Young & Beautiful

“Harold,” Niall mockingly corrects.
Louis laughs.
There’s a peaceful silence, filled only by the distant sounds of student chatter from the other side
of the tightly locked windows, and Louis is just wondering if Niall fell asleep when:
“My father’s asked me to come into the studio tomorrow morning, first thing.”
Hm?
Louis’ attention perks. “The studio? I thought the track was just about ready to be released? Isn’t
the release party coming up?”
Niall shifts until he’s staring at Louis, lips pursed.
“It was.”
Louis raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Niall nods, slowly disengaging himself from Louis and sitting up, kicking his feet up on the table.
His face looks oddly trepid, something Louis isn’t used to seeing from Niall, and he feels spikes of
curiosity begin to shoot through him.
“I heard Des is having a bit of a time of it,” Niall says, and he locks eyes with Louis. “Had a fit
this morning. Bad.”
Oh.
“He doesn’t like the song. Says he won’t let it be released.”
“I thought he wrote it,” Louis says, attention piqued even more. He does his best to keep his
thoughts of Harry to the far corners of his mind, keep his face and emotions neutral.
“He did. But he changed his mind, I guess,” Niall shrugs. “Father wouldn’t tell me much more
than that, but. Something’s fucked. He didn’t sound right on the phone.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Des is probably losing his fucking mind again and you shouldn’t be surprised if
Harry turns into a wanker about it.”
“Excuse me?” Louis asks, taken aback. “If Des is as bad as I keep hearing about, then Harry has
every right to turn into a wanker. He’s not a fucking robot, Niall, it’s going to affect him!”
“Look,” Niall says, and he turns to face Louis fully, his eyes sharp and clear, finger pointed in his
direction, the band of his watch glistening dangerously, “There is no excuse for Harry treating you
badly. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. You’re not weak, Louis. So don’t act like you are.”
Louis blinks, shocked. In this light, in this tone, Niall is almost…intimidating.
And weak? Why the fuck would he call Louis weak?
Louis Tomlinson is anything but weak.
“Don’t point your finger at me,” Louis snarks, grabbing the boy’s finger and shoving it away.
“I’m well aware that I’m not weak, Ireland. Well aware. But there’s nothing weak about caring