Episode 2.3

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"Harry? Harry, you have to get up slowly." Louis gently stroked his hair, tried to wake Harry. "We have to leave soon, I've already packed your suitcase. But you still have to eat something. Hazza? Come on, baby."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing more than incoherent words didn't cross his lips. He wanted to move, but all his bones felt as if someone had replaced them with lead. He could not even lift his little finger.

"Are you all right? Do you need the bucket? Another pill? Paul was already here, and he said if I can't get you out of bed, he'll do it his way." And Harry knew what that meant. "Pill... please," Harry finally choked out and opened his eyes. His voice was virtually nonexistent. Harry felt an unpleasant scratching in his throat, as if his vocal cords were made of sandpaper.

Louis nodded, stroked his head once more and went to get Harry another tablet. He sat up very slowly, pulled the blanket around his shoulders. He tried to remember last night, only there was not much he could remember. Actually, there was just a big black hole. "Here you go." Louis, unlike Harry, was ready to leave. He wore one of Harry's sweaters, which was too big for him, of course, but which Louis could hide in wonderfully. The sight made Harry smile, even if only for a moment, because his head then radiated an impulse of pain that almost made it come up. Hastily Harry swallowed the tablet and leaned against the edge of the bed.

"Your mum has called a few times, I told her you were still asleep. You should get in touch with her as soon as you can." Louis sat down by Harry's side, ran gently down his cheek and down the back of his neck. "This is my sweater," Harry muttered, pulling on the fabric and moaning. He had never felt so bad in his life.

"Not any more," Louis grinned, kissing Harry on the nose. Even though they were pressed for time, Louis let Harry wake up first and tried to keep him alive with his caresses. But at some point Harry had to get up. He dragged himself more badly than right into the shower and got dressed. In between he actually had to vomit again. Accordingly bad looking he came out of the bathroom, Louis was waiting impatiently for him. "I'll be ready in a moment." Actually, he was already done, nervously. Harry picked one of his bandanas out of his suitcase to wrap around his head and stuffed the rest of his laundry and toilet bag with the rest. He had to look really horrible, but Harry saved himself a look in the mirror and instead stumbled over to Louis, pressed himself against him and gave him a kiss on the lips. "Thanks," he mumbled, sighed as Louis wrapped his arms around him and stroked his back. If Louis hadn't taken such good care of him, Harry would certainly not have flown to America today. To his relief, the tablet worked quite well and Harry managed to drag himself without any further problems into the foyer where the rest was already waiting. A bit pleased and gloating, he realised that Niall looked as bad as Harry and made everyone understand that he didn't want to talk because he would throw up. Smart as he was, he had sunglasses and a hat on. Maybe Harry should have done the same. He was about to reach into his pocket to look for his glasses when Louis held them in front of him. With a look of pure gratitude, Harry looked at him and put the sunglasses on his nose, getting a highfive from Niall, who missed because they didn't hit either of them. It's a good thing no one saw that.

Liam, who had been no less drunk than she was, held his own quite bravely. He didn't need anything to cover his face, could speak without vomiting and neither loud noises nor bright lamps seemed to blow his brains out. He was almost still one of the fittest. Malicious tongues could now claim that he was simply used to the amounts of alcohol.

"Hey, there's our little stripper, are you feeling better now?" Zayn asked him in a good mood and flicked through Harry's hair, which immediately gave him a nasty look, which Zayn couldn't see at all thanks to the sunglasses. "Don't do that."

"Oh, someone's still a little grumpy." Zayn turned to Louis, who just shrugged. "I don't think he can remember anything."

"That's too bad, it was so funny." Now Harry raised his glasses and looked at his friends questioningly. He didn't like Zayn's mischievous grin at all, and when he told him about what happened yesterday, Harry wanted to be buried in the ground. "For God's sake," he murmured, suppressing the urge to vomit. He hadn't really done that?? A glance at Louis, however, confirmed Zayn's tales and made Harry feel even worse. "I'm really, really sorry about that."

ℍ𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 ¶Larry Stylinson¶Where stories live. Discover now