My Gay Roommate (L.S)

Three

Who's idea was it to go out last night? 

Who's idea was it to get that shit faced drunk?

My head bangs like someone's taking a mallet to it from the inside out, smashing at my skull. My stomach lurches and my heart twists with the fear of chucking up. I don't think anyone likes chucking up but it makes me slightly nervous, so much so that when I had food poisoning a few years ago, I went a whole week not eating in case I threw up again. Thank you God for anxiety!

My whole body aches and I'm sure my throat may just be a desert because of how dry it is.

I peel my eyes open slightly, blurry from sleep and look around my room to see my clothes screwed up onto the floor, duvet halfway off the bed and pooling onto the hardwood floor.

My stomach rolls like choppy waves in a storm and I jump out of bed, stumbling out the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I slam up the toilet seat and sit on my knees beside it, spewing into it and it makes my heart pound against my chest, sweat sheering my forehead.

I'm never drinking again, fuck.

I spit into the toilet, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as it begins to fall in my face. My mouth smells like a sewer and my nostrils burn with the scent of vomit. It makes my stomach roll again and I'm throwing up again. 

The sound of the door handle echoes. 

"It's occupied," I croak out, throat scratchy now, breath heaving.

But the person doesn't hear or just doesn't give two fucks because they're walking into the bathroom. I wave my hand over at them, motioning them to leave.

"I don't want anyone seeing me like this," I mumble, keeping my eyes closed so I don't have to look at them.

They pull my hair back from my face, rubbing my back. "Get it all up, babe," They mutter. 

I shake my head. "You don't have to."

They hit me up side the head. "You're the baby, H, it's my duty as your friend and pretend big brother to sooth you, so shut up and get rid of the alcohol from your body before we grab a full English," He says, patting my back again.

Just the thought of consuming something makes me spew again and I whimper a little. "Please," I whisper. I don't know if I'm pleading for him to stay or to leave me and my low dignity to vend for ourselves.

"Harry, shut up." 

"Okay," I sigh, feeling better now.

"You good? Want me to get you some water?" He asks, looking at me with intense dark eyes.

I nod and he releases my hair, it falls down to my cheeks. He scrambles up off the cool floor, walking out the bathroom. 

A door opens somewhere in the flat and pitter patter of feet comes closer. Brown ruffled hair turns to me and he grins, snorting. 

"Oh, Hazza, you poor little thing," Louis coos, shaking his head and crossing his arms, leaning against the door frame now.

Zayn brushes past him to hand me my water. "Harry had a little too much last night," He says with a smile, holding the water out for me. 

I take it, sipping on it and it moistens my throat pleasantly. 

"Yeah, no kidding. Did you not see him last night?" Louis chuckles.

I shake my head. "I don't remember much."

Zayn giggles, ruffling my hair, making me pout. "Bro, you rung your mum to tell her how much you loved her. You then proceeded to tell her Niall was free and single for anyone, including and I quote, 'a cougar like you.' She told you she was happily married to Robin and you then began crying because you wanted Ni as a step dad instead."