Young & Beautiful

looking like he maybe weed himself. As soon as he’s gone, Louis and Niall burst into laughter.
“How did you know I needed saving?” Louis guffaws, drunk and relieved.
“I was keeping an eye on you. You have a very expressive face, Tommo. Can’t keep a secret to
save your fucking life.”
“The story was written on my face?” Louis laughs harder, and he doesn’t know why, but he
laughs and Niall laughs with him. Then he moves to leave, mussing Louis’ hair, but Louis grabs
his arm. “Stay, will ya? Pretend to be my boyfriend. I want to dance, Ireland. But I don’t want to
break any more hearts.” He winks the words out, feeling prickly and erratic and lost in too many
flashