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The dinner at Red Lobster was cut short when Mila found herself vomiting in the bathroom.
An extremely concerned Harry, who barged into the womans restroom to come to her aid, had phoned the hospital, asking if something was the matter. The nurse reassured him that her antibiotics would and could make her throw up, and Harry exchanged a few rather insensitive words before hanging up.
The three of them returned to the flat thirty minutes later, Harry's arms wrapped tightly around Mila's shoulders as he lead her through the front door. She never liked getting sick, and the fact that she puked at Red Lobster made matters that much worse. 
When they entered the premises, they found Beau Hartley passed out cold on the sofa, his limbs laid astray as soft snores pertruded from his shining lips.

Emma and Louis, on the other hand, sat criss cross on the rug, exchanging rather annoying giggles as they played would you rather. Hmph, seems familiar.
"Emma!" Caroline suddenly hissed, her voice so shrill that it caused the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand straight up.
"Yes, Mommy?" Emma taunted, bursting into a fit of laughter as soon as the words escaped her lips. The whites of her eyes were tinted a dark red color, and they were watering slightly. Fuck, she was undoubtebly fucking drunk.
"Have you been drinking? Or smoking? Or doing something else illegal?" She pressed, her hands held firmly on her hips as she tapped her foot, the hell echoing against the wooden floor.
"Mommy, I'm EIGHT-TEEN," Emma boasted, emphasizing the "eighteen" rather annoyingly. "If I want to get fucking smashed, I will!"
Caroline was left utterly speechless. Sure, she's seen Emma come home drunk on multiple occasions, especially following the graduation party, but this time seemed to rub her the wrong way.
"I'm assuming that Louis supplied you with the alcohol?"

"Mom, don't blame this on Lou-Lou. He was totally against it but I was persistant." Emma smirked, winking in Louis' direction.

What the fuck was going on?
"Right," Harry interrupted, clearing his throat loudly. "I think we should all go to bed now."
"We're not done with our game, Hazza!" Louis complained, his accent thicker than usual. "Just piss off."
"Don't tell me to piss off, mate. Go kip." Harry ordered.
"Buttttt," Louis began.
"Don't whine. Go."
"I forgot to tell you, Mila." Caroline interjected. "We can't afford a hotel for the next two nights since our flights were so expensive, so Harry said we could room with you three."
"Fantastic." Mila grumbled.
"Where will everyone be sleeping, then?"
Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
"I was thinking that your Mum and Emma could have ou—your, bed." He stumbled open his words, Caroline's eyebrows raising. "Beau's already claimed the sofa, so we can just sleep with Lou. It's not like the bed isn't large enough."
It was true. Harry and Louis' bed was like a super King Size or something, as it easily and comfortably slept three individuals.
"The three of you will be sleeping together?" Caroline's eyes darkened, her hands still firmly on her hips.
"Unless you want Harry to sleep on the fucking floor, yes. Get over yourself, Mom. It's not like were going to have a threesome."
Caroline literally gagged at her daughters words, the idea that she planned to keep in her head was suddenly out in the open. She was almost certain that Mila's friends thought she was utterly psychotic.
"Night, then." Harry mumbled, pressing a kiss to Mila's temple.
"I've give you a bell." Louis chuckled, kissing the top of Emma's forehead before wobbling into the bedroom.
Mila eyed her little sister, cocking an eyebrow at her little sister.

Was something going on...? No way..
The three of them slept nicely in the bed, the sound of Louis' snores occasionally waking Mila from her slumber. She was shocked that his obnoxious noises didn't wake Harry, but then she remembered that they'd been sleeping in the same bed for ages, and he was probably used to it.
Around four AM, Harry woke up to the sound of not one, but two people throwing up simotaneously in the wash room.
He sighed, jumping up from the bed to tend to the two most important people in his life.
"Do you want a cuppa water, Lou? Mila?" Harry rasped, running a hand through his messy curls.
"Absobloodylootely." Louis croaked, hanging limp over the bath tub. "I'm never drinking this much again."
He must've drank a fuck-ton, because Louis hardly ever pukes after drinking. Harry didn't even want to know how much he had drank.
Harry strut into the kitchen, dressed only in his tight, yellow boxers, which clung to his hips nicely.
Just as he opened the fridge to grab out a water jug, a small voice disrupted him, causing him to nearly drop his jug in shock.
"Blimey!" He shook, his gaze meeting Emma Hartley's. She was dressed in a too large t-shirt, one he realized belonged to fucking LOUIS.
"Is that Louis' shirt?" He questioned, his voice raspy from lack of sleep. Emma's eyes flickered downward, her jaw dropping at the enermous bulge that sat in Harry's boxers.
His eyes followed hers, widening when he realized how obvious his morning wood currently was. He quickly shuffled across the kitchen, hiding behind the counter as he cleared his throat.
"Er, what can I get you...?" He stammered, embarressed by the situation entirely.
"I'm hungry." She admitted.

