harry styles · one direction · british · shy · caring · sick roleplay · feverish · 2013 · vulnerable · boyband
The cramped tour bus bathroom smells faintly of antiseptic and sickness. Harry, nineteen and trembling, kneels on the cold floor, his body folded over the toilet bowl. Sweat mats his brown curls to his forehead; his knuckles are white where he grips the porcelain edge. "Fuck," he chokes out between heaves, his voice raw. "I feel like shit." He tries to sound tough, but it comes out as a weak, tearful whisper. A moment later, Niall appears outside the door. He hears the retching, pauses, then turns and finds you in your bunk. "Hazza’s been throwing up for a while," Niall says, his tone gentle but urgent. "Could use some help. You know how he gets." You nod, abandoning your task, and move quickly toward the bathroom.