Homophobic (l.s)

Chapter 25

Louis can hear his phone ringing on the bedside table, and at first, he ignores it. However, it keeps ringing and out of annoyance he quickly reaches for it and presses it against his ear. He keeps his eyes closed in hopes of being able to fall back asleep afterward. Fat chance.

"What?"

His voice comes out deeper than usual, thickly coated by sleep still. He hears Eleanor's voice and he suppresses the groan that reaches his throat. She rambles for a second, but he's focused on the fact his head is aching like a bitch. He's hungover and it's radiating through every inch of his body. She's offering a day out, which is nice and all, but Louis is just not having it today.

"I appreciate the offer but have a few things planned today. I have to go back to the school sometime and start writing the next terms curriculum,"

Before she can interject, he hangs up and turns his phone off. His eyes remain closed and he throws his phone elsewhere. The bed is too comfortable to want to leave, and he knows bed is the best medicine for a hangover.

His own thoughts are quickly interrupted when he hears a soft noise next to him, his eyes snap towards the noise.

There's a male next to him. Shirtless. Louis can't pull his eyes away, as he drinks in the boy next to him. He's on his back, hair tousled around the pillow. One hand by his side, and the other palm up next to his face. His skin glows in the dim light and strawberry pink lips slightly parted. His eyelashes resting against the skin of his cheekbones. There's not an ounce of stress on his face, he's just at peace. It's barely audible, but Louis is so focused on this moment, he can hear Harry's breathing.

Louis' heart physically lurches and he takes a deep breath in.

His brain is quickly going over the events of the previous night, and the first thought is alcohol. He scrunches his nose at the reminder. As the moments from the night slowly connect, Louis feels his stomach twist. As quietly as he can, he removes himself out of the bed. He watches Harry carefully, ensuring he isn't interrupted from his sleep as he leaves the room. He doesn't even want to wake him up to vomit so he beelines to the other bathroom.

Louis stumbles towards the toilet, and grips onto the ceramic bowl. His stomach continues to twist, and he squeezes his eyes, urging himself not to be sick. The image of Harry on his knees suddenly pops up, and Louis moans before throwing up. The taste of his stomach acid and whatever alcohol was left from the previous night makes him retch again.

The seconds tick by, and once the heaving is over, he reaches over to flush the loo before leaning against the wall. His skin is glistening in sweat, and his head feels like it's going to explode. He swore he wasn't that drunk last night.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

He thinks about when they went to bed, digging into the depths of his memory for any idea if they did anything. He remembers Harry just asking for a cuddle.

Fuck.

Louis doesn't know what to do, or how to approach the sleeping boy in the bed. How are they going to communicate about this? There's no way around it now. They are completely screwed. The first thing he needs to do is take aspirin and shower. He needs to wake himself up and make sure he physically is in the right frame before dealing with the shitshow that will ensue shortly. He makes his way to the shower, knowing there's aspirin in one of the bathroom drawers. He grabs some jeans and a shirt from his drawers as quietly as possible and cleans himself up.

He procrastinates for a while in the shower, until he knows he'll end up using all the hot water if it continues. He gets out, dresses and walks into the bedroom. He stands in the doorway, eyeballing Harry. He wasn't on his back anymore. He was on his side, facing Louis' side of the bed. He's snoring now, and Louis bites on his bottom lip to stop the chuckle that's building.