Arrangement [H.S]

16

Harry

"I can't believe it that I have a fucking Squidward on my lip."

The three of us made matching tattoos after the party. I have the head of Squidward, Naomi has SpongeBob, and Niall has Patrick.

"Why? Well, it suits you." She claims.

"Not at all. He's always moody, grumpy and-" I stopped as Naomi raised an eyebrow and laughed. In response, I took a pillow from the couch and threw it at her "It doesn't suit me."

Niall had already gone to his apartment and we were left alone. Naomi was watching an episode of The Office when I got in there and started chatting about what happened yesterday. She looks exceptionally unaffected and indifferent to what happened.

"You don't seem concerned that we have matching tattoos." She looks away from the TV screen and is staring at me. "As for me, I don't care, the only downside is that I don't like Squidward. But I was expecting more from you, to be honest. You usually take everything seriously."

"Jesus, it's a stupid tattoo and it's just on the lip - you can't see it. The only thing that disgusts me is that I have a matching tattoo with you," she muttered, glancing at me with a playful glint in her eye.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Well, excuse me, for me it was a bonding experience," I retorted, though a mischievous grin tugged at my lips. Without warning, I grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it in her direction, aiming for her head.

Naomi let out a surprised yelp as the pillow hit its mark, and she burst into light laughter. It was a rare sight to see her so carefree and unguarded, and it warmed my heart more than I cared to admit.

As the laughter subsided, I leaned back on the couch, my hangover momentarily forgotten. Despite the throbbing in my head and the overall disarray of the apartment, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie in that moment. We may have woken up with regrettable tattoos, but we'd also woken up with memories of a night well spent.

"Besides, I've done worse things under the influence. And now I could have done worse too, so getting a tattoo isn't the worst as long as it's in an invisible place." She says firmly, looking at me.

"What could you possibly do worse than that?"

"I don't know. Hooked up with some nasty man, break in somewhere, marry you, set a place on fire-" she lists all the possibilities that come to her mind when I interrupt her.

"I hate to break it to you darling, but you already married me."

She forms an o-shaped mouth. "I swear to God, I forget about it sometimes."

"You see? And you weren't even intoxicated back then, so that wasn't the worst thing in the world." I turn to face the TV. She doesn't speak, so I quickly look at her again. "You weren't, were you? The wedding doesn't count then. I guess."

She seems surprised, "It doesn't count!? Gosh, why didn't I think of this before. I would be single." She sighs and looks at me in disgust. "But no, wait. People get married when they're drunk in Vegas all the time and that counts."

I smile, "Well, drunk or not, you're stuck with me anyway." She leans her head back and closes her eyes. "Honestly speaking, you could have gotten worse. What arranged husband would sing with you to Lady Gaga?" Silence. "Exactly - none. I'm very cool."

"Mm, such the best arranged husband I could ever dream of." She speaks in a sarcastic tone. "What husband would tell me to carry some documents in my pants? Exactly - none."

"It's called teamwork. It's very important in long-term relationships." At these words, she falls into such a laugh as I have not heard before. She laughs until her eyes are runny. I don't think I've made anyone laugh that much before.