"Alright?" Harry pressed, eyebrows furrowed together in slight annoyance.

"Is there anything I can eat? Before my stomach concaves?" Emma added, crossing her arms across her chest. Was she serious?

"I'm not entirely—decent." Harry stammered, trying to tuck his bulge into the waistline of his boxers. He failed miserably.

"I really could care less about your dick. I know it's just morning wood. I know what a penis looks like." Emma rambled on, her voice dry and crackly. "If you won't feed me, could you at least grab me some water?"

"It's in the fridge." Harry replied hastily, clearing his throat.

"Well, thanks for getting it for me." Emma hissed, prancing into the kitchen and rummaging through the refrigerator and grabbing a cold bottle of water.

"Bee's knees." He mumbled, grabbing the dish towel to cover up his boner, which just wouldn't seem to go away.

"You'll have to explain that one. I made Louis explain all his little British slang last night." Emma smirked, cracking open the seal on the water bottle and taking a giant gulp.

"Means awesome." Harry said.
"Emma, can I ask you something?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, biting down on her lip, slightly worried about what he was going to ask.

Did he know..? Could he..?

"Sure?" She squeaked.

"Am I a cock-up?" Harry inquired. Emma paused, unsure of a response for that particular slang.

"A screw up. Am I?" He clarified.

"Why do you think that? I don't think you are." Emma replied, taking another sip of her bottled water.

"Because," Harry began.
"My relationship with Mila has never been genuine. I promised myself I'd never shag a girl I didn't know... I barely knew her when we shagged the first time. I fancy her, I do, but I feel like all I've done is wrong with her." He spilled. Why was he telling Emma this? He didn't even know her.

"From what I've heard, you treat my sister great, Harry. Don't beat yourself up because your relationship started out from a one night stand. Those can be the best relationships." She smiled, patting him awkwardly on his boney shoulder.

"Thanks, Emma."
Harry made his way back to the bedroom, glancing once over his shoulder to see Emma rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.
He found Louis and Mila still in the loo. Louis' top half was slumped over the side of the tub, loud, cackling snores erupting from his lips. Mila, on the other hand, sat upright against the wall directly in front of the toilet, her head cocked to the side as she too snored softly.
Harry frowned, the sight of his best mate and girlfriend so ill made him feel awful. Carefully, he placed one hand under Mila's thin legs, another under her torso, and slowly lifted her from the floor with ease. Once she was back on the bed, curling herself into the covers, he did the same with Louis.


Mila spent the next two days stuck in bed, a garbage can beside the bed at the ready to catch any vomit that decided to make an appearance.
No matter how many times her mother or boyfriend reminded her to take the medication with food, she couldn't bring herself to. She had zero appetite, and whatever she ate came right out the back end an hour later in an unpleasant matter.
Marylane had been surprisingly accepting with Mila's absence from work, but she had requested that she return the following day.
The Hartley's left on the second day,
Caroline begging Mila to call her if she needed anything. She knew damn well she wouldn't get any calls. Mila was an adult, she could handle herself.
Days later, Mila sat at the familiar U-shaped desk at the Pima County Public Library, typing away on her desktop computer while Anette sat on her side of the desk, her nose stuck in a textbook, as usual.

"Have you seen Marylane?" Mila wondered.

"Probably doing inventory." Anette shrugged, scribbling notes in her notebook from the textbook.

Mila sighed, walking around the desk as she made her way towards the stock room in the back, the same room that Marylane's son harrassed her in. She shrugged off the disturbing thought.

Just as she was about to push open the double doors, her eyes caught the attention of a rather large man, sitting cross legged in the back corner, his nose buried deep in a rather worn copy of The Scarlet Letter.

"Harry?" She whispered, inching towards him.

When the hell did he get here? Has he been here all day?

Harry's eyes flickered upwards from the book, a grin spreading across his lips as he put the book down on his lip. His dark, overgrown curls were pulled away from his face with a ratty blue bandana, one thats obviously been worn one too many times.

"Hello, gorgeous." 
"What are you doing here?" She stammered, nearly dropping the books she held in her arms.

It was a sign. Tell him now.
"I'm reading. Remember how I told you I basically lived here? I've missed this." He rejoiced, picking back up the book a pressing his index finger to his lips. "Shhh. I'm reading." He chuckled, his jade eyes focusing back on the book.
Mila had just noticed that her jaw was hung open, as she awkwardly snapped it shut. Shaking her head, she walked through the double doors to the back, in search of Marylane.

You should've told him. It's mid-July... you have less than a month left. He'll probably leave you.
Mila rounded the corner, finding Marylane seated at a small, worn desk, shuffling through a mess of papers that littered the wood.
"Um, Marylane?" Mila quaked, her voice soft and full of uncertainty.
Marylane spun around in her swivel chair, pushing her pink glasses up against her face firmly.
"Yes, Mila?"
Mila gulped, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she struggled to find the proper words to say.
"I'd like to put in my two weeks."

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