow there, especially when it's joined by guilt with his next words. "I don't want to be a burden", Harry says, the pain clear even though his voice is barely audible.

"Harry", Louis breathes, "You'll never be a burden, ever. If anything, I'm the burden in this relationship - you've been cooking for me ever since we got together, and let's be honest, me cutting vegetables is not that much help", Louis tries, and he's glad to see a smile on Harry's lips, even though it is laced with sadness.