Young & Beautiful

“A toast!” he declares as the four boys gather into a tiny circle. “For the best Halloween ever!”
“Here, here!” Louis roars over exaggeratedly, and they laugh as they tip back their glasses, the
liquid sliding smoothly down their already numb throats.
Then the door opens.
And in glides Harry.
“I’m here so we can go now,” he greets, smug and smirky, eyes calm and assessing as he takes in
each costume.
“Oh, can we? How fortunate,” Louis says with a roll of his eyes, but his smile is permanent and
he’s clutching his empty wine glass, and Harry’s wearing black velvet and heeled shoes, looking
like something out of Dracula, so it’s all good.
Harry barely registers his sass as he saunters towards the group, half-smile present.
“Zayn, you look perfect,” he purrs, pecking Zayn’s lips, then glides to Liam. “You look like
you’re going to get hot in that, love.” He slides a finger over Liam’s eye patch, then steps in front
of Louis. “You look messy,” is all he says (rude), and then he freezes upon seeing Niall, standing
expectantly in his ridiculous attire, hands clasped neatly in front of him. “I…don’t even know
what to say,” he finally concludes, and that gets everybody started up again.
“What are you, then?” Louis asks, eyeing up Harry’s ensemble (it’s got to be some late 19 th
century, Victorian garb, complete with a crimson scarf, cane, and green carnation pinned to his
lapel). His hair is extra curled and luxurious, piled high on his head, and Louis could almost swear
that he’s wearing mascara, maybe eyeliner? And lippie, actually. But then again, he’s never really
sure with Harry, since the gene pool has a tendency to kiss his ass.
“You’re a vampire!” Liam guesses, and Zayn snorts, bringing a hand up to hide his bemused
smile, watching the horror splat across Harry’s face.
“I’m Dorian Gray,” he says, as if their lack of recognition is the most offensive thing in the world,
and he turns his head away and lifts his chin with an air of being very wronged, his cane posed
perfectly in his hand.
“Oscar Wilde’s book?” Louis supplies, happy to reference his learned knowledge from their
tutoring. Because “The Picture of Dorian Gray” is Harry’s favorite novel, written by the man
himself, and Louis is all too familiar with hearing its praises sung. It only pangs him a little bit that
Harry would identify with that character, of all people. Couldn’t he have just been a bunny or
something?
But, no matter. It’s Halloween, and it’s happy, and everybody looks incredible.
Harry turns to look at him.
“Exactly,” he says calmly, and it could be Louis’ imagination, but he thinks he almost detects a
hint of pride.
“Jesus Christ,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re from a fuckin’ book.”
“Not just any book!” Harry protests, scowling.
Zayn smiles quietly, bringing his hand up to rest lightly on Liam’s back. “It’s a brilliant book,
Harry. But we best be off, yeah? I’m late for me own party.”