04. That's Not Possible

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(A/N - So here, obviously, is chapter 4.  As always, Enjoy!!)

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Two months have passed since the night Harry and I had sex and I have completely gone back to normal.  I still know what Harry and I shared and I will never forget that, but I don’t notice him around much anymore.  It is almost like before the party.

I have been feeling a bit sick over that past two weeks, but I am sure it is just because of the change in weather.  It is a few days until December.  We have one more football match of the season and it’s this Friday; only two days away.

“Move, Horan!” Coach Hensen yells at me as I am running up and down the pitch.  It has been getting harder and harder to do drills because of how I am feeling.  I have no energy and I constantly want to vomit.

“Horan.  Over here, now” He screams and I jog to the side lines

“What’s the problem, Horan?  The past couple of weeks you haven’t been performing like you normally do.  What’s gotten into you?” He asks with a hand on my shoulder.

“I…ah…I …..um haven’t been feeling well.” I say in between labored breaths.  “I think I might have the flu.  I don’t know”

“Maybe you should sit Friday night out then.”

“No.  Please let me play.  It’s the last game.  I want to play.”

“I guess.  But if you are still sick you better tell me because I don’t need any of my players, especially the captain, passing out at mid field.  Is that understood, Horan?”

“Yes, Sir.” I reply with a nod.

“Ok.  Why don’t you go home and get some rest and you won’t be practicing tomorrow either.  You obviously need extra time out.”

“Ok” I reply and walk off the field and into the locker rooms.

“Niall, baby, have you been feeling alright?” my mum asks while we are sat at dinner.  “I’ve heard you throwing up in the morning and you don’t look very good.  You are looking a little paler than you already are.”  This peaked my dad’s interest; him being a doctor and all.

He leaned over from his seat and placed the back of his hand on my forehead to check for a temperature.  “Nope, you aren’t warm.  How long have you been vomiting?” He asks

“A little over a week.” I answer right away, knowing that when it comes to one of us being sick it is better not to lie to him because he gets upset.

“A week!?  Niall.  You might have a stomach virus.  That could have been taken care of in a couple of days if you told me in the beginning.  I have a break in my schedule tomorrow, so I’ll take you over to Dr. Wilson’s office tomorrow around noon.  You can just stay home from school tomorrow and rest.” He finishes and rubs his hand soothingly down the back of my head.

“Thanks, dad.” I reply and take another bite of my chicken.

I was in bed and sleeping by seven that evening and was finally awoken by mother at eleven on Thursday morning.  I could have slept more I imagine, if she hadn’t have woken me up.

She sat on the edge of my bed and I looked at her through sleep eyes.  I then had the queezy feeling in my stomach again and jolted from my bed into my bathroom and hovered over the toilet.  Everything from last night exiting my stomach.  My mum rubbed my back, providing comfort while I was getting sick. 

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