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Considering that One Direction was made up of five rambunctious teenage boys, one of whom was a cripple and the other four of whom were largely uncoordinated, it really should have been a given that at some point someone was going to get seriously injured on stage. There was always debris covering the floor, and water or silly string or cake or god knows what else being thrown around, and Niall always insisted on jumping around like he hadn't just had major surgery. There should have been medics on standby.
No one expected it to be Harry, though.
Louis heard the colossal thud even over the chatter of the boys answering questions and the noise of the crowd. He didn't know what it was at first, but when the crowd gasped as one he knew it was nothing good. His stomach had time to sink before he whipped around, scanned the stage with his eyes, and saw Harry flat on his back with hands clutching his head.
He was moving before the other boys or any of the crew around the stage area had time to react. He was the first to get there, dropping to his knees beside Harry because fuck management, that was his bandmate and his boyfriend laying there. Publicity and closeting be damned.
“Shit, Harry, are you okay?” Louis asked hurriedly. “What happened? Does anything hurt? Talk to me.”
“'M fine, ‘m fine,” Harry insisted, though his words were a little bit slurred. “I just tripped on the corner of the ramp. Bumped my head, but I'm alright.”
“Where did you hit your head?” Louis pressed on, ignoring as usual Harry's idiotically lax attitude towards caring for himself. “Front, back, top, what?”
“I dunno. It's sort of just generally pounding.”
The others have gathered around at this point, all leaning over Harry with looks of great concern. In the background, the crowd is going insane. “He alright? Zayn asked, chewing his lip.
Louis doesn't answer, because he he's running his hand over Harry’s scalp to check for a lump or a cut just like he's done for his younger siblings about a million and a half times. He doesn't even need to pull his fingers back and look when they stumble across something warm and wet beneath the curls to know what he’s found.
“Shit. Get the security guys up here,” he said at once, making sure is that his mic was far enough away that the fans wouldn't be able to hear. “He busted his head open, he's bleeding.”
“I am not bleeding,” Harry pouted, eyes glazed. “Don't be ridiculous.”
“Oh, so what is it pouring out of your head, eh? Fruit punch?”
Harry didn't seem to appreciate Louis’ sarcasm, glaring up into his boyfriend's eyes with a familiar sort of stubbornness. He’s absolutely serious when he looks up at Louis and says, “You know what, Paul? You can be a real dick sometimes.”
Not that they really need a confirmation, but when Harry had been gently helped off stage and medics arrived, they decided that Harry probably had a concussion. Louis had him on a gurney in the back of the ambulance before management was even done debating whether the mass panic was going to be good or bad for publicity.
Harry of course was furious as soon as he was aware enough of what was going on to recognize who was his boyfriend and who was his tour manager, and to understand that he was in a hospital room for overnight observation. “Are you shitting me, Lou? I don't need to be observed.”
“Oh, would you look at that? Louis replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he addressed the roomful of band mates. “Harry went out between our last few world tours and got himself a medical degree. Now he can make official recommendations about his health after an accident. Isn't that wonderful?”
“Tone it down, Louis,” Liam warned. “You're being a bit of a dick.”
“I'm being realistic,” corrected Louis. “If Harry has his way, he'll be out and dancing around straight off the bat, and then who knows what could happen? I'm not going to let him make himself worse because he doesn't like having to obey doctor's orders.”
“So take me back to the hotel and you guys can take turns observing me,” Harry attempts with a reasonable tone. “But the fans are going to absolutely flip when they find out I have a concussion and had to stay overnight.”
“You seriously think they haven't found that out already?”
Harry fell silent under the truth of Louis’ logic. “Well. I guess if I'm already here,” he finally said. “But could you please stop looking at me like I'm about to die any second?”
“I'm not-!”
“Yes you are,” Zayn said smoothly.
They're all right, of course. Louis is even more insufferable than he usually is, and that's quite a feat. It's just that Louis hates not being in control, especially when it comes to the health and safety of people he loves, and he loves Harry more than anyone else on earth. And he had absolutely no control over this most important situation, so he just had to sit here and hang out with Harry for the next 12 hours, unable to do anything except trust but the doctors were going to take care of his boy.
In other words, the helplessness was driving him insane.
Eventually the others drifted back to the hotel, half because they needed to sleep somewhere and the couch was really only big enough for Louis, and half because somebody needed to show their face to make sure the crowd surrounding the hospital knew that Harry was fine. Management tried to encourage Louis to go with them so that nobody would connect the dots and figure out that he hadn’t been seen leaving the Hospital, but one hot glare from Louis shut down that suggestion pretty quickly. They like to control every aspect of his life, but they also knew where they can push and where they absolutely cannot. Harry in a hospital bed was definitely in the latter category.
