Young & Beautiful

hosting skills and elaborate décor.
“Right, then,” Louis shouts, catching sight of Niall who is having trouble balancing his boxy
body. “Let’s get out the fuck out of this mess.” He grabs Niall by the milk carton and trudges him
out of harm’s way, only briefly glancing back to see Zayn and Liam swallowed whole, and then
Harry, his charming grin in place, his hand already resting on a boy’s elbow invitingly.
But Louis just shakes his head of the thought and drags Niall to the punchbowl.
**
There’s an orchestra at the party that plays eery violin music for approximately two hours, and it
really sets the mood, providing class and adequate Halloween chill for the evening.
During this time, the guests mingle and chat, clinking glasses and snapping pictures of each
other’s costumes on their phones, praising each other on a job well done.
Louis lingers around the punch with Niall, judging every costume that passes by (except the
Spiderman one—that was sick).
“I don’t understand why she even bothered wearing the skirt. She could’ve saved herself some
money and just worn the corset,” Louis says as he sips his punch, and Niall laughs amidst
receiving yet another passerby’s compliment on his getup.
Niall’s gotten fourteen compliments since they’ve been there, and Louis’ gotten nineteen. Not that
he’s counting. But, if he were, Louis would totally be winning.
At last, Zayn, Liam, and even Harry emerge from the masses, smiles still in place, and drinks in
hand.
“Well, that was fun,” Liam grins, his white teeth glowing under the black lights.
Harry brings his drink to his lips, surveying the crowd.
Louis tries not to watch him.
“Would you like to dance?” Zayn suddenly asks Liam. “The orchestra’s about to leave and I
doubt there’ll be any more slow songs after they pack up.”
Everybody stares, surprised, and that is exactly how they know how drunk Zayn is. Because he
insists he never dances, and often turns sickly colored at the mention of it. And yet here he is.
“Well you two have fun,” Louis smiles, clapping them both on the back as Liam, wide, elated
eyes, is ushered onto the dance floor by a smiling Zayn.
Zayn waves at him idly, now being dragged by a very eager Liam onto the dance floor, and the
remaining boys laugh—well, Harry smirks—at the spectacle, before they refill their glasses with
punch.
“Happy Hallow’s Eve, lads,” Louis announces. “Nialler,” he nods, clinking his glass with his.
Then, “Curly,” he says, and his eyes linger on Harry as their cups meet, Harry regarding him, face
void of expression. Which isn’t unusual but, really? He could at least nod or something.
They drink as one, Niall taking it back like a shot, while Harry sips delicately.
“Tonight’s gonna be incredible,” Niall grins, setting down his cup, nodding at a beautiful blonde