The thought of Harry caused you to perk up a little. The pain had subsided slightly, to more of a dull ache. You took the opportunity to quickly rummage in your bag and down two ibuprofen, something you had begun to always carry. You knew it would be a futile attempt at combating the pain, but you figured it was better than nothing. Three deep breaths later, you carefully walked back out to Harry.
                          
His gaze was fixed on his phone, his left thumb and index finger gripping his bottom lip in what you could only take as an action of restlessness. It looked as though he hadn't touched his risotto since you had left. As you approached, he looked up. "Are you alright?"
                          
"I'm really sorry," your voice was shaky. You gripped the back of the chair you had previously occupied, willing yourself to get it together. "I think I need to go home, I'm starting to feel like rubbish."
                          
Concern flooded Harry's face, his eyes darting up and down to further assess your appearance. You forced yourself to stand up straighter as though this would portray that you are fine. "Is it the food?" he questioned, looking at his own plate apprehensively.
                          
"No, no. It's just... I get pain sometimes."
                          
He looked confused. You weren't one to broadcast your misgivings, so you knew Harry would be slightly shocked to hear of your chronic condition. "Let me get the bill then," he stood up whilst motioning for a waiter's attention. 
                          
"No, please finish your dinner!"
                          
"What?" he looked at you incredulously, "I'm not going to just let you leave alone when you're clearly not feeling well."
                          
As you were about to retort, a spasm of hurt ricocheted across your belly leaving you only able to suck in a sharp breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your fingers tighten against the back of the chair. Mere seconds later you felt a comforting warmth envelop you along with the barely-there scent of spice and vanilla -- it was Harry. He had wrapped his arms around you carefully, his right hand pulling your face into his chest.
                          
"What's going on?" Harry said quietly, trying his best to hide how frantic he was really feeling.
                          
You let go of the chair and gripped onto Harry's arm, gladly accepting the comforting gesture. It was almost uncanny how the pain seemed to dissipate quickly as you stood there enfolded in Harry.
                          
"Excuse me sir," you felt Harry's head turn as a voice intruded upon them, "is everything alright?" It was the waiter that Harry had flagged down.
                          
"I'm sorry, could we just grab the bill please? My partner isn't feeling too well all of the sudden."
                          
You blinked your eyes open and carefully pulled out of Harry's embrace. You had almost forgotten you both were standing in the middle of a restaurant. The waiter had already bustled off to get the bill.
                          
"Hey," Harry grabbed your hand, giving a gentle squeeze, "are you okay?"
                          
You did your best to plaster on a smile and feign indifference but judging from Harry's stony gaze there was no point in even pretending that you were alright. "Right now it's slightly better, but the pain will be back no doubt."
                          
He nodded once and quickly collected his coat from his chair and phone off of the table. The waiter had returned and before you could even reach for your wallet, Harry had already tapped his card and began leading you out of the restaurant, his arm wrapping around your waist once more. "The Uber should be here in five minutes."
                          
You could barely voice your thanks when another wave of pain rolled on through, leaving nothing but shaky breaths and clenched fists in its wake. Harry's arm tightened around you, and you gladly leaned into him as you focused on willing the pain away.