Fight For me

The Morning After

When Harry woke up he felt like the walking dead. Like someone had run him over with a small truck, put him back together and then run him over with a bus. Now he remembered why he had tried to cut back on the drinking.

He groaned loudly and rubbed his throbbing head as he slowly sat up. After the initial dizziness had faded, he forced himself to stand up, the whole room spinning for a few seconds. He glanced at the clock and groaned again as he realized it was already almost noon.

What even happened last night? The last thing he remembered was accepting the whisky from that dirtbag to Nick.

His face twisted into a scowl. He never should have let him in. The guy only meant trouble - and Harry fell for his tricks every single time. Hopefully he was gone, knowing he had overstayed his welcome.

"Goddammit," he grumbled and moved slowly into the living room, sighing in relief when he couldn't see Nick anywhere, before moving to the kitchen.

He scratched his head as he paused in front of the fridge, his stomach churning at the idea of food. At least he hadn't thrown up yet.

Moving back to the living room, looking around as he started feeling uneasy. Something was not right. Had Nick stolen something? A quick assessment of the room proved that wasn't the case. It was still not cleaned up from Nick's visit but otherwise nothing was out of place.

And yet there was this unease hanging in the air, making Harry feel restless and almost anxious. He couldn't remember smoking anything, but maybe the smoke had affected him anyway?

Sitting on the couch, he looked at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Another nervous habit of his. He hated feeling that lost and helpless.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a blackout from drinking after getting kicked out by his mother, always having made sure to stay just sober enough to take properly care of himself and not lose control.

The quietness of the flat that used to soothe and help him relax after a long day now almost taunted him and he felt like screaming and punching something.

Something suddenly caught his eye from a corner of the room and he walked over to pick it up.

A toy mouse? What was that doing in his...

His eyes widened as everything suddenly came back to him.

Louis!

How the fuck did he manage to forget about someone who had been living with him for weeks?! Just how much did he drink?

He sunk down on the couch, resting his head on his hands. Great, like his life wasn't fucked up enough already. Now the lads probably hated him, Paul was without a doubt very disappointed and Simon would probably have him killed.

And Louis... Louis would most likely never speak to him again. If it wasn't because they had to see each other for fights, they probably wouldn't ever see each other again. And Harry really should have been okay with that - it was what he had wanted all along after all.

Problem was... he didn't really feel okay about it. Not ever seeing Louis again would be...

He shook his head and pulled on his hair in frustration. What was happening to him? This was supposed to be a good thing, something she should have thought of doing a long time ago. Louis would be better off whether it was with Niall or with Zayn and Liam. They could protect him just as well as himself and Harry wouldn't have to play nanny anymore.

This was for the best. They would all realize that eventually.

He was about to finally head to the kitchen to get something to eat, when his front door swung open, slamming against the wall. He spun around and wasn't at all surprised to see who it was.