Saviour (A Larry Stylinson Fic)

Chapter 1: Food Fight

A/N UPDATE!! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story so far! I can't believe I've reachedalmost 1000 reads in such a short amount of time!! It means so much to me! Keep voting and commenting! I love you all... like seriously. It makes me want to cry knowing people are actually reading and liking something I've written!!

Ya'll mean the fucking world to me!! 

seriously.

Love, Me. xxx

Now that I'm done blabbering, enjoy Saviour!  :D

Chapter One

The first thing that pulled him from his sleep was the intense pain in his lower back. Most likely from the awkward position he had passed out in on the cold, hardwood floor the night before. The next was the pain in his head. Most likely from the vast amounts of alcohol he had consumed, and partly from the weed he knew he must have smoked. His eyes fluttered open to see intense light beaming in at him through a large window in front of him. He quickly shut his eyes again, squeezing them tight. He groaned as he began to roll onto his back, but something thick and sticky clung to his arm and kept him where he was. He cautiously opened his eyes again, keeping them half lidded to diminish the effects of the blinding light. He glanced at his hand, pulling it slowly from the floor with a loud ‘squelch’. What the hell was all this crap? He spread his fingers in front of his face and a thick cream coloured substance stretched between them before dropping to the ground in large globs. He pulled his hand towards his face and sniffed cautiously at it. Was that custard? He shook his hand forcefully a few times, watching it fly from his fingers.

He rolled onto his back and sat up nearly falling back down as his head swam from his intense hangover. He grabbed at his head with his clean hand as if he was trying to hold it together. With the pain he was feeling now he wouldn't be surprised if it did come apart. He scanned the room in front of him lazily seeing numerous other teens passed out in various positions. The next thing he noticed was that just about every inch of the room was covered in some sort of food. Pasta hung from the chandelier above him, chocolate sauce covered the walls, what must have been boxes worth of cereal was scattered about the floor. Not a single person he could see was immune from the effects of the massive food fight that had ensued the night before. Through his haze he vaguely remembered one of the older boys at the party instigating the whole thing once the supply of booze had run dry, but who could be sure at this point? 

He stumbled to his feet and glanced around quickly, looking for something to wipe his hands on. He settled on a t-shirt he found thrown across the arm of the couch he woke up next to. He stumbled across the spacious parlor into a small dining room and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror hanging on the wall opposite him. His thick brown hair was matted, tangled, and covered in ketchup. He groaned, pushing his bangs out of his face. He blinked at himself, stepping closer to the mirror. He stared in horror as he saw the large welt and purple discoloration around his right eye. No wonder his head hurt so bad. How the hell had that even happened?

He gave up trying to search his brain for the answer and continued on to the kitchen. He entered the narrow room and headed straight for the sink, wanting desperately to wash his hands and hair. 

"What the fuck are you still doing here, Styles?" Harry stopped in his tracks. He knew that voice, he despised that voice. "Who the hell invited you anyway?"

Harry turned slowly to see Zayn sitting on the counter behind him, a bowl of cereal in his hands. Harry just blinked at him for a moment, completely shut down by the bullies scrutinizing glare. Zayn raised his eyebrows, questioning, as he shoveled cereal into his mouth, looking at Harry as if he was some half retarded mute.