Mess

03.

Louis threw up when they arrived home.

Right when he walked through the door, and was inside their lovely home, he felt something in his stomach. He was lucky he was right on time in the bathroom, or else he would've thrown up on the living room floor.

It was definitely because of his anxiety, but no matter what reason he told Harry, he was still worried and put Louis to bed instantly. He kept trying to tell Harry that he wasn't sick, but Harry wouldn't believe him.

He just wanted to fucking die.

"Louis, you're sick, and you're staying in bed," Harry sternly said, giving him a bowl of warm chicken soup. He put his hand on Louis' forehead with a smile, and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. "I love you, baby. So much. I just want you to be healthy."

"Harry, I'm not sick!" Louis groaned, but he was interrupted by a big spoon of soup in his mouth. "Hmpf-"

"Why can't you just admit it?" Harry asked, frowning at the exhaustion he could literally see radiating from Louis' body. "I know you were crying earlier today because you felt sick. You always do that."

Louis wanted to disagree with him on that one, but he just stayed quiet. Yes, it was true he cried sometimes when he was sick, but it wasn't like that this time. The reason he cried was more depressing than Harry thought, and he didn't want his boyfriend to know about it. He was glad he threw up, because now he didn't need to tell him the real reason why.

He didn't like the thought of Harry worrying about him all the time. So what if he felt like he wanted to kill himself all the time? It wasn't that bad, right?

"I love babying you like this," Harry whispered, kissing him on the corner of his mouth where there was a bit of soup. "You look cute when you're grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," Louis grumbled, "I'm not sick either."

Harry just looked at him with a sad smile, shook his head fondly, and kissed him before running downstairs to clean everything up in the kitchen.