; 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | harry styles one shots.

; bad migraines & tense housemates, pt. ii

When You Wake Up,
(We'll Grow Together)

✉️ NOTES:
i wasnt planning on writing a second part so idk how well this flows with the first part?!? i didnt except people to request more of this one but it seems like you guys liked it (which im so happy to hear!!) so i threw this together late last night. it's pretty short but i hope it doesnt feel too random and disjointed <3 (i also hope there arent a bunch of mistakes or typos eek)

✉️ WORK:
The first thing Harry notices when he first opens his eyes the next morning is that his head is swimming. Even the smallest of movements sends his brain rolling about his skull, and if he didn't know better, Harry'd think he was on a merry-go-round from Hell. His sheets are damp from his clammy skin, and he's somehow colder than ice despite the obvious temperature that seems to be impossible to break.

The second thing he realizes is that Louis isn't home. To be fair, it's not unusual. Louis is often not home, but Harry can't help it when he feels a twinge of disappointment in his chest when it hits him that the home is empty.

Only a few moments later, Harry feels another twinge in his chest, but this time it's of panic. He didn't get the chance to thank Louis last night. He needs to thank him. Louis is going to think he's ungrateful, and Harry can't have that. Louis is finally talking to him, he can't ruin it by being an unappreciative twat.

Harry's mind is going a million miles a minute as he stumbles his way through his room to get dressed. He yanks on the first pair of pants he can grab and the denim feels like sandpaper burning his fever-sensitive skin. His jumper might be on inside out. It doesn't matter. What matters is getting to Louis. Harry knows he's at work right now, so he just needs to drive over to the tattoo shop where he's apprenticing, say thank you, and then everything will be fine. It'll all be fine.

He's not too sure why he's panicking so much, he just knows he needs to see Louis. Maybe he's blowing this out of proportion, but he's pretty confident he's not. This is very reasonable. He just needs to say thank you.

The drive to Louis' work is short enough and Harry goes into autopilot mode, allowing muscle memory to take him there. He parks his car (self-admittedly, sloppily) and rather frantically rushes to the door. A bell jingles above his head and, okay, ouch. His head may no longer be actively throbbing in tandem with his heart, but the migraine hangover is in full force.

"Hey, kid. You have an appointment?" A very muscular – and very scary – man asks him when the door opens.

Harry fishmouths. He didn't think his plan through this far. "Oh. No. Um."

The man's face turns subtly sympathetic which makes him a little bit less intimidating. "Jack doesn't take walk-ins, sorry. You'll have to schedule something."

"I don't- I don't want a tattoo."

"Uh. Okay, then I think you're probably in the wrong place," Big Man responds. "You alright? Are you lost, dude? Or high?"

"Louis." He finally blurts. "I just need Louis. Please, um, please."

"Right... Take a seat. I'll grab 'im." The burly guy turns around and shouts Louis' name. "Tommo! Got a kid out here lookin' for ya."

"The fuck?" Harry hears Louis mumble under his breath as he walks out to the front of the parlor. He's peeling off a pair of black nitrile gloves, looking a bit flustered. "Who s'it, Dave?"

Dave shrugs, seemingly unamused. "Not a damn clue. Looks totally blasted though. His shirt is literally on backwards."

Ah, Harry thinks. Not inside out. Backwards. He knew it wasn't on quite right.