I wake up to the sound of coughing, which I soon realize is coming from me. A sudden rush of pain radiates from my head down to my chest. The coughing begins again and I feel something in the bed next to me start to move. I turn my head and come face-to-face with Harry who's looking at me with a worried expression on his face.
"You alright love?" he asks in a gravelly voice.
"No," I reply in a raspy whisper.
"What's wrong? Are you sick? Do you want anything? How do you feel? Do you-"
"Harry," I manage to say. He always hounds me with questions when I'm sick. I mean, I love that he's so sweet and caring, but sometimes he acts like a concerned mother.
"I'm serious babe, what do you want?" Harry prods.
"Sleep," I say, closing my eyes and turning away from Harry.
"I'm gonna go to the store, I'll be back in an hour," Harry whispers to me. He kisses my forehead before getting out of bed. I hear his footsteps leave the room and make their way to the front door, where I hear the door open and then close.
-
I wake up to the sound of plastic bags rustling at my feet and I look up to see Harry unpacking three bags around me. Splayed across the bed I see magazines, numerous DVDs of various movies and TV shows and a small container of soup that Harry removes from the last bag and sets on the bedside table next to me.
"What's all this?" I ask while squinting at him, trying to adjust to the amount of sunlight pouring into the room.
"It's for you. To help you get better," he says with a bright smile that quickly fades into concern when his eyes meet mine. "But you don't have to worry about any of it now. Go back to sleep." He uses a gentle hand to caress my cheek before pulling the blankets up around my neck.
"You act like such a mother sometimes," I say quietly while settling back into bed.
"It's only because I love you. Now go to sleep."
Harry leaves the room and I try to go back to sleep, but I'm too mad about the fact that I'm being treated like a child that I can't. So instead, I sit up and grab one of the magazines littering the bed and skim through it. I toss it back to where it was and I pick up another one and repeat the process. After looking through six magazines I give up and collapse onto the bed with a muffled groan. I hear another noise, and realize it's my stomach. I sit up again and reach for the soup on the bedside table and eat a few spoonfuls of it before I start to feel sick again.
I hear the TV in the living room, so I grab a blanket, wrap it around myself and shuffle into the living room. I see Harry laying on the couch with an arm behind his head and his feet propped up on the coffee table. Making my way around the couch, I sit next to Harry and cuddle up to him.
"I thought you were sleeping," Harry says, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him.
I shrug. "I couldn't sleep."
"Did you at least eat your soup?"
"Yes, mom," I say, rolling my eyes mockingly, and Harry smiles. "What are you watching?"
"Friends."
"I love that show."
"Me too, do you know why?"
"Why?" I ask curiously, looking up at him and his eyes meet mine.
"Because Ross and Rachel's relationship reminds me of ours. Well, except for the fact that I love you more than Ross loves Rachel."
"Oh?" I smirk at him and he nods.
"It's true," he says. "I do. I love you no matter what. Even when you're sick." I let out a small chuckle and he leans into to kiss me but I place a hand on his chest.
"Are you sure?" I look up at him peculiarly, thinking about how bad I probably look right now. But he looks back at me with that warm smile of his, and I know he's telling the truth. I lift my head up to kiss him on the cheek, but he turns his head at the last second to meet his lips with mine.
"Are you trying to get yourself sick too?"
"Maybe," he says with a smug look on his face. "You'll take care of me, right?"
"Maybe," I say, smirking at him.
"Well, you don't have to, but you know what?"
"What?"
He smiles at me softly and kisses me again before replying, "I'll always take care of you."
