Young & Beautiful

Liam’s head collapses into his hands. “Yeah. Well I hate him.”
“No you don’t. You’re just stressed, is all,” Zayn soothes, and immediately stands behind him and
begins to massage his shoulders.
Louis, feet kicked up, clad in sweatpants, and chewing on a pencil, glances up at the pair.
“If I hear just one sweet nothing whispered between the two of you, I will not hesitate to punch
you both in the balls.”
Niall guffaws, Zayn chuckles, and Liam looks appalled.
“I’m just sayin’,” Louis mumbles quietly, unable to resist a smirk, and Niall laughs louder, the
sound filling the quiet, endlessly vaulted ceilings, bouncing off of the dusty bookshelves and the
worn carpet, the ancient books, the marble statues, and the empty chair that sits at their table,
untouched.
Which Louis continues not to think about as Zayn kneads cool, calming hands into Liam’s back.
The silence is only broken once more, about an hour later.
“I’m sick of this shite. I want to go out,” Niall says, dropping his notebook onto the tabletop and
sighing harshly, the noise grating against the air.
Three sets of eyes look up as one.
“It’s a weekday!” Liam says, offended at the very thought.
Niall shrugs. “So? We used to go out every night of the week.”
“Oh, those were the days,” Louis laments, frowning down at his stack of books and messy piles of
paper. “I wish I could go…”
“You wish you could go?” Liam gapes, almost screeches. Louis’ eyebrows raise. “What is wrong
with you two?? How could you possibly consider just moseying about around town when we
have exams and papers and editorials and deadlines and outlines and blueprints and meetings
and…” And with each listed chore, his voice raises an octave higher, until a bemused Zayn is
forced to wrap his arms around Liam’s tense, tense shoulders, purring calming words into his ear
and ushering him to the side for some unwinding time.
“It’s all right, Li. You’ll be fine. Just fine. Shh,” he breathes in a satin soft tone, gently rubbing his
thumbs against Liam’s nearly quivering arms.
Louis sniggers while Niall raises his eyebrows at the spectacle.
“Right. So you coming then, Tommo?” he asks, turning to face Louis.
He sighs. “Nah, mate. In a perfect world, I would, but as it is...”
“All right,” he concludes, hopping out of the chair and popping his pen into his mouth, notebook
gripped at his side. “Suit yourself. Have a good ones, lads. Bye, honey.” He adds, pressing a kiss
to Louis’ cheek messily before bounding away.
Louis watches, fond and exasperated simultaneously. “I swear, Ireland. If you end up getting
better grades than me this term, I will peel your skin off with a paperclip.”
Niall pauses, turning around, his eyebrows nearly hidden in his hairline. “Bit harsh, innit?”