Young & Beautiful

He’s greeted with a hideous glare as Niall blinks into life.
“Fuck off, cunt,” he growls, then turns over.
Louis swallows, and his phone burns in his hand.
**
Apparently, Louis is a masochist. Because now he’s calling his mum.
She picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hm?” is the greeting he receives, and he sits down on his bed a little awkwardly.
“Mum?”
“Who is this?”
Annoyance prickles at his scalp. “Your son. Louis.”
“Louis,” she says mildly, tone distracted. “What do you need, love?”
His tempter sizzles. Because of course. Of fucking course. She goes from leaving him five minute
voicemails of her sobbing and demanding that he return to her, to barely recalling his existence.
His stomach spits. So fucking typical of her. Just so fucking typical.
“I just wanted to say hi,” he says, keeping the annoyance out of his tone. His voice just sounds
alien, though.
“Oh.” There’s a pause. “All right, then.”
He lies back on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How are the girls?”
“At school.”
Which, okay. That’s sort of an answer.
“Good, good. I miss them.”
He hears her hum a noncommittal sound.
Right then.
“Okay, well, it’s been great chatting with you,” he says wryly, feeling loveless and pathetic,
getting up off the bed and regretting ever picking up his phone, even if it did serve as a distraction
from Harry and/or the homework/studying that he just cannot do right now. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait, love,” she suddenly says, and Louis’ ears prick up. “Is Niall there? I’d love to have a quick
chat.”
And he hangs up the phone.
Because fuck no. He does not feel like dealing with that.
The day feels like it will never end.
**