You Have Me-- HARRY STLYES

DYING

Ch.19

I think I'm dying. I really, think I'm going to die. The clock on the beside table reads 5AM in big taunting letters and numbers, and it's way too hot to be near another human body right now. So with a weak tug (because my arms feel like they've been sleeping for centuries) I manage to plop off a sleeping Harry and land softly next to him. Harry being Harry automatically reaches out trying to find me, but it's really, really hot, and Harry's a hardcore cuddler. So like before my pillow takes my place on Harry's chest. Chesty coughs are forcing their way up my esophagus and out of my mouth. They hurt everywhere, and I'm left gasping for air every time.

I feel stuffy and sweaty all over. It's so hot that being anywhere near a five inch radius of another person becomes too much. But obviously kicking the blankets off myself isn't enough, because as soon as the blankets hit the floor, I feel cold shivers run down my spine, making me curl up into a ball and whimper like a helpless chihuahua. My lungs hack out another set of coughs and I turn my face into my pillows to muffle the noises. I don't need Harry to wake up and freak out. I'm out of breath once the coughing stops and my throat feels like it's pushing out a damn baby.

I grunt and force myself to fall onto the floor. I stay on my hands and knees and crawl (literally) and make it halfway to the bathroom conjoined to the bedroom. I only make it halfway before I'm forced to stop by my spinning head. Even crawling is too much.

Fuck me.

All I smell is sweat. Sweat, sweat, SWEAT! I sniffle a bit through my stuffy nose and the smell only gets stronger. I finally make it to the bathroom and I'm able to pull myself off my knees by grasping the edge of the sink. I stand slowly, minding my head and take a look at myself in the mirror. And okay, I look horrible.

Fuck me.

Fuck me straight to hell.

I'm pale, like Halloween make up pale. The pink in my cheeks and nose pop out, and I've got chapped lips, and messy laughable hair that's stuck to my face and forehead from the sweat.
I'm a fucking mess. A gross and sick mess.

It takes me three times as long to shower and even longer to get dressed. But at least now I smell like strawberries and clean. I stumble while putting on my pants, and I end up tumbling over. My ankle hits the edge of the beside table while it's coming down, making a loud crash sound. The pain makes me groan and besides my cursing I can here ruffling on the bed. I clutch my ankle, pressing my hand where the bruise was forming.

"Beth?" Harry's voice is full of sleep and it's slower than usual. And okay, Harry now is not the time for you to sound so friggin cute. I breathe through the pain, ignoring Harry. My eyes stay closed until the pain subsides and becomes a slight twinge. There's a hand on my cheek now and someone's breathing near me and oh, it doesn't feel nice. "You're burning up." Well, yes. But I'm also fucking freezing.
I sit up with help from Harry's arms. I fall back and my back hits his chest. Harry just holds me, one hand on my face and other moving up and down my arm. The bags under my eyes feel like they're dragging my face down and my head is still spinning. Oh Christ, I think I'm dying. "Beth? How sick do you feel?" I don't even feel his hands as he prods them all over my body.

"M'fine." I reply and my voice sounds like I've smoked ten packs a day for the last year. I try to slap his hands away as he slaps. It's too hot when he touches me. And not in the sexy way.

"Oh, Baby, you're ill. Let's get you back to bed." But the last thing I really want to do is move.

"No," I mewl like a kitten. Just let me die. "I want to die on the floor."

"You are not going to die love. Come on," he tuts, "The bed would be loads more comfortable. I promise." I just groan in response and slowly crawl away from his hold. I walk on all fours reaching the edge of the bed. I grab the sheets trying to pull myself up, but I slip and topple off, landing with a loud groan. My life's the worse. "Baby, I can help you, if you want," I don't even have to look over to know that Harry's laughing amused at my antics.

Bastard.

