Young & Beautiful

the fibers of his clothes and the fibers of his soul and, fuck.
Are you a wizard, Harry?
“Hi,” he breathes, sliding his bum into the wooden chair, smile widening as his eyes become level
with Harry’s.
“Greetings, Louis,” Harry smiles back, and his voice rumbles so quietly; it’s like the soft scrape of
fabric in the morning.
They continue to stare, wordless, warm, and golden.
Louis is turning into a sap.
“Nice to see you, too,” a wry voice suddenly interrupts through the swirls of Louis’ brain, and he
blinks, immediately snapping out of his reverie and looking over to find Zayn sucking on his
cigarette, eyes narrowed in amusement and staring betwixt Louis and Harry in a fashion that
implies he’s very aware of something. Though what he could be aware of is unknown to Louis—
there’s nothing to be aware of.
No awareness. None. Aware-less, if you will.
“Zayn, m’boy!” Louis says, clearing his throat and forcing the chipperness to full capacity.
Though it’s not much forced, as he is really is terribly happy to see him. He quite loves Zayn.
“How was your Christmas, then? How did the party go?”
He can still feel Harry’s eyes on him.
“You missed a good time, mate,” he says languidly, picking up his glass of wine. He’s slouched in
his chair, lazy and bored, his eyes calm as they observe the surroundings at hand. Or, more
specifically, Louis and Harry. His eyes flick between them, focusing intently and cuttingly as if he
can hear every thought whispered in their brains, read every text they’ve sent each other that still
lingers in the radio-waves somewhere in the atmosphere…
It’s really fucking unnerving actually, and Louis fidgets under his gaze, flicking his hair and
fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie.
“Did you have a good holiday, Louis?” Liam suddenly asks politely, but when Louis turns to look
at him, he looks a bit put out, almost as if hurt. “Didn’t chat with you too much. You were busy, I
take it?”
And there, that’s it—Liam’s pouting.
“Well, yeah, no, I was, I suppose,” Louis says, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the various forms of
scrutiny surrounding him—Zayn studying him like a dissection project, Harry searing those
fucking eyes into his flesh and leaving marks, and now Liam with his puppy eyes and pouty lip
and thirst for Louis’ attention….
It’s just a lot.
Thank god for Niall who is texting on his phone unflinchingly, now drinking wine directly from
the bottle and kicking his feet up on the table. He couldn’t be less aware of Louis’ existence and,
yep, Louis really loves him.
“I just tried to be with my sisters as much as possible, I guess,” Louis replies, his discomfort
beginning to show. He makes a valiant effort to disguise it however, drinking wine smoothly and