Not Again? || l.s

f o u r

f o u r | own it up

I know you don't give two fucks 
But I still want that 
Your savage love 

~ 'savage love' by jason durelo

ツ

Harry woke up with a pounding headache. If that were the extent of it, he could deal. But his mouth tasted foul, too, and his stomach was churning and twisting and making this gross guttural sound. There's this horrible thumping, too, that seemed to jolt him every few seconds. He groaned and rolled over, only to find Louis in the middle of the room, doing fucking jumping jacks.

"You're satanic," Harry moaned. "Cut it out."

Louis kept jumping, "Why, is it bothering you?"

"Is it going to bother you when I wrap my hands around your throat?" Harry countered. 

He reached for his extra pillow, but it had fallen on the floor. It took so much effort to grab it that he wanted to cry, but he managed to get it over his head. And Louis kept jumping. 

"Loueh! Stop. I'm dying."

"D'you remember," Louis said conversationally, like he was not still working out. He was hardly even breathless. "That time I passed out on the floor and you woke me up to Call Me Maybe? Or that time when I'd done all those tequila shots, and you wouldn't stop clicking your damn fucking pen?"

Vaguely, yes. That's not the full list of things Harry had done to irritate Louis when he had a hangover. That's not fair, though. Harry didn't ever drink; Louis was always partying. Shouldn't he get this one free pass? 

"Please."

"Still got —another fifteen minutes of my workout," Louis grumbled. "You're just going to have to deal with it."

Blindly, Harry searched on the desk beside him. His hand curled around a pencil, and he threw it in the general direction of Louis' grunting, "I hate you. Really. I honestly, truly fucking hate you."

"Mutual," Louis said. "Glad we had this talk."

The rest of the morning was spent like that. Harry tried to sleep and not leak brain matter onto his pillows through the cracks in his skull, and Louis made as much noise as possible. Eventually, Harry gave up and stomped out of the room with his shower bag. The warm water didn't do nearly as much as he needed it to, but at least he didn't smell like beer and sweat anymore.

His room was empty when he got back. He considered trying to fall asleep, but he figured he wouldn't manage it anyway. Instead, he dropped his stuff off, pulled on a sweater over his t-shirt and sweats, and headed to the common room. Liam and Zayn were already there, curled up on the couch in front of the telly, watching random kids' cartoons.

"Why are you watching this?" Harry complained. 

On the screen, a blue cat was chasing three cockroach-like insects which were stealing food. Ugh. 

"I don't even want to think about food."

"That's 'cause you're hungover, babe," Liam said weakly. 

He's got his head in Zayn's lap, and Zayn was petting his hair slowly. It looked nice; Harry was a little jealous. He wanted someone to pet his hair when he's hungover. He wondered how Louis felt. And almost felt sorry for not letting him sleep at peace.

"You need to eat something, though. You'll feel better if you do", Zayn said.

Harry stomach growled, but bile rose in his throat when he thought about actually eating anything, "I'm good. And I'm not going down to the dining hall."