~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
ALSO mentions of sick and vomit if you have emetophobia
be nice and kind, thank you for being so lovely in the last chapter- you made my heart so full <3
October 26th
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Get up!"
Blinking, I rub my knuckles into my tired eyes, swiping away some of the sleep that is lingering in the corners.
"Huh?" I grumble, rolling on my stomach and tossing the duvet over myself and shielding my ears from the noise.
"Get up!" I hear the voice huff again, a sharp tug at the bottom of the duvet swipes the cover off me and robs the heat and comfort that comes with it.
I grunt, rubbing my eyes again. I am fully expecting to see a fucking poltergeist or something levitating in my room.
But, instead, Nolan is standing at the foot of my bed with a grimace plastered on his face.
"Nolan!" I exclaim, feeling my head pounding at the volume. "How the hell did you get in here?"
He shrugs, kicking a dirty shirt on the floor and stares in shock at the mess littered around me. "I stole Sunny's key and thought I would come to check on you." He mumbles. "It's a damn good job I did because you're living in a pigsty-"
"I'm doing great." I sarcastically drawl, yawning from the rude awakening. "I've redecorated."
He frowns at me, taking in my dishevelled appearance and then his eyes flick to the empty liquor bottle on the bedside cabinet.
"Are you drunk?"
I nod. "Absolutely rat arsed, yes."
"Harry." He sighs my name, shaking his head in disappointment. "Why are you drunk at 4 pm?"
I shrug, looking at the empty whiskey bottle where I start to pick off the scrapped label. "Wallowing in my own stupidity, I guess."
With another sigh, Nolan starts walking over to the window, he single handedly fires the curtains open and floods the room with a bright light that makes my eyes burn and my head pound like someone was using it as a fucking percussion drum.
"You need some fresh air in here, son. It's very stuffy."
His hand lands on the handle of the window, pushing his strength into it to crack a slither. The bedroom is swirling with fresh air that strangely does make me feel a little bit better.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the mirror hooked above my bed. Staring at my reflection, I see the person that I have become in the last two days and the sight of my reflection makes me feel sick to my stomach.
