Give Me Truths || l.s

chapter 2

When Louis’ phone went off the next morning, it took him several rings to remember that it was, in fact, humanly possible to be awake before noon on a Saturday. It took him another few to find and unearth his phone from the tangle of sheets and blankets on his bed, where he’d fallen in absolute oblivion as soon as he and Liam had gotten in. He finally got around to picking up on the last ring.

“’Ello?”

“L-Louis?”

“Um. Yeah. Who’s this?” Louis croaked, hoping sincerely that the man on the phone wasn’t someone he’d met last night. It was a general rule that he did not give his number out to strange men at bars, no matter how good it felt when they danced on him.

“It’s Harry. Um. From the diner? Harry Styles.”

If Louis had the strength or willpower to sit bolt upright, he would have. “Harry! Yeah! Hey man, didn’t recognize your voice,” he replied from the pillows. “You sound…” Mature, without that baby face of yours around to make you look fifteen. Like a man. A deep-voiced, smooth-toned man.

Of course Harry was oblivious to this train of thought. “Oh. I thought maybe you’d forgotten me. Or something.”

“No way,” Louis immediately replied. “Definitely not. You’re Harry Styles, business major at King’s College, flatmate of Zayn Malik and significant other –on the hush- of a lad named Thomas. You like cold fries and The 1947.”

“You mean The 1975? I thought you said you liked them!”

Shit shit shit shit shit shit- “Um, I’m… really hung over.” Which was in no way a lie. Louis’ body felt like lead, except for where his head felt like a punching bag, and Liam was only just stirring on the other bed as Louis’ voice gradually woke him. They both looked worse for the wear.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sorry, are you- are you okay? Sorry. I can call back if you don’t want to talk to me.”

And if it hadn’t been for that last part, Louis might have taken him up on the offer of a few more hours of sleep before he had to be charming and sociable. But he knew- in the way that Louis always knew- that to Harry, Louis choosing sleep was the same as not-choosing Harry. And he also knew that Harry was too used to being not-chosen.

“No, don’t worry about it mate, I’m fine. Not my first hangover. Nor, I suspect, my last.”

“Oh.” Harry sounded pleased that Louis didn’t brush him off, which made the pounding in Louis’ head a little more worth it. “Do you do this often?”

“Often is a relative term.”

“Often by your definition?”

“By mine? Not at all. By Liam’s I’m far beyond help, though.”

“Oh,” Harry replied again, a smile still apparent in his voice.

Louis buried his face beneath the mound of pillows- less sunlight down here, far preferable- and tried to think of something interesting to say. “You got a new phone pretty quick.”

It took Harry a few seconds to respond, and his voice sounded pinched when he finally managed a quiet, “Yeah.”

Louis noticed. He wondered. He filed under ‘mysteries to be solved’ and didn’t say another word- for now.

“Well you can feel free to text me anytime,” he offered as cheerfully as he could with his head pounding away. He could hear Liam get up and stumble to the bathroom before the retching noises began. “I’m almost always within three feet of my phone and desperate for a distraction.”