𝟭𝗗 ⏯ 𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙁𝙞𝙘𝙨

Niall faking sick

     Niall spent all of last night wide awake. Blame it on over tiredness but now he's definitely feeling the affects of pulling an all nighter, even if it was unintentional.

The band had at least five interviews booked today, possibly more (he can never remember their schedule), and he's absolutely exhausted. He does not want to go, at all.

A stray idea of possibly pulling a sickie pops into his head, but he's quick to dismiss it. All of them are tired but no one's stooped so low to fake sick.

But. . . how else would he get out of doing these interviews?

Fuck it.

It's decided, he's faking sick. He's got some experience from when he was a kid and was trying to avoid an exam; his older Greg had taught him a few tricks as well.

He quickly snags an extra blanket from the end of the bed, pulling it over him and tucking it up to his chin. It's lucky they weren't on the bus or in a hotel and were in their shared house, or this would be a lot harder for him to pull off.

Peering at the time on his phone, he sees it's 06:26 am, and that in only four minutes Liam will be coming to wake him up and tell him to get ready.

He digs his head under the pillow, breathing heavily to make himself appear feverish and hopefully feel it too if anyone was to place a hand on his forehead.

His plan is to simply complain of a headache and upset stomach, say he's had it all night, maybe play out some extra exhaustion and, if necessary, act out some sort of vomit act later.

He doesn't really want it to reach that point; pulling a convincing throw up scheme is pretty hard; but whatever it takes to get a day off he supposes.

Just as he thought, Liam knocks on his door moments later before walking straight in.

     "Wake up, Ni Ni," Liam calls out quietly as he steps into the room and moves towards the bundle of blankets on the bed.

He gets no response and sits on the edge of the bed, gently shaking what he assumes is the blond's shoulder.

"Niall, it's time to get up."

This time he does get some acknowledgement, though it's not the usual form of easy agreement and a toothy, Irish grin. Niall groans deeply, though it's slightly muffled by the pillow shoved over his head, and mumbles something that Liam can barely catch.

"Don' feel well, Li."

Liam sighs, though he's secretly praising the lord because this means that they'll have the day off. Yes, Niall is nineteen and very capable of looking after himself when he's sick, but management doesn't have to know that.

"What feels bad, Ni?" Liam asks, hand rubbing down the boy's arm soothingly.

Niall whimpers, lifting his face above the duvet.

Liam winces at how uncomfortable he looks; pink cheeks and tired eyes squinting at the light.

"My belly and my head hurt," Niall whimpers in response to Liam's question.

Liam nods sympathetically as he reaches a hand over towards Niall's forehead to feel for a fever.

"You're a bit warm, Buddy," Liam says. Although he's happy that they're going to get a day off, he's sad that Niall's unwell.

"I'll go get some medicine and a thermometer. Stay here, you're not going anywhere today," Liam decides, leaving the room to do just that.

     Shit.

Niall has not planned this out.

He can fake a fever on the outside, but with a thermometer stuck under his tongue reading his internal temperature? Not so much.