"How are you feeling?"
Louis' eyes are still shut but Liam seems to sense that he's awake despite the fact.
"Like shit," he mutters, opening his eyes up slowly. If his throat didn't feel so raw, he'd probably thank Liam for making him drink that gallon of water last night before he passed out. He knows with the amount of alcohol he drank yesterday he should probably feel a lot worse than he actually does.
Liam's only response is a soft hum from the chair next to the couch.
"What time is it?"
"Almost eight. Your class doesn't start for another hour."
"M'not going," Louis sits up slowly, ignores Liam's small look of protest, which he then seems to think better of, since he stays silent on the matter.
Louis sits up until he can fold his knees against his chest. He tries to keep his movement to a minimum to avoid the dull ache in his head from growing into something sharper.
Liam is staying as silent as possible, which Louis is beyond thankful for. Zayn, however, doesn't seem to hold the same consideration for Louis' current state as he wanders through the tiny kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling dishes.
Louis groans, letting his head rest between the tops of his knees.
"Z," Liam chastises.
Louis feels the couch dip a few seconds later.
"Sorry, mate," Zayn apologizes, offering Louis a small mug of what he assumes is tea, which Louis accepts gratefully.
He drinks in silence. Several minutes pass before the silence starts to feel strange rather than comfortable. He briefly glances over the rim of his cup to see Liam and Zayn staring at one another in silent conversation.
Louis sighs, "If you have something to say, just say it."
Liam's eyes flit to his, expression half apologetic and half concerned.
"It's just... are you alright? Niall didn't really tell us anything. We're just worried, is all. You don't have to tell us, if you don't want to-"
"Yeah, he does," Zayn interjects, causing Louis' head to snap up and Liam's mouth to turn down into a frown, though he offers no protest beyond that.
Louis eyes Zayn warily.
"You tried to drink yourself to death on a Monday afternoon," Zayn states bluntly.
Louis flinches, "I wasn't-"
Zayn ignores him. "We're your best friends, and I don't care if you don't want to, you need to tell us what's going on."
Zayn's voice is firm and unwavering, and any further protests or excuses die on Louis' tongue at that point. He takes a deep breath and sets his tea down on the living room table before linking his hands together around his knees.
"Eleanor's pregnant," he states. And there it is.
It feels strange to say it now, like he's just numb enough that it barely pinches anymore. Like he's talking about someone else's life and not his own. Now that Harry knows, now that Harry's gone, it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?
When Louis looks up to take in his friend's reactions, he finds Liam's eyebrows are up somewhere around his hairline, mouth slack. Zayn just has this expression on where he looks almost pained, like it's the last thing on earth he wanted to hear.
The usual questions that Louis might expect now aren't vocalized. There's no point really. They all know when it happened. They all know where, they all know how. And so Liam and Zayn don't ask for details and Louis doesn't offer any up and he's at least thankful he doesn't have to explain that part of it again. He doesn't know if he could.
