there's four // harry centric

eighteen

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to have 100 tiny people hammering at your head all at once? Slowly, they'd be chipping away at your skull until all you could hear is a constant ringing.

I don't think I've felt like this since junior year in high school, when I snuck out to a party this senior was throwing and got completely smashed. All I remembered was playing numerous rounds of beer pong and then stumbling upstairs to take part in a game of drunk truth or dare. My friends told me the day after that I had admitted to liking Kyler Downs, the captain of the swim team. I almost moaned thinking about him...he was so sexy.

I groaned. It hurt to try and think about him. My mind clearly wasn't in the mood to function. Despite every fibre in my being telling me to keep my eyes closed, I opened them, trying to remember why I felt this terrible. I winced as light flooded in from the window, directly to my face. I quickly flipped around, the simple action causing my insides to turn. My eyes widened, a familiar sensation bubbling in my throat.

I shot up from the bed like a rocket, dashing to the nearest bathroom with a hand over my mouth. Barely managing to open the lid, I started retching into the toilet. The vomit felt like acid burning my throat, the taste making me want to throw up again. I didn't even hear the numerous pairs of feet rushing to my hunched over form. I felt a pair of hands brush the curls out of my face while another rubbed my back soothingly. Tears leaked out of my eyes at the pain, my stomach still turning. By now I was dry heaving, a string of saliva dribbling down my chin.

"Oh baby..." I heard Niall's voice murmur, allowing me to identify him as the one rubbing my back. "You poor thing."

"H-Hurts..." I managed, the pounding in my head becoming progressively worse. Every sound seemed to intensify when you had a headache. I groaned, leaning over to spit the excess vomit into the toilet bin. I made a face at the smell, quickly flushing it before the stench made me hurl all over again. "T-Thank you." I murmured, accepting the cup that was held in front of me. As soon as my shaky hands went up to grab it, they were gently nudged away.

"Let me. Your hands are shaking way too much." Louis voice flooded into my head, enticing a nod from me. I opened my mouth as he pressed the rim of the cup to my lips, tilting it upwards slightly to allow me time to swallow. My hands clutched his arm unconsciously, guiding his movements. When the cup was emptied he took it away, gently swiping a thumb under my bottom lip to catch a drop of water that didn't make it.

I briefly looked up to meet his eyes but as soon as I did, I averted them. Despite him seeming so sympathetic about how ill I'm feeling, there was still one emotion that stuck out like a sore thumb. As I scanned the other boys quickly, I realized they all bore the same look. Anger.

It made my face become even paler as I remembered the event of the night before. The outfit crisis. The numerous shots. The dancing, the grinding...the strangers hands on my hips. And then there they were. Standing next to the DJ as they held in their hand the unplugged chord that ended the music. I remember feeling everyone's eyes on me as soon as they realized I was the one who ruined all their fun. And then I fainted.

A sudden burst of anger ignited in the pit of my chest. My brows furrowing as I looked back up at them, this time with a new found confidence. "What we're you guys doing there?" I gritted, clenching my jaw. They all appeared to be confused, yet calm. Always so fucking calm! "At the club?! Why were you at the club?!" I shouted, my patience running thin. "You," I motioned to all of them, "promised me you wouldn't interfere. But of course as soon as I start having fun, you're all there, ending it."