Young & Beautiful

Yeah. No. Louis definitely can’t sleep.
**
Louis wakes up to a thunderous tune on the piano—Tchaikovsky?—far too early in the morning.
But he doesn’t even care, just continues to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. He refuses to think
about the note.
The note.
The note that he wrote. The note that he wrote that is currently tucked in Harry’s journal with his
name on the back. He refuses to think about all of that because it doesn’t even matter because
Harry ignored him last night, erased his presence from his life, and he was the empty, preening
shell that he always is. Nothing changed. Harry hadn’t changed.
“I CAN’T CHANGE” flashes through Louis’ mind, writ on Harry’s fair skin. Hah. Ironic.
And fuck.
Too many thoughts.
And text messages, he notes as he picks up his phone. He sees Zayn and Liam’s names repeatedly
—never Harry, of course—but doesn’t bother reading the small text, just unlocks his phone and
searches for the one person that can help him right now.
It rings once.
The piano stops.
“Tommo,” Niall’s voice greets from the phone and the other side of the wall. “Where you at,
mate?”
“My bed.”
There’s a chuckle. “This again? You hungover or somethin’?”
“Not even.”
“You all right?” he yawns. A piano key dings.
“No. Come lie with me. I’m in a dark place.”
“What does that mean? You hungry?”
“No Sasquatch, I’m not hungry,” Louis says, irritated. “I’m vulnerable and on the precipice of
darkness.”
Pause.
“Are you thirsty?”
“Fuck’s sake, Ireland, just get your ass in here.”
The phone beeps out a dial tone and then the door is swiftly opened, much to Louis’ relief.
“Tommo,” Niall greets with a grin, his shirt half-buttoned and stained, his sweatpants pushed up at