Louis can hear his phone ringing on the bedside table, and at first, he ignores it. However, it keeps ringing and out of annoyance he quickly reaches for it and presses it against his ear. He keeps his eyes closed in hopes of being able to fall back asleep afterward. Fat chance.

"What?"

His voice comes out deeper than usual, thickly coated by sleep still. He hears Eleanor's voice and he suppresses the groan that reaches his throat. She rambles for a second, but he's focused on the fact his head is aching like a bitch. He's hungover and it's radiating through every inch of his body. She's offering a day out, which is nice and all, but Louis is just not having it today.

"I appreciate the offer but have a few things planned today. I have to go back to the school sometime and start writing the next terms curriculum,"

Before she can interject, he hangs up and turns his phone off. His eyes remain closed and he throws his phone elsewhere. The bed is too comfortable to want to leave, and he knows bed is the best medicine for a hangover.

His own thoughts are quickly interrupted when he hears a soft noise next to him, his eyes snap towards the noise.

There's a male next to him. Shirtless. Louis can't pull his eyes away, as he drinks in the boy next to him. He's on his back, hair tousled around the pillow. One hand by his side, and the other palm up next to his face. His skin glows in the dim light and strawberry pink lips slightly parted. His eyelashes resting against the skin of his cheekbones. There's not an ounce of stress on his face, he's just at peace. It's barely audible, but Louis is so focused on this moment, he can hear Harry's breathing.

Louis' heart physically lurches and he takes a deep breath in.

His brain is quickly going over the events of the previous night, and the first thought is alcohol. He scrunches his nose at the reminder. As the moments from the night slowly connect, Louis feels his stomach twist. As quietly as he can, he removes himself out of the bed. He watches Harry carefully, ensuring he isn't interrupted from his sleep as he leaves the room. He doesn't even want to wake him up to vomit so he beelines to the other bathroom.

Louis stumbles towards the toilet, and grips onto the ceramic bowl. His stomach continues to twist, and he squeezes his eyes, urging himself not to be sick. The image of Harry on his knees suddenly pops up, and Louis moans before throwing up. The taste of his stomach acid and whatever alcohol was left from the previous night makes him retch again.

The seconds tick by, and once the heaving is over, he reaches over to flush the loo before leaning against the wall. His skin is glistening in sweat, and his head feels like it's going to explode. He swore he wasn't that drunk last night.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

He thinks about when they went to bed, digging into the depths of his memory for any idea if they did anything. He remembers Harry just asking for a cuddle.

Fuck.

Louis doesn't know what to do, or how to approach the sleeping boy in the bed. How are they going to communicate about this? There's no way around it now. They are completely screwed. The first thing he needs to do is take aspirin and shower. He needs to wake himself up and make sure he physically is in the right frame before dealing with the shitshow that will ensue shortly. He makes his way to the shower, knowing there's aspirin in one of the bathroom drawers. He grabs some jeans and a shirt from his drawers as quietly as possible and cleans himself up.

He procrastinates for a while in the shower, until he knows he'll end up using all the hot water if it continues. He gets out, dresses and walks into the bedroom. He stands in the doorway, eyeballing Harry. He wasn't on his back anymore. He was on his side, facing Louis' side of the bed. He's snoring now, and Louis bites on his bottom lip to stop the chuckle that's building.

It's now or never.

He clears his throat. Harry doesn't move. He narrows his eyes and does it again, this time louder. Harry slightly stirs but then seems to be in slumber.

Louis rolls his eyes and forces a loud, obnoxious cough out. Which startles Harry. His body stiffens for a second and he looks around panicked. Very quickly his eyes fall on Louis, who is standing with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Uhhhhh," He sits up, looking around the room and then down at himself.

He notices he's shirtless and lifts the blanket up. Louis couldn't stop himself from laughing even if he tried.

"Are you really hiding under the blankets?"

"I need to keep some integrity,"

"Well, how do we go about this situation?" Louis sits at the end of the bed, leaning on one hand.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Louis can tell that his mind is going a million miles an hour, and probably also putting last night together.

"I should go, like now,"

Harry spots his shirt on the floor and climbs out of the bed. He quickly throws it on and starts to walk out the door. He could literally die of mortification at this moment. He can feel Louis' eyes burning into his face.

"It's hardly fair that you blow me, and then walk out the door without an explanation,"

Louis barely registers what just came out of his mouth, as Harry freezes. Louis' eyes widen as Harry turns around. His eyes almost popping out of their sockets and his face suddenly draining of colour.

"I did what now?" Harry raises an eyebrow, heart stuck in his throat.

"I'd rather not repeat. But yes. Yes, you did,"

"Here? I did not,"

"No, you did not," Louis looks at the bed and then back at Harry, who could melt into the floor and disappear forever.

Harry frowns at Louis as if to tell him to keep talking because his brain isn't registering anything about what the fuck the man is on about.

"You blew me at Zayns. In one of the rooms with the door locked. Listen. I'm not too impressed with the idea, in fact, I spent a solid chunk of time throwing up this morning whilst remembering,"

"Was I that bad?" Harry scrunches his face, and then feels the heat from blush suddenly spreading across his face.

Louis scoffs at Harry's reaction.

"Hardly. Opposite but this is the problem. I can hardly behave normally around you on campus, and now we're here. This is not a matter of forgetting anymore. I couldn't forget this, and you probably can't either. I need to figure out what we're supposed to do,"

Harry's body loses its rigidness and relaxes as he listens to Louis. The idea of leaving disappeared and instead replaced with the desire to pull Louis into his arms.

"It wasn't the smartest idea to go chaperone at that stupid thing. I should know myself with alcohol. I can't handle myself,"

You can't even handle yourself when sober...hence the office incident. Moron.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Harry's voice is low, and Louis stares at him as he picks at the bottom of his shirt anxiously.

Louis instinctively stands up, and Harry locks eyes with him again. The shade of green reminds Louis of a rainforest. There's this magnetic pull between the two, and it's growing stronger with each second their eyes are locked with another. Louis exhales and snaps his eyes towards anything else but Harry.

"I'm sorry too," Louis shrugs

"Okay," Harry breathes, his mind trying to figure out a way to break the conversation.

He wants to kiss the damn man, again and again. He wants to show Louis that it's okay and that he's never cared for someone more in his life. But he knows that they're already in deep, hot water. He pulls his phone out from his back pocket, quickly scanning through a text he had received from Niall.

"Niall wants to know where I am. I should go,"

Louis doesn't even look up from the ground, and it's so silent that he could hear a pin drop. Louis' doing his best not to cry because he's falling apart. He's ruined it all. He just nods. He hears Harry's footsteps and he closes his eyes. A single tear breaking away and sliding down his cheeks.

Harry's voice fills the silence.

"I'm not sorry for loving you. I'm sorry for making it difficult, but not for how I feel,"

Love. The words echo in Louis' head, and Louis suddenly snaps his head up. He blinks through his tears. Love.  Louis just looks at Harry, who's just standing before him. Louis does what he knows best.

"You said Niall is after you. You should go,"

Harry's face falters, as he looks over Louis' face for a sign that he's joking. But Louis isn't joking. He feels like he's suffocating. Harry's words are swirling around his head, constricting his throat. Harry's mouth opens, but words don't come. He turns around quickly and walks out the door. Louis flinches as he hears the front door slam shut a few moments later.

Love doesn't exist. Louis knows it can't exist, not for him anyway.

His whole existence is made to be used and abused. Louis' life isn't capable of love.

So why does he love Harry?