Constant // Harry Styles

Chapter Six: "A true friend?"

I was throwing up so much in my dreams that I should have been prepared to throw up when I woke up, but I wasn't. A mixture of blueberry Smirnoff and Budweiser burned the back of my throat as it came up from my stomach and out of my mouth to the wooden floor beneath me. Before I really had time to even process what was happening, I felt two arms slip around me, one around my lower back and another under one of my legs. It was an uncomfortable way to be carried, but thankfully, it wasn't a long trip. I began to gag again just as soon as my bare legs hit the cold, tile floor of a bathroom.

"In front of you. The toilet-" A voice directed me.

I stuck my arms out and flailed them around until I felt the chilly seat of the toilet and dragged myself forward in time for another round of hurling. I felt a hand on my back, gently rubbing up and down and up and down until I was finished. Suddenly, whoever was in the bathroom with me pressed a chilled washcloth to my forehead. I imagined it was Cameron. It was about time he took care of me instead of the other way around. He sighed as I leaned into the washcloth and let him pat my forehead more to cool me off.

"This is why I don't drink very often," I said.

"Well, you don't have to get smashed every time you drink."

That wasn't Cam. I frowned and pushed the washcloth away from me, slowly forcing my eyelids open. Harry was sitting on the sink above me, his hair back, wearing nothing but his boxers. My eyes scanned his body, my eyes widening mainly at all of the tattoos I never knew he had, but also at his lack of clothing. He noticed my apprehension and slid off of the sink and handed the washcloth to me. "Sorry, you didn't give me much time to get clothed before you retched on my floor."

As Harry walked back into his room and grabbed a pair of sweats, my eyes scanned my surroundings. I could tell from the wood-pannel walls and the wooden floors that I was still in the Kappa Sig house. I always hated the house because it made me think of a cheap, dirty log cabin. The lighting was old and the air systems were older, giving the whole place a dank feel. The ambience of the whole place seemed ten times worse with the growing ache in my head.

The black sheets on Harry's bed were a tangled mess, and for a second I was worried that he and I had gotten into... well... something last night. Upon continuing looking around the room, I noticed a pile of blankets and a pillow on the floor before Harry picked them up and threw them on the bed. I sighed with relief, my exhale met with yet another bout of throwing up.

"You could have put me on the floor, you know?" I called from the bathroom after I got a grip on my stomach and what was coming out of it.

Harry laughed. "You weren't saying the same thing last night."

I stood up in front of the sink and threw water in my face before glancing at myself in the mirror. I looked like a pale wreck, with my hair thrown on top of my head in a bun and my mascara was smudged to the bags under my eyes. I cupped my hands under the faucet and tried to sip down some of the water, but the red tint to the water almost made me vomit again. I had forgotten about the rust in the pipes. It was almost a worse taste than the vomit. "Ugh," I groaned. "What do you mean?"

"You kept trying to climb into Cameron's bed until he locked you out, and then you jumped in my bed and wouldn't let me take you home," Harry explained, pulling the sheets up on his bed and tucking them in nicely. He grimaced at the pool of puke one the left side of the his bed and walked past me to grab a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of basic cleaner from under the sink. "So I let you sleep in the bed and I took the floor."

I peeked at my reflection in the mirror once more. "Cameron locked me out?" I asked quietly.

Harry wiped up the throw-up from the floor and sprayed the area with the cleaner. "Don't take it personally, Rory. I would have locked you out too if you walked in on my girlfriend giving me a blowjob."