1D One Shots/Sickfics

Niall stomach bug (sickfic)

It had been a long couple of weeks of nonstop concerts, interviews, and work on the next album, but we finally had a day off. I was excited, as I hadn't really had much time to just hang out with the lads, every spare moment had been spent working. Sunday was our day to spend together, and we even planned to try get out of the hotel and go sight-seeing, or at least out for coffee or something.

Saturday night I went to bed sometime around one in the morning, exhausted, after finishing up the vocals on one of our newest songs. I fell into bed and hardly had time to plug my phone in before my eyes were closing of their own accord.

When I woke up, it was still dark in my hotel room. I wondered if someone else moving around had woken me up; Harry had had a bit of a cold and I knew he had been up in the middle of the previous night to find water and fresh tissues. However, there was no light coming from the crack of the door leading to the shared area of our suite, so I assumed it was something else. Rolling over to check the time on my phone, I soon discovered what had woken me.

My stomach hurt. Badly. When I was lying still, I hadn't noticed, but the movement sent a serious of sharp cramps through my abdomen, leaving an uncomfortable ache in their wake. I reached gingerly for my phone, trying not to aggravate the pain anymore, and discovered it was only five o'clock. I put the phone back down and curled into a ball, hoping to sleep off whatever was going on.

No such luck. I lay uncomfortably, arms wrapped around myself, just waiting for the pain to subside. It was an odd sort of pain: in the middle of my belly, not nauseous, not crampy, just pain. It wasn't overwhelming, but nor was it dismissible. It was keeping me awake, and making me not want to move at all. I switched sides occasionally when I got too stiff on one side, but I had to stay curled up if I didn't want to be in even more pain.

At some point, I realized it wasn't going to go away, and it was starting to make me feel a bit nauseous. Not a lot, and my stomach still didn't have that churning feeling that usually accompanies nausea, but it was enough to make me nervous. I hadn't thrown up in years, and I wasn't sure how quickly I'd be able to make it to the toilet. I didn't have a trash bin in reach; I wasn't sure where the one in my bedroom even was. I decided I was better off going to the loo and sitting there for a bit, just in case. I checked the time, noticing it was about quarter to six, before slowly stumbling out of my room and into the shared bathroom.

I sat down on the floor, close to the toilet but not too close. I knew if I sat too close, it would just make me feel sick faster. I was still hoping the nausea would go away on it's own. It wasn't overpowering, just a lingering feeling. I sat on the floor, leaning against the bathtub for quite a while. I had no sense of time, I had forgotten my phone in the bedroom, though I really wished I had it. I was also getting quite cold, and wished I had thought to bring a blanket as well.

I wasn't overly bothered by vomiting; not like some people. Louis, for instance, got quite worked up and nervous about it, usually resulting in tears. I didn't like it, not at all, and I couldn't handle hearing, seeing, or smelling it, but I wasn't scared or anything. It was just a disgusting, annoying process, after which I didn't usually feel great and craved some sort of comfort.

After quite some time, I thought I might try going back to my room, or at least out to the common area to find out what time it was. However, as soon as I moved my body just the slightest bit toward the door, I instantly felt more sick. I quickly moved toward the toilet, opening the lid and positioning myself in front of it.

Even then, my stomach wasn't twisting, despite the thickness in my throat telling me I was about to vomit. I sat miserably for a few moments, trying to swallow down the nausea, before I coughed a couple times. After that, I dry heaved once before gagging fruitfully, a mouthful of sick coming up. I was mentally prepared to vomit harshly; however, I only produced two more mouthfuls of sick before I was sitting back, no longer nauseous in the slightest.