Young & Beautiful

order anything!!”
The girl is looking at him with genuine confusion now, bereft of speech.
Louis knows a losing battle when he sees one.
“Sod it. Just make my drink, please. I’m already late as it is, what’s a few minutes more,” he
growls, and with a still-confused look in her eye, she finally begins his drink.
“Incredible,” he sighs to himself, shaking his head.
Because yeah, Louis can understand why others would be intimidated by the rich, with their silent
demands and outrageous expectations—he didn’t even blink when he was just handed a drink,
without words or payment of any sort—and yes, there is a slight, indescribable quality to Zayn
Malik that is mysterious and powerful and very, very slick. Where Niall is a dragon, with fire in
his belly and scales and bright eyes and glistening claws, Zayn Malik is a snake, coiled lazily in
the sun and ready to strike if provoked, all silken skin and piercing eyes.
And yeah, maybe he’s beautiful, really fucking beautiful, but he took what Louis should have
gotten and he’s entitled and a wanker and, yep, Louis hates everybody.
So he texts Niall.
‘I hate this school and everybody in it. Death to rich people.’
A second later, his screen lights up.
‘Can’t die. Am immortal. Want to bunk off and get high under a tree?’
And Louis really wants to say no.
'Which tree?'
But he says that instead.
Because he’s had a bad day already and he can just e-mail his professors his assignments. No
harm done. Besides, it’s the first week of term—that never counts, right?
Right.
So, after finally getting his tea, he turns on his heel and smiles at the thought of an afternoon off.
Chapter End Notes
If I could spend the rest of my life writing about pretty boys in bands, I would be a
happy, happy clam.
By the by--Zayn's song [for this fic yo] is officially "Hot One" by Shudder to Think.
Really. That's exactly what inspired me.
Also, while we're on topic, this whole story is inspired by Lana del Rey's "Young
and Beautiful." Now, if you haven't heard THAT, then you are missing out, folks.
That's the reason I started writing this hot mess.