four

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"I think I'm gonna puke."

"Come here, shh, you'll be okay."

"No, Louis, I'm serious-"

"Here, look, here's a trash can." He placed it on his lap, then moved his hand to rub his back. "Everything's gonna be okay. If you throw up, you throw up."

"Too many weed brownies?" Niall joked, passing by.

"Fuck off, Niall," Harry snapped, looking up to stare daggers at him before he ducked his head and heaved into the wastebasket.

Louis continued murmuring comforting things and rubbing his back, feeling powerless as to doing anything that might actually ease some of Harry's anxiety. He always got nervous before they performed, and some days were worse than others. They always got through it, though. They always got through it.

"You do make really good weed brownies," Louis added, just to make conversation. It was true, too; sometimes, on days where they were writing new songs or rehearsing for long hours during the day, Harry would take a break to do some baking. It was nice.

"Shut up, Lou."

Louis chuckled, holding it back by biting his tongue. He stayed quiet after that but didn't leave Harry's side, because Harry never told him to leave and he didn't want to, anyway. He didn't end up puking, but he did heave and spit a few times into the trashcan.

"I'm sorry you feel like shit," he said later, ten minutes before they had to be on stage, wrapping him in a hug.

Harry slumped down into his embrace, taller than him but making himself small, burying his face in Louis' shoulder. "It's okay. It is what it is."

"You can take meds for anxiety, you know. It might help-"

"It's not that bad," Harry grumbled. "Just before we perform."

"I know, but still. It could help."

"I'm fine, Lou."

"Alrighty then," Louis muttered, rocking them back and forth a bit. "You're gonna smash it tonight, you know. The crowd always loves you. You make everyone fall in love with you by the end of each performance. It's inevitable."

"Shut up, Louis."

He shut up. They stayed like that until it was time to perform.

&&&

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