Young & Beautiful

“Right-o, pal," he practically screeches, determination and stubbornness flitting through his veins.
"A cheese danish. Be back in just a moment!” He's borderline manic in his enthusiasm, taking off
for the nearest bakery that him and Niall always go to when they’re drunk or stoned or have had a
bad day or wake up before noon.
Louis has no clue what’s happening right now. No fucking clue. And he has less of a clue as to
why he’s actively participating in this shit. But at this point it’s almost a matter of principle that
Louis doesn’t back down, so he grinds his teeth and he gets Harry fucking Styles his cheese
fucking danish as he swears upon every grave that matters to him to never, ever try to
accommodate this spoiled wretch of a boy ever again.
When Louis finally returns, warm pastry in hand, Harry lolls his head over to look at him.
“Finally,” he drawls.
Louis can feel his eyes flash.
With one lazy gesture, Harry has Marge retrieve the prize from Louis without even bothering to
look him in the eye, before the girl nestles herself at Harry’s side, pulling little bits off and gently
lying them in Harry’s awaiting mouth.
Louis stares, feeling disgusted, furious, repulsed, fuming, frustrated, angry—
“You can go now,” Harry’s voice suddenly purrs through a mouthful. “We’re finished.”
“But you said that the proper tutoring—“
“Marge has your outline. Take it from her.”
Louis stares, truly at a loss for words.
“And take this,” Harry instructs, rolling up the pastry bag and chucking it at Louis, where it
bounces off his head and onto the grass.
Speechless and dangerously close to committing homicide, Louis yanks the outline out of
Marge’s procured hand, who is barely holding back her laughter, and Louis feels his cheeks flush
at the raw rage he feels inside.
Fuck Operation Best Mate.
“Same time tomorrow,” Harry instructs in his drawl, a sneer taking up half his face, and as Louis
walks away, he hears the girls erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
**
“I FUCKING HATE HIM,” Louis screeches as he slams the door closed behind him.
Niall looks up from the piano stool—where he has also managed to drag the drum set—and raises
his eyebrows in surprise.
“Didn’t go so well?”
“I AM LITERALLY GOING TO PEEL HIS SKIN OFF AND MAKE HIM EAT IT,” Louis
continues to bellow, kicking off his bag, then shoes--which go flying across the room as Niall
tracks their trajectory with wide eyes--and then his clothes. “I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING,
NIALL. I TAKE IT ALL BACK. HE’S AN EVIL, STINKING, SELFISH BASTARD THAT