Harry Styles Imagines

He's Sick (Your P.O.V.)

You reach across the distance for Harry, but he's not in the bed with you.

"Harry?" You call out, but you get no answer.

You become worried until you see that the bathroom light is on. You quickly get out of the comfy warm bed to check out what Harry is doing in there at 3 in the morning.

As you advance closer to the door, you begin to hear signs of vomiting.

You open the door, knowing what you are going to see.

Harry is on his knees, leaning his head into the toilet. He looks up at you, then hurls into the toilet again.

"(Y\N), go back to bed, I'll be fine."

He doesn't look fine though. His face and hair are covered in sweat, and he looks as white as the blanket of snow covering the ground outside.

You drop to your butt, and lay his head down on your legs. You begin to play with his curls. He shuts his eyes, and seems to be relaxing as best he can.

"I'm good right here." You say no louder than a whisper.