Young & Beautiful

Harry eyes him, still as stone beneath the stars. “That party’s tonight,” he replies, and Louis blinks
because what? What does that have to do with anything at all?
“What are you talking about?” he asks bluntly, squinting his eyes and tilting his head with a ‘what
the fuck’ air that he has perfected.
“If you walked across town, you’d be late for that party. You’d keep Zayn and Liam waiting,”
Harry explains calmly, and okay, yeah, Louis definitely has no idea how Harry’s brain works at
all. All he knows is that Harry’s train of thought is quite possibly the most scenic route available.
“Well then,” he says, as Harry checks his phone, “thanks, I guess.”
Harry nods. “And tell the boys I won’t be making it. I’m meeting up with someone.”
Someone. Of course.
“Will do,” Louis says shrewdly, unable to resist a shake of his head. “Should have known,” he
mumbles under his breath.
Harry makes no move to reply, just taps a few things onto his phone before sliding it back in his
pocket.
Louis’ tempted to bite something out, sling judgment or attitude Harry’s way before stalking off
because Harry is always so damn cold, no matter how much time they spend together, no matter
the progress he feels they almost make, and he’s pissed off about it, annoyed with it, and tired.
But then his mind wanders to the phone call with his mum (and, oh yeah, he should probably turn
his phone back on) and he hears Harry’s words of 'Follow me' and he sees Harry stalking ahead to
the garden when Louis feared they were returning, and he can’t be mad. Not really. Not fully.
And so he exits the vehicle, palms tingling and chest warm, while Harry waits and stares ahead
silently. But before he closes the door, he turns to face him, smoothing out his features. He knows
Harry won’t turn to meet his gaze because he’s already done and over the situation, ready to move
on to the next scene.
But Louis says it anyway.
“Thank you, Harry. Really,” he says, and it’s genuine, probably the only genuine thing Louis’
ever said to Harry, as he stands there in his simple clothes and messy fringe, a bit of scruff lining
his jaw.
As expected, there’s silence in return.
But Louis isn’t too bothered, having said what he’d wanted to say (and owing Harry nothing
more) so he closes the door after a pause, then turns on his heel toward his flat, already preparing
his greeting speech to Niall. Who is probably going to punch him in the face after having had to
deal with his mum all evening.
It’s then, as Louis’ walking away and losing himself in internal monologue, that he hears Harry.
“You’re welcome, Louis.”
And Louis stops.
His heart quickens just that bit more and he feels jarred as he turns around slowly, completely
taken aback by the quiet sincerity in Harry’s voice that was directed toward…Louis.