Young & Beautiful

“It’s okay, Louis,” Harry says quietly, and just those words alone wash Louis in relief and a sweet
buzz. “I…understand. I get it. But it’s not like that.” He opens his eyes and looks to Louis. The
shadows are back. “He’s not right. He’s not, um, all there, you know? He doesn’t, like…come
after me or anything. He just…” He pauses, searching for words, swallowing, looks away.
“Sometimes he doesn’t know who I am. He gets scared. He’s… Louis, he’s not right.”
“But what’s wrong with him?” Louis presses, turning more fully to Harry. It feels a little less
fragile now, this subject. A little.
“He’s got serious illnesses. Mentally,” Harry mumbles, a little wryly. “Addictions didn’t help.” He
swallows. “Don’t help.”
Louis’ stomach thuds. “Yeah?” he asks gently. “He’s…doing that stuff again?”
Harry nods.
Louis feels so, so sad.
“But what can you expect?” Harry continues, voice sour. “He was in a world famous rock group.
It’s the cliché, you know? Heroin addict. Alcoholic. Problem is, nobody expected him to be…”
He trails off. “It sort of kicked some of his afflictions into gear. Sped them up. Made them worse.”
Louis nods.
Harry’s voice sounds so brittle. So uncomfortable.
“It’s difficult, yeah, but, like…he’s my father. Even if he…” He swallows again. “Doesn’t know it
sometimes. Doesn’t care to be. He’s not entirely gone, or anything. Um. He’s brilliant with music,
still, but. Heroin. You know.”
No. Louis doesn’t know.
He feels sick.
Harry’s face twists as he talks. “He didn’t fucking have to pass it on to his daughter, though.
Gemma was too young. He gave it to her, you know. That’s how she started. Father made her a
fucking addict because he didn’t want to do it alone.” Harry’s hands clench again. “And now look
where she is. She doesn’t even talk to us.” His voice is shivering, just barely. “Won’t talk to me.”
“Harry,” Louis begins, feeling his emotions positively drenching him. Like wet cloth on weak
limbs.
“I have to take care of him on my own because she just left,” Harry grits between teeth, and now
the sparkles of tears have formed in the corners of his eyes. “On my own, Louis.”
Louis’ entire heart cracks. “You shouldn’t have to,” he says, scooting closer and just wishing he
could touch, soothe. “You can’t. It’s straining on you. It’s dangerous. Just put him in a hospital
—“
“He gets worse in hospital, Louis. He hates it. I can’t do that to him, I won’t,” Harry says firmly,
voice thick and angry as he looks at Louis again, and Louis unravels.
“Hire somebody. A nurse, yeah? They’ll be able to take care of him—for fuck’s sake, they’re
trained, Harry!” Louis emphasizes as Harry begins shaking his head.
“I’m his son. It’s my responsibility. I’m all he has.”