By the time they reached Annabelle's apartment building, Louis' face was tinged green.

Slow moving was okay, Annabelle thought. She was careful not to jostle Louis' stomach on the way up the stairs, but she worried.

"Are you okay?" She asked, glancing at him nervously. He looked like he was about to throw up all over the carpeted hallway.

He nodded, but kept his mouth tightly shut. He had been staring straight ahead for the last five minutes, probably not seeing a thing.

Annabelle cursed under her breath as his arm tightened around his stomach, causing it to make a quick rumbling sound.

"Come on, only one more flight." She said quickly, tightening her grip at his shoulder and stumbling up the stairs with him. Of course, most of the stumbling came from Louis, but she managed to stay upright and keep him from falling.

As they reached her apartment door he gave a little moan, and while fumbling with her key she saw he had grown paler. He was hunched over slightly, one arm around his stomach. The other hand had come up to cover his mouth.

"Oh, shit!" She muttered, quickly inserting the key into the lock and throwing open the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lucas's voice demanded. "It's a good thing I have my own key."

They were met by the smell of popcorn, and Lucas stood at the kitchen counter eating, waving a hand at his tongue to cool it off.

"I burned my tongue," he informed her, and Annabelle rolled her eyes.

"Uh, Annie?" Lucas asked.

"What?" Annabelle snapped.

"Your friend there? He's gonna blow."

Louis whimpered and pressed his hand tighter against his mouth as he looked at her with wide, desperate eyes.

"Oh shit," her eyes widened and she quickly steered him into the bathroom, pushing him to his knees by the toilet.

Louis immediately ducked his head and vomited violently, bringing up whatever he had managed to keep down earlier.

Annabelle knelt and put her hand between his shoulder blades, and for a moment she thought he relaxed. Unfortunately, his stomach wasn't done, and he gagged again, hiding his head in the porcelain as his body expelled more.

Annabelle swallowed, somewhat from nerves and partially from witnessing him vomit. Lucas had gone surprisingly quiet in the other roon.

She brought her hand lower on his back and rubbed in circles awkwardly, not entirely sure she was helping as his muscles kept tightening before another heave.

After a minute she heard a muffled sob and realized he was crying. He lurched forward again and Annabelle winced as he painfully threw up again.

This time, he lifted his head out of the toilet bowl and leaned back on his heels, spitting saliva into the toilet.

"Are you done?" She asked tentatively.

He hummed a weak response and wiped at his face with his sleeve, trying to dry off any tears or traces of saliva. He fumbled to flush the toilet, so Annabelle reached out and did it for him. He muffled another sob, and Annabelle watched as he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"It really hurts, huh?" She asked quietly.

"Mhmm," Louis whimpered and nodded his head.

"Um . . . think it could be your appendix?"

"No," he shook his head. "I already had it taken out, on my sister's birthday one year."

"It's probably another stomach flu then."

Louis whimpered. "I f-feel so bad." He wailed.

Annabelle bit her lip, trying not to cry. His face was incredibly pale but his cheeks were flushed pink, tears streaming down them. His eyes were bright not just from the spilling tears but from the fever, which she knew had gone up.

"Come here," she whispered softly, reaching out for him.

He scooted closer to her and she pulled him into her body, wrapping her arms around him and trying to avoid his stomach. His face buried into the stomach of her dress, and she almost shuddered at the sudden warmth there from his breath.

He seemed to unconsciously take a fistful of the loose fabric, something Annabelle remembered doing with an ex boyfriend's hoodie.

"I feel s-s-so sick, An-Annie." He panted, struggling to catch his breath. "I feel awful."

"I know," Annabelle sighed and swallowed down a sob. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

This only made Louis cry harder.

"What, what did I say?" She asked worriedly.

"L-Lisa said that too!" He sobbed. "L-Lisa . . . L-L-Lovebug . . . She said she wouldn't leave me . . . But she did and it was all my fault and she can't come back! She had so many things she wanted to do! It's not fair!"

