Young & Beautiful

honest, I don’t even know how to fully tell you that. I figured you’d be good—you’re good at
everything—but that, there. That’s rare. That’s special, Harry. You’ve got it. You’ve got it and I
know it.”
Harry moves, just barely, his eyes opening. “That’s just your opin—“
“And don’t give me that ‘opinions are subjective’ bullshit,” Louis interrupts, rolling his eyes
despite his overpowering emotions. “Be that as it may, I’m here, telling you how fucking brilliant
that was. And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters right now, isn’t it? That, even if the
entire world thinks you’re shit, that there’s at least one person who thinks you’re amazing.”
Harry silences at that, still perched on his piano bench, still staring down at his lap.
Moments pass, but Louis doesn’t look away, just stares at Harry, the sounds of the violin still
echoing within.
“I think, if it that were played over a faster melody, with guitars and bass and drums, it might be
all right, yeah?” Harry asks quietly, still staring at his lap.
Louis’ not really sure where this is coming from or what he has in mind, but nonetheless, he nods.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’d be more than all right.”
Harry nods.
Louis stares.
“Um.” Harry rubs his eyes before standing up, a bit awkwardly, his long limbs threatening to
tangle amongst themselves. “I think I’m going to go to bed soon. I’m-I’m tired. So…” Harry
drifts, scratching at his head and keeping his eyes averted away from Louis.
“Yeah,” Louis says, understanding, and begins to pack his things, his blood feeling a bit hot, his
brain a little heavy. “Sure thing, Curly.”
The only break in the silence of the room is the shuffling of books and paper as Louis stuffs them
all into his bag, Harry standing awkwardly behind him. A large grandfather clock ticks nearby.
“Well, then,” Louis says after his bag is slung over his shoulder, all of his items successfully
assembled. He turns to look at Harry whose face is now composed, his brow only threatening to
furrow but remaining smooth. “Thank you for letting me study here.”
He nods.
Right then.
Louis clears his throat. “I’ll, er. See you tomorrow, then? Unless you needed a couple days’ break
from tutoring—“
“No,” Harry says automatically, and Louis blinks in surprise. Harry bites his lip, looks away. His
hands are clutched tightly behind his back.
“Oh. All right. Good.”
Silence.
“Thanks for letting me talk about my mum,” Louis offers, not wanting to leave. And he should
leave, he needs to leave. Harry wants to be alone and he needs to leave.