Footie & Frames » stylinson

fifteen

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Chapter 15

The mulling of people fills the house. It's only been a few days since the... incident, and Jesy and Louis have made it their sole missions to keep a constant eye on me. It's a sweet gesture, but I'm starting to feel a little cramped. Add on the wheelchair and, well, cramped turns into helpless. I huff.

"Can I get a coffee, over here?," Niall snaps his fingers, looking at me dead in the eye. I wasn't paying any attention, so who honestly knows how long he had been talking before now. We hold eye contact for about twenty seconds, neither of us blinking, until both of us finally crack and start laughing. "But... for real," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. I scoff at his ridiculousness.

I pick up a cup from the dresser beside me and wave it in the air coyly. "If you want the coffee, you're going to have to come out here to get it, I can't go in there," I tell him, very hesitant to go anywhere near the room Louis and I secretly dubbed the nursery. The fumes would be harmful.

Niall, Liam, Jesy, Ashton, Zayn, and Perrie are all over, helping with the paint job. It was originally just Jesy, because she's the only one who knows, but everyone else caught wind and wanted to come help paint a random room in the Tomlinson-Styles house. That is a sweet gesture.

Niall pouts at me and I cross my arms over my stomach, which is protruding much worse than before. I can feel the dullness of it, the stretch in my stomach, but it's ignorable for now. "Why can't you just bring it here, dude?," he whines and I huff, rolling my eyes. He pouts worse, awaiting my lecture ─ the same one I have given him about three other times.

"Because, dude. My asthma is flaring up today. It's the humidity. It's already hard enough to breathe, those fumes would kill," I explain and he groans when he realizes ─ again ─ that he will have to move. I wheel as close as I dare to him and meet him halfway to give him the steaming cup of the pure black brew. It's smell alone gags my already testy stomach. I breathe out of my mouth.

"Say," Niall inquires, taking a slow sip from the cup as he watches everyone else continue to paint, "When are we suppose to pick Lou up?," he asks and I pull out my phone, looking at the time. 3: 46 pm. We took him in for a minor leg operation about 45 minutes ago.

I hum and cough a little, rolling backwards, away from the fumes as they tickle my nose. "In about thirty-five minutes. He should be done in about an hour and I wanna be there when he gets up," I tell him and he nods, taking a sip from his cup. "I think he's going to love how this looks. We picked the color out together," I smile, taking the coffee back from Niall, putting it on the hallway table beside us.

He nods. "Yeah, it's a good job, but why'd you pick pink?," he asks, rolling the sleeves to his grey painting jumper up. I swallow and shrug. I feel stung that I can't tell him yet, he's my best mate, but I assume he will know eventually and I'll just have to live with that. For a while, we just watch the rest paint. I'm pretty sure Niall is just procrastinating, and Jesy looks over, setting her paintbrush down to come to us.

"How are you feeling?," she asks, stepping over the newspapers that they put on the carpet to keep the paint from getting on everything. Niall looks down at me too and I sigh. Everyone ─ including our parents ─ think that I had a very bad asthma attack and my blood pressure got too high, weakening my legs. My parents stayed with us for the day and a half I had in the hospital, right before the Rovers' game. Truth is, Doctor Mason thinks standing upright could inspire Kidney Bean to make another escape attempt. She said I could be released from the hospital as long as I didn't stand up for longer than five minutes until she sees us next visit, this one hopefully planned.

"I'm okay," I say for the thirtieth time, and she sighs like she has each time she got the same response. "You guys need to calm down, I'll be okay," Niall seems to accept my words easy enough, he shrugs his shoulders and goes back into the room across from mine and Louis', picking the paintbrush up, deviously swooping it across Zayn's cheek. I look at Jesy as they start a small paint war, Perrie scolding them unsuccessfully. "Seriously, Jes, I'm okay. You worry too much," I tell her lightly, patting her hand.