Enemies || l.s.

0.9

"Fuck" the piercing pain of a migraine jolts the Cheshire boy awake. He clutches his chocolate brown curls, and pulls furiously at the roots, wanting the pain to subside. But it won't, so he just lies in someone's bed and waits for it to dissappear--

Wait.

Harry jolts up at the thought of sleeping on someone else's bed, planting his feet on the ground and attempting to find the door.

Inly to trip on two other bodies whose limbs are tangled in each other.

"Fucking hell!" He yells, curling up in a ball on front of the door. Curse his body for having a huge adrenaline rush too soon.

"Who the hell just stepped on me." A familiar voice groan, rolling away from the--what now seems to be from where Harry is looking--a middle eastern boy.

"Liam?" Harry groans, his eyes making out the puppy brown ones staring back at him, pupils blown as he's practically caught naked on the floor with a boy.

"Oh, fuck!" He curses under his breath, not really sure whether or not to move. It didn't really look like he wanted to, considering he leaned a little closer to the boy behind him.

The brief moment of reconciliation didn't, however, stop the pain in his head from coming back, and he groaned, pressing his palm against his scalp.

"Hey angel," was heard from the was-sleeping boy, followed by puckered sound. Possibly a kiss.

"Zayn..." Liam's voice is laced with concern, his attention turned to Harry. But the Bradford lad already sees the lanky boy sprawled out on the floor.

"Who's this?" Zayn asked, Harry peeking from behind his shower of curls. "Louis dropped you off yesterday, all vomitty and shit."

"It's Harry." Liam told him, and Harry rolled his eyes while they spoke about him like he wasn't there.

But Louis' name bounced off the walls of his brain,

Louis, Louis, Louis...

"Oh Louis" he recalled himself moaning, pushing against the palm of his hand as his fingers dug deep into him, and raked against his sweet spot.

"Fuck!" Harry gritted his teeth, all the memories of last night coming back to mind. The panting, the screaming, the moaning and begging, the vomiting.

Oh god not the vomiting.

"Dude, you okay?" He heard Zayn's voice again.

"Yeah, just...just need to find Louis." Harry said as he slowly stood to his feet, a dizzy feeling already taking over.

"Oh. He's uh, not here." Zayn replies.

"Well, where'd he go?" Harry growls in frustration as he stands up. He grabs onto the doorknob, trying to regain his balance.

Having a hangover and trying to stand is too much work.

"Boxing competition. He told me to hold on to this though. I think it's your phone..." he reaches above Liam, his toned body showing off every bit of tattoos that inked his skin. And Liam couldn't help but stare as he handed his phone to Harry.

"He told me to take care of you before he left last night. So your stuff is in the dryer downstairs." Zayn finished, but his eyes were on Liam's, and it seemed as if they were lost in there own little world. Harry rolls his eyes and muttered a thanks as he left.

All consumed in his thought, he didn't even realize he forgot to ask Zayn where the dryer is, assuming that this house is his. But there's no way he's walking back in there, cause they both looked ready to fuck, and that's an image not worth being burned into the surface of his brain.