The Beacon [h.s]

12

Harry Styles

The sound of ringing starts to slowly bring my consciousness back to reality. My head feels like it's spinning and that stupid ringing won't shut the fuck up. With my eyes still closed, I slowly feel my conscious come back as the feeling of my body is now aware. A pain shoots through the back of my neck, along with soreness across my back...and a tightness around my foot?

I force myself to open my eyes. Trying to blink away my foggy vision by squeezing and reopening my eyes. An ache forms behind my eyes, not helping the pounding head ache that's entered my skull. The ringing is now louder due to my consciousness being fully awake now. I blindly slap around in the direction of where I hear it, assuming it's my phones alarm. I finally manage to find it next to me laying on the floor and bring it up over my face to click stop. The time displays as 7:00 am, meaning the alarm has been going off for about 30 minutes, but I was somehow too dead asleep to hear it. I let my phone drop back onto the floor after I turn it off, using too much strength I don't have just to do that task.

As my phone drops back to the soft rug my eyes take in the coffee table, meaning I'm downstairs laying on the couch and not in my bedroom like usual. This explains why my neck and back hurt from falling asleep here. The countless empty and half empty bottles of alcohol scatter the table, further explaining my hangover and why I didn't hear my alarm for over thirty minutes. I scan over the vodka bottles and beer bottles.

I push myself to scoot up on the large couch only to feel my foot not move along with me, instead it gets roughly pulled back the opposite way making my back land on the couch again. I let out a frustrated groan, using all my strength to sit up and see what's got my foot. I squint my eyes only to see fuck face holding it.

Niall is laying in front of me curled into fetal position as he's fucking cuddling my damn foot. His arms are wrapped around my ankle, keeping my sock covered foot in front of his chest, latching onto it for dear life. I close my eyes momentarily, breathing out. He's such a fucking weirdo. I'm assuming we both got plastered last night, also noticing the leftover residue of white powder on the coffee table accompanying the empty alcohol bottles.

I try and pull my foot out of Niall's hold only for him to squeeze it tighter. I try again moving my arms to hold onto the arm of the couch behind me to lift myself up slightly, giving me more momentum. I yank my foot free, causing Niall to jolt awake from the sudden movement.

"What the hell?!" He yells sitting up from his lying position rubbing his eyes that I'm sure are blurry like mine were.

"Me what the hell? You what the hell?! You're the one cuddling my damn foot like a fucking weirdo!" I yell back, getting off the couch to stand but quickly regretting it as blood rushes to my head. I stumble a little before finding my balance again.

"Oh fuck, sorry mate didn't even notice..." Niall yawns, stretching his arms out. "Holy fuck, my head hurts." He groans, laying back down and uses his hands to cover his face from the sunlight beaming through the balcony doors.

"Nope, no, get up, you can't fall back asleep, Nyla's gonna be here in an hour and I don't want to watch another shitty flirt session between you two." I roll my eyes and start to gather the alcohol bottles in my hand to throw out.

Niall groans but gets up to follow me into the kitchen. "Why? Are you jealous?" I catch the smug grin on his stupid face.

I scoff immediately, "No the fuck not. Do whatever the hell you want with her just not in front of me."

Niall sighs. "Nah, I don't want her like that. I just introduced myself since you failed to do so yesterday. But you're lying to yourself if you say she isn't hot." He sits on one of the stools against the kitchen island.