Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Fifty Three.

A hangover from hell. That was the only way to put Harry's morning into words. Aubry did not wake him the way she usually would, knowing better than to even try. He laid sprawled out across the sheets, face planted into the pillowcases when she woke as early as the sun did. Heavy puffs of air almost sounding like snores washed across the pillow clutched to his chest, seeking something to hold onto even in his slumber. She left him to sleep in peace, not wanting to be the one to start his day of feeling like he might die earlier than it needed to begin.

His eyes didn't flutter open for the first time until she reentered the room at nine a.m. in pursuit of clothes. Her back was turned to him when they did, busy shuffling through her bags as quietly as she possibly could when she heard a pained groan from the bed. She immediately felt guilt wash over her, the attempt she made at staying silent a failed one.

Throbbing pain jolted through his cranium, a horrid taste in his mouth causing him to gag on his own tongue. The reflex sent a pain, sharp like knives, into his brain. He curled his body and whimpered into the pillowcase. 

She turned to see him clutching the pillow so tightly to his face he seemed to be suffocating himself, and she spoke as low and soft as she possibly could. "I left a water bottle next to you."

No one in the house, other than Aubry, fell quite great that morning, but Harry got it the worst. Just reaching to grab the water off the nightstand was a painful endeavor, half the contents chugged down in seconds. He wasn't strong enough to put it back where he got it, so he held it in his hands. He didn't move, he didn't speak, he just stared at the wall and wished for death.

She would leave him be to wait it out and let the alcohol take it's vengeance out on his body, but first she reached into her bag for the pain medication she always carried around with her for menstrual cramps. Four pills were held out for him to take when she came to stand next to his side of the bed, dumping them into his outstretched palm. He examined the blue pills, the letters etched onto each one confused him and he looked up at her with questioning eyes.

"Yes, it's Midol, but it'll help your headache."

He looked back at the pile of pills in his palm. "But -"

"You won't be any less manly by taking a girly pill."

He really was in no shape to argue with her, and if she said it would help his excruciating headache, then he'd take anything. He swallowed two, and handed the others back to her. She placed them on the table beside him for later. 

Midol had been given to both Louis and Niall for hangovers several times, and both agreed it was the best thing to take the edge off the pain. So much so, they kept a packet in their medicine cabinet at home for emergencies.

She left him on his own to wallow in his self hatred after that. Along with spending an insurmountable amount of time on the toilet, until he fell back to sleep to avoid the incessant need to empty his bowels and the never ending nausea that accompanied it.

Two p.m. rolled around when Aubry woke him for the second time, still trying her best to be quiet. The second dose of Midol was long gone, and the ache in his brain had dulled to a somewhat manageable level as well as the nausea. He looked up at her as the door creaked open, caught off guard seeing him awake. "Sorry," she whispered.

Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, copper colored hair situated on top of her head and the T-shirt tied into a knot to expose her midriff. His brows furrowed, "What'd you do?"

"Went for a jog," she answered softly, bending to reach into her bag for another change of clothes. "Gonna rinse off in the shower real quick because apparently I smell like hot garbage."