Live the Life You've Always Imagined (Larry)

Chapter 10

HARRY'S POV

I awoke with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the Sahara. I went to roll over, intending to bury my face in the pillow, thus blocking out the sunlight shining through the window directly into my eyes. Unfortunately, the motion, however slight, made my stomach flip like a gymnast at the Olympics. This caused me to bolt out of the bed, and stagger unsteadily straight to the bathroom. I made it to the toilet just in time to spill the contents of my stomach into the bowl. Closing my eyes, I willed my body to stop betraying me like this. Once I had ceased vomiting, for the moment.  (I happen to be quite familiar with this routine).  I carefully leaned my head against the cool porcelain in an attempt to soothe my sweat drenched face.  With eyes still closed, I ran my hands through my tangled, greasy hair, hoping in vain that no one would come in to find me on my knees, heaving my dignity into the toilet bowl.

There was someone calling my name from the bedroom.  However, I didn't have it in me to respond. I could feel my stomach lurching. As I once again filled the bowl, there was behind me, the sound of light footsteps, followed by running water. A few moments later, a refreshingly cool rag was gently swept across my face, then placed on the back of my neck.
Opening my eyes, I was met with worried blue ones belonging to the man who has been consuming my thoughts for the past three weeks. Clearing my throat, I asked, "Louis, why am I at your flat?"

Gazing at me skeptically, yet obviosly troubled, he questioned, "Don't you remember  last night, Harry?"

Pausing to think, I told him, "No, I went out. Drank a few, like normal. It's not a big deal."

He cocked his head to the side, looking at me strangely as he stood, leaning against the counter. It seems as though he's trying to figure something out.
Well I don't need his pity! I'm not some wounded animal for him to try and fix! Standing, with as much dignity as I can gather, I meet his gaze, "I shouldn't have.  Called you, that is.  Thank you for your help though.  I apologize for inconveniencing you. I'll get my things and be going."
Making my way past him, I go to the bedroom to gather my belongings. There's not much. Just my mobile and keys. My wallet is still in my pocket. I walk to the front door, Louis trailing behind me. As I'm putting on my boots, he approaches me warily.

"What are you doing, Harry?" he asks quietly, looking sincerely hurt. "You don't have to leave. You're welcome to stay."

"Yeah, ya should stay, Harry," the annoyingly cheerful, (for such a hellish morning), lad interjected, walking down the hall to the toilet.

Louis directed a hopeful look my way. "It would be nice if you did. Stay, that is. We could get to know each other," he suggested. "Besides, I have tea, and Niall can make us breakfast."

"Niall can what?" the man said, yelling from the bathroom. "What're ya tellin' 'im?"

"I told him that you're making breakfast," hollered the caramel haired boy, with a smile.

"Alright, but no complaints about the food," Niall answered, exiting the bathroom and walking past us towards the kitchen.

"You have to stay now," Louis stated firmly. "If you leave, it'll break his heart. Nobody likes a sad Niall. It's a crime against nature."

Letting out a resigned sigh, "I'll stay. Just because I don't want to upset Niall, but I insist on helping him."

"That's not necessary," he began.

"If you want me to stay, then I'm helping," I continued.
I hadn't the slightest idea why I'd agreed to stay. Maybe it was Niall's carefree acceptance of my presence. Maybe it was the hopeful look on Louis' face. In reality, it was a moment of pure insanity.

Putting my boots back by the door and running a hand through my hair nervously, I waved my hand in the direction that the other boy had gone. "I'm just gonna go see how I can help him."

A small smile on his face, he said, "He'll be thrilled. Besides, there's tea and some paracetamol in the cupboard. You probably want both. I'm going to go straighten up the living room. Niall knows where everything is, but call if you need anything."

After a moments hesitation, while we just looked at each other, I went to the kitchen. Niall was pulling food from the refrigerator and placing it on the counter. He looked up when he heard me.

"Hey, I made you a cuppa. It's right there," gesturing to the mug sitting on the counter. "Wasn't sure how you take it, but there's sugar on the table and milk in the fridge. Paracetamol's in the cupboard above," he pointed to the cabinet. "Help yourself."

I got a few paracetamol tablets and prepared my tea. Washing them down with the warm liquid, and sighing contentedly, I turned to the blonde who was mixing ingredients into a bowl, while watching me curiously.
"Thanks, it's just what I needed," I told him, holding up the mug. "So, how can I help? "

"You could cut up the potatoes. They're in the bottom of the pantry in the basket. Knives are in the second drawer," Niall told me while pointing to both places.

He began mixing the ingredients on the counter together. I'm not sure what he's making, but it looks good. As he worked, he began talking.

"How do ya like your eggs?" he asked. "When you're done with those, ya can just put 'em in that pan over there."

I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I cut the potatoes. It wouldn't go over well if I lopped of a finger. I figured that I would ask Niall some questions to distract myself from the nausea I am still feeling and the drink that I want desperately. Maybe if I get him talking about himself, he'll forget to ask me about myself and I won't have to answer anything too revealing.

Taking a calming breath, I began. "So, how long have you known Louis?"

He stopped stirring for a moment, obviously thinking. "A few years, now. We met in me hometown, Mulingar. I tripped over him," he continued, shrugging like it was no big deal.

With a timid smile, I asked," How did you manage that? "

"I was utterly pi$ $ed. Never seen 'im sittin' on the curb," he said, shaking his head as he took the potatoes from me and added them to the pan. "Tripped over him. Would've landed on me head if he hadn't caught me!"

Curious, I asked, "Why was he sitting on the curb?"

"The hotel he was booked at lost his reservation and they were full. He had no place to stay," he continued while gesturing for me to put the potatoes in the skillet. "I offered to let him kip at mine. He thought I was trying to pick him up," he continued, rolling his eyes.

"Were you?" I asked,sliding the potatoes off of the cutting board and into the pan feigning nonchalance. "Interested, I mean."

Shaking with laughter, Niall tried to catch his breath, "Me, interested in Louis? Nah, we're just friends. He'd come to town for research. Said he was writing some story. Wanted accuracy."

I stared at him, disbelieving. "Louis is a writer?"

"Sure is," he said, distracted by the pans on the stove. "He's really good too. Doesn't like people to know about it though," his eyes widened. "$h1t! I'm not supposed to say anything! He swore me to secrecy! You can't tell him you know."

"I won't mention it," I told him. "First, it's not going to come up. Second, I probably won't be seeing you guys after today."

He stopped cooking, spinning to look at me intently. "What makes ya think that, Harry?"

Turning away to take another drink of tea, I tried to avoid his question. Unfortunately, he's tenacious.

"Why wouldn't we get together again? Ya seem like a decent bloke,"
he questioned. "I think it'd be cool to hang out together. I'm sure Louis would too."

"Why are you guys being so nice to me? " I ask, looking at my hands, embarrassed. "You don't even know me," I whisper.

"S'true, but I'd like the chance," Niall says kindly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

The moment was broken by shouting from the other room.