Young & Beautiful

matching trousers that are almost inappropriately snug. His hair is tousled and wild, almost like he
stuck his head in a geyser, and his face is the very picture of ‘thoroughly fucked’ and ‘why are
you here?’.
He looks at Louis expectantly, bored.
“Tutoring…?” Louis prompts, eyebrow quirking, and he’s about to slam down some judgment at
the slew of voices that are now pouring from within, but, his promised plans at winning Harry’s
favor in the forefront of his mind, he quickly assembles his face into a smile and adds a cheery,
“Company today?” which makes his cheeks hurt.
Fuck, this is hard.
Harry’s own eyebrows shoot in the air. “Yeah, you could say that,” he rumbles, lips full and
kissed, just watching Louis beneath lidded eyes as he drapes himself along the doorframe.
“How fun,” Louis grits.
They stand there.
“Are you going to let me in, then?” he asks politely, on the verge of displaying impatience. Gotta
keep it cool, gotta reign it in. Operation Best Mate.
“Uh. I guess,” Harry says, somewhat suspiciously, taking a step back to allow Louis’ entrance.
“Don’t you usually just do whatever you want? Didn’t know you needed my permission.”
Something pings inside of Louis at that, and he looks to Harry as he makes his way inside,
shrugging his shoulders and smiling. “Well. That’s just bad manners though, isn’t it?”
Harry’s brow furrows as he stares.
At this point, the slew of voices connect with a slew of bodies as five or so girls and three boys
emerge from Harry’s room, clothes rumbled and eyes bright and sunken as they laugh.
Louis gawks. Because that is a lot of fucking people. Pardon the pun.
“Bye Harold!”
“You were lovely, darling.”
“Give us a ring, yeah?”
“I love everything about you, beautiful, never change.”
And countless other meaningless farewells are thrown as each designer clad, perfumed body
passes by Louis, one by one, before marching out the door in single file. Like an assembly line.
And then the door closes and it’s just them, Louis maintaining his chipper demeanor while Harry
stares at a random spot on the wall, motionless and unblinking.
“Well. That was…timed appropriately,” Louis offers through his teeth, and Harry’s eyes flick to
him.
“What, you’ve got nothing to say?” he asks, cold. “No comments? No eye rolling? Just going to
offhandedly remark on how appropriately timed it is?” His voice is almost challenging as he stares
at Louis, full on, his hands now on his hips.
“That’s all I’m gonna say,” Louis promises, but it’s more a promise to himself than Harry, and