Young & Beautiful

with his mum and she’s not half as difficult to deal with. Guilt begins to worm its way into his
stomach at the thought, grows even moreso as he finds himself dreading seeing her.
“Why are you so good to him?” he asks, watching Harry as they near the staircase by the gardens.
The snow swirls around them.
Harry shrugs. “He’s my father.”
“So?”
“He’s family, Louis.”
They climb the icy steps. Louis feels more questions bubbling in the back of his throat.
“What about the rest of your family?” he dares to ask, his hands uncommonly cold and stiff, only
partly due to the climate.
Harry stiffens.
“That’s…another story.” He glances up at Louis. “But I’m not interested in such chatter now
though, anyway. It’s Christmas, Louis. A time of cheer,” he says, almost ironically. Then, “And
an incredible color selection.”
Louis laughs despite himself, despite the unease and curiosity that sits in the spaces between his
fingers and the back of his neck. “Fair enough, fair enough,” he smiles, just as they reach the door
to Harry’s rooms. “I’ll stop asking overly personal questions for a change. Consider it a Christmas
present.”
Harry’s lips quirk. “I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better one.”
Another laugh escapes Louis.
“But.” Harry stops, eyes rested on the snow-smeared stone beneath their feet. “I like that you ask.”
Louis wants to press it, wants to (possibly) squeeze out a few more gem sentences from those iced
Christmas lips, but he doesn’t, instead breathes out his emotions and paces himself, only allowing
himself a small grin.
“I like asking,” he says in response, and his voice has gone traitorously soft.
The barely-there smile on Harry’s face threatens to grow, but Harry manages to keep it at bay, his
eyes glued to his feet. “I should go,” he eventually says, voice formal and rich. His gaze returns to
Louis, casual and reserved. “I haven’t even begun to assemble my things into any form of
organization. It’s going to be a bit of a horrid mess, this packing business.”
“You could always have Burns do it,” Louis suggests with a smirk.
“Burns would stuff me in the suitcase before he would one of my belongings,” Harry says, and
they laugh lightly, the sound tinkling against the falling snow.
They’re standing there, staring at each other, and it’s pretty cold and very white out, and Louis
truthfully does need to actually pack still. Basically, he needs to leave. Right about now.
“Well, Happy Christmas then, Curly,” he says with chapped lips that feel numb from the cold
breezes.
“Happy Christmas, Louis,” Harry replies with a smile he tucks into his chest.