young and beautiful || larry s.

chapter 30

Louis awakens to a spinning bathroom ceiling and a cup of water being brandished in his face.

"Hey, you all right?" Niall's uneasy voice materializes from the ringing silence, hand on Louis' shoulder.

And where did he come from? What is air? What are people? Is he even alive?

Louis rubs at his crusty eyes, suddenly all too aware of the cold tile of the bathroom floor jutting into his joints. His neck is stiff and his shirt stinks of vomit and, yep, the bathroom is still spinning.

"Nnguh," is the sound that he produces as he reaches blindly for Niall, limbs heavy and everything feeling like cold death.

Carefully, Niall helps him sit up, grip strong and supportive, an anxious edge to his brow. Miraculously, Louis does not projectile vomit.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Absolutely not," Louis rasps, bleary eyed, grabbing the cup of water still in Niall's grip and guzzling it, spilling it over the sides and feeling it dribble down his cheeks and neck. But he really couldn't give less of a fuck right now because his throat is on fire and his body feels like a crispy, shriveled shell. So does his soul, for that matter.

"You hit it a bit too hard last night?" Niall asks, staring at him steadily. He's got his phone in his hand, kneeling patiently in his hoodie and track pants. He looks so clean and healthy.

Louis hates him for it.

"You could say that."

In all honesty, Louis doesn't even know how to begin thinking about last night-the simultaneously best and worst night of his life. Mostly worst.

And then he hears the echo of Harry's voice, whispered in the dark. Can feel his lips shocking his body into life. His perfect, soft lips that lit everything on fire. Can feel the warmth of his weight next to him and-oh god-how he kissed his hand. And-

No, scratch it all. It was definitely the best night of his life.

And Louis is so fucking in love.

And once again, he wants to cry.

Niall must pick up on his inner turmoil because suddenly he's crowding closer, inspecting Louis' face and strengthening his hold on his shoulder.

"Tommo?"

"I'm in love with Harry Styles," Louis blurts pathetically, burying his face in his sweaty hands. And, nope, he did not intend on telling this to Niall but fuck, his defenses are down and his stomach may or may not contain an army of poisonous insects gnawing on his intestines and his fucking throat and head are pounding in synch-he's only human, after all.

Anxiously, he peers at Niall from between his fingers.

"Yeah," Niall replies, as if it's just a detail. As if that's not fucking huge. As if that's not the reason Louis' world is currently undergoing the apocalypse.

He lifts his head, glaring. "What do you mean 'yeah'? That is huge fucking news, you bloody potato."

Niall snorts, shaking his head as he begins dragging Louis up from the bathroom floor. "Hardly. I have eyes, you know. And ears. And this lumpy thing called a brain."

"That's not your brain, that's your dick," Louis burps, feeling his stomach churn and, oh shit, he's still so thirsty and so sick and sort of hungry? And maybe cold but also hot?

A barking laugh escapes Niall as he guides Louis to the couch, his phone digging into Louis' side, before depositing him unceremoniously down onto it. "You are so weird."