Broken Repair (Larry Stylinson)

Metallic Meetings and Grief

I wake up for the second time this week with a hangover. I try to re position myself but I'm acutely aware of a body behind mine, and an large arm draped over my small body, head curled into my neck. I haven't opened my eyes yet, so I assume I'm still dreaming. I'm with him and he's so warm. His scent is washing over me over and over, and then I realise that's not what he smells like.

I sit up so sharply, that my tattoo burns below me, and I yell out in pain. My eyes now open, I see that Harry Styles is in my bed. His face is towards me, soft breaths coming from his pink lips. His curls are all over the pillow, like seaweed. I'm aware of how attractive he looks, but I have to leave it.

We're both fully clothed, but I can't remember a thing after the kiss dare, so I don't know how we ended up here together. He didn't wake up at my yell, and I'm glad so I can get away.

I step out of my white sheets, and step over a Zayn Malik who is laid on his back, snoring peacefully. He doesn't look very comfortable, so I grab the pillow that was mine, and gently raise his head and place it under. He sniffs loudly, and just turns into the pillow, seemingly at peace.

My room strongly smells of smoke, and I blanch, thinking of how angry Michael will be that we smoked in our house. I respected his wishes usually, so I don't know how we got away with it.

I get to my drawers, and grab a new pair of boxers, top and jeans because I'm going to shower. I smell of smoke, and God knows what else, and it's making me want to hurl.

Upon opening the door, I can see Michael's figure just outside on the floor. He didn't make it to his room it seems, but it looks like he's collapsed coming out of mine. I smile and step over him. It's only 8:30am, and he looks like he needs the sleep so I don't wake him.

I take longer than usual in the shower, scrubbing myself head to toe with my orange shower gel, and washing my hair with my strawberry shampoo and conditioner. It made me smell like a fruit salad, but that didn't bother me. I didn't wear my cologne anymore, so it wouldn't make me smell like a whores handbag.

I towel dry my hair, whilst brushing my teeth, and immediately dress into my Rolling Stones tshirt and light blue jeans. I brush my hair into it's usual messy do, and leave the bathroom to go and clean downstairs.

It was a tip. I'm wishing I'd woken up after Michael now. It was a thing of ours, that whoever woke up first would clean the morning after. I sigh, and get the black bin bags ready.

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I'm halfway through cleaning the garden when I hear the backdoor open with a squeak. I look up and see Harry's tall figure, and I jump a little. I really don't want to discuss the fact he was in my bed, or the fact that we had kissed, and my heart is racing.

"You want any help?" He offers, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I run my hand through my now damp hair.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." I reply, awkwardly. He just starts picking up cans, bottles and paper plates and walking to and fro from the black bag.

"Erm. So how did I end up in your bed?" He asks me after a while, as he bends down to pick up a can. My eyes meet his, and my cheeks are going red. I shrug.

"I can't remember anything after truth and dare," I tell the truth. His eyebrows furrow, but he believes me.

"Yeah, me neither. I don't know who suggested more drinks." He says. "Probably Niall."

I smile.

"Yeah, probably."

I jump as a loud ringtone is sent across the garden, and I look at Harry who is reaching into his back pocket. He looks at the caller ID, and his face is filled with confusion. He walks away as he answers.