It's Getting Cold These Days [Larry Stylinson AU]

Six

For being an experienced drinker, Louis hadn't expected the physical backlash of last night. Night fused with the grey dawn while he tangled in ashen sheets. Several times he had dry-heaved, crawled to the edge of the bed and contemplated his life choices. He had watched the clouds swallow the sun and the slivers of light on his wall dulling. He hadn't spoken since, not having the will to move from bed to grab a glass of water or the courage to face his flatmates with their questions.

Within reach of his bed-zone he had discovered an early collection of photo albums. His first trips only had single photographs—if even that. He had begun collecting seriously after working as a tourist guide in Scotland. In some pockets of the album he had stuffed notes instead.

Now and then he would stray from the albums and his gaze would catch on last night's white-dotted tee where it hung on the back of a chair.

Harry stank. No amount of cologne could cover that up. Louis tried to rationalise—Harry had only brought trouble, it would be more painless to let it go—but it had never been his strong suit. Harry's dead eyes had been imprinted behind his eyelids.

He took a fistful of the pooling duvet around him and cocooned himself. Though the hot fabric suffocated him, he tugged it closer. The polyester offered little consolation. He surfaced with more stress than he'd had diving in.

On cue, knuckles rapped to the door. Anna's locks flickered in the doorway. Steam soared from a cup of coffee squeezed in her elbow. When she neared, Louis caught sight of the pills in her hand.

"Afternoon remedy coming up," she said.

They sat together for a while. After suffering through multiple grimaces, the fog in Louis' head began to lift. Anna laid an arm around him when he lapped at his coffee.

"Harry's cute," she said.

Louis wondered how much she had seen of them last night, where she was all wrapped up in Zayn. Surprisingly few conversations about Harry had taken place during their taxi ride home, and he couldn't recall those that had.

"Did he say anything?" Louis said.

"When?"

"Right before Zayn wanted to sing Mariah Carey? He must've grabbed his coat."

"I didn't see him." She dusted the residual white powder from her palm. Louis slanted his head away to the wall streaked in light. A tender hand came down on his shoulder, squeezing, but it didn't comfort him like it should have. He sipped his drink.

Even though he was sure she could sense his answer, Anna said, "Want to talk about what happened?"

He shook his head in thought, lips pursed. He hadn't slept properly, maybe Harry hadn't either, and he knew it would be wiser to wait, but...

"I should talk to him. I'll head down to the café after breakfast."

"Lunch," Anna pointed out, brushing a lock from his forehead. He keened. "Zayn's out there if you wanna suffer through the painkillers together. I had mine at seven. He's been cuddle-starved lately."

Louis nodded, taking it in. The minimal movement made his head ache. Anna's absence due to her hectic work schedule had certainly taken a toll on Zayn. Surely the company would do him good. Louis wanted some attention right about then, too.

"We'll have a cuddle," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the living room. "You going out or something?"

"Yeah." She frowned miserably. She placed her fingers to her temples and rubbed in slow circles. "Work called, I'm needed. Never go into the construction industry. The hours are crazy."