I felt a stirring beside me, and then a groan of pain.
My eyes flickered open slowly, and my sight was blurry for a moment. My head pounded, and I gasped, but then it eventually faded away. I heard another groan of pain, and I turned my head to the side, staring straight into Louis blue eyes.
I was taken back by his beauty for a second, and my eyes just rested with his, but then I smiled at his cute, frustrated expression. He looked like a moody young child – eyes narrowed, lips pursed, stress lines above his eyebrows. I chuckled slightly when he groaned again.
“Something wrong, Lou?” I asked with a grin, eyes lit brightly with excitement. I wasn’t sure why I was so happy first thing in the morning – I was usually angry and annoyed at anything moved or got in my way or stopped me from sleeping anymore. But something about waking up in the same bed as Louis always put me into the happiest of moods.
“You’re in one of those moods again Harry.” His voice was thick with sleep, and it was husky, and I shifted on the bed uncomfortably. His voice was too attractive in the morning. I forced myself to smile at his comment, even though I didn’t find it humorous with his tone. I like it though, that he could tell what kind of mood I was in straight away. It made me smile larger than I had been before, because he was taking notice of such a small thing.
“How are you feeling?” I asked when he groaned for the fourth or fifth time.
He shook his head, “how do you think?”
“I think you’re feeling fabulous.” I muttered sarcastically.
“I feel like my brain is going to explode inside of my skull.” He said monotonously, with a blank face.
I chuckled. “We have to get up Lou, you get dressed, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“I want to die.” He said, but the words were muffled by his pillow covering his face. I left the room laughing, not concerned about him not moving, but I knew when he smelt bacon, he’d budge. The apartment was warm compared to how it appeared outside; raining and the trees were blowing side to side violently. Today, I knew to wear something warmer than usual.
I entered the kitchen buoyantly, hearing Lou throw something at the wall upstairs; most likely his show. I can imagine what his face looks like right now; eyebrows lowered over his eyes, teeth biting his bottom lip, eyes watering from frustration and anger. I smiled to myself – one day, he would be mine. And it would be perfect. He is perfect – and he always will be, and, frankly, always has been.
The exhaust fan was the loudest thing in the apartment as I cooked up his eggs and bacon. The smell wafted through the building, and I heard his angry footsteps freeze upstairs. Next thing, I heard him barging down the stairs. He ran into the kitchen, glasses on the end of his nose, hair astray and slightly out of breath.
I grinned widely at him before pulling his toast out of the toaster and onto his plate, placing the bacon and eggs on top. I sat it in front of him on the breakfast bar, and he smiled at me. “Thanks Haz.”
I was surprised by how active and happy he was acting. Usually when he was this hangover, you wouldn’t even think about being in the same room as him, but today, he was almost his usual self. But I could see through it. He keeps wincing when I moved dishes and cooking equipment around in the kitchen, and occasionally I’d see him grab his forehead with pain.
I grabbed two pain-tablets, and placed them in front him along with a glass of water. He looked down at them, then up at me expressionlessly. A moment later, he picked them up shakily, and said: “you’re not poisoning me, are you?”