Soon it was just the two of them in the room and a couple of security guys in the hallway for when fans inevitably tried to break into the hospital to see Harry. It was actually kind of nice, in a way, to be able send the evening alone together in the same room. The circumstances made it feel a little odd but with how hard things got for he and Harry on tour, Louis was just happy to take what he could get.
“What do you think’s the doctor's recommendation about sex therapy?” he said with a coy smile from his chair by the side of the bed.
Harry snorted and gave him a sideways glance. “We fuck pretty much every time we’re alone and near of bed. Or any other sturdy service. Or most walls. You can't seriously think we need sex therapy.”
Louis laughed at the idea. “No, no, not like that. I mean sex as a form of therapy.”
“I'm listening?”
“Use that beautiful brain of yours no matter how damaged it might be now,” Louis said slyly. “You, me, a bed… no band mates milling around…”
“Nurses and security guards though.” Harry's eyes were bright with amusement.
Louis threw his hands up in the air. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend? Where's your sense of excitement, Harry? That just adds to the fun. You can just slide your little tray table thing over your lap and I'll give you a quick handy under the blanket-”
“And what happens when the nurse comes in? What are you going to do then?” Harry grinned.
“Well I know we've talked about trying a threesome before, but I'm not sure this is quite the time.”
Harry burst into laughter, which only lasted a few seconds before he inhaled sharply and grabbed at the bandage on his head. “You made a compelling case, but I think I might have to pass,” he mumbled with a wince.
Louie just frowned and looked at Harry with concerned eyes, suddenly very sober. “Sorry,” he murmured quietly. “Didn't mean to make your head hurt. I'll try not to make you laugh anymore.”
Harry glanced towards the door for only a split second before he reaches out to grab Louis by the back of the neck and pulls him close for a quick kiss. “Impossible. I never stop laughing when I'm around you. That's like, half of the reason why I love you so much.”
“Only half?” Louis laughed so he wouldn't do a stupid thing like get all choked up. “Well do go on, then, tell me about how the other half is all my charm and dashing good looks.”
The nurse does come in later, with the cheerful smile and tired eyes of a woman who is close to the end of her shift but whose compassionate heart has not yet run out. Louis knows the look well from his mother, and give her an appreciative smile as she makes her way to Harry’s side.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Styles?” she asked, reading the data off of his monitor.
“Well,” hesitated Harry, clearly unwilling to be too honest in front of Louis based on the sideways glance he was giving his boyfriend. “Pretty good. My head still hurts.”
“Well I'm afraid that's going to be the case for at least a few days,” she answered, “but I can help a little bit at least for now.” She reached down to fiddle with the place where the IV led into Harry's arm.
“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Louis immediately protested. “What's that you're giving him?”
Harry shot Louis a look. “Louis, she's my nurse. She's not trying to poison me.”
The poor nurse must have been more accustomed to this type of outburst than one would think, because she just looked at Louis. “I'm not giving him anything new, sir,” she replied. “I'm just upping his dose of morphine a little bit. He's a big lad, so it may take more for the IV to really be effective.”
“Right. Sorry,” apologized Louis, and it was only as he settled back into his chair that he realized he was half stood, as if ready to jump in between Harry and the person who was literally assigned specifically to help him. “Dunno what came over me there.”
“Must be because the band would never survive without my charm and grace,” Harry said slightly. “You’re just worried that if I die your livelihood will be at risk.”
Louis snorts. “Yes, I'm sure that's exactly it.”
Maybe it's the morphine, or all the excitement of the day, but after a while Harry started to doze off. It's a little bit instinctual for Louis to want to crawl into the narrow space next to him on the bed, and it’s only with a tremendous amount of willpower that he doesn't. There are too many wires anchoring Harry to this bed to be properly coddled and besides, the privacy here is only an illusion.
He shudders to think how much trouble they’d be in if an orderly snapped a picture of them curled up in bed and leaked it online. But there's no amount of caution or anything else that can stop him from scooting the chair closer to the bed so he can sit in it lay his head on the mattress by Harry's side. If he wants to fall asleep touching the boyfriend that he doesn't get to touch nearly enough these days, then by God he's going to.
Somewhere in the night a nurse comes around to check Harry's vitals and Louis wakes to find that Harry's hand is tangled in his like he knew to comfort Louis even in his sleep. Which is silly, really, because Harry is the one who took a fall and wound up in the hospital, not Louis. If anybody should have a comforting hand anchoring them in place while they slept, it should be him.
But then again, Harry's always been a smart lad. He didn't need to be awake to know that today was a hard day for Louis as well.
Louis made no move to pull away, just gave the nurse a sleepy smile. She smiled back, maybe a bit knowingly, and lets them be. Louis closed his eyes let himself enjoy the feel of clean sheets against his cheek, a warm hand cradling his head, and the security of knowing that even when he's trying to be the strong one Harry has his back, and he is not, nor will he ever be, alone.