Little Louder Now (Harry Styles/One direction fanfic)

Chapter 22: Drunk again. For real.

The celebration of Liam's birth is giving me strenght to write!  It's STILL his birthday where I am.  WOOO.  Ok, this is a filler chapter and it's short but I like it.  Hope you like it.

-Mer <3

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Chapter 22:  Drunk again.  For real.

*Harry's POV*

I tried calling Ollie's phone, but I didn't really expect her to pick up.  What happened was worse though.  Not only did she not answer, but I heard her ringtone go off in the kitchen.  My heart skipped a beat thinking maybe she had come back, but when I went in there, I saw her mobile left on our kitchen table.  She was completely unreachable.

Thinking she had come back and realizing she hadn't made it feel like she left all over again.  The pain was excrutiating.  It was almost physical.  I had no idea how to fix this...

...So I got drunk.  Pissed.  Inebriated.  Blitzed.  Sloshed.  Shnookered.  Zonked.  Tanked.  Three sheets to the wind.  Shitfaced.  Obliterated.  Leathered.  Smashed.  Blotto.  Trashed.  Twisted.  Plastered.  Juiced.  Bombed.  And my personal favorite: completely cunted.

I liked to drink and get a little tipsy, but I was on a whole other level tonight.  So far on my drinking spree I have tried to drink liquid soap because it smelled tasty, peed, cried on Niall, run around the block in my boxers, cried on Liam, slapped Louis across the face then cried on Lou, peed again, then slapped Louis again, accidentally dismantled my ceiling fan when jumping on my bed, peed AGAIN again, cried on zayn, thrown up, cried on Niall and Charlie, made the boys drink more with me, tried to cry on Liam and interrupted him almost having sex with Holland, peed for a FOURTH time, and then called up my mate Sheeran.

"Eeeeeeed!  Why you no love me no more?" I asked him stupidly over the phone.

"Mate, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I might have had a shot or twoooo... or tweeeeenty," I tried to explain.  I felt like my brain was working just fine, but my lips and tongue wouldn't keep up.  Tongue.  What a funny word.

"Shit.  You are beyond gone right now.  Are you ok?"

"Psssh.  Fiiiiiiine... except, except... ssshhe left.  The tour is canshheled," I slurred.  I had told Ed about Ollie a few days ago.  He didn't know the whole story, but he knew enough to know who I was talking about when I said "she".  Did that make sense?  What was I talking about again?

"Are you at home Harry or do I need to go and pick you up from some random bar?"

"No.  I'm at home."  Hey, that sentence actually came out alright.  It was even understandable.  I guess the trick was to keep my words and sentences short and simple.

"I'm coming over.  Stay put.  If I get there and your arse isn't there, you'll have hell to pay," Ed said firmly.  I nodded my head in response but I forgot he couldn't see me.  "Haz, you still there?  You hear me?"

"Yes.  I'll be here," I hiccuped.  I hate drunk hiccups.  They make you feel like your head's gonna explode.

"Good.  Remember, stay there!"  Ed instructed before he hung up the phone.

I decided to listen to Ed and stayed in my room.  I played with a tennis ball, bouncing it repeatedly against my wall and tried to catch it.  My reaction time wasn't that great though so it must have hit me in the face about a dozen times.  The pain of the tennis ball felt better than the pain of missing Livvy so it was a welcome distraction.  Livvy... that sounds like lovey... Lovey Livvy... Livvy Lovey...