I Hate You (Larry Stylinson) ✅

10. the fight

Feb 19 (early in the AM)

*Reminder: Louis is still super drunk and so is Harry

"Ahhhhhhh!" Harry screeches.

The light suddenly turns on and he is rushing over to me, asking if I'm okay.

"Obviously not," I scoff. "You just threw me onto the ground."

I really am okay. Or at least I'm okay for now with the alcohol impeding my sense. But I'll definitely feel this bruise in the morning.

"S-sorry," Harry stammers, offering me a hand. "I mean, I just went to get water and I randomly got tackled. It was my first instinct!"

Tackled. Right. I tackled him.... why did I do that again?

Oh yeah. Because I hate him. But also because I thought he was hot. And also because he's confusing my mind and emotions...

"Sorry," I mumble. "Thought you were Niall. We joke sometimes." Lies. He'll believe them though.

"Right," Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck. His curls are kinda greasy now, and he looks sort of run down even in his dapper pajama set. Still looks cute though.

"You good?" I ask, walking over to the sink to grab myself a glass of water. So rude - the least he could do is offer me a drink too! Cute guys are always the worst hosts...

"Yeah," Harry replies. "Are you?"

"I'm gooder than good, Harold," I say, rolling my eyes. I begin to chug some water and suddenly realize maybe it wasn't the best idea. My stomach is feeling queasy again - maybe it never really recovered from my vomiting episode earlier...

"Okay, well, let's get back to bed, yeah?" Harry says, motioning towards the living room.

I lean back on the counter, shaking my head. "Nah," I reply as I cross my arms over my chest. "Kinda wanna chat first."

Harry's eyes quickly scan my body, first up then down. I had forgotten I was in my boxers with my legs all out, but now I'm reminded. Fuck.

"Oh, sorry," I say, biting my lip. "Ignore my legs, I know I'm fat. But there's no need to stare."

Harry shakes his head, and rushes next to me. "No," he says, his eyes widening. "That's not why I'm staring - it's just... you look proper skeletal, Louis. How much weight did you lose?"

Skeletal? Is that some kind of sick joke. First he calls me fat, and then just to rub it in my face he's telling me I'm skinny now, when I'm clearly not. Just to fuck with me. How fucking rude....

"You're funny," I reply, looking up at the ceiling.

"No, Louis," Harry says, coming over to stand next to me. He lifts up one his pajama pant legs, and I take a step back. I mean I think he's hot but I'm not sure I want to get down and dirty just yet...

"Like, if you don't believe me, look at my leg and then look at yours," he says, putting our legs side by side.

He's right - my leg is thinner than his. Which is crazy because Harry has really long, lean legs and is much taller than me... and I'm so gross and stocky and fat. Maybe it's just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind...

"Yours is so much thinner, yeah?" Harry says, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so," I snap, pulling my leg away. "Probably just too drunk to see straight."

"No... Louis... I don't think --" Harry begins.

"You don't think what, Harold?" I reply. Suddenly I'm so angry and I feel tears forming. Why am I like this right now? "You certainly were thinking something on that dance floor tonight before Liam... Liam and his hand or whatever. We got interrupted..."