➳ loathing in vegas // l.s.

prologue

Waking up, Louis experienced an instant headache gnaw at his brain painfully that felt like stinging daggers piercing his head, stopping all the brain activity from functioning. In an effort to grasp where he was, he forced open his eyes as he raised his upper body.

He felt hot all over his skin, feeling sweat drip down his temples as numerous things touched his body. His blue gaze scanned the place he woke up in, but his brain ceased to make a connection. He had no clue where he was. And why was it so damn hot?

His eyes trailed down to his lap in attempt to make out the mystery that was the warmth he felt everywhere.

"Ugh, this was it." He growled under his breath in a vexed manner, his eyes holding an irritated glint in them as his face was twisted in a grimace.

Louis perceived the countless bodies sprawled all over the bed with him, their limbs intertwined with each other and some of them touching Louis. No wonder he couldn't breathe in here. And he was naked too, except for his boxers.

The cherry on cake was when Louis' gaze traveled to a certain curly haired boy laying down right next to him, literally glued to his body, with his arm draping over Louis' torso.

Thing is, cliche I know, Louis can't stand this person. He's the most arrogant son of a bitch he's ever seen. He's that type of person that does all the wrong things in the world, yet never seems to realize that not everything he does is right. He's a spoiled brat that was never told no and has that very annoying cheeky charisma. Louis hates it especially when he tries to make a move on him, and that happens quite often.

"Gross." He murmured lowly as he snatched Harry's hand off of him and threw it back to him.

The boy, Harry, was still sleeping peacefully, his features resembling the ones of an Angel. Maybe if Louis didn't know how entitled he was, he'd coo at him. He just wanted to slap his face right now.

Louis found the energy to get up from the bed, crawling through the several people still sleeping on the bed he was previously in. He approached the doorframe with a few steps, stopping for a second to hold his temple. His head hurt like a bitch. And the worst thing was that he didn't remember anything from last night. Where the hell is he and what happened?

He sincerely has no memory of the events from the previous night and he didn't recognize a single thing since he woke up.

As he stood propped on the doorframe, he noticed another silhouette laying down on the sofa in the living room, a newspaper in their hands.

He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and took a few steps forward. Louis noticed smoke coming from the person' mouth, but he couldn't make out who it was because the newspaper was covering their face.

"Good morning, Louis." A serene tone greeted him with a hint of tranquility in the timbre. "How did you sleep?"

"It could've been better, Zayn." He muttered, upset with the fact that he doesn't remember anything. He resembled a little child who was distressed. "I just want to know where the fuck we are." He informed his acquaintance, because no, he's not friends with Zayn. He barely tolerates him too. He didn't do anything wrong, it's just that he's very close with Harry and anyone that is a good friend of Harry's is an enemy of his.

"We're in Las Vegas." It's what he merely stated, causing Louis' heart to drop in his stomach and his eyes to widen in shock.

"What did you say?" He could barely find the words to utter as he stumbled over his legs like a fawn who just learnt how to walk.