Young & Beautiful

Louis nods. “Well, yeah. I kind of have to.” He pauses. “I mean, I left your door open when I left
yesterday. How rude was that?”
At that, Harry’s lip twitches, and though no actual smile is made, Louis still feels instant relief.
“I really am sorry though,” Louis adds quietly after a moment, and he looks down once more,
fiddling with the fabric of his jeans.
He hears the drag of Harry’s shoe across the floor as he draws patterns with the toe of his boot,
and one brief glance upward tells him that Harry is looking down as well, hands clasped behind
his back, and he looks fragile and petite and small despite his towering frame and giraffe limbs,
resembling a shy little schoolchild on their first day. It’s sort of bizarre and insanely out of
character, this almost bashful discomfort coming from him, yet it somehow fits him perfectly, and
Louis can’t stop sneaking glances at the spectacle.
“It’s okay,” a small voice purrs quietly, and it takes a moment for Louis to realize it’s Harry that’s
said that, and not a voice of his own imagining.
His neck almost pops as he shoots his head up, staring at Harry who still isn’t looking at him.
And he wants to ask if Harry actually just said that, just vocally forgave Louis, or if he just
misunderstood, but he doesn’t want to push it, doesn’t want to force too much attention on it, and
so he just shuts his gaping mouth and clasps his own hands behind his back as well, biting back a
smile.
“So you going to tutor me, then?” he asks after a momentary silence. “And properly, I mean, not
just one of those bloody outlines that are as useful as the textbooks I can’t bother to read
anyway?” Louis’ voice is teasing, smile still present.
Harry nods, expression quiet. “I’ll teach you what I can. I make no promises, but I’ll help.
Properly,” he adds, and Louis’ smile widens. “I can’t today, though. I’ve actually got to—I—“ he
cuts off, picking up his phone off of a nearby table, and Louis knows. He just knows it has to do
with Des, something that Louis can’t quite understand, and he hears Zayn telling him to be patient,
telling him about the shit nobody can see that lies quietly inside of Harry.
“Yeah, alright, no worries,” he agrees, nodding. “Tomorrow, then.”
Harry nods, eying Louis. “Don’t be late,” he bosses.
“Don’t bring a harem,” Louis counters.
Harry glares. “I don’t have a harem.”
“Well, see, now you’re just lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are. But it’s alright, mate, cuz I told you you had shit handwriting yesterday, and that
was a lie, so. I figure we’re even.”
“You’re aware your opinions bear no effect on me, correct?” Harry asks dryly, folding his arms
across his chest again.
“I never said they did.”
“I never said you said they did.”