Hold My Hand | h.s. + n.h.

Chapter Three

Word Count; 4 507

Alrighty, this chapter is dedicated to intoyour_arms because her comment on chapter two made me smile and laugh in the middle of my math class and she's lovely and really quite clever or I've just made things too obvious :)

Lilo (Louis and Liam) or Zouis (Louis and Zayn) ? Need to know because the story will curve differently depending on who you want Louis to be with. 

[edited]

Two hours, too many wondering and worrisome thoughts and countless shots later, I am drunk beyond comprehension. My personal rule of only having two drinks and cutting myself off, long forgotten. My thoughts were too much and I just didn't want to deal with them anymore. I kept zoning out, aging myself from the inside out because of dreaded thoughts as to what may be wrong with Niall and how this Alex guy may have attributed to Niall's change. Thankfully those have stopped, or have at least numbed to a slow flow. I'm still in the pot room, red Solo cups, shot glasses and beer cans are now littered around the couch Nick, Louis and I are still seated on. They've both managed to keep their drink count down to only three but they've both consecutively smoked two and a half joints. They're possibly further gone than I am, but maybe they're at the same level. They have about the same level of intoxication in their system as I do, only their higher contributor is weed while that's my least. I've been breathing in this hazy smog for too long.

I'm not exactly sitting on the couch, but rather lazily sitting on the floor with my back against the couch in between Louis' legs, my legs sprawled in front of me. I tilt my head back so my head is in Louis' lap and I can look up at him. He looks down at me, gives me a goofy smile and starts playing with my hair. I smile and close my eyes, enjoying the calming sensation. I think I fall asleep because next thing I'm aware of is siting up from laying on the floor. Nick is over in the far corner of the room and Louis has disappeared all together.

I check my phone and feel my eyes bulge, because fuck brightly lit on my phone is,

1:38 AM

and I have classes tomorrow. But I end up shrugging my shoulders and laughing at myself for being such a pansy. I should've known there was going to be something stopping me from attending my lectures tomorrow, or rather, today. It's not really that bad actually. I stand up, wobble a bit, and slip my phone into my back pocket. I stretch and groan because my back is a bit stiff but I'll live. I make my over to Nick and clap him on the shoulder, nearly making him drop the blunt in his hand.

"Jesus, you scared me."

"M'sorry," I mumble and eye the blunt; do I want a shot? Nah, I probably already have a shotgun high. "Going to go downstairs or go outside. Whichever." Nick nods and puts the blunt between his lips to inhale and I find myself staring at the weed stick again. I shake my head and salute Nick before leaving through the door that looks like a bookcase on the other side. When I close the bookcase door, I'm startled and confused for a moment; I forgot the pot room was a secret room within Niall's home theatre. I leave the theatre and pause in the hallway, and look around. There's discarded clothing here and there and most of the room's doors are closed. When I hear a high pitched moan start low, I widen my eyes and stumble as fast as I can to the stairs. I really don't need to hear weird sex noises, especially extremely girly ones that come from a guy.

When I get downstairs I have to step over a girl sleeping on the floor and nearly trip over my own feet once I step over her. I glance at her and tilt my head to the side. In my fogginess, she looks like my sister Gemma and a chubby cheeked Asian mixed into one. I'm tempted to pull her upstairs and put her into one of the empty rooms to sleep off her intoxication more comfortably but I'll probably end up falling backwards on the stairs and killing us both. I leave her and squeeze through the small group in the middle of the large living room, heading towards the kitchen to get some water. I wouldn't have been so rude to the group, but I had no choice to go through them; there's too many people and things laying in the space. I get myself a class of water without a problem and gingerly sip at the cool liquid, thankful for it's hydrating powers. The crisp coolness aids in sobering me some, but I know I could have thirteen-thousand more glasses of water and not be sober enough to drive.