Larry Stylinson

Harry hungover

So I'm pretty much out of requests guys... So if I don't get anymore I'll probably start updating less.

And this one starts like right after harry passes out on the floor, but from louis pov.

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Louis p.o.v.

It was about 6 am when I finally pulled in. I was tired as shit but it didn't matter. I just wanted to be here when he woke up.

(Flashback)

Eleanor and I were at a hotel in San Fransisco. We were currently sitting on the bed and watching a movie. It was on tv so I don't even know what movie it is.

I really miss Harry. I know he saw the tweet I sent out earlier and it probably made him sad. He didn't respond to my text either, which means he hasn't seen it because he always answers.

"How long?" She asked suddenly.

"What?" I asked stupidly, snapping out of my thoughts.

"How long until you get to go to L.A?" She clarified.

"Oh, I don't know, probably some time tomorrow," I shrugged.

"I can tell you miss him," she said.

I looked over at her to find her smiling softly at me. She may not be my girlfriend but we are good friends.

"I just wanna know if he's okay... he hasn't answered my text," I sighed.

"Google him," she suggested.

"Why?" I asked.

"Anything he does is bound to be in the media," she shrugged.

"Good point," I nodded, getting my phone out.

I pulled up the Internet and typed in 'harry styles'. I felt a bit like a creeper even though I knew it wasn't like that.

"Harry Styles parties hard... maybe a little too hard"

"Styles seems to experience Deja vu as he is once again sick from drinking"

"Harry Styles gets drunk"

Those were the three headlines that came up in Google news. Oh my god poor Harry.

"Aw haz, I said quietly to myself.

"What" El asked, scooting closer and looking over my shoulder.

"Oh Harry," she sighed sympathetically.

"If he's drunk enough to puke that means he's passed out somewhere, oh my god what if he's still at that club or somewhere else bad? What if he got hurt?" I was freaking out now.

'Just so you know, I brought Harry home from a club, drunk off his ass, and he's probs passed out in ur house'

Josh texted me just as I was about to start panicking, thank god. I let out a breath I hadn't realized Id been holding.

"Fuuuck, this is my fault," I groaned, dropping my head into my hands.

"No it's not," she assured me.

"It's because of that tweet," I explained.

"You and him both know you had to," she pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," I shook my head, sighing loudly.

"Go," she said after a few seconds.

"Huh?" I asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

"Go to L.A. I'll cover for you," she elaborated.

"Oh my god thank you so much el I owe you big time," I thanked her as I hurriedly grabbed all of my stuff and headed out the door.

(End of flashback)

I jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut, wanting to get inside as soon as possible. Once I got to our front door, I fumbled to get the key in the lock, just itching to see my boy.

Once I finally got inside, I looked in the living room first, since that's the first room you come across. Sure enough, in the dim light coming through the window, I could see Harry.

He was laying, face down on the floor. He couldn't be the least bit comfortable. I squatted down next to him and smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

There were dried tears on his cheeks, the poor thing, and his eyes looked puffy and swollen.

I gingerly slid my arms under him and hauled his 6'1'' body up into the couch. Then I lifted his head up, and sat down, so he was laying in my lap.

"Get some good sleep baby," I whispered, even though I knew he was out.

Then I planted a kiss on his forehead, leaned back on the couch, and fell asleep myself. I was exhausted after driving here through the wee hours of the morning.

"Hnnngu," Harry grunted, waking me up.

"Hey babe," I said quietly, knowing he must be hungover as fuck.

He had one arm pressed tightly against his eyes, blocking out the light. His other arm was wrapped tightly around his stomach.

"Oh my god Louis?" He asked, suddenly aware that I was here.

"Yeah haz, it's me," I whispered, ruffling his hair.

"Why are you here?" he moaned, obviously in pain.

"I saw the news stories about you getting sick at a club last night and decided that I needed to see you, so I drove here, got in about six," i explained, keeping my voice low.

"I love you," he said after a few minutes of silence.

"I love you too," I responded, smiling at the boy in my lap.

"I feel like hell ran me over," he groaned.

"That bad?" I winced.

"My head feels like it's being hit with a bat, my stomach feels like it's being kneaded on the inside, and light hurts," he said, moving his arm for a second to grimace up at me.

"Aw I'm sorry love," I pouted.

"It's oka-," he cut off abruptly and began taking deep breaths.

"You gonna be sick?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, before jumping out of my lap and bolting to the bathroom. He made it just In time.

I sat behind him while he threw up and cried, rubbing his back until he was finished. Then he collapsed into my arms, sobbing about how much his head hurt.

"It's okay love, you're gonna be okay I promise, Ive gotcha," I whispered as I carded my fingers through his hair.

We spent most of the day in the bathroom. He didn't get sick all that much, but he was exhausted, and I can't carry him, so we just laid down on the bathroom floor, with some blankets I got.

I felt really bad for him, but he's a trooper and survived. By the next day he was feeling a lot better, although not one hundred percent.

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Well there you have it... keep reading never stop guys, I updated yesterday.