Young & Beautiful

costumes for the evening.
And he wonders if Harry is with them.
Which, probably not, he’s probably having a Halloween orgy, but Louis would like to think he’s
carving pumpkins as well, wrapped in a cozy sweater (probably with something ridiculous like a
giant witch’s head on it) and maybe sipping apple cider out of some vintage teacup that is
hideously ornate and impractical.
He smiles at the thought. Smiles even wider when he remembers him and Harry’s last encounter,
and the fact that, probably, he can call them actual mates now. Because Harry had been in such a
good mood, a downright suspiciously good mood…
Which…huh.
Perhaps there was a very specific reason for that.
Why hadn’t Louis thought of it before?
“So, just out of random curiosity, do you ever go to the studio anymore? To record the drum bits
for Des’ new single?” Louis suddenly asks, lying in the orange, sticky guts on the floor, and peers
over at Niall, an incredibly large pumpkin tucked between his legs, his hands buried deep inside.
“It’s on hold,” he answers, only half paying attention as he stares unblinkingly at the tellie and the
family that is getting traumatized by a rabid clown.
“On hold?” Louis prods nonchalantly.
“Yeah. Father wouldn’t tell me why, but I suspect it’s something with Des. Haven’t heard about
him in awhile. He hasn’t come to the studio once. Even Grimshaw won’t talk about him.
Something’s off. But that’s all I know.”
“Oh,” Louis immediately deflates, hope gone. “You don’t say.”
Well, never mind then. Maybe Harry really was just in a good mood.
….
(Doubtful. There’s always a reason.)
“Why do you ask?” Niall glances over at Louis, who forces himself to snap out of his own
thoughts.
“Oh. No reason. Just wondering what’s going on in Harry’s family life. You know. The usual.”
Niall laughs and shakes his head, just as Rory bursts through the door with endless shopping bags
filled with candles, Halloween accessories, food, and liquor, and no more is said on the subject as
Niall and Louis boisterously cheer his arrival.
**
Evening arrives soon enough, and Louis’ day of pumpkin carving, drinking, and general coziness
soon morphs to one of excitement, adrenaline, and shouting, with music blaring through every
speaker of their flat as they prepare for the evening ahead.
“What the bloody fuck are you?” Louis laughs hysterically over the pounding beat of La Roux,
every light on in the flat, and nearly doubles over, a towel wrapped around his middle as he stares