Feelings

Chapter 15 : Sick (part three)

Harrys POV

I can't sleep. There's no way I'll fall asleep. She's been sleeping next to me for about a half hour now. Her arms are trapped between her chest and mine, her body pressed against me. She fits perfectly, curled up so that she's cradled by my body. I brush her hair off her shoulder, looking at her face. It's red, and her eyes are tired. I use my thumb to wipe away the damp tear at the corner of her eye. It's my fault. It's all my fault.
"I'm sorry." I breath, leaning in to kiss her forehead. I have to go, before I hurt her again.

Meredith's POV

I wake up, alone. He's gone. He left me. I roll over to bury my head in the pillow. How do I walk out alone? How do I go downstairs without Harry, past Niall and Annie and who knows who else. My head pounds and spins, and I feel sick. The events of last night are a blurry mess, but I remember the basics. Me drunk, me naked, him crying, him apologizing. I remember telling him 'it's ok'. I'm not sure why I said it. I don't know why I comforted him. But I couldn't believe he was crying and I didn't know what else to do.
My head snaps up when I hear a cough, and I look over to see a sliver of light under the bathroom door. I quickly sit up, and slide out of bed. Harrys t-shirt is on the floor, and I slip it over my head, before walking to the bathroom. I gently push the door open, blinking in the bright light.
"Harry?" I whisper.
He looks up at me, his eyes red. He's standing over the sink, and he's shaking.
"No." He shakes his head. "You can't... You're supposed to be asleep." He stutters.
I step forward, but he flinches away.
"Harry, what's the matter?" I ask quietly.
"I can't do this, I can't." He puts his hands over his ears, shaking his head.
"Can't do what?" I move closer again. He pulls back, until he's against the back wall. He presses against the tile.
"Please don't." He whispers, a few tears falling now. "Please don't make me do this."
My head hurts and my heart hurts as I watch him. There's something wrong. "DUH' my head says, pounding harder as I think about last night. I step forward once more, but this time he stops me.
"NO!"
I jump, stepping back in shock.
"Please leave. Just get out!" He begs. I stare in shock. "GO!"
I turn and stumble back into the dark bedroom, hurt and confused. Why am I being kicked out? When is he crying? IM the one who was taken advantage of. IM the one who got hurt. Before I realize what I'm doing, I march back in to tell him.
"Why am I THE ONE being told to leave? YOU took advantage of ME, and IM the one who got hurt!" I shout, surprised at my outburst.
He's looking at me now, and he looks shocked. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" He shouts. "You can't possibly understand, you don't even KNOW ME!"
"IM the one who tried to tell you that WEEKS ago! You're the one who insisted on buying the fucking groceries!" I yell. I'm pissed and I'm getting angrier.
"Well excuse me for being NICE!"
"Nice? You weren't being NICE, you were being controlling, as usual!"
"YOURE controlling!"
"ME?! Who's the one that got me drunk just so they could sleep with me?! I'm not stupid Harry Styles, I KNOW that was you!"
"YOU SURE SEEMED TO ENJOY YOURSELF, DONT FORGET HOW HOT I AM!" He's at least as pissed as I am now.
"APPARENTLY THATS ALL YOU ARE, BECAUSE THE ONLY OTHER THING I SEE IS A FUCKING DOUCHEBAG!" I scream at him.
"YOURE A RAGING BITCH!"
"YOU GOT ME DRUNK AND TRIED TO SLEEP WITH ME! YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME!"
"I DIDNT TAKE ADVANTAGE! I COULD HAVE FUCKED YOU LAST NIGHT! I COULD'VE HAD YOU, BUT I DIDNT. YOURE WELCOME!" He's screaming and I know anyone in the house can hear us but I dont even care.
"IM WELCOME?! WHO WAS THE DICK? YOU! WHO HAD TO APOLOGIZE? YOU! WHO HAD TO SAY IT WAS ALL OK? OH YEAH, ME. AND IM THE ONE YOU FUCKED WITH!" I'm trembling in anger.
"YOURE THE ONE WHO STARTED THE WHOLE THING. I GUESS WERE EVEN!" He shouts in my face.
"EVEN?!" I laugh. "EVEN, LIKE HOW I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING AND ALL YOU DID WAS ASK FOR MORE? EVEN LIKE WHEN I TOLD YOU THINGS I NEVER TOLD ANYONE ELSE AND ALL YOU DID WAS LIE?! IF THATS YOUR IDEA OF EVEN, I DONT WANAA BE ON YOUR LEVEL." I scream.
"I NEVER LIED TO YOU!" He defends, and it pisses me off that's all he says.
