Young & Beautiful

Ah.
“So, like when he’s in a bad mood or summat, it’s probably cuz of…” Louis concludes hesitantly,
not knowing how to appropriately word the sentence, feeling that ending it with ‘his train wreck
of a father’ may be a bit harsh.
“There’s more than meets the eye. That’s all I’m saying,” Zayn finishes, and he unscrews the cap
of a nearby water bottle before bringing it to his lips.
Louis follows the movement with his eyes, brows pinching. “But I knew that already. I know that
his father, or whatever, bothers him.”
Zayn quiets, setting the bottle down, peering at Louis with half-lidded eyes. “But I don’t think you
realize how much. I know I didn’t.” He pauses, bringing his hand up to play idly with the newlyformed
scruff beneath his chin, contemplating his next words. At last, he concludes with, “I’m
asking you to look out for him, Louis. I know he doesn’t know you that well and you don’t
always get on, but.” His gaze connects with Louis’. “He’s different with you. In the short time
he’s known you, he’s opened up more than he has to me in the fifteen years we’ve known each
other. And that’s just from the little I’ve seen. Even if he doesn’t realize it…” He leans forward
enough to lay his warm fingers on Louis’ forearm, and his quiet, hazel eyes cut through the air,
through Louis. “You affect him.”
Louis blinks.
He affects him?
Louis affects Harry? Cold, moody, empty, barren, makes-Louis-fetch-nonexistent-textbooks-justfor-the-fun-of-it
Harry?
His body reacts, sending surges of blood and thoughts swimming within, colliding with each other
and erupting in sparks, and he’s not even sure why, probably couldn’t explain it if he was asked,
but he feels significant somehow, in hearing this. Significant and torn, and all he can think about is
how Harry still probably hasn’t found what he’s looking for, still searching empty houses and
staring at a blank phone, and he wonders how many times Harry’s cried or Harry’s grabbed onto
something for dear life because he felt utterly helpless and alone and unwanted and—
Fuck fuck fuck. Louis’ eyes almost begin to prickle with just too many thoughts. All for a boy
who, despite Louis “affecting” him, barely exists. Harry’s somewhere beyond the realm of
existence, in the dark corners that get forgotten or shunned, and he’s far away from everybody, so
far away, but Louis imagines himself reaching out, imagines stretching his hand into the bleak
darkness, and imagines his fingers brushing against the bits of Harry that are still there.
And that’s all he needs.
Louis opens his mouth to respond to the watchful eyes of Zayn, whose hand still rests lightly upon
Louis’ flesh, his words seeming to echo through the room and slide off of the smooth surfaces,
when the door is suddenly thrown open, and in emerges Liam, a smile instantly splitting his face.
“Louis!” he greets, delighted, and walks up to him, smiling giddily squeezing his elbow, before
pressing a sweet kiss to Zayn’s lips. “How are you, mate?”
“Uh, good, I’m good,” Louis barely manages, still reeling from everything that had just happened,
and Liam’s grin is only lightly questioning, his hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “How was your
meeting?”
“Do you know what, it was actually really strange. I’m the editor of the paper, see, but there was