Friends. // l.s.

Chapter 27 - "Look! Now he's softening because you called him a willy."

Louis' POV

Sunlight flooded in through the windows, cascaded over the room, and warmed the wooden floors. The air conditioner went on and the cool air prickled at Louis' exposed skin. The sudden coolness didn't effect Louis' slumber in any way as soft puffs of air escaped his slightly agape mouth and, he stirred, only when noticing something hard poking into his thigh, hair in his mouth, and a voice echoing throughout the thin walls of the house.

Louis instantly recognized the voice as Anne's and noticed that it emerged from somewhere in the living room, but, really, Louis wasn't paying her much attention and was much more focused on solving the mystery behind the hard object pressing into his leg whilst trying not to choke on the mop of curls in his mouth. Thus, reluctantly, Louis opened his heavy eyelids with a groan and began rubbing at his tired eyes with his still weak hands.

The sun was perched high in the sky,
lighting up the grand room and drawing a magical golden pattern over the floor and half of the bed. Louis' eyes immediately stung at the brightness. His head, as well as his now unaccustomed eyes, was throbbing in pain due to his fatigue and slight hangover from the day before. Nonetheless, Louis, very carefully, pushed at Harry's head, lowering him onto his chest, and brushed Harry's hair out of his face. All the while, Louis never let his gaze wander from the outside ocean as his eyes finally adjusted to the morning light.

Many people were already out on the beach, poorly attempting to surf, taking a nap under the morning sun, or merely going for a swim and Louis briefly wondered how these people were energetic this early in the day while also actively achieving something. He wasn't even able to untangle Harry's legs from his own under the white covers, yet, these people, were already awake and being productive. However, it soon dawned on him that, probably, he was simply a failure at practically everything and that, probably, he was the only person with problems even remotely similar. So, he simply busied himself with freeing his body from Harry's strong grip, but, suddenly, the situation presented finally seeped into Louis' more alert mind and he slowly sat up. 

The action caused Harry's limp body to fall to the right side of the bed and Louis' eyes widened. "Shit," Louis whispered helplessly as he fully assessed the situation. One of Harry's legs was being securely squished between his and Harry's hand was still gripping his right bicep even though
he wasn't even lying on top of Louis anymore. Suddenly, someone, who Louis assumed was Anne, was knocking at the door. "Shit," he whispered again. "Harry," he tried. "Hey, Harry!"

"I can hear you Louis! Who are you talking to?" Anne's voice carried through the door. "Can I come in or am I disturbing certain morning actions of yours?" She cackled at her words and Louis simply rolled his eyes. He was used to Anne's immature nature and didn't give it much attention.

"Give me a minute!" Louis yelled back as he began to pry Harry's hand off of him. Somehow he managed to release himself from Harry's sleepy but firm grip. "Bloody hell," he mumbled once he had finally gotten Harry to loosen his grip on his arm.

"Are you dead?" He wondered aloud, confused at how motionless the boy was being and poked at Harry's naked chest in slight panic. Harry instantly responded, but only by stirring and turning over. Not dead then, Louis noted relieved.

"Harry, this isn't funny, you have to get up!" Louis warned, but Harry simply murmured something incoherent before pushing Louis' frantic hands away. "Fine!" He said, exasperated. "You didn't give me a choice." With one simple push against Harry's unconscious body, Harry crashed onto the floor, dragging a few pillows down with him and scattering on the floor.

"What the-" Harry's voice was raspy from going hours without speaking and he sounded extremely confused, but didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Anne's voice covered his.