Luna and the Moon [H.S]

68: six days until paris.

^ this is the cutest photo of Harry, don't even lie :')

When I woke up, I was surprised to see a sleeping Harry on the love couch in the corner of the room. He was dressed for work, almost like he wanted to be ready in case he woke up late whilst he slept on the couch. His face almost squished into the armrest, his arms folded tightly over his chest and his legs spread apart as he lazily lay there. I smiled slightly, feeling guilt rush through me.

I was sick again at four A.M, I yelled Harry's name and he came downstairs to help me. He sat on the floor beside the couch I lay on, brushing his fingers through my hair and I assumed he left to go back to sleep when I fell asleep myself. Clearly instead he showered, and got changed into a casual oversized green checkered shirt and black jeans. I've never seen him dress so casually for work. I like it though. I looked at the clock in the corner of the TV as Good Morning Britain was on. It's seven A.M.

I got up, no nausea overcoming me thankfully. I walked over to where Harry was, pausing I reached for my phone which was now on the coffee table in the middle of the room and snapped a photo of him. He just looked too cute, I almost felt bad waking him up. I know he's going to be absolutely shattered.

"Harry," I whispered, my hands shaking his shoulder slightly. He grunted, eyebrows furrowing and lips forming a hard line in displeasure. "Wake up, you've got to go to work."

"No," he mumbled. "I'm just gonna stay here and look after you."

"Oh no you're not," I said stubbornly. My words made him open his eyes, the green was so light I almost smiled at its beauty, but then I remembered I was telling him off. "You can't just skip a day to look after me."

"Fine. But then I want Sophia to be here with you instead," he replied just as stubbornly as I did moments before. I groaned, stomping out the living room and into the kitchen. I grabbed a bowl and Harry's favourite cereal, pouring him up a bowl. He followed me in, grabbing the milk from the fridge and placing it in front of me to pour in for him. When Harry makes his cereal he puts the cereal and milk in and puts it on the table, making his cup of tea just afterwards, then when he goes to eat his cereal it's soggy. But, when I make it he gets to eat it whilst it's not soggy because I make his tea.

"Why? Can't you trust I'll be okay on my own? You can come back again at lunch if it makes you feel any better," I sighed, popping the kettle on as Harry took his bowl to the table to eat.

"I would just prefer to know that you have someone here. I know you don't like being ill, so I'd rather you have someone to look after you if I can't be here," he shrugged like it was no big deal. I felt a little pathetic and weak that he thought I needed someone to look after me, did he not think I could look after myself alone?

"Fine," I sighed again. Filling the scolding water into the mug that contained a tea bag. I put the right amount of milk in it and put it back in the fridge before placing the mug in front of him. I sat beside him, holding one of my knees up to my chest. "Will you still come home at lunch though?

"If you want me too," he said quietly, his finger scrolling along his phone as he looked at the news app. "Do you want me too?" He asked, looking up at me and his finger frozen on the screen as he waited for an answer.

"If you take back more soup, with bread this time!"

"What's wrong with the bread we have?" He asked.

"Babe. We haven't got any food in the house, there's a tiny dribble of milk left too. Plus, when you buy soup at a restaurant or school they have that like crunchy bread that's from a long stick. You know?" I said, frowning at my words. I made no sense to be honest, but I could tell by the chuckle that left his mouth he knew what I meant.