harry styles drabbles

1

Ella's POV

Harry and I were sitting on his couch in his living room. He had a brief break from his solo tour and we were hanging out, like best friends do. We were chatting about what had happened with both of us over the past few months as Harry was away.
"Yeah, working at the retirement home has gotten really busy, but I love it still. The residents crack me up. Mrs. Benley died a few weeks ago, though," I said sadly.
Harry frowned, "I know how close you were with her. Why didn't you call me?"
My head was in my hands. That was the hard part about working in a retirement home. I loved everyone there, but I slowly watched as they passed away. I was on the verge of tears when I heard Harry sniffle. I looked up at him with tears eyes.
"You okay, Haz?" I asked.
Harry hesitated for a second. He responded, "Yeah, I just haven't seen Mrs. Benley in a long time and I wish I could have seen her more." I let out a sob. Harry pulled me into a hug. "It's okay, El."
He sniffled again and I could've sworn I heard his breath hitch.
I sighed, "It's just hard to go back there every day now that a huge part of my routine is thrown off, you know?" Harry nodded. "Who am I kidding? Your routine is so hectic you don't even have one."
"Hey!" Harry pretended to be offended. "I do too have a routine!" I silently encouraged him to explain. "Well...I get up every morning and I take a shower... and then I get ready for rehearsals and sound testing and then I have to get dressed and then put on a show!" I laughed slightly. "And yeah, my routine gets thrown off too!"
I asked, "When? How?"
Harry was puzzled. "Ehhm. It just ... does. OH. I know. It gets thrown off," he paused to sniffle, "when people in my crew get sick or can't work, and we have to struggle to find someone who can fill in for their job, because it's usually quite last minute." He punctuated his sentence with another sniffle.
"Are you feeling alright, Haz?" I asked.
He nodded, "Of course. What makes you think otherwise?" He sniffled lightly.
My eyebrows furrowed. He sniffled again. I pointed my finger to his nose. "That."
"My nose?" Harry was playing dumb. "What's that mean?"
I rolled my eyes, "You sound like you're catching something."
Harry put on the least convincing surprised face and I had to put effort into trying not to laugh.
"Preposterous." Harry said.
I smiled slightly, "You keep sniffling. You're clearly congested."
"I have literally no idea what you're going on about," Harry defended himself. "That thing you think is sniffling, yeah it's called breathing. I'm not congested at all. I'm on my break from the tour I'm not sick."
For the next few minutes Harry was keeping himself from sniffling, but that just made his nose incredibly runny. He then started to wipe at it every few seconds in lieu of sniffling.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" Harry asked. I was shocked. We hadn't spoken in a few minutes and since then Harry's voice had become incredibly stuffed up. "What? Is there something on my face?"
"Harry," I whined, "Why won't you just admit that you're not feeling well?"
He dabbed at his nose with his sleeve. "Because I'm not. I feel fine, El."
Harry Styles often had the gift of impeccable timing, and today he did not fall short. He sneezed twice into his fist.
"Bless you, Harry." My eyes narrowed.
He tried, "That doesn't mean anything! You know how sneezy I am all of the time! You've seen the videos on youtube!"
I pretended to back off. I knew that it wouldn't be long before he cracked. See, Harry had just opened the floodgates. All I had to do was wait for his nose to agree with me.
"We're watching a movie," Harry grumbled, sniffling. "Pick one. I'm gonna go make some popcorn."
He stepped out of the room and I heard his footsteps heading to the kitchen.
I scrolled mindlessly through the movies on the screen in front of me, paying more attention to the noise coming from the kitchen. Harry was obviously trying to make as much noise as he could, but I could still hear him blowing his nose and then sneezing several times. I debated blessing him from across the house, but I decided against it.
I heard Harry's footsteps returning and I realized I hadn't chosen a movie. Quickly, I found an episode of Black Mirror and put it up on the screen.
Harry walked back into the room, his nose now red and his eyes now glassy.
I joked, "Where's Snow White and your six brothers, Sneezy?"
"Ha ha. Very funny," Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you, I feel fine."
I raised my hands, surrendering.
"Thank you. Now can we please just watch a movie?"
I clicked play and cuddled up next to Harry under the blanket. He shifted awkwardly. I then realized something. Harry would not want to get me sick. If there was anything that would crack him, that would be it.
I scooted in closer to him and put my head on his shoulder. I put him in a position where it would be hard to move if he needed to sneeze or cough, and I would hear every sniffle.
Harry seemed to notice this. I knew that both of us knew that he was sick, and he knew that as well. At this point it was a battle of wits, and boy was I killing the game.
A few minutes into the black mirror episode, Harry raised his hand up to his face, his pointer finger pressed up against his septum. He removed it after about ten seconds and sniffled, which proved to be a mistake. I don't know if it was removing his hand or sniffling that did him in, but it sure was something.
"Ehm, El, c-can you move for a s-heh-second?" Harry asked through hitching breaths.
I retorted, "Is there a problem?"
"No! No. I just, uh, I need to-" He then betrayed himself. He shot up, accidentally moving me to the side, and sneezed good five times into his hands.
"Bless you," I smirked.
Alas, the famous boy was not finished. He sneezed twice more and then sniffled hard.
"Fuck," he mumbled.
I pulled a travel pack of tissues out of my purse. "Tissue?" I asked.
Harry turned to me, a pitiful look on his face. I put a few tissues in his hands and he brought them up to his nose, temporarily taking care of the problem.
"Anything you want to tell me, Haz?" I asked.
Harry sighed, "I guess. I don't feel too well."
"I know, honey. Let's get you up to bed."