She's Not Afraid

Being Sick Is Hard Work

Fair warning: there is some swearing in this chapter, so you can honestly skip it if you'd like. It is just a filler, anyways.

***Chapter 26***

Drew's POV

I woke up the next morning with a terrible head cold. I couldn't stop coughing, I literally have no idea why.

I thought over all the possible causes. It wasn't cold yesterday. I didn't share someone drink. I don't really know what could've been the reason. I guess I can just blame it on Louis. That's what I normally do, anyways.

Due to my expertise in sleep, I stayed in bed till around 2 in the afternoon. When I finally did go downstairs, it was mostly for food. I somehow made my sick way downstairs and to the kitchen. I slowly popped a can of soup open and managed to cook it in the microwave.

When I pressed 'start' on the microwave, Harry entered the kitchen.

"Where have you been all morning?" Was the only thing he said.

"Uh, sleeping." I replied, followed by a cough. "I don't feel too well."

"How could you possibly get sick?" He questioned. I shrugged.

"I have no idea."

"Well," He said, turning to my soup which was cooking in the microwave. As if on cue, the machine beeped loudly, as if saying it was done. He opened the little door and pulled out my bowl of chicken noodle goodness. "I'm going to take care of you, then. No matter what you say."

I mentally discuss with myself the topic of arguing or not arguing with him. I'm too tired to fight with him. He would probably win, anyway. So I just shrug and walk out of the kitchen, Harry following in tentative footsteps.

"Aren't you going to argue?" He asks after a while. I shrug once more. "Wow, you must be really sick."

I just nod, walking up the stairs. I was really too tired to say anything and I was afraid my throat would fail me and I would end up in a coughing fit.

I walk back into my room, pulling back the covers and laying down on my bed. Once I feel the soft sheets under my skin, all I want to do is sleep.

"Sit up straight," Harry instructs me and I do as I was told. I put my back against the headboard as Harry hands me the bowl of soup. He takes a seat beside me, staring at me as I tentatively eat my soup.

I put the spoon down and give him a glare. "Can I help you?" I say with a cough.

"Just trying to take care of you." He says, putting his arms up in mock surrender.

"By watching me slurp soup..." I mumble sarcastically, taking another spoonful.

"I'll be right back." He said, his face suddenly light up by a bright idea. When he came back a couple minutes later, my bowl was completely empty. In his hands, was his laptop. "Twitcam time!" He said excitedly.

I groaned and threw a pillow at the ridiculous boy. "No no no no no no no no no no." I said repeatedly. I stuffed my face in the duvet as Harry set the laptop in front of the both of us, him taking a seat beside me.

"C'mon, just once." He complained to me. "The fans love you!"

I groaned once more. "No, they don't." I mumbled.

"I'm sure they do!" He exclaimed. He must've heard what I had said.

"Styles, I feel like crap." I tell him in a whiny tone.

"You can't even tell you've got a head cold." He said, logging into his twitter and pulling up the twitcam website.

"I can." I say.