Annabelle stayed quiet as he started sobbing harder. She could feel his tears turning her dress into a damp mess, and she figured there was a decent amount of snot getting on there, too. In other circumstances, such a thing would make her shudder, but with Louis she really didn't care so long as she could help him feel better.

Louis gave a muffled cough and gagged. He scrambled back towards the toilet, gagging harder, and a tear slid down Annabelle's cheek as he hid his head and vomited again.

He kept crying, but only threw up once before nestling back into her. He nuzzled his face into her stomach and she bit her lip, worrying as she felt the immense heat radiate off his skin.

"It wasn't your fault, Lou." She whispered.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise,"

Louis sniffled, still crying, and groaned. "I'm still really nauseous, Annie."

"You're sick, b--bud."

Louis laughed a little. "Bud? You're calling me bud?"

"Well . . . I wasn't sure what to call you--I mean, I--well I was going to call you--"

Louis chuckled softly.

"Baby," Annabelle sighed. "I was going to call you baby."

"Call me baby then," he whispered, his tears slowing to a stop with several hitched breaths and a couple of sniffles.

"Yeah?"

"Y-yeah,"

"Maybe 'yeah' will be--"

"Do not say 'our always.'" Louis groaned, this time not from illness.

"Ha! I knew you read it!"

"No I haven't," Louis protested indignantly. "I saw the movie."

Annabelle laughed and took the opportunity to distract him from how poorly he felt. "So what kind of films are your favorite then?"

"I like comedies mostly, action movies too. Depends on the plot I guess."

"Yeah, I get that."

"I'm pretty into that newest Maze Runner film, what is it called, The Death Cure?"

"Yeah, I loved that one."

"None of the others matter," Louis chuckled.

"Quality film right there," Annabelle said, then sighed. "Most people want to sit and watch shit like Nerve or Fifty Shades of Grey."

Louis' cheeks reddened. "I saw that. And so did you, right?"

"Yes," Annabelle admitted sheepishly.

"Quality ideas are hard to come by these days," Louis mused.

"Agreed," Annabelle said. She hesitated. "Did you really go watch it?"

"Guilty,"

"Americans usually are."

Louis sat up a bit. "Is that a Blood Diamond quote?"

"Yeah, you like that movie?"

"Hell yeah!" Louis exclaimed, becoming animated in a matter of seconds. "You've got the bad guy tryna escape, and your ordinary girl who's secretly a badass trying to change the world, your interracial relationships--"

"They were just friends."

"Still a relationship, don't cut me off. And you've got the bad guys and the diamonds and the army and the bang slash kapows! And then you got--ohhh."

Annabelle stifled a giggle as Louis lay back down clutching his stomach.

"Too much excitement too fast." He groaned. "You did this to me."

Annabelle laughed loudly. "I did?"

"You quoted a DiCaprio movie!"

"You've got a thing for DiCaprio?"

"Only his films, babe, don't read too much into it. I mean, seriously, Titanic? A+ material right there. Go James Cameron."

"The door was big enough for the both of them,"

"It was for film purposes only, Marston!"

"So what?"

"He died for her so she lived for him."

"She should live for herself! He should have lived, too!"

"Babe, don't dis the genius that is J.C."

"J.C?"

"James Cameron, babe, James Cameron."

"Oh, I'm babe now, am I?"

"Yep, you're babe now. Sorry, you started it."

Annabelle rolled her eyes and laughed softly with a shrug. "Guess I did."

Louis groaned and swallowed hard and audibly. Annabelle knew it was getting harder for him to concentrate on something besides his stomach.

"Once you're all better we should have a movie night, all the best films."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you know, your favorites, the ones we've just discussed in length?"

Louis laughed and his eyes grew excited. "And Indiana Jones? Or James Bond?"

"Sure,"

"Ooh, and Edward Scissor-hands?"

"And Edward Scissor-hands," Annabelle laughed.

