Escape Route (Decode Sequel)

Chapter Thirty Three - Tiny Feet.

Lennon. 

Harry pulled back into the driveway of the extensive house. After he pulled the keys from the ignition neither of us made an inclination to move. He dangled the keys between his fingers, our gazes both focused on the front door. 

He let out a deep sigh and slouched back into the seat. 

"I still can't believe you can run that fast." He heartedly laughed as he lazily turned to face me. I grinned back but a sudden wave of nausea swept over me again. I was beginning to think this was more than just anxiety brewing in my stomach. He noticed my discomfort and sat up straighter again.

"You look really pale." 

"I am pale." I wittily responded as I rested my head against the cold glass of the window. 

"You need to rest. Take a bath and sleep it off."

"Yeah... A nap sounds good. Great actually." I agreed, opening my eyes to look at him. He was staring back at me, he had worry written all across his face. "Harry, it's nothing to worry about. Most likely just a dodgy breakfast, you'll get frown lines from worrying too much." 

"I know," he sighed heavily. "But the same thing happened in Sicily. You were sick, Zayn wasn't yet you ate the same. We ate the same and I'm fine." 

"It's just a coincidence and anyway we decided the problem in Sicily was the dodgy tracker stuck in me by a someone who knew nothing about germs and stuff. I need a nap and some vegetable soup and I'll be right as rain."

“I thought I was stubborn until I met you,” He muttered under his breath as he climbed out of the car. I rolled my eyes and joined him on the driveway. He closed my door behind me and placed his hand firmly on my back. 

“I feel sick, I’m not dying.” I responded, commenting on his helpful gesture. I had a great sleep which is why I couldn’t understand why I felt so grouchy. 

“Do you have to be so morbid?” He sighed heavily and unlocked the front door. 

“I can’t seem to help it half the time.”

“I’ve noticed.” His half smile turned the awkward conversation to slightly more light hearted. The pain in my lower abdomen was like a strong punch to the gut, it only meant one thing. Mother Nature was ready to make her visit and disrupt my life for a week straight. 

Harry’s hand moved down my back and tapped my butt as he nodded his head towards the stairs. “I’ll get you some soup, you go get changed. I’ll bring the bags in too.” 

“Mm’kay.” I mumbled, ascending the stairs slowly and carefully. Harry had disappeared into the kitchen by the time I reached the top of the steps.

“You look bloody awful.” I scowled at Perrie and walked around her. “What did Harry do?” I furrowed my eyebrows and turned to look at her.

“Nothing?” I questioned confused by her accusation. “Just had the complete opposite of a Michelin star breakfast that's all.”

“Is Harry sick too?” She asked, following me into the bedroom I shared with Harry.

“Of course not,” I laughed sarcastically. “The boys here could eat sixty year old bread and still be fine.”

“You get sick a lot.” She replied bluntly. I yanked my jumper over my head and slid under the duvet, too lazy and too tired to attempt to change the rest of my clothes. Perrie sat on the end of the bed, her hand resting against my foot trying to comfort me.