Young & Beautiful

“No, yeah, I’ll see you at the flat,” Louis assures as he buttons his jacket.
“Good. I’ve got a goodbye present,” Niall says lewdly, sending forth a wink and smirking at the
boys as they titter in response.
Harry quirks an eyebrow but says nothing, instead opening the door for Louis. “After you?”
“Always,” Louis grins with a bat of his eyelashes, and he waves goodbye, feeling nostalgic and
pleased at once.
And then, suddenly the door closes and it’s just him and Harry.
“Thanks for letting me join you, Curly. It’s nice when you’re not antisocial,” Louis teases,
descending Zayn’s steps, careful to keep in pace with Harry’s measured, meandering strides.
A light chuckle reminiscent of jingle bells slips from Harry’s lips. “Can’t say I’ve ever been called
antisocial before.”
“Well, I suppose there’s a first for everything.”
Harry smiles, shaking his bowed head.
There’s a brief silence, the only sound being the soft patters of their feet against ancient stone
steps, and Louis is thinking a thousand million thoughts, each one persistently bubbling in the
back of his throat, threatening to emerge.
“So…are you all right, then? Everything good today?” he asks, hoping his voice conveys a casual
ease.
They’re now outside, slowly making their way towards Harry’s rooms. He can see the staircase
coming into view. Soft speckles of snow imbed in Harry’s curls.
“Yeah. It’s good,” Harry says after a moment’s pause, and Louis can tell he’s forcing himself to
speak, is putting forth the effort to communicate honestly with Louis.
Which Louis appreciates to no end. Harry’s trying.
“And you really want to go home sooner rather than later?” Louis can’t help but ask, feet
crunching frozen grass. His breath puffs before him before sneaking up to the heavens, taking his
words with it.
Harry nods immediately. “Yes. I don’t want to leave my father on his own for too long. It’s not
good for him to be alone.”
“It’s not?”
Harry’s not looking at him, eyes instead set on the crunchy, snow speckled ground. “He’s not
good with his thoughts. Like…he has a tendency to wallow.” A twisted smile curls at his cold
lips. It’s wry and it’s fleeting, and then his face becomes masked in calm. “But the new single
should help. He’ll have performances to attend. He might even get nominated for an award—he’d
like that. It gives him something to focus on. So. He should be better. But I still like to keep an eye
on him.”
Louis sighs.
How the fuck does Harry manage to be such a doting son? He can’t even stomach a conversation