Young & Beautiful

eginning to suspect Niall’s general pleasantness was attributed to his mum having not come after
all…but apparently that is not the case.
So.
What?
“And?” Louis tempts, slowly walking towards Niall, prepared for any attack.
Niall looks up then, an easy smile painting his features as he shrugs his shoulders, hands still
working the keys. “She’s nice. We had dinner.”
And Louis stares.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I took your mum to dinner.”
What the actual fuck.
“What—Why did you do that?” Louis splutters, staring at him as if he’d just spoken in tongues.
Which, to be honest, he sort of did.
“She was pretty upset when she came. So we had a nice chat, then I offered to take her to dinner.
She felt better after that, stopped trying to call you, and we had chocolate mousse for dessert. Then
she went home. Gave her a kiss on the cheek as she left, promised to ring. I think she misses
having a son to dote on,” Niall says casually, and it’s so simplified and clear and utterly fucking
random, that Louis can only continue to stare.
Because of fucking course Niall took his mum to dinner. And of course they bonded.
“Did she tell you why she came?” Louis asks wearily, heading toward the kitchen for a glass of
water.
“Not really. Said something about missing you, being worried about you. I dunno.”
Niall’s concentration is back to the piano, and Louis is tempted to press the matter (because, still,
what the fuck?) but he doesn’t, feeling too emotionally demolished enough as it is.
“You’re going tonight, right?” he asks instead, after taking a gulp of water, eying Niall’s sleek
trousers and freshly scrubbed skin.
“Course,” he says jollily, exaggerating his motions as he plays up the scale. “Like you’d let me
stay back, anyway.”
Louis contemplates, drinking the dregs of his glass. “This is true,” he finally agrees, wiping his
mouth.
A peaceful silence settles over them, piano tinkling pleasantly at medium volume (why can’t he
play this calmly in the morning? Why is it always the fucking pipe organ at six A-bloody-M?) and
though it’s comforting and safe, being locked back in his flat with Niall and the lush furniture and
that goddamn noise box, Louis’ thoughts, which are pushing and pulling at the corners of his
mind, seem louder somehow. Loud enough to invoke a paranoia within him that, somehow, Niall
will be able to hear his inner panic.
“Where were you tho?” Niall then asks, soft blue eyes still set on the piano, and Louis is officially