And right now, all I want is for someone to wrap me up and hold me close and never let go. But I'll be damned if I let Harry get sick too. So, solemnly I suck it up and grasp the bed sheets again, this time successfully pulling myself onto the bed. I lie on my stomach (to lazy to flip) and groan weakly. The bed dips down from Harry sat down. He uses one hand to flip me over softly and I whine at the small movement that makes me dizzy. "I never get sick," and it's so true. I never get sick, I always pried myself on being a clean freak. And now? Well, being a clean freak did nothing, cause now I'm dying. "Oh god, Harry. This is it. I'm dying aren't I." I coughed and pressed my hand against my chest. This cough would be my cause of death.

"You are not dying. You're just sick. Should be better in a few days." He soothes moving my damp hair away from my face. I feel so sick that I doubt I'll be better in a few days. My mouth opened and before the first syllable could come out Louis stalked in dragging a tired Zayn behind him.

"Fuck, you're sick too?"

Too? What? Who else is dying?

"Who else is sick?" Harry asks. He's now perched by my shoulders and head. Louis sighs and goes to sit down next to Zayn.

"Liam. Said he feels like death." Louis rolled his eyes.

"Oh. I thought it was someone important." And wow, okay. I sense some hostility between Harry and

Liam. Louis rolls his baby blues again. Zayn just groans and flops back down.

"Stop being a prick Haz. He didn't know you'd get mad." Zayn has a point.

"You're still mad?" Harry just shifts uncomfortably and shrugs. I can tell he is mad though. He's got the sheets in a death grip and his shoulders have gone tense. "It wasn't a big deal Harry. We came back as soon as you asked." My voice cracks and a new set of coughs erupt. Oh god, I should not be talking.

"S'mine. Mine, mine, mine." Harry chants looking off into the distance. He's not really looking at anything or anyone. Louis and Zayn don't flinch, they don't even jump. They seem so used to this version of Harry that they seem completely normal. Meanwhile I'm laying here on my deathbed trying to not have a heart attack, because this side of Harry is kind of freaky.

"He knows Harry. He didn't mean to make you mad."

"Well, he fucking did." Harry shrugged and if I wasn't so weak I'd probably slap him. "Why are you guys here anyway?" He demands agitated. And well, alright. I find his hand and squeeze it. He just sighs and nods.

"Needed to get away from Liam's coughing and Niall complaining. Hard times, hard times." Zayn nods his head, like it's the easiest thing to understand. Louis head is in his hands and his body is sagging. They're tired. I'm tired. We're all tired. "Thought we could crash on the couch, but Beth looks like she's about to cough up a lung, so, no, Zayn and I will be on our way."

Zayn stands groaning and cracking his back. He gets up waving and mumbling something about killing Niall and wishing he could mute Liam. After they walk out Harry and I lay in silence. The only sound being my sniffling and hoarse breathing. Harry's moved down and my face is close to his neck and shoulder. I sniffle a bit against his shoulder, and my nostrils start to tingle and I try to pull back to at least cover my mouth (because we don't need Harry getting sick either) but he pulls me back and holds on tighter. He keeps me from moving and I gasp a little and let out a small, squeaky sneeze.

Oh god, I bet I'm so fucking attractive right now.

I wait a few seconds for the tickling in my nose and throat to stop, before I pull back and look at Harry.
"That was gross," I say. Why Harry isn't worried about getting sick either is completely weird.

"No, god, that was fucking cute," Harry has his dimples on full blast and he's biting his lip to hold back a laugh. "Have you ever heard yourself sneeze? Too fucking cute."

"I don't think I hear it the same as you do, Harry," I respond turning my head back into Harry's neck. He doesn't say anything. He just rest his chin on my damp hair, leaving everything in peace.

"Harry?" I whisper my lips brushing his skin.

"Yeah?" He says quietly. His hands stroking my back. If he keeps rubbing me like that, I may end up purring.

"How did I loose my memory?"

Harry's body tensed up and his hands stopped moving. He didn't like my question. That much was obvious. But I needed to know.

"You'll never forgive me..."

What?
.