The many girlfriends of Harry Styles: Exclusive!

If there had been an interview like that, Harry can't remember it. He scowls at the magazine on the table, like if he stares at it for long enough it'll burst into flames and cease to exist all across the world. Usually he'd just flip the booklet over, face it down so he wouldn't see it, then continue on with his day and forget about it. That's been harder to do recently, ignore it all. Not only that, but everything's starting to be difficult. Getting up in the morning, moving the fork from his plate to his mouth at breakfast, chewing, getting dressed, all of that's... he doesn't know, exhausting? Let alone going out on stage, speaking to fans, facing the boys...

Thing is, day in and day out he's been doing it. No one's suspected anything, no one's thought him to be any different than his usual. He'd started to think he was just sick or something, that it'd go away soon, but yesterday he couldn't even get up from his hotel bed. He couldn't answer his phone when Niall called, he couldn't answer the door when Louis knocked and called for him. Today it's incredible to him that he's even dragged himself into the tour bus, and on time, too.

He hasn't moved from his spot at the little table since he's gotten on an hour ago, though, and the tea that he'd poured when he first came in sits untouched and cold on the surface in front of him. There are a few more magazines as well, accompanying the one he's just read the headline for. Paul leaves them there, to check up on what everyone's saying and things like that. He tries not to look at them, tries to keep his eyes zoned out on nothing...

New 1D scandal with Harry Styles?

He snorts a little to himself, arm reached out lazily across the table and his head drooping down onto it, so that he's reading everything from the side. Who would he even be having a scandal with? He hasn't even come in contact with any girls in days. He debates grabbing for the magazine, flipping through the pages until he finds some (probably photoshopped) pictures of him and some girl he hardly knows, but when he wills his free hand to move nothing happens. It remains curled on the table, useless, still.

At first it was funny, all the rumours. After about a few months they weren't funny anymore, and if he's telling the truth, a few months after they stopped being funny they started to hurt. Crying over it on camera was probably one of the worst things he could have done, all that time ago. The fans had rallied behind him, yeah, but now there was more material for people to irrationally hate him for. He groans to himself, closing his eyes, watching early morning sunlight flicker through the window from behind his eyelids as the bus passes by the buildings leading out of the city...

---

Next thing he knows there's a hand on his back, and a voice whispering softly to him. He squeezes his eyes shut just a little tighter as he starts coming back to consciousness. He doesn't care how gentle that voice is, how light that touch is, he wants them both to go away. He just wants to be left alone.

"Come on Harry, you're gonna hurt yourself if you stay asleep like this," says the person, rubbing a light circle into his shoulders. He tries to just pretend they aren't there, that he can't hear them, that he's somewhere far away and they won't be able to find him where he's hiding. He hears them sigh, then hears a light clink as the person investigates his tea mug. They mutter something about if he's even drank any of it, though it's more pondering aloud to themself rather than actually asking him. "Haz, wake up."

He grumbles, turning his face into his arm. For someone who hates being woken up, he thinks, Zayn's got some nerve trying to do so to him. "Leave me alone."

He feels the hand still, somewhere just below his shoulder blades, and suddenly it's gone. It returns only a second later, this time gently lifting Harry off of the table and sitting him up. Reluctantly he blinks open his eyes, seeing the Bradford boy looking back at him with furrowed eyebrows. The younger boy closes his eyes again as Zayn puts a hand to his friend's forehead, feeling it for a moment before flipping his hand and placing the back against Harry's temple. He feels warm, but not enough to have a fever. Well there has to be something wrong with him, Zayn thinks as he looks him over, wobbling as if he may fall forwards at any second. He looks awful.

"You feelin' alright?" he asks, gripping softly but firmly onto Harry's upper arms to keep him steady.

"Not really," he replies, and he huffs a tad to himself because it's probably the most honest he's been in a very long time. His eyes are still closed, so he doesn't see the worry that deepens on his friend's face, and he doesn't notice that he holds him just a slight bit tighter.

"I'm putting you on bed rest, then. Can you walk to bed?" It seems like a silly question, but it becomes a concerning one when Harry shakes his head, chin drooping to his chest and curls cascading around his face. He doesn't even acknowledge anything is happening when Zayn scoops him into his arms, even though the lad's outgrown him a good while ago, aside from wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. He can hear Zayn's semi-strained breathing as he brings him, but he can't be bothered to look up.

"What're you doin'?" he hears Niall say after he's brought a few steps to the bunks.

"Out, lads," Zayn says, shifting Harry in his arms so that he won't drop him.

"He alright?" askes Louis with concern, his voice slightly higher than usual.

"Out," Zayn repeats, and Harry burries his face in his shoulder as he feels two bodies bump against him lightly as they squeeze past.

"Put him in mine, no way you're getting him up there," he hears Liam say, refering to the beds. Harry lets out a breath as he's laid down, rolling over on his side and blinking his eyes open again. Both Zayn and Liam are standing there, looking like he's just been mortally wounded or something. He chuckles softly at it, to which Liam gives a sort of upset smile before turning and leaving the room. "Sleep well, Harry."

Zayn pulls a blanket over him, smiles, and is about to follow his other band mate out when Harry stops him. "Zayn, could you get those magazines off the table for me?"

He looks at him a moment, but then he nods, leaving, going over to where there's still sat a cold cuppa and some scattered articles. Liam's already there, looking through the magazines and frowning. He looks up as his friend gets closer, but as Zayn reaches out a hand for them he shakes his head and holds them to his chest. "No."

"Why? What's in them?" Louis asks quietly from where he's sat himself on the sofa. Liam shakes his head again, looks to Zayn, hands them over. Zayn only looks at the front covers of two before literally throwing them back onto the table, pissed off. He bites his lip angrily as he turns around and goes back to the bunks, where Harry is tiredly glancing at him.

"On second thought, you need to rest, alright?" he says. The younger lad narrows his eyes, but doesn't say anything. Instead he gives a slight nod, then burrows down into the blankets and closes his eyes. Zayn shuts the door behind him as he leaves the room once more, looking towards the floor.

"What's the matter with him?" asks Niall, on the sofa beside Louis. Zayn shrugs as he plops down on one of the seats facing them on the other side of the bus, running a hand through his hair.

"Sick I think," he says. From there the boys go into talking about how they hope he'll be better before next week (they have a concert Tuesday), and about who would be watching and caring for him when. The boy they're fussing about can still hear them, even through the door because Zayn didn't close it all the way, and it's sweet he thinks. It's nice to know that his friends care so deeply, but... He hides himself under Liam's blanket and puts his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes as he feels a familiar stinging at the backs of them, a familiar tightness in his throat.

He's sick, yeah. But not in the way they're thinking.

Notes

Hi guys, hope you enjoy this pain so far. Definitely not my best work, I've more or less written it for the sake of procrastinating my responsibilities, but I hope to come back and edit it. There'll be more chapters later, and yes, it ends happily. If you ship Ziam/Larry you should come check out my blog ^.^ i-ziam-together.tumblr.com ...I tried to make a pun sort of, like "I see them together", but... yeah, okay. I'll go. Bye!! ~Harry