Sickening - Narry

6: Edinburgh

"HELLLOOOOOO EDINBURGGGGHHHHH" Harry yells into the microphone, the speakers that surround me all vibrating with the intense sound being pushed from them. "HOW ARE YOU DOING?" he calls back into the microphone. In return, thousands of voices cry out in excitement, all begging for the slightest amount of attention from the thin twenty-year-old who stands on the opposite side of the stage as me.

The excitement that comes along with performing in one of these stadiums is incomprehensible. I literally cannot begin to describe the pressure, yet relief and serenity, that comes along with standing on a stage in front of tens-of-thousands of screaming youths.

While you feel the need to perfect your routine and be at the top of your game, there is a relaxing feeling that goes along with the performance. It's as though you know every single person in the stadium, like you can trust every soul that sits under this same roof.

While Harry and Liam are interacting with the crowd that surrounds us, I stand there, just a few feet from a quiet Zayn, and admire the curly haired Englishman dancing around the stage. I can't help but stare as his biceps flex when playing with Liam, or at his beautiful brown curls bobbing up and down like a fishing lure in water. I have never wanted so badly to just hold him, cuddle, kiss, or to just be alone with him.

I'm brought back into reality when Liam inserts me into one of the games he is playing with the fans. The entire time I just wish to be with Harry, who has grown so distant in the weeks that have separated my illness and the beginning of our mini-tour.

London's concert was reminiscent of any previous tour or performance. The same games and interactions as the past three years. All of which was missing the closeness as just a couple weeks earlier. It's not as though Harry had always been hyper-affectionate towards me and just in the last few weeks, he's been distant. He's always been like this, but having seen just how close and compassionate he can be, I never wanted to go back to 'normal Harry.'

After so much thinking and wondering, I decide it's time to put my theory to the test; to see if he only cares about me when, all else being equal, i'm sick.

I put my plan into motion the second we leave the stage at the end of the night. Thousands of fans cheer and cry as we drop below the stage we had just performed on and pile into the two tour buses waiting for us. The first person who talks to me when we're finished, I make sure of it, is Harry.

"How was it? Didn't get much out of you tonight." he says to me once we're safely heading down the road in the cabin of the bus.

"Yeah, good. Just not feeling well tonight. Think what I had a while back has come back." I reply to Harry.

"Oh no. We can't be having that. We need a healthy and happy Nialler for the end of this tour. " the younger boy says to me.

I simply shrug and start to change into more comfortable clothes, trying my hardest to seem lethargic and slowed with the actions i'm performing.

Once comfortably situated on the largest sofa at the back of the bus, the curtains drawn, lights off, and the tv playing back a football game from earlier in the week, I am joined by Harry. Clad in just a pair of gym shorts and a white t-shirt, and a small styrofoam cup in hand, the Englishman takes the seat next to my half-laid-out body on the couch.

Harry holds out the cup, a small tea bag label and string draping over the side, signaling me to take it. I grab the cup, look down into it, smile back at Harry--who's already got a smile from ear to ear painted across his face--and take a sip.

Though I didn't actually have a sore throat to soothe at the moment, it was nice nonetheless. I bring the cup closer to my chest, still not a word said between us, and lay my head and shoulder against Harry who has, in an instant, assumed the dominant role in the room.