Captive Of Lies Book 2(Imprisoned in my Heart trilogy...Larry)

Chapter 3

Harry awoke to find that he was no longer flattened against the bathroom floor. His fingers were still linked with Louis’, but they were in bed, lying curled around each other, Louis’ legs wrapped around Harry’s waist and his chin on Harry’s shoulder. As Harry slowly opened his eyes, Louis wriggled more closely against him with a low moan. He was pale and sickly looking, with dark circles underneath his bloodshot eyes, his hair exploding everywhere, and both his neck and mouth fiercely bruised from Harry’s vengeful kisses the night before.

“You look terrible,” Harry murmured sympathetically.

“Thanks,” Louis groaned. “That’s good to know.”

“I think I might have got a bit carried away last night,” admitted Harry, lightly touching Louis’ tender, very red mouth.

“A bit?”

“All right, very.” Harry rolled over and folded his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “How did we get from the bathroom to here?”

“I carried you,” Louis said dramatically.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I think I did. It’s kind of hard to remember. You might have carried me.”

Snorting, Harry agreed, “Yeah, that seems more likely.”

“How drunk was I?”

“You tried to kiss your sister.”

Louis groaned and whacked his head against the pillow. “No! Oh, God, no! Tell me you stopped me!”

“Of course I did; you think I wanted to see that? Incest isn’t at all attractive.”

“I’m an idiot!”

“I could have told you that,” Harry teased, ruffling his hair. He sighed and stretched. “Come on, up you get.”

“What? Ugh…no! I’m staying here. I feel bloody awful.”

“Breakfast is good for a hangover,” Harry said cheerfully, grabbing Louis’ wrist and hauling him upwards, out of bed and onto his feet.

“I’ll remind you of that next time I find you passed out drunk on the couch,” Louis muttered as he staggered out of their bedroom and into the main flat.

They both groaned in disbelief. Bottles, packets of crushed peanuts, broken glass, items of clothing strewn across the sofa and hanging from the ceiling…shoes left abandoned on the floor, people’s drinks half full on the table, overturned furniture, broken glass, and lots of their possessions were knocked over, including a photo of the two of them from the day Harry was released, which now had a lovely big crack in the glass. This was the aftermath of the party from the night before, and that was when Louis remembered why he loved organizing parties but usually made sure to throw them in someone else’s house.

Delicately picking through the debris on his tip-toes, Harry held out a hand and help to guide the bleary-eyed Louis around the detritus. Kicking an abandoned beer can out of his way, he carefully bundled Louis into the kitchen and then turned and headed for the front door to collect the post. Comforting kitchen sounds clanked behind him as Louis started foraging in the fridge, looking for the milk, clearly having the sense to realize that, when hung-over, his cooking would be even worse than usual. Shaking his head fondly, Harry reached for the pile of letters on the doormat; six brown envelopes, an official looking white one, and then another, square white one that he paid little attention to.

As he headed back for the kitchen, Harry shuffled uninterestedly through the mail, pulling a face at each one. Bills, bills, and even more bills. Disgustedly throwing them onto the kitchen table, where they narrowly missed landing in a pool of vodka, he pulled a face. When his community service was over, he could start trying for a job – then maybe he could help out a little bit. So far, his only contribution to the bills had been massaging Louis’ neck and shoulders while he withdrew the money from the bank to pay them; it wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t offered, but Louis point blank refused to take any of Harry’s savings, and there was no changing his mind.