I Hated Everything About You (Larry Stylinson) [Completed]

Chappy Fourteen

Okie!! Schools over in one more day (well, my last exam is tomorrow)- STOKED!

WOOT WOOT--more time to write ^,^

& try and find a job, its getting sad at this point

__________________________________________________________________

_Liam_

It was almost ten, and I was considering getting those two incredibly lazy boys out of bed. Technically, we didn't have to do anything today, since tonight was eliminations, but still- they were wasting precious hours unconcious. Then I remembered the first time I had tried waking them up, shuddering. I'd never seen Harry that...*shiver*. The few occasions I had to do it after that, I always made Niall (Zayn slept in late too, but was manageable) go in.

*Flashback*

"Boys! Come on, get up!" I shouted, knocking on the door for the hundredth time. We had gotten home really late last night, yea, but that was no excuse to sleep in until noon- we had to practice or we weren't going to make it past the Judges house round!

After finishing my second cup of tea, I finally lost my patience and jogged up the stairs, whipping open Zayn's door first since it was the closest. It was absolutely pitch black in there, the windows covered with black blankets or something. He was sleeping on his back, blankets still all flat and tucked in, arms at his side...it was weird. Did he hit the pillow and just die at night? I walked over to the bed and tugged the pillow out from underneath his head, hitting him with it.

"Oi! Get up!" I said, shoving his shoulder.

"ughh....right, right, I'm up, Jesus Liam....just knock next time..." He said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He yawned, and instead of shouting that I tried that method twenty times, I chose to just strut out of the room and head further down the hall, where Louis was. I opened the door and actually stopped for a moment.

If Zayn slept like a mummy...Louis was the exact opposite. He had his windows open, the cieling and portable fan on full blast, and the A/C going, meaning it was loud as hell in there- no wonder he hadn't heard me knocking. His blanket was at my feet by the door, which I didn't understand, since his bed was on the opposite side of the room- how did he manage to kick it off him while sleeping with enough force to get it ten feet.... He was wearing nothing but boxers, and was cuddled in a weird fetal position that made him look like  he was five years old.

"Louis,  get up!" I shouted, going over to the bed and pushing him. He groaned, rolling over. "NO- Louis William Tomlinson, get your arse up! It's almost lunchtime- Niall is dying for Nando's and we promised him yesterday, remember? So get ready!" I shouted in his ear. He groaned.

"Nnnnng...no." He said. I looked at him, waiting for him to move again, but he didn't and his chest rose and fell evenly, sleeping. That little twit....

"Louis! UP NOW!" I shouted, really pushing him. He flipped over against his will, but just whined, not even opening his eyes. I took both my hands and repeatedly pushed him until he had no choice but to wake up (which actually took a lot longer than you would think- who can sleep through that, seriously?)

"Mom...I'm sleeping..."

"...MOM?- Louis what are you talking about?! And I know you're sleeping- that's why I'm here. Get up!" I shouted. Clearly this wasn't going to work. I walked over to the bathroom, grabbing a glass from beside the sink (I always got thirsty really late at night), and filled it with cold water. I walked back over to the sleeping man-child and dumped it on him.