Young & Beautiful

control over his sensations, wants to be unaffected—and so he grips onto his vapidity for dear life.
It distresses Louis.
He’ll watch as Harry’s eyes close sometimes, watch his body turn away from Louis after he’s
mumbled a question about his father or said something that hit too close to home. If Harry’s
revealed too much.
“I’m sick of discussing the world, Louis. I’m going to forget the world.” A pause. “You’re
welcome to forget it with me, if you like.”
Louis smiles, feels the sentence, watching his shaded figure as it stares out the window, the
curtains brushing against his long legs.
“You know,” he says, eyes following Harry’s hand as it presses against the glass, the surface
fogging from the heat of his fingers. “I like to act disillusioned and like I hate the world—and
maybe part of me really does—but the truth is, I’m sort of in love with it as well.”
Harry’s breath fogs the glass. “So you wouldn’t like to join me, then.” His voice is quiet.
Louis stands.
“On the contrary, my friend,” he says, walking up to stand beside him, placing his hand beside
Harry’s and watching the steam from their bodies mingle, morphing on the glass, “I should like
you to join me.”
And Harry doesn’t say anything, but moves his hand closer to Louis’.
It’s incredible, really, the progress they’ve made. It’s incredible what they have. It’s incredible
because Harry is incredible and suddenly, somehow, everything is just…simple. And Louis isn’t
even sure why but it is, it’s simple.
“Simple, eh?” Niall says as they share a fresh plate of croissants (courtesy of Rory) at the table,
morning light spilling through the windows and softening the sharp edges of the lavish furniture,
lighting up the chandeliers and sending the crystals into rainbow shadows that dance along the
walls. He’s got a guitar on his lap, a sleek acoustic the color of fresh embers. Bits of croissant fall
from his pink lips, settling upon the strings in flaky clumps.
“It’s true, Ireland. I can’t even explain what happened,” Louis says, finishing his tea. His cup feels
warm from the sun, spreading into his skin and traveling through his body.
His phone vibrates beside him—Harry. He’s sent an emoji of a banana and a violin. Louis schools
himself not to respond immediately, smiling instantly as his heart patters out of rhythm while Niall
watches with a buttery smirk.
“Right,” Niall grins as he gobbles up the last of his breakfast, lifting the guitar up properly and
settling his fingers against the frets. “Well, I bet I can. Finally fucked him, didn’t you?” he asks
unabashedly.
Louis nearly chokes to death.
“Absolutely not, Niall!” he splutters and, well, Louis never splutters. But his skin feels a bit
flushed and there are flutterings against his organs and. He’s spluttering.
With a warm laugh that mingles with the swirling sunlight, Niall begins playing guitar.