Two Months With Him [COMPLETED]

Part Eight

Louis POV:

A bang wakes me up.

What the fuck.

Annoyance hits me before the fear does.

Harry.

Did he ever come home? I look at the clock next to my bed on the dresser.

4:12 am

I'm going to kill him if someone hasn't already.

The anger under my skin is boiling over now and I'm throwing the covers off of me before walking across the room.

I step outside my room and reach for the bat that's leaned up against the wall.

Mum always told me to be prepared for anything. That's when she made me have a bat close by. And I'm damn sure not dying in this house tonight.

I can hear mumbling and footsteps coming from somewhere.
I've already got my bat raised, ready to take someone out.

I hear another noise again. Something fell?

No.

Someone.

When I reach the kitchen the scene in front of me is truly pathetic.

Harry's on the kitchen floor and there's shattered glass all around him.

Who the fuck does he think he is??

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

I feel like I'm yelling. I'm actually really fucking mad at him.
I should just let the fucker cut his hands trying to get up.

"Louis" he's looking up at me now, and I have to admit the boy does look pretty pathetic.

"Don't move." I put the bat down and turn some lights on, causing him to flinch at the light.

I look around for the broom and dustpan that I know is around here somewhere. I've just never had to use it.

He looks up at me. "Louis you're naked"

"I'm not naked Harry. They're boxers."

He's so pathetic. "Just shut up and stay still before you cut yourself."

When I find the broom I start working on getting the glass into one pile.

Have you ever had to clean up glass shards? It's really fucking hard I'll tell you that.

Harry's mumbling something to himself. It hits me exactly what's going on here. He's drunk.

"Have you been drinking tonight?"

He looks at me and slurs out his response. "Why would you think I've been doing that?"

I decide getting angry while he's drunk is going to do me any good. He will get it in the morning that's for sure.

The class is all cleaned up and Harry is trying to stand on his own.

He's got one hand on the countertop while the other one is on his knee trying to pushing himself up.

Does he not know how to listen? I told him to hold still.

"Let me help you," grabbing his hand and putting his arm around my shoulder I let him lean against me.

"We are going to walk into the living room okay?" Talking to him seems to make him a little more alert.

We slowly make our way into the living room.

He's trying to talk to me but I can't make out clearly what he's saying.

I decide to let him sleep on the couch. It's close enough to the bathroom and it's far enough away from me. And since I'm not entirely sure how much he drank I go ahead and put a trash can next to the sofa just incase.

I may have helped him but it doesn't mean anything. I couldn't give a fuck less about him right now.

Laying him down on the sofa causes a tiny sound to come from his mouth.

"Mm..louis..."

What have I gotten myself into.

Ignoring him I look over to the coffee table sitting in front of the couch. There's a glass that's only got a drop of whatever Harry must have been drinking left in it.

With one quick motion I drink the remains in the cup before I set it back down. It's strong. Why the hell was he drinking?

And why the hell did he need to drink that much?

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WOW GUYS THIS STORY HAS GOTTEN SO MANY READS AND VOTES AND COMMENTS ITS SO ENCOURAGING.

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Happy Sunday everyone! :)

-megan.