Harry wakes up on Monday morning in his own room, having left Niall late in the evening after finally keeping down the pizza. They had played video games into the morning, only succumbing to their exhaustion shortly before sunrise.
He lazily picks up his phone and looks at the time. “Shit! I’m late. I’m late. I’m so fucking late,” he panics, jumping out of bed and dressing in the first thing he sees. His class started twenty minutes ago, and this professor has a strict attendance policy. He grabs his bag off his desk and slips on his shoes, running out the door while still pulling his shirt down and buttoning up his jeans. Sprinting across campus, he slides into the back of the classroom in record time.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Styles,” his professor says, not missing a beat mid-lecture.
Looking down at the floor, he rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth shut and pulls out his folder to take notes.
“Pop quiz, everyone. You can blame Mr. Styles who didn’t feel like it was necessary to arrive to my class on time.”
The class groans in unison. Several of his classmates shoot him withering looks. Shit.
The day isn’t getting any better as it goes on. He has an exam in his next class that he totally forgot to study for in his haze of chunder yesterday; and now, he is sitting in his third class of the day, brutally pulling at his hair, his very dirty hair that hasn’t been washed since Saturday before they had gone to Midnight Memories, after realizing he left his homework in his textbook. The same textbook that is at this moment in his room on his desk. He drags his hands over his face, then goes back to tugging at his hair. “Could this day get any worse?” he mumbles under his breath.
After class, Harry approaches the professor. Deciding to just get it over with, he blurts out, “I am so sorry to ask this, but will you be here long enough for me to run to my dorm and back to get my homework? It’s complete. I swear. I just left it on my desk. I, well, I had a rough day yesterday, what with the vomiting and the more vomiting. And I probably shouldn’t have had that last drink Saturday night; but they were so good, and I couldn’t help it. If there hadn’t been a limit, I would have definitely had more. I mean, it’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
He stops, eyes wide in disbelief at the words tumbling from his mouth to his professor. Did he really just say that out loud? Oh, God, where is his brain to mouth filter when he needs it? “Sorry. Just forget that last part. Yeah. So, um, anyway. Do you have time for me to run and get it? It will take me about half an hour to make the trip there and back if I run, and I will. I promise. I will run the entire...”
“Mr. Styles,” his professor interrupts, laughing lightly. “Just bring it to my office before noon tomorrow.”
“Really? Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it.”
“Yes, well, try to remember to bring your work with you next time. Have a good night, Mr. Styles,” he says, mouth twitching with amusement. “Oh, and you can pay me back by telling me about this extraordinary drink someday. If it is as good as you say, I may need to give it a whirl. It’s been a while,” he smiles. With that he turns around and exits the room leaving Harry standing there, mouth hanging open.
When a very wet Harry gets back to his room, he spots Niall already stretched out across his bed wearing basketball shorts and a tank top. He looks comfortable; but more importantly, he looks dry.
