Larry, Actually.

Six: December 6th

"I just got fucking friendzoned." Louis grumbles, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

"Louis, I love you. I really do. But I'm not dealing with this shit sober." 

"You know what?" Louis says decidedly. "Neither am I."

He pulls on the outfit Zayn got, and he must admit, it's pretty good.

***

Several hours later, Louis is fucking wasted. He's done several lines of shots, and has so much vodka he's lost count. Tequila, too. He thinks.

He's also had loads of beer, and other stuff.

Honestly, he can't remember.

Zayn and Liam disappeared to dance, and Louis' been making out with a random knock-off Harry for a while.

The guys been getting a little handsy, and Louis honestly doesn't really care. Maybe this is what he needs. Maybe he's sexually frustrated.

Maybe a hook-up with a random bloke in a bar is exactly what he needs.

The guy pulls away, and Louis can't really focus on his face. "How 'bout we get out of here?" He asks, and Louis shrugs.

"Sure, Harry." He drunkenly mumbles.

"My names Andrew..." He says, and Louis swears.

"Sorry, Andrew." He says. "Bit drunk and you look like someone I know." Know is an understatement.

"It's ok." Andrew says, wrapping an arm around Louis and leading him towards the exit.

"Lou!" It's Zayn, pushing through the crowd to get to him. "Where're you going?"

Liam, he thinks, appears behind Zayn. Louis gestures vaguely towards Andrew. (was that his name?)

Zayn smirks. "Get it, I guess." He says. "Text me later, ok?"

Louis drunkenly nods, letting Andy lead him towards the exit and into a taxi.

They immediately resume the making out, and Adam's definitely getting a little handy. No. Andrew.

God, he's too drunk for this shit.

***

He's woken by an obnoxious bleeping. 

Louis' currently underneath a bloke he doesn't know, head pounding and mouth feeling like sandpaper. His mouth tastes like sour alcohol and cigarettes, and vomit. 

He groans, finding his phone and answering after a few moments of stabbing at the screen with his finger. He can barely open his eyes, nor lift his head. "What."

"Louis?!" It's Harry's voice. Frantic, and way too fucking loud. "Where the fuck are you?!"

"Er..." He says. He looks around. "Uh... Um. Narnia?"

"This isn't fucking funny, Louis!" Harry yells. He winces. "I'm fucking worried about you, you stupid prick!"

"Alright, alright. Keep your hair on. I'll send you my location." Louis mumbles. "Stop yelling, will ya? Have a headache."

He fumbles with the phone, eventually managing to send Harry his location.

The guy, Aaron or something (he knows it began with an A... Right? One of the letters, anyway), rolls over, pulling him closer.

He wriggles away, falling to the floor with a thump, then stumbles to his feet.

His head is spinning, and it takes him a good few minutes to do anything of use.

"Why the fuck are you on the other side of town?" Harry asks incredulously.

"Hook-up." He mumbles, starting to pull on his clothes. 

***

"Lou!" Harry exclaims, a tad angrily, pulling him into a hug. "I was worried!"

"I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"Sure." Harry says, leading him to the car. It's shiny. "Now, the whole reason I was looking for you is because I need the pictures you took at my wedding."

Oh shit.