Ashton: I watch warily as (Y/N) goes down the stairs, she goes slightly sideways, clutching the banister and watching the stairs, but I can't help but worry that she will trip
I chew on my lip and reach out my hands to steady her, but she gives me a death glare "I can do it myself" she snaps "sorry sorry" I mumble, but my hands still itch to grab her sides and help her down
She finally reaches the bottom of the stairs and I sigh with relief, already dreading the trip back up the stairs later on, she heads to the living room and I trail after her, I know she hates when I follow her around, but I just get worried.
Michael: I keep my arm firmly around (Y/N)'s waist, protecting her as well as I can, but we are being jostled by paparazzi on all sides
The camera flashes blind us and the shouts distract me "can you please move?!" I say loudly, trying to shove through, a particularly burly photographer gives (Y/N) a hard prod in her stomach, trying to get a reaction from her
"Are you out of your fucking mind?! Can't you see she's pregnant?!" I roar, I shove him out of the way and tug (Y/N) out of the crowd, we finally reach our apartment and I lift up her top, there is a freshly forming bruise right above her bellybutton and I clench my jaw, I run my fingers over the mark and kiss it softly "I'll protect you" I murmur.
Calum: Even after she has finished throwing up every trace of food in her stomach, (Y/N) keeps dry heaving, coughing and spluttering over the toilet even though nothing is coming out
"I'm so sorry baby, I did this to you" I mumble, stroking her back, she slumps against the wall, panting "I'm starving Calum, all I want is to eat, I want to eat and I want water, I want water so bad" she whimpers, tears running down her face
And then her head is in the toilet bowl again, she is gagging loudly, but there is nothing coming up, not a single thing "I'm scared" she whispers, not raising her face, I take her hand in mine and rub my thumb over her knuckles "I'm taking you to the hospital darling" I murmur.
Luke: Bed rest. That is what they had prescribed, bed rest and fluids. She had to have fluids pumped into her every day, and she was fed through a tube in her nose. Yet they told me not to worry.
I looked at (Y/N) lying in the hospital bed, her chest rising and falling with the help of an oxygen tube, her hands folded over her slight bump, she was awake, but only barely. The sunlight filtering into the room highlighted her thin face, making the shadows under her eyes more striking
She was staring up at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of her face "I feel like we're going to lose her Luke, like all of this is for nothing" she whispers, not looking at me "no, she's strong, like her mother, she'll pull through, trust me" I say firmly, taking (Y/N)'s hand in mine.
