Young & Beautiful

inging a hand to his artfully disheveled hair. “Oh, I don’t know. Drama, I suppose.”
“Acting?”
“I’ll let you know. Until then, I request no questions, please,” Louis sniffed, taking a sip of his
whiskey sour (which was shit, by the way—he hasn’t let Niall order his drinks for him since) as
he felt Niall’s eyes observing him.
“You artsy types are…something else.”His voice was amused rather than irate.
“Dramatic?” Louis supplied, grin impish.
“Very dramatic. Now let’s eat. I’m fuckin' starving and want to get back before the piano comes.”
Louis stared.
“Before the piano comes? Are you being funny? You’re bringing a fucking piano? To our flat?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. We measured.”
Louis almost pressed the matter because, honestly, he thought size was the issue? But instead, he
let it go, unfolding the napkin onto his lap and muttering, “A piano. Honestly? Didn’t realize I was
living with the queen.”
Niall grinned, shot back an, “I could say the same.”
And Louis, lips pursed, concluded with a “Rude.”
Then the server arrived, Niall ordered enough food for the kitchen staff, and, after an intense inner
battle between Louis and his inner pride (he will not have rich strangers taking care of him as if he
were a charity case, no sir-ee), he ordered the exact same for Louis. Much to his mortification.
(“Are you saying I’m fat? Why the fuck would I be able to eat that much?” *shrug* “I can eat that
much.” “That’s a bloody lie, nobody can eat that much.”)
(Note: Niall was not, in fact, lying. Niall can eat that much. He even finished Louis’.)
It was an intense meet and greet, one that left Louis more weary than anything, but as Niall poured
the drinks and laughed at all of Louis’ jokes, he felt that, maybe, he’d dealt with worse.
That is, until the piano came.
*
When they returned to their flat—and looking back on it, Louis kicks himself for not contesting
the whole thing—Niall immediately made a few inquiring calls as to the whereabouts of said
piano while Louis made a beeline for his room. Because sweet solitude was the only thing on
Louis’ mind after that whirlwind luncheon from almost-hell.
It was just as he was humming his favorite Disney song and staring at the tall cream, molded
ceiling of his room in a blissful zone (he really needed to start purchasing some decorations) that
Louis heard the unmistakable chaos of a fucking piano being brought through the fucking door.
Careful to stay away from the debacle (but unable to resist from peering at the moving men’s
bums through the crack of his door) Louis burrowed within the layers of blanket on his bed,
hiding from his reality as any sane man would.
Eventually the clangs and the bangs died down, as did Niall’s joyously barked orders which were