Young & Beautiful

XVII
Chapter Summary
Louis thinks he might be getting somewhere. Maybe.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
For the rest of the week, Harry tutors Louis in helpful and beneficial ways.
And Louis doesn’t really know what he was expecting to happen in that week, after they’d made
their sort-of peace, but it wasn’t…this.
But it’s not like he had envisioned, say, Harry joyously opening the door upon his arrival and
proceeding to laugh at all of Louis’ jokes and spill his tightly locked away secrets and cry to him
about feeling unaccepted and apologize for all his previous wrongs. No, Louis didn’t envision that
in any way or form, certainly not. Because that would just be odd and abrasive and thoroughly too
much, especially considering they weren’t even proper mates yet.
Still, though.
Harry could’ve at least started…smiling, or something.
And sure, yeah, it’s only been a handful of days, but honestly. Zayn told Louis to keep his
patience and fuck, yep, he’s definitely going to need patience because Harry is layered, layered,
layered in issues and walls and unfeeling weariness and Louis’ not even sure if he’s begun to chip
away at any of it.
So, needless to say, that first day after Louis apologized and Harry actually accepted it, was a bit
of a disappointment.
Louis had left early his flat early (not in hopes to bond or anything, nope) and was just rounding
the corner to Harry’s building, ready to mount the grand steps that led to his beautiful rooms over
the sunny gardens, when he stopped in his tracks, the low, musical rumble of Harry’s voice
catching in his ears. He searched for the source, eyes flicking through the passing students dressed
to the nines, hoisting up their Armani bags, heels clicking against the ancient walkways, trying to
spot a bow tie or a mess of coiffed curls.
Eventually he found his target. Resplendent in ivory and gold, his bow tie glowing under autumn
sun, the diamonds of his watch shining like a beacon, looking typically ridiculous and endearing
simultaneously. While talking to a beautiful raven haired girl in a long, pale yellow dress. Swiping
his finger beneath her giggling chin.
He was smiling down at her—with that smile that makes Louis shudder, with its emptiness and
villainous tight corners—and pressing whispers into her ear that forced even more tiny, insistent
giggles out of her as she stared adoringly. Harry’s grin grew with each breathy laughter, and Louis
distinctly remembers finding it nothing but sinister.
And, somehow, just so incredibly disheartening. And sad.