Young & Beautiful

Harry blinks, confused. “So. You just want to…study.”
“Yes.”
“In my rooms.”
“Yes.”
“And not because you need me to help you or anything.”
“Yes.”
Pause.
Harry peers at him from his current crouching position on the floor, quiet and small in his tweed
trousers and white collared shirt that’s buttoned to his neck, papers stacked in his hands.
Another beat of silence passes, and Louis fidgets, pretending to appear aloof but feeling awkward
as fuck, so he flicks his hair and begins feeling for his phone as he waits.
Maybe he should just go to the library.
“Um.” The silence is broken, and he immediately looks back to Harry. “Okay. Yeah. All right,
then,” Harry finally says, and he seems more troubled and bewildered than anything. But he goes
along with it, and Louis nods, appeased.
“Thanks, mate,” he says easily, setting down his bag and flopping into a chair in the corner,
opposite the piano and facing Harry’s back. He briefly considers sprawling onto Harry’s
enormous, canopied bed and studying there, but he knows he would probably get a book thrown
at him, so he ignores the thought and settles deeper into the large, embroidered chair, unpacking
his things as Harry slowly refocuses himself.
Soon enough, they get into the flow of things, each working on their own projects, silent and
focused. And it’s quiet. But it’s nice.
Louis’ scribbling notes peacefully into his notebook while Harry plucks keys, humming to himself
and closing his eyes, eyebrows pinched in concentration, feeling the changing melodies within.
And Louis really is focusing on his tasks at hand, he is, but he also can’t help but notice how
incredibly beautiful the sounds coming from Harry’s piano are, and eventually, he raises his head
and just stares as Harry wildly creates haunting, mesmerizing melodies.
“I know you probably don’t want my opinion,” he begins, and the piano immediately stops, Harry
jumping, startled. “But that has got to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”
Harry starts, looking over to Louis with quiet eyes, before his brow furrows and he grabs another
blank piece of paper. “No, it’s not.”
“Well, see, yeah it is actually. It’s incredible. And if you’ve written that…well then. I think I might
be impressed.”
“Opinions are subjective,” Harry mumbles, completely unaffected by the praise, rejecting it
without a second thought, and Louis frowns, setting down his pen and staring fully at Harry’s
slumped figure.
“Sure. But if there’s a knob who doesn’t like that, then I can’t say that their opinion is worth all
that much.” He pauses. “And you know, I’m not just saying it to be kind, either. I never lie about