I wake up to a steady stream of light peering through the window, and I am confused with where I am. I blink a few times, and feel a warm arm wrapped around my waist, with a slight sound of a snore in my ear. I see the Irish flag on the white wall and I conclude I must’ve slept over at Niall’s. I turn over to see his face, and my head begins to pound. I nestle my head into his bare chest to block the light from my eyes. I try to fall back asleep, but my mouth begins to pool with drool and I know what that means. I sit up quickly, climb over Niall, who doesn’t wake and try to make my way to the door. Zayn wakes up and sees that I am trying to get through the mess of all our clothes and backpack that inhibit their floor. I try and get out the down but my vomit is coming up its too late. I pull a black plastic waste basket to my face, just as the first bit of chunks come out I feel two hands pull my hair away from my face and gather it on the back of my neck. The smell of my puke enough makes me hurl again and again. Then I dry heave more and more. The whole room must smell like the alcohol mixed with whatever food I ate yesterday. The entirety of my throwing up and dry heaving my hair is still gathered behind my hair, and no one is talking. The constant sound of my vomit splashing against the waste basket and the dry heaves that come between the actual vomit is the only thing that fills this small dorm room. My head is pounding more and more, my world spins and the spins the other way around.
Finally, after about 30 minutes, I think my vomiting and dry heaving ceases enough to get me off the floor. I am freezing, shaking, and my forehead has an immense amount of sweat.
“Charlotte, do you want water or food?” Zayn’s peaceful, hushed voice asks.
“Can you just lie me down?” I whisper and wipe the remainder drool and vomit from my mouth with Niall’s white shirt that I’m wearing. Without responding I feel the fingers release my hair and Zayn’s arms slip to under my armpits. He lifts me up from the floor and guides me to his black sheets.
“You might want to bring the trashcan over here.” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“You won’t throw up again just fall asleep.” He says and tucks me in. Before I close my eyes, I see Zayn walk over grab the black trashcan now painted with my orange and red vomit and leave the dorm.
The clock now reads 10:05 when I roll back over from Zayn’s bed and Niall is still laying on his side and lightly snoring. I wipe my hair from my face, and see that Zayn is sitting at his desk with two Starbucks’s coffees and two pastry bags.
“Head still hurt?” Zayn asks without looking up, he grabs a coffee from his desk, and extends his arm out to meet me on his bed. I grab the coffee, suck some down and swallow letting the caffeine sink in.
“A little, but I feel better. Thank you so much for helping me.” I say and he finally looks at me.
“It’s no problem Charlotte; you should realize I’d do anything for you by now.” He says and smiles looking at the train wreck I call myself.
“Still though, you didn’t need to help me.” I banter back, liking the reassurance I get from him.
