Can you do a Niall imagine where he wakes you up in the middle of the night with a really bad migraine, and you are trying to comfort him and take care of him but he ends up getting worse and being sick from the pain in his migraine?? I'd love to read this!! Thank you so much! :)

You were woken by the shifting of the bed. You heard Niall getting up and heard water running. Too tired to get up, you hoped he’d just crawl back into bed with you. But the water just kept running. Finally, so much later that you were fully awake, the light shut off and he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“Hey…” you said, your voice low and quiet as you slid over to him, your hands running gently over his narrow shoulders. He eased into your touch, sighing deeply. “Okay?”

He was silent for a long time, breathing deeply with the rhythm of your touch. “No…” he finally exhaled, his shoulders sagging.

“Your head again?” you asked. He gave you a slow nod. “Lay down.” He laid next to you, his movements slow and uncomfortable. You ran your hands through his hair, rubbing your nails gently over his scalp. His face remained tightly pinched in pain, so your next plan of attack was a cold, damp cloth on his forehead. He tried to relax, but you could tell the pain was building. Deciding maybe a warm cloth would be better, you headed into the bathroom. Over the running water, you heard a soft, gagging noise and rushed back into the bedroom. In the light of the bathroom, you saw only the puddle on the ground and Niall’s pale, gaunt face, looking up at you like he might break in pieces right there.

“Sorry,” he gasped, his hands shaking. You stepped around the puddle and helped him to his feet. With him leaning heavily on you, you took him into the living room and gave him a warm cloth, a glass of ice water, and a trash can. He tried to apologize again but you shushed him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Cleaning up his mess wasn’t fun. It took a lot longer than you would have liked too and nearly made you sick in the process. But before dawn, you were walking back to Niall, having washed your hands four or five times to make sure you didn’t even smell of it. He was lying toward the edge of the couch, his pinched features pointed toward the trashcan. You slid over the back of the couch, pressing your front to his back and wrapping your arms around him. He was awake enough to cuddle into your embrace, his face turning toward your arm. You leaned up to press a kiss to the side of his head, where the blond in his hair met the brunette.

“I love you,” you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

“Love you, too,” he sighed, some of the pinchedness leaving his face as he relaxed and was finally able to fall asleep.