Saturday 4

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This chapter is long to make up for the last chapter being so short!! <3 xoxo love yahh xo

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Saturday 4

It wasn’t as if Louis couldn’t walk the short distance from Liam’s flat to the dance room in the Uni building, he just really couldn’t be bothered. The night before had drained any energy from him, especially the fact he’d drank himself into an oblivion soon after Anne had driven Harry away. He’d watched the silver vehicle trundle down the road, heard the engine roar at first but settle into a boring murmur, smelt that rusty fume infect the air and felt the collapse of his heart in his body.

It took him a small while for the situation to sink into his pores, to wrap around his cells and suffocate his mind. When the cogs in his brain started clinking, turning slowly in relation to what he could’ve done to make it all better, not to fuck it all up, he made a beeline for the pub down the road to drench his thoughts in alcohol.

The next morning he woke up in an unfamiliar bed, well it was unfamiliar at first, then he realised it was Liam’s squishy mattress. His head was banging; it felt like there was someone on the inside hammering on the walls of his head and pumping heavy fumes to make him light headed. As soon as his eyes cracked open, they clamped tight shut. The bright light of the morning sun was blinding and he couldn’t be bothered to fight the annoying sting it caused to shoot through him.

Primarily, he didn’t know why he woke up so early, and he didn’t know how he did, too, what with the tiredness coaxing him back in rather quickly after waking. However, soon enough, four bangs on the door reminded him that he was indeed awoken by that awful racket.

Shouting a few obscene words to the person on the other side of the door and burying his head in the pillow, Louis tried to block out any thoughts of his surroundings and-well any thoughts of anything really; he just wanted to get back to sleep, pronto.

Alas, that was not possible as the door flew open and Liam came striding in, pulling the thick, warm duvet off Louis’ body and flipping the boy over.

"Get up," he ordered.

Louis let out an elongated, muffled ‘no’ in retaliation, only to receive another diligent, yet slightly less pleasant “get the fuck out of bed you lazy arse” from Zayn who had entered the room shortly after Liam, a bowl of cereal in his hands which he was slurping from messily.

"I can’t or else I’ll die," Louis said dramatically, lifting his head from the pillow and directing his speech in, presumably, Zayn’s direction but with his eyes refusing to open, he wasn’t too sure.

"You’re such a drama queen. Stop being such a diva and get the fuck up," Louis could practically hear Zayn’s eyes rolling when he spoke.

"There is nothing wrong with being a diva from time to time!" Louis said defensively, his pitch rising rather high with his argument.

"From time to time, it’s fine, but you’re a diva all the fucking time," Zayn retorted truthfully.

Louis just made a noise of disapproval and collapsed back onto the bed which Liam was flitting around, tidying up the scattered clothes of Louis’ and straightening out the object which Louis had pushed around in search of something or other in the middle of the night.

"Just get the fuck up or else you’ll be late for that Harry lad."

And suddenly, Louis was alert. His eyes blinked open, his back straightened when he sat up, his mouth hanging agape. “Shit” was all that he said, the incident from the night before flooding back to him and collapsing on his chest like a tonne of bricks. The feeling did not bode well with his already hung-over state, and he then felt a strong need to throw up the remaining contents of his stomach. With widened eyes and a hand clutching over his mouth, Louis stumbled from the bed, his feet getting tangled in the sheets none-the-while, and into the bathroom. While he clung onto the white seat and threw up a sickly acidic substance, neither of the two boys took it upon themselves to comfort the poorly boy, yet just scoffed at his immediate reaction to the night previous.

Mute Larry Stylinson Harry!MuteWhere stories live. Discover now