𝟭𝗗 ⏯ 𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙁𝙞𝙘𝙨

Harry epilepsy

     The first thing Harry notices when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the headache behind them. It's not the migraine type where he can't stand to look at light and just makes him want to curl up into a ball; it's the type where a dull ache has settled deep into his skull, the pain intensifying when he moves his head too fast.

The second thing he notices is the quiet, teasing whisper coming from in front of him, and a gentle hand rests itself on his shoulder.

"Harreh," Niall, as he now recognises the voice as, drags out his name, the boy's hand shaking him lightly. "Time to wake uuuuupppp."

Harry groans, slitting one eye open to look at the blond in the dimly lit room. "What time s'it?" He asks, voice muffled by the pillows.

"Five am, we've got to be at the studio by six," Niall replies, still whispering on instinct from the early morning time.

Again, the curly hair boy groans, but opens both his eyes fully and begins to sit up. He knows from experience that being late to, anything really, but especially the studio does not go down well with management.

Rubbing his fists against his eyes to discard any leftover sleep, he clears his throat before speaking. "Okay, I'm gettin' up," he slurs sleepily.

Niall seems happy with that answer as he trots out of the room, energy unbelievably high for five on the morning. Harry has never really got his head around how the Irishman can be so perky and alive at such an ungodly hour. Liam's the same really, though not as chipper, whereas he himself is one of the slowpokes like Louis and Zayn.

Harry settles his feet flat onto the wood plank floor of his hotel room, the coldness of it sending an involuntary shiver up his legs and through his spine. He stands up, the headache immediately growing stronger as his vision swims slightly.

After holding onto the headboard for a good twenty seconds until he feels as though he's not going to topple over the second he tries to walk, he slowly makes his way to the ensuite connected to his room.

He finds it weird; yes, it is five o'clock in the morning and no one is really functioning properly at that time, apart from Niall, but he feels slower than usual, like his body and movements are delayed and disconnected from his foggy mind.

He ignores the pull of his nagging thought that something's not right, busying himself with taking a leak and brushing his teeth.

Splashing his face with water, he attempts to make himself feel more awake, only succeeding in reducing the droop of his sulky eyelids. He dries his face off with a towel, then walks out of the bathroom towards his overflowing suitcase sat on the floor beside his bed.

He settles on a pair of skinny jeans and a navy blue Jack Wills crewneck. As he's changing into the clothes, his arms feel tired and heavy, and he has to sit down to pull his jeans up, feeling too unsteady on his shaky legs.

It takes a comical amount of time to put on his Chelsea boots, hands lacking the strength to help his foot slip into the tight fit and fingers refusing to cooperate when he's doing up the zips.

By the time he's ready, phone and wallet packed safely into his jean pockets, Liam's rapping on his door and yelling at him to hurry up. 

Harry moves to the door as fast as his sluggish body will let him, muttering a quiet apology to the boy as he adjusts the bandana he'd swept his messy hair back with last minute.

Liam shakes his head as the two of them meet the other boys a bit further down the corridor. "No need to apologise, man. We might be a few minutes late but it's no biggie," he shrugs, patting Harry lightly on the shoulder.