Young & Beautiful

like. So they don’t collect dust mites or, ya know, lie on the floor.” Louis’ voice is thick from his
emotions and a little faint, and not once has he even looked in the direction of said curtains, but he
can’t think of any other excuse and can’t even begin to formulate his honest thoughts as he stares
unblinkingly at Harry, feeling like a prize idiot.
“I like my curtains. I don’t want them altered in any way,” Harry then says stubbornly, voice
stronger, presence less hesitant, and Louis feels his blood begin to pump again at the familiarity of
this Harry.
Thank fuck.
Louis nods. “All right, then. That’s fine.”
Silence.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” Harry asks again, now opening the door fully and stepping out.
“Because—I—cuz—fuck, Harry!” Louis curses, feeling really, really overwhelmed and at a loss.
“What’s wrong with you? I don’t know what to—can’t you just—“ he blurts helplessly,
overwhelmingly frustrated yet intangibly so as his words collide and fall over each other, and
Harry’s eyes widen.
“What are you talking about? Why are you acting so fucking strange?” Harry’s voice has an
almost overwhelmed edge as well, his own bewilderment evident, and Louis tries to assess the
situation and the best way to handle it.
But, instead, he panics.
Louis panics, turns on his heel, and bolts out of the door, mumbling a “Fuck, I can’t do this,” and
runs as fast as he can back to his flat, not even bothering to shut Harry’s door on the way out.
**
“I’m evil!” Louis wails as he flings himself onto Niall’s lap.
Niall, sandwich midway to mouth as he’s sprawled on the couch watching music videos, stares
down at Louis.
“Hello.”
“I’m the most evil fucking brute in the world and I want to die. I was so mean to him, Niall. I was
so fucking mean. And he was so sad! Fuck, he was just so sad and I’m shit. I’m a shit person and
I don’t deserve any happiness ever again. Oi, is that pepperoni?” he adds, sniffing at Niall’s
sandwich.
“Hey. Get your own,” Niall scolds, shielding the sandwich, before settling a hand on the top of
Louis’ head. “Don’t worry so much, Tommo. You make a big deal out of everything and it
always turns out to be nothing.”
“This isn’t nothing!”
“Well, whatever it is, It’s going to be fine. It happened. Move on. So do you want to get dinner?”
he asks easily, in his emotionally uncomplicated way, and Louis really envies him that, the fact
that he can hear awful things, distressing things, and just move on with his life without a second’s
hesitation.