"You sure as fuck weren't HONEST." I spit. "YOU DONT HAVE TO MAKE SHIT UP TO GET ME TO LIKE YOU."
"Obviously I do, remember I'm just a douche bag!"
"A FUCKING douchebag!" I remind him.
"You were a bitch!"
"Yeah we established that. Remember when I was a bitch last night? Remember what a RAGING BITCH I was in the hotel?! Or in the car? Or at the mall?!" I remind him.
His eyes soften slightly. "You weren't a raging bitch last night."
I want to scream at him because I can't handle him, or his fucking insane mood swings.
"Well then WHAT WAS I?"
"You were perfect."
"FUCK YOU! GOD, FUCK YOU!" The light in the bedroom flicks on and I know Niall is probably waiting outside the bathroom door.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" He throws his hands up.
"The TRUTH! I want the fucking TRUTH, Harry! Not some shit you make up on the spot to get yourself out of trouble!"
"THE TRUTH IS THAT IM SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT! I TOLD YOU GET OIT BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO GET YOU TO LEAVE WHILE YOU COULD AND NOT GET SUCKED IN TO MY SHITTY LIFE!"
I blink, shocked at his words. Something tells me he's being honest.
"You suck! You fucking suck!" I start to cry, and he runs his hand through his hair, then walks forward to hug me.
I bury my head into his chest, and sob into him.
"You're not a bitch." He whispers.
"You're a douchbag," I hiccup, still crying.
"I know. A fucking douchebag." He keeps his arms around me as I cry. "I'm sorry," he kisses the top of my head.
There's a soft knock on the door, and someone clears their throat. "Everyone still alive in there?" Niall asks.
"Fuck off." Harry growls, his chin on my head.
"Mere? Are you ok?" Niall calls, sounding nervous, like maybe I won't answer.
"I'm ok, Niall." I say softly, my headache coming in full strength. My throat hurts now, and I'm entirely exhausted.
"Ok." I hear him walk away from the door, and eventually down the stairs.
"You sound like shit." Harry mutters. "Do you feel ok?"
"I feel AWFUL, you dick." I spit, still hugging him.
"No I mean... Like do you feel ill?" He pulls back slightly, laying the back of his hand on my forehead and cheeks. His previous scowl has turned to a frown and he moves his hand to the back of my neck. "You have a fever." He says.
I nod, realizing that I do, I fact, feel warm, but I'm still shivering. Maybe it wasn't the anger, although I'm still angry. "You have a fever." He says again.
"You mentioned," I say, my voice scratchy.
"You're sick." He frowns, looking concerned.
I quickly push him away, and he looks offended.
"What?"
"You can't get sick," I shake my head.
He laughs quietly. "After the shit that's happened, it's what I deserve," he tugs me back against him.
"No," I croak, trying to get away.
He hooks his arm under my knees, and lofts me bridal style.
"Harry," I complain.
"Shh," he walked into the bedroom, and set me on the bed. "I'm taking you home. We should get dressed," he says.
"I am dressed," I pout.
"You're in your underwear and my shirt," he tells me.
"But jeans won't be comfy," I whine.
"There's people down stairs, you should be dressed."
"They already heard us, who cares now," I say, my throat hurting from talking.
"You don't have any pants on, Mere,"
"Give me your boxers."
He grins. "If you're cool with walking out in my shirt and boxers, I am," he shrugs.
"I'm more than cool with it if it means we can just go," I say, my voice starting to sound as hoarse as it feels.
"Ok, love. But I'm kinda wearing my boxers."
I give him a pouty face.
"Mind if I undress?" He's still grinning.
I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
"Jesus," he bends down and kisses me before I can stop him.
"Harry!" I yell, my voice cracking. "You'll get sick," I clear my throat, wincing.
"No more talking," he presses his finger to my lips. How did he go from calling me a raging bitch, to kissing me and giving me his clothes?"
I nod, and watch him pull his jeans off. My eyes stay on his body when he starts to pull his boxers off, but he stops and clears his throat. I look up to meet his eyes, and he's smirking.
"My eyes are up here," he raises his eyebrows.
I scrunch up my nose, and reach forward to tug on his boxers.
"You know," he breaths, leaning forward until I'm pinned against the bed. "People are going to think we did something. So we might as well," I can tell he's only half serious. I know that he wants it, but I know he doesn't expect it and he won't take it without it being given.
"I'm sick," I whisper.
"Is that the only reason you're saying no?" He is dangerously close and I try not to breath on him.
I meet his eyes as he waits for his response, and then I give him an honest nod.
"Fuck, why'd you tell me that?"
I open my mouth to retort, but he shakes his head, stopping me with his lips. I try to pull away but he pushes against me until my head is on the pillow and I'm trapped between it and his lips. Realizing I can't stop him, I kiss him back. He climbs on top of me, his knees on either side of my waist. I can feel him pressed against my stomach, but it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I kiss him harder. He's right. He does deserve to get ill.
"I can tell you're still pissed," he pulls away only long enough to make the comment. "Or you wouldn't let me kiss you," he does it again.
"I hope you feel like shit next week," I admit, my body tingling at the feeling of his lips on mine, and his straining boxers against my stomach.
He laughs loudly into the kiss. "I'm obsessed with this side of you," he says breathily.
"What about the other side?" I ask, as he stops kissing me long enough for me to talk.
"I'm pretty fond of her, too," he pecks my cheek. "Now stop talking, I know your throat hurts and I'm trying to kiss you."
I nod and he keeps kissing me.
"You sure you're sick?" He groans after a minute.
I don't answer, because I don't want to say no or yes. If I say no I'm positive we'll end up going too far, but if I say yes he'll stop now and I don't want that either.
He sighs. "I know," he kisses me once more, before pulling back. "Are you ready?"
I nod, and watch as he quickly pulls his boxers off, tossing them to me and pulling his sweatpants back on.
I slide his boxers on over my underwear, and he pulls me off the bed, grabbing my jeans and shirt from the floor. He's still shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his waist.
"Let's go show everyone how hot you look in my clothes," he says.
I blush. "They're just comfy,"
"You should always be comfy then," he says, his eyes on my body.
"My eyes are up here," I mock him, wincing at the pain in my throat. I shouldn't have shouted earlier.
He meets my eyes, and I stare into his green ones, mesmerized at the way they catch the light.
"I know," he says. "I just can't stop staring at you. And stop taking." He takes my hand, and we leave the room.
We don't pass anyone on our way down the stairs, or in the back room. The clock says it's ten in the morning. I can't believe I slept that long. When we walk into the kitchen, Niall is there, picking up trash.
He turns to face us. "Hey," he says, eyeing my clothes. He looks slightly disappointed, like he expected better of me.
"Mere is ill," Harry explains.
"Oh," Niall frowns.
Two girls walk into the kitchen, tossing they're cups in a garbage bag. They're staring at us too, and then they start whispering g to each other. Maybe I should have worn my clothes.
"Do you have any ibuprofen?" Harry asks, ignoring the girls. They are barely dressed, and their makeup is so think it probably adds a pound to their weight.
"Did you fuck too hard?" One girl says suddenly, both of them giggling. My stomach turns in anger, and I can't help myself. I start to march over to them, fully prepared to hit the girl that spoke, but then Harrys arms wrap around my waist, holding me back.
"Mere, calm down," he says.
"No!" I try to pry his arms away, but stop when I start to cough. All of the sudden I can't stop coughing, and Harry lets go as I double over. My head hurts twice as much, my whole body racked with coughs.
"Shit, are you ok?" Harry is rubbing my back, and I feel like crying. I'm not sure why I can't stop coughing. I haven't choked on anything, I just have this horrible breathless feeling, but every time I try to breath deeply I just cough over and over. I feel as though my brain is bouncing around my skull, slamming into my head. I let out a whimper, and end up sitting on the floor of Niall's kitchen, crying without tears, and coughing without enough air.

A/N.... HEY! I'm so sorry this took so long and is so short. I had exams this week, but now I'm on break so the updates should be more frequent (: please vote and comment because it means a lot! Hope you liked it