He's Sick
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Liam: "Liam, obviously you're not okay if you're throwing up everywhere. Did you eat something bad?" You held your phone to your ear as you strode through the supermarket, picking up little illness things - saltines, orange juice, ginger ale, and chicken noodle soup. "[Y/N], I think it's just one of those twenty-four hours bugs, you know? They just make you- hold on." You heard a clunk as the phone was set down and his footsteps pounded away. A door slammed shut somewhere in the distance and you got in line at the register as you waited for Liam to come back. You heard his cough and much lighter footsteps before his hands fumbled with the phone. "M'back," he mumbled, his voice weak and cracking. "Liam," you murmured, concerned into the phone. He coughed feebly. "Okay, Liam, go lie down or something, okay? Make yourself some tea-" he groaned at this, "-or don't, okay, but take care of yourself, mister," you smiled at the cashier, mouthing an apology. She winked and rang up your few items. "I'll be home soon, okay?" Liam mumbled a meek "okay" in reply, clicking the phone off after muttering an "I love you." You sighed and slipped your phone into your pocket, awkwardly reaching back to get your money. "Sorry," you smiled at the employee. "My boyfriend is really sick and refuses to take care of himself - I have to do it for him," you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.
Zayn: The morning light filtering in through the window felt good. It stung your eyes a little, and you let out a weak groan as you rolled over and stretched. You moved to curl back into Zayn, but flinched away, disturbed by the heat and clamminess of his skin. You sat up, alarmed, and laid the back of your hand gently to his forehead. His eyes flickered underneath his eyelids. He was warm - frighteningly so, and you hastened to stumble out of bed and into the en suite, grabbing the small thermometer that was stowed in the cabinet there. Zayn groaned, waking slightly, as you walked back into the bedroom. "Hey, darling," you murmured, perching on his side of the bed. He flung his hand out towards you, clamping onto your leg. "I don't feel good," he moaned, his voice choking and weak. "S'hot." You shushed him, moving to push his bedhead up from his brow. "I know, love. I think you have a fever, so I need to take your temperature, okay?" Zayn clenched his eyes shut. "I just want to go back to sleep, [Y/N]," he whined. You bit your lip. "Let me take your temperature first, Zayn, then you can go back to sleep." He sighed, parting his lips, and you snaked the thin edge of the thermometer into his mouth. After an uncomfortably long period of time, it beeped, and you tsked as the numbers flashed. "101.8," you sighed. "You're burning up, babe." Zayn whined again, hand still clutching your leg. You sat there with him, bringing him water and extra blankets as he fell fitfully in and out of sleep, his fever slowly breaking.
Louis: All of the lights were off when you got home. So was the television, and the shower wasn't running. Louis wasn't singing loudly to himself in the kitchen like he often did. It was eerie - a day without sound at Tommo's place was extremely rare. You flicked on the lamp in the living room, moving slowly through the house. Maybe he wasn't home? But, no - Louis always left the television on when he went somewhere. Biting your bottom lip nervously, you peered into the bedroom - and there was the telltale lump of a sleeping Louis. Letting out the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, you moved to your side of the bed, beginning to rustle the sheets to cuddle with him. "You might not want to do that, beauty." His voice was broken and rough from disuse. He sounded miserable. "Lou, what's wrong?" He groaned quietly, burying his head - which was hidden by the large quilt he had draped himself in - into the pillow, as if digging into it would relieve his pain. "Louis, what hurts, babe? Your head?" He made a muffled noise of conformation. "Have you taken anything for it?" you asked, voice so low it was edging on whispering. He shook his head, causing static to run through his hair, and the close sound of the ruffling blanket made him wince and whimper. "Migraine," he whispered out, so quiet that you barely heard it. You hissed in sympathy - you were no stranger to those ferocious menaces. "Just try and go to sleep, Boo Bear," you purred, rubbing his head lightly through the blanket.
Niall: You threw your swim suit in the wash along with Niall's, humming in time with the radio. Yesterday had been fantastic - a private day alone with Nialler and a swimming pool. You giggled and bit your lip as you closed the washing machine. You turned and squealed, bumping unexpectedly into the chest of your boyfriend. "Oh," you smiled. Niall looks disgruntled, though, so you lost the smile and adopted a concerned expression instead. He dropped a kiss to your forehead before moving around you and heading into the kitchen, letting himself fall into a chair at the table. "What's wrong, babe?" you asked, standing at his side, running your fingers lightly through his hair. "Nothing too horrid," he mumbled, his face pressed to the table. "But I think I've got an ear infection, and, ah-" his voice dropped, curses flowing freely and rumbling like thunder. You smiled in sympathy and shushed him. "I used to get those all the time," you said. "I know they suck but they're easy enough to get rid of," you consoled him. He turned his head towards you, his eyes squinting. "Really?" The question was hesitant and meek, and you bit your lip to stop the giggle at his sheepishness. "Really, really," you giggled. "There are ear drops you can buy from the pharmacy that'll do it," you said, fingers resuming their motions through Niall's bleached hair.
Harry: You leaned on the wall at the back of the studio, watching Harry pull on his hair in frustration. He coughed again, and put his mouth close to the mic. "One more time?" he asked, his voice weak and broken. You narrowed your eyes - Louis was right. He had called you, worrying about how hard Harry was pushing himself. He had said that your boy's voice wasn't really too good today but he really wanted to get the track laid. You shook your head as the producers considered it. "No," you said quietly, drawing their attention. "His voice is wrecked, guys." They looked unsure. "Look, just have the other boys record for a bit and I'll make sure Harry doesn't talk for a couple of days and he can come in and get everything perfect and it'll be fine, okay?" Once they gave you their ascent, you walked up to the glass, smiling sadly as Harry worried into his bottom lip with his teeth. You knocked once, waving. He waved back, confused, before he held up his index finger, signalling "one minute." You shot a look at Savan, who was sitting in the booth. He nodded and leaned towards his microphone. "Harry, kid, go home. You need to rest up, okay? Take care of yourself." He leaned back, and defeated, Harry moved towards the door of the studio. You smiled at him - which he didn't return - before taking his hand and leading him towards your car. "Come on, Harry, don't be mad. You're getting sick, love," you said softly, pushing some hair out of his face. "But you'll be better soon, promise." He smiled and kissed your cheek, and you drove home.
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How'd y'all like it?
Sorry for not posting the ziam one I'm almost done with it. I just had a lot of test this week. I'll try to post it hopefully tommorrow or monday.
Request?!?!
Love y'all
