I met you in the toilet (Larry One Shots - book 5)

sort your head and facedown

From: http://archiveofourown.org/works/957407

~~~~~~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: alternate universe - canon divergence

Word count: 26426

Summary: "What if you'd had the chance to make that one thing different?"

 Harry gets sent to an alternate universe where most everything is the same and most everything has changed.

-

Harry is sitting on a ratty couch in someone's basement in the middle of September and he is high.

He doesn't know how he got here - actually that'd be a lie, somewhat: Ed is sat on the love seat opposite him, talking animatedly about some movie with some blue-haired girl. Harry contemplates throwing the bong at his head or something, because he's the one who dragged Harry here and now he's not even paying attention to him, fucking tosser. He doesn't, though, because he's got self-control, however many times his keepers may say otherwise, and it's not as if he's much in the mood for talking anyway. Cannabis makes him awfully contemplative.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he twists the bottle of lager in his hands, sighing softly before taking a long swig, letting the bitter liquid slosh around in his mouth before swallowing down. It's cold down here, the sudden influx of a cool draft that'd hit Britain this morning from the North Pole or whatever clearly taking root, right down to the wooden floor beneath his socked feet. There's no heater down here, and it makes Harry smile a bit, thinking about his first flat and the winter he and Louis spent there, cuddled under the blankets with only each other to keep warm.

He wonders what Louis' doing right now. He's never been good at dealing with cold temperatures, winter child though he may be.

That's stupid as fuck

, he'd tell Harry, rolling his eyes and poking him in the stomach. 

The month you were born in can't possibly determine how well you tolerate zero degrees Celsius.

Harry would insist on it, and he remembers one time, sat watching old 

The Nanny

 reruns with a thick quilt Louis' grandmum had knitted for him when he was six draped over their bodies and mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, Louis had replied to his nagging, 

well, it doesn't matter anyway, does it, Curly? S'why I've got you to keep me warm

. He'd said it so matter of factly, like it was totally obvious and he couldn't understand why Harry kept arguing when something like that was so simply true.

Harry shakes his head, jolting himself back to the present. His smile has disappeared, a corner of his mouth turned down. He wishes he was higher and drunker. He wishes a lot of things.

“Jesus fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his hand furiously over his eyes. It’s hardly one AM and he feels so bone-achingly tired he could vomit.

Taking another drink from his beer, Harry leans back in the chair, kicking his legs out and closing his eyes, placing the bottle tightly in the space between his thighs. Maybe he’ll play dead until Ed notices and pities him the chance to go home. Before he can fully ferment this plan, though, there's a voice saying too close to his ear, "what could the great Harry Styles possibly have to be sad about?"

Harry peeks an eye open. There's a thin Asian girl now sat next to him, holding a bottle identical to his by the neck. Harry doesn't recall seeing her when he'd walked in, which doesn't make much sense seeing as how there are hardly ten people here, but his attention span and focus has been less than ideal the past few days. She's got a glint in her eyes that reminds Harry of Louis, eighteen and wild and taking on the XFC house by storm. Everything fucking reminds him of Louis. Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Harry answers her, "why do you think something is wrong?"