"With jellybeans and beer." Louis said adamantly.

"Jellybeans and beer?" Annabelle wrinkled her nose.

"You don't like jellybeans?"

"No, they're great, but most people say pizza."

"Lactose intolerant."

"But jellybeans? That's not real food."

"How dare you say jellybeans aren't real food!" Louis gave a mock gasp of disbelief.

"Okay," she agreed. "Movies with beer and jellybeans."

Louis smiled for a moment before his eyes grew wide.

"Are you okay?" She asked tentatively.

"Nope," Louis said. "'M gonna be sick 'gain."

Annabelle sighed and stood up as he threw himself at the toilet and gripped it until his knuckles turned white. His head disappeared into the bowl and she opened the small closet to see if there was anything that might be helpful.

"Do you want to try to sleep in here or in bed?" She asked absently.

"Here's good," Louis groaned into the bowl.

"Are you just saying that because it would be my bed?"

"Maybe,"

Annabelle screwed her face up as she heard him choke and then vomit. "Or maybe not. . ."

She reached up to the top shelf, standing in her tiptoes. When she turned around Louis' head was still partially hidden.

"I hate this," he moaned.

"I know." She said simply. "I have an extra comforter here and a pillow that's lost its fluff, but I still think you might be more comfortable in an actual bed."

As she made up the makeshift bed, Louis flushed the toilet and hid his face in his hands, running his fingers through his hair before flopping down.

"Thank you for this," He mumbled weakly. His eyelids were growing heavier. "Ugh, this pillow really did lose its fluff."

"You feel better?"

"I'm still really nauseous," he moaned, and his eyes screwed up in pain. "But I don't know how much is left to throw up."

"I hate to tell you this but I'm going to make you drink something soon." Annabelle sighed as she lay next to him. "I can't let you get dehydrated."

"You can't?" He chuckled softly.

"I like you too much for that," she whispered with a small smile.

"Thanks," he smiled back weakly, then closed his eyes. "Ugh . . . I feel awful."

He took Annabelle's hand and moved it under his shirt to rest on his stomach, letting her feel how uneasy it was; he liked the way her touch felt on his skin and the feel of her hand beneath his own.

"You feel really bad, baby, don't you?" She frowned sadly and met his eyes. He was somewhat surprised to find the look in her eyes to be almost as pained as he was sure his own looked.

"Yeah," he said softly. "But I'll be okay."

"I'll look out for you," Annabelle whispered. "I'll be your nurse until you're better."

"I'd like that," he smiled. "I'm really glad we met, Annie. I'm glad you sent me those messages on Twitter."

"Me too," Annabelle kissed his forehead, painfully aware of his rising fever. "Once you haven't thrown up for fifteen minutes, I'm moving you to my bed. Okay?"

"Okay," he said hoarsely, eyes closing.

"Ha! I got you to say it!" She exclaimed triumphantly.

"That doesn't count!" His eyes flew open.

"Yes it does." Annabelle said firmly, and Louis rolled his eyes.

"I'm really tired, Annie." He coughed weakly into his sleeve. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yeah, Louis, you get some rest." Annabelle gave him a small smile as she saw that his watery red-rimmed eyes had already closed. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" he croaked.

"Yeah, Lou, I promise."

"I think I might love you,"

"Already?"

"Sometimes you just know," Louis whispered.

A moment later he gave a light snore, and Annabelle was left on her own to think over those words.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A voice demanded, and she looked up to see her brother standing in the doorway, fists on his hips. Classic, sassy Lucas.

"What do you mean?" She decided to play dumb.

"What I mean," Lucas demanded, his hair flopping over one eye, making him look like a surfer. "Why do you have a pop singer megastar passed out in your bathroom?"

Annabelle hesitated. "I know him."

"How?"

"Through Twitter," she said quietly. It sounded insane. It sounded ridiculous.

"Oh Annie," Lucas sighed.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

I don't know, she thought.