Complications of a Styles Twin || 1D & 5SOS

Chapter 27

A hangover is the experience of various unpleasant physically and mentally effects following consumption of alcaholic bevverages and is generally characterized by a feeling of severe discomfort that may last more than 24 hours. 

Well fuck; what, I have...23 hours to go? 

Perfect.

I had already woken up several times before I actually woke up.

A low, tormenting groan creaks from deep in somebody’s chest. Noting the raw pain that shoots up my throat, I realize that the feeling had come from my very own throat, ripping my skin from the inside out.

My head pounds like the beat in a nightclub that I went to once – I don’t really remember when. Maybe last night; maybe last year. I feel my hair frizzed as if I’ve been electrified all over my shoulders. My stomach lurches, informing me a second beforehand that I am about to be sick. Again.

I gasp and groan at the same time as I try to lift myself up from my spot but finally collapse onto my back. There is a jumping buzz in my ears coming from the heavy vibrations in my brain. I clasp my palms against the sides of my head and curl into a trembling, vulnerable ball. My skin is so bare – hot and cold at the same time. All I want to do is sleep, but I know that if I do I’ll wake up and go through this all over again. And I don’t think I could be able to go through this terrifying process again.

What do I remember? I remember being crazed out of freaking my mind. I remember the burning transparent liquid sliding down my throat at a rapid pace. I then remember forcing absolutely any thought of anything tugging on the strings of my heart out of my mind – forcing the thoughts to leave. Get out. Escape, for not only my sake, but theirs.

The nightclub, the short tight dress, the eyeliner, darkness and blasting eardrums. Everything from this is point fuzzes my mind. Something about melting bodies, about sloppy lips and bouncing walls. It takes such excruciating effort to try and remember, to strain my mind to give me the answers I want, but the pounding of my head obviously is not planning to leave any time soon.. I groan but force myself to push further. That’s when I remember the rock-solid body and the cool air in my face. Fear. Screaming. Unable to breathe. Blacking out. And finally the question comes into my head:

Where am I?

I slowly lift my head from what seemed to be the head of a couch, trying to grasp any object available in my reach – and by any object I mean something to hold on to so I can help myself up, but instead of grabbing a lamp or table, I feel the cold, dry hand of what seems to be a man. 

I scramble up of the couch and push the man’s hand away from my face, all at once the memories from last night come rushing back – at least the majority of it anyway I hope – the flashing lights, the paps, the guy carrying me out of that hell hole?

I open my eyes as wide as they could possibly go, quickly scanning my surroundings till my eyes met a pair of blue ones, a lot like the ones I had left behind, but these were much less electrifying, the light in this man’s eyes were one hundred times dimmer then the ones in my Louis’ eyes.

Then it hits me like a ton of electrical watts being shot through my fragile body; why am I not freaking out right now? I am in a strange apartment, with a most certainly delusional man, most likely with a criminal record, that I most definitely got dragged out of a nightclub with the very night before now.

I’m done. It was very rare that I ever would cry in front of others, but there was nothing I could do in this situation. The tears came streaming down my face at rapid speeds and there was no control over my whaling voice.