Young & Beautiful

XXII
Chapter Summary
Louis finds something.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Why the fuck are you awake this early?”
Louis blinks at the question, having just emerged from his room fully dressed (he chose a very
wintery jumper on occasion of it being December 1 st ), and pauses as he takes in the image of
Niall, half adorned in golf clothes, smoking a cigar, and pouring himself a glass of what Louis
hopes is grape juice.
“Why are you?” Louis counters, searching for his shoes, resolutely ignoring the question. Because
no, he is not going to admit to Niall that he’d been planning out the day ever since they’d gotten
home last night, and no, he’s certainly not going to tell him of his plans to fetch Harry some
morning coffee before he goes to his rooms.
And no, he’s definitely not going to address the fact that it’s only eight in the morning and yet he
fully intends on arriving at Harry’s door within the hour. And why that might be considered bad
manners. Or obsessive. Those issues definitely aren’t going to be addressed.
“I never went to bed,” Niall smirks in response, downing his glass of burgundy whateverthefuck.
“And why ever not?”
He shrugs, refilling his glass. “I went out after you went to bed.”
“Again? Have you ever actually touched a book before? Just curious,” Louis asks, throwing him a
pointed look as he slides on his shoes, one by one, eyes already searching for his jacket and scarf.
“I’m sure I have.” Niall pauses, wipes his mouth, and a tiny burp escapes him. “Let’s get
breakfast. I’m hungry,” he then states in a very final tone, glancing at his Rolex with lightly pink
eyes.
“Can’t,” Louis says, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his jacket—which was behind the couch
somehow—and carefully avoiding Niall’s expectant eyes. “I’ve—er—I’ve got to study.”
“At half past eight,” Niall deadpans. “Really?”
Fuck.
Louis clears his throat, winds the scarf around his neck. “Yep.”
Niall watches him, hands splayed on the counter, his hair scattered yet mysteriously grease-free.
His cheeks are flushed rosy and his eyes are unblinking, boring into Louis’ every movement.
“No,” he finally says simply, still watching Louis. “Food first. I don’t feel like eating alone.”