Young & Beautiful

Louis watches him closely, gazing at the hollows of his cheeks, the pomegranate of his mouth.
Niall’s eyes flit between them as the silence settles.
“Right,” he finally says, still glancing between Louis and Harry and taking a healthy step back. “I
think I’ll just grab some breakfast. That bakery around the corner. Text me if you need anything or
want a Napoleon or some shit.” He shoots one last amused smirk at Louis before turning around
and zipping up his jacket, clomping to the door in his giant white Nikes.
“Um,” is all Harry says, and Louis perks, immediately walking up to his side, searching his face.
“Are you hungry?” he asks instantly (settle, Tomlinson, settle) as his shoulder bumps Harry’s. He
stops himself from brushing the hair off of Harry’s forehead to inspect him closer. At this rate, he'll
be attempting to swaddle him in nursery blankets and change his diaper.
Settle, Tomlinson.
Harry meets Louis’ gaze, startled and quiet. His eyes are dark, etched in lines and teetering on
grumpy as he takes a tiny step back and nods, placing distance between them.
“A bit, yeah.”
“When’s the last time you ate?” Louis clucks, mother-henning the shit out of him, and he really,
really wants to find that shovel so he can crack it over his own head because what has gotten into
him??
Harry’s thoughts seem to be on a similar track because he looks downright terrified, taking another
step back. “It’s been awhile I guess,” he mumbles quietly, staring closely at Louis, brows knitted.
Of course it has been. The boy’s probably starved.
Fuck.
“Right then. Ireland, get us tons of food—as much as the bakery has to offer!” Louis announces
boldly, turning around to face Niall, hands on hips.
Niall grins, is about to respond, when—
“You go,” Harry says softly, poking gently at Louis’ shoulder.
Louis spins back around, eyes surprised. “Me?”
Harry nods, eyes locked with Louis’, head tilted down ever so slightly. “Yeah, go with him. Bring
me back the best, yeah? You—“ Harry swallows, his eyes falling to the floor briefly before he
brings them back up, a tight smile widening his lips. “You know my taste better than him. I
couldn’t possibly eat a Napoleon on a Saturday.”
His voice sounds off. Something about Harry is off.
Louis’ innards twist a bit, but he smiles, nodding. “All right, then. Text me if anything in particular
inspires you. Otherwise I’m just going to get you the ugliest thing they have, okay? I know how
you like ugly things,” Louis says cheekily, donning his jacket.
A light laugh escapes Harry, sending Louis into pools of relief.
He really needs to stop caring so much.