I Get To Love You || l.s

chapter 2

Harry

Harry wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand, reaching out to flush the toilet. He felt disgusting, and stood up on shaky legs, running the tap until the water was chilled enough to sip from his cupped hands. He spat it back out again before he grabbed his toothbrush, making quick work of cleaning his teeth. It wasn't the first time he'd been sick, but it didn't seem to get any better. The strange thing was that as soon as he'd been sick, Harry felt much better, and the wave of nausea was gone. Harry had an inkling of what was going on, but he kept trying to put it to the back of his mind, sure it wouldn't happen to him. Not now, when he was finally in a good place workwise. He'd just pulled on his tank top when his phone buzzed again and he walked through to his bedroom wearing only his boxers, scratching at his tummy.

Liam: You're nominated for the Emmy for In the Fall , that TV short you did last year. Well done, mate! Might want to tweet out and say something about it. How you feeling?

Harry smiled at the message from Liam, his friend and manager, and how much he cared about him, and not just in the sense of his career. Liam had been there since Harry had got his first acting job in Emmerdale when he was a young boy, and his career had quickly taken off when he was asked to take on a small role in a Hollywood movie that surprisingly hit the big time. Since then, he was in demand, and Harry felt lucky enough he got to pick and choose the roles he took now. Being nominated for an Emmy was an amazing feat, and already, Harry was imagining attending the ceremony next year, schmoozing with stars much more famous than he was, and he smiled to himself as he tapped out a reply.

Harry: Amazing news, I'm so pleased! Will sort out a tweet in a bit. I'm alright, still a bit poorly. Must have caught a bug from someone! You round later for drinks?

Liam: Definitely. I'll bring a bottle. See you later, mate. Take care.

Harry switched off his phone, and pulled on some pyjama pants before he left them room and wandered over to the fridge, pulling open the door. His eyes raked over the contents, the salad wilting in the crisper at the bottom. He'd gone to make himself a healthy lunch the other day but the minute he'd cut open the avocado to add to his salad, he'd felt the urge to vomit and had barely made it to the loo before he'd thrown up again. Green tea was another thing he couldn't stand anymore, and with a guilty feeling settling low in his belly, he reached for a can of full fat coke, something he would never normally touch and opened it quickly, the metal can cold under his fingertips. He took two large gulps and smiled to himself as the fizzy liquid made its way down his throat, hitting the spot.

He kicked the fridge shut and walked back through to the sitting room, plopping himself down heavily on his sofa as he reached for his iPad, inputting his pin code to get access to the device. He opened Netflix and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, his can of coke by his side, a half eaten bag of Doritos on the table that Harry was hungrily eyeing up now his sickness had passed. This was the opposite of how he usually behaved, but the idea of going for a run this morning made Harry's bones ache. He opened the latest episode of Gossip Girl and settled back, enjoying the lives of Manhattan's elite unfolding on the screen.

He was startled awake hours later by the shrill tone of his doorbell. Harry cursed and sat up, pulling at the waistband of his Gucci pyjama pants, hating that they were feeling uncomfortable and tight lately, but at the same time, he felt grateful he hadn't managed to spill coke all over himself in his slumber, and chucked the now dead iPad to one side, dragging himself off the sofa. He looked through the peephole and smiled to himself at the sight of the man stood on the other side, and he opened the door.