young and beautiful || larry s.

chapter 9

"Praise Jesus," Louis breathes, dropping his phone instantly. "Come here," he demands, arms outstretched. "Carry me around, bring me water, and drug me. I beg you."

Niall grins wider, tucking his phone into his pocket before bouncing over to Louis, arms sliding beneath his body.

Ok, then. Apparently he's actually going to pick Louis up. No complaints there.

"Fun night?" Niall laughs, hoisting Louis into the air. Which does nothing for his stomach.

"What's 'fun'? I've never heard of it. I'm only familiar with 'pain' and 'regret'," Louis groans, grasping at his abdomen. "Can you call Rory again and tell him to bring the hospital?"

Niall laughs even louder in Louis' ear (ouch) before clomping into the living room and dropping Louis inelegantly onto the couch.

"Ow!" Louis whines, shielding light from his eyes. "You could be more gentle!"

"I've no time for gentle." Niall hops away and Louis hears him rummaging through cabinets, turning on the faucet, and humming some intolerably chipper tune.

Death to Irish.

By the time he's returned, Louis has already made a mental list of the ten best buildings he would fling himself off of right now to escape his misery. Because, true, Louis' always been a bit of a partier and he's had his fair share of hangovers. But never like this.

He's almost entirely sure that Harry poisoned him.

"I think Harry poisoned me," he voices aloud, grabbing the offered crystal glass of water and pills.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see," Niall shrugs, hands on hips as he looks down at Louis thoughtfully.

"For what?"

"If you die."

"Lovely," Louis glares, but settles his head back down on the pillow.

"So how was it, then?" Niall asks, lifting Louis' legs as he sits next to him, plopping them onto his lap.

"Not so fast. Where were you? You were gone last night. I came home to an empty flat," Louis mourns.

"I went out with some mates. Nothing big-just a few pubs and clubs and shite. Oh, I met Mick Jagger!" Niall adds as an afterthought.

Louis releases his hands from his eyes.

"Sorry?"

"I met Mick Jagger. I have a picture, I'll show you later."

And Louis really wants to elaborate on this ("YOU MET MICK FUCKING JAGGER AND THAT WASN'T THE FIRST THING YOU SAID TO ME?" and "JUST WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU THAT MICK FUCKING JAGGER WAS PRANCING AROUND MEETING PEOPLE?!") but his head has a pulse and the bitter aftertaste of liquor and potentially-impending vomit fill his mouth.

So instead he just groans his frustration and settles back into the pillow, hands back on his eyes.

"Right then. You've just forfeited your turn to speak because you're a knob," he mutters irritably. Niall only laughs in response. "My night was fun as well. Long, frustrating, sweaty, but fun. Zayn and Liam were a good time. There was a champagne fountain which was potentially poisoned, there was a lot of shitty music, a gorgeous swimming pool filled with too many people, good food, and I even was able to witness Harry Styles' split personalities firsthand."

"Did you, now?" Niall asks, surprised, arm slung over the back of the couch. "What did he do?"

"Well, he tried to pull me again. And then again. But then he gave up and he turned into a total wanker-you should've seen his face. Then later he climbed onto the fountain and started screaming things and he looked like he was on the verge of mental collapse. And then suddenly, he was back to normal. Like nothing had happened at all! It was mental, mate. I've never experienced anything like that."