How We Met: A Tinder Story (Larry Stylinson)✅

Checking

Louis' POV

I feel dizzy and nauseous when I wake up the next morning. It hurts to move my shoulder more than a few centimeters. It hadn't felt that bad last night, had it?

Wincing, I pull myself out of bed and head to the bathroom. My eye is even more swollen than it was last night, and darker too. Disgusting.

As I head back to my room, I realize I don't even have the energy to take the bus to the hospital. But Liam is already at work, and I have no choice.

Groaning, I pulled a jacket over my throbbing shoulder and made my way to the bus stop, the chilly air nipping my cheeks.

A little while later, as I sat on the bus, I thought about how stupid it was of me to make that comment. None of this would have happened had I just kept my stupid mouth shut. Harry was right to be upset - it was totally immature behavior.

I thought about what he said - how he would never have expected me to say something like that. Maybe he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does. Yes, I'm soft and cuddly with Harry because he's my beautiful boyfriend. But with other people I'm not so nice.

In fact, I can be a real dick sometimes. I'm opinionated and usually I'm quiet, but I can be a loud mouth if I feel seriously enough about a subject. I just wish I knew what was important to speak up about and what wasn't. And to keep cuss words out of the equation.

Sighing, I hopped off the bus and headed into the lobby of the hospital. I hate the hospital - the white walls, the bustling people, the smell of cleaning fluid. Growing up, I was injured at least once every few months, and needed stitches on more than one occasion. And last year, I had gotten my appendix removed while on vacation in Germany.

I'm not stranger to these white walls, clearly. But it doesn't mean I enjoy being here - especially when it's on my own accord. I sit down in one of the chairs and fill out the paperwork. I'm mostly concerned about my shoulder. My head hardly hurts anymore, but I know they will check me for a concussion to be safe.

"Thank you," the receptionist says when I finally hand her back the stack of papers.

"How long do you think it'll be?" I ask, my voice still a bit hoarse.

"Not sure. Maybe another two hours," she says with a shrug.

Amazing.

I take a seat in one of the chairs, far away from the other patients who are coughing or groaning or have been impaled with some sort of metal object.

I open my phone to a myriad of texts from Harold.

Harry: Hi babe I hope you are ok and that you made it to the hospital <3

Harry: I am so worried about you and love u so much

Harry: You scared me

Smiling, I begin to type a reply. He's so cute and loving. How did I get so lucky?

Louis: Hi babe, sorry to scare you like that

Louis: Yes, I'm at the ER right now waiting

Louis: don't be worried i'll be ok

As I wait for Harry's response, I put my feet up on the coffee table. My eyes close for a little and I begin to drift asleep, only to be woken up a little while later by a stressed-looking nurse.

"Tomlinson?" she asks, shoving my shoulder roughly. "No one responded when they called the name, so I'm assuming it's you, sleeping beauty."

Rubbing my eyes I stand up. "Yeah, sorry."