Young & Beautiful

XI
Chapter Summary
Louis returns from putting Harry Styles to be, and tries to recover his mind. And fails.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The minute that Louis enters his flat, he makes a beeline straight for Niall’s bedroom, his mind still
buzzing with “WHAT THE FUCK” and a fire under his skin in all the places it met with Harry’s
in his drunken haze.
Because no fucking way can he just flop into bed right now and fall asleep. No, he absolutely
cannot do that because his head may explode any minute and his heart is doing weird things and
his blood pressure is probably through the roof; death is almost certainly eminent.
And, oh yeah, he’s also pissed at the little Irish fuck because where the hell did he get to tonight?
And why the fuck did he abandon Louis, leaving him to support a barely-there Harry Styles? And
put him to bed? And thus force him to hold his fucking hand like a small child?
It’s all Niall’s fault.
Fury anew, he bursts through the closed door and immediately sees the sleeping frame of the boy
swirled amongst blankets, head cushioned deeply amongst pillows, mouth hanging open
comically. He’s still dressed, shoes and all, the room distinctly reeks of marijuana and whiskey,
and the remnants of a turkey sandwich sit on his nightstand, half-eaten and drunkenly abandoned.
But Louis is relieved for two reasons:
1. Niall is officially home and not still off gallivanting.
2. Niall’s alone and thus can focus his full attention on Louis who is feeling vulnerable and needy.
(He was also sort of terrified of interrupting something that would most likely have scarred him for
life.)
“Nialler, Niall, Ireland,” Louis calls as he climbs atop the enormous bed (and damn, don’t those
sheets feel soft) and begins shaking the boy awake. “Hey, I need to talk. I need to ask you things.
Ireland! Comfort me!” He pats his cheeks between his hands like he’s banging a drum, impatience
winning out over gentleness.
And Niall, slowly and confusedly with a brow that is more furrowed than Louis has ever seen it,
begins to blearily open his eyes. They cut through the darkness in their crystal luster, seeking
Louis’ own, and the animosity that pours from them is actually quite startling.
But Louis plows on anyway.
“Oh, excellent! You’re awake. Now, I need to ask you—“
“Fuck. Off.”