Young & Beautiful

Niall pauses, turning around, his eyebrows nearly hidden in his hairline. “Bit harsh, innit?”
Louis looks down at himself—the socks he’s had on for days, the wilted sweatpants with an
unnerving orange stain from the spaghetti he’d had last night, and that’s not even beginning to
mention his greasy, stubbly complexion or the matted cluster of grease that claims to be hair that is
currently sitting atop his head. All because he’s spent more time studying than bathing or sleeping.
And then he looks back to Niall. Sunny, golden, clean, and calm Niall.
“No.”
And Niall laughs, head tilted back, teeth white and immaculate, before heading out the door
without a second’s thought.
“And you said Liam and I were bad,” Zayn teases with a smirk.
“Yeah. Cuz me and Niall don’t shag like you two fuckers,” he mutters, which only makes Zayn’s
grin grow and Liam’s eyes widen.
And then he goes back to his book, firmly ignoring the way Liam and Zayn look at each other,
and the empty chair in the corner.
**
Another day of classes have gone by—and another impressive exam score (is this real life?)—and
Louis is on his way to Harry’s once again, already steeling himself for the silence he knows he
will be met with as he trudges through the patter of icy rain, a beanie tucked over his head and just
managing to cover the tips of his reddening ears. He whips out his phone, as is custom, and taps
out a, ‘Probs gonna be greeted by a locked door again. U kno u shld rly text me back and save
me the trouble u nuisance.’
Like absentminded clockwork he climbs the steps near the gardens, walks up to his door, turns the
faded metal of the doorknob, pushes the heavy wooden door open and—and it’s open.
He nearly falls inside.
Before he has time to gather himself—his shoulder bag nearly bringing him down, and hard—he
hears movement from just beyond his line of sight.
“Louis Tomlinson,” that voice greets, and instead of Louis’ stomach clunking in disappointment,
it soars up to somewhere near his mouth.
Because he was not expecting Harry to actually be here. Nor was he expecting him to be…
holding strawberries? And wearing a red suit and bow tie, smiling dashingly as he offers them to
him in a gilt bowl.
If he’s being honest, he sort of assumed Harry would be in the depths of despair upon their next
encounter, what with Des being back and all the unforeseen complications that seem to
accompany the man. But this certainly isn’t an unwelcome contrast.
“Strawberry?” Harry offers as if on cue, posed perfectly. “They’re my new thing.”
Louis stares, finally having gathered himself and shut the door behind him, his beanie falling off,
his sweatshirt hanging in disarray, and his bag piled beside him on the floor.
“Harry,” he says, shocked, his voice light with surprise as he stares at the utterly unexpected scene
before him. “You’ve come back.”