Young & Beautiful

And he takes off.
“You really need to work on your transitions!” Louis calls after him, but Harry’s already far ahead
of him, probably out of earshot in the soft winds, and so Louis can only roll his eyes as he trots
ahead, making to catch up with him as his heart beats to the knowledge that Harry is helping
Louis keep away from his mum.
When he matches his pace alongside him, Harry’s face is still tense, giving nothing away.
“I don’t know many people who flit through flower obsessions quite like you do,” Louis
comments, glancing sideways.
Harry shrugs as he walks. “Maybe the people you know are boring.”
“Oh? And you aren’t boring?”
“I’m many things, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, looking at Louis, the right corner of his mouth
tugging into a half-smile, “but I am anything but boring.”
Louis opens his mouth to protest, as he usually does with Harry, but he shuts it almost
immediately, thinking on the statement. “You know what, Curly? I’ll give that one to you. I can
truly say you aren’t boring.”
And Harry’s face lightens immediately. Not incredibly, not largely, not even happily—it just
lightens, like a light’s been flicked on in a room or the sun’s just peaked out from an eclipse, and
though Harry doesn’t acknowledge Louis, he seems pleased with his answer, genuinely pleased,
and so he begins to walk with a bit more purpose.
“Here. Here it is,” he says, pointing at a black and, quite frankly, terrifying flower.
Louis stares.
Harry emanates pride.
“I didn’t think it could be done,” Louis says, still staring at the thing before him. “But I have to
say. That flower is fucking terrifying.”
And Harry almost looks like he wants to laugh as he stares at it, with its long, sharp ebony petals
and black, ribboned strands that hang from the center. But he looks at it fondly, appraisingly, and
Louis’ words only seem to deepen his affections for the subject at hand.
“I find it perfect.”
“Not even a little creepy?”
“Only in the good ways.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Yeah it does,” Harry protests, and it’s so close to a whine that Louis looks to him with his
eyebrows raised, a silent ‘Really?’ written in his brows.
Harry half-scowls through an unaffected smile, before returning his gaze to the flower before him.
“I like it,” he says quietly, and a smile still plays on his lips, but it’s nothing to do with Louis. This
is a moment between Harry and a terrifying piece of flora and, despite the absurdity of the
situation, Louis really doesn’t want to break it, not when Harry’s having one of those rare