Young & Beautiful

“Yeah.”
Shit.
“Did you guys ever…?”
“Yeah. All the time.”
Louis’ eyes widen. “Fuck. No wonder Liam doesn’t know.”
“And he shouldn’t. It’s not important anymore. I didn’t know Liam then. All I had was Harry.
And I thought we were something, I did. But, apparently, I was alone in that. He never connected
sex with love. Never. Hell, he never connected love with anything because he’s never really
known what it is. I told him how I viewed the situation every day. I tried to talk to him, tried to
take care of him, but we were young, too fucking young, and he never came close, Louis. Never
once came close to being anybody other than the person everybody else knew. He cared, yeah,
but not the same. It was never the same. He laughed when I first told him that I loved him.”
A thousand emotions are flowing through Louis, each more powerful and overwhelming than the
last. He swallows past them though, mind whirring, before settling his gaze back on Zayn, who is
now staring at him.
“What happened after your mum and Des split?”
Zayn shrugs. “We left. Mum tried to keep in touch with Harry, but. He never wanted it. Suppose
he’s had enough mums in his life. I don’t know. She tried being good to him, she did, but…he
wasn’t right. He never treated her like a mum. He charmed her, made her laugh, was kind to her,
but. I don’t think he could love her. So she never loved him.” He shrugs once more. “At least, I
don’t think she did, I don’t know.”
A heavy silence settles, and Louis’ thoughts are loud enough to echo as he paces the room,
envisioning a sixteen year old Harry, bright, beautiful, shining, and on the verge of being lost
forever. His heart cringes, the thought burning into his brain.
“Well, then. Wow,” Louis finally says, lifting his eyebrows as he attempts to crawl back into the
present. “So there’s that.”
“Don’t give up on him,” Zayn says, cool and calm, remastering his control.
Louis looks to him, startled. “What—“
“I think you’d be good for him. As a mate,” he adds, as Louis opens his mouth in protest. “He
could use someone like you. Someone who won’t take his shit, someone who’s strong and got a
good head on his shoulders. Someone who’s kind as well. You’re funny, too, and you’d get on, I
know you would. I like you, Louis. I think Harry would, too.”
“I don’t think Harry could ever like me, to be honest. Especially not after this week.” Louis shakes
his head at the memory. “Did you know he had me run all around town? Picking up cheese
danishes and fetching nonexistent books? Just so he could laugh at me with a couple of tarts? He
don’t give no fucks, Zayn, I’m telling you. He won’t even talk to me.”
“It’s not him being cruel, though, that’s the thing,” Zayn continues patiently, settling in his throne
and leaning back. “He just doesn’t know how to act most of the time. Not really. It’s not in him,
like. He’s been through a lot, more than you know, more than I know, and he’s got scars, massive
scars. He doesn’t know how to heal himself. If he can heal at all. I don’t know. Thing is, Louis.