Young & Beautiful

windows and warms against the cream colored walls, glinting against glass vases filled with fresh
flowers, and the air is filled with the scent of warm bread, herbs, and clean carpet. He notes the
widescreen that takes up the whole actual wall in the adjoining room, and shakes his head with a
laugh as the others walk on and he lingers, attempting to take it all in.
“Oh, the posh life,” he jokes to himself, sliding his hands in his pockets as he looks about.
“You don’t like it?” a rumbling voice drips, and Louis jumps, having thought he was alone.
It’s Harry. It’s always Harry. Harry, walking up to him and staring with eyes that are almost bright
with curiosity. Almost.
“I don’t not like it. I just…don’t care. It’s not like I have an attachment to it like I’m sure you do.”
He leaves the unspoken ‘Which I can only assume because when I asked you about it you ignored
my fucking question’ in the air.
“But these things don’t affect you?” Harry presses. “All this…stuff,” he finishes, gesturing
towards the imported curtains and cherry wood floors.
It’s Louis’ turn to stare curiously at Harry. “Why would it affect me?”
Harry returns the stare and there’s a pregnant pause, before he finally blinks languidly.
“I used to come here when Mira was married to my father. So, yes, I suppose I lived here,” he
states, and Louis feels the tiniest tightening in his chest immediately. Because Harry is speaking.
He’s revealing things. He’s…well.
Really, it shouldn’t be a big deal, that little sentence. For anyone else, that would be useless
information, forked over easily. But for Harry…
Louis waits for more, breath suspended somewhere near the miniature chandeliers and between
the tapestries.
“I liked it,” Harry continues simply. “Still do.” He rips his gaze away from Louis before taking in
the space before him, and Louis studies him, trying to gauge his mood, his vibe, his everything.
Because yesterday Harry seemed weary and on edge and terrified. But today? He seems light,
simple, and maybe a little charming. Sure, that undead indifference still sits in the jade of his eyes
and his smile is more for show than anything, but he’s better than yesterday, and Louis doesn’t
understand it, not even a little bit.
But he takes it as a good sign. That maybe he’s better, their potential friendship is better, that
everything is better.
And now he’s staring back at Louis expectantly.
“We should join the others. After you,” he says, graciously gesturing for Louis to move forward.
Louis smiles in response, nodding a thanks, and walks ahead.
The day may just turn out to be a good one indeed.
**
They’ve been playing croquet for a very long time.
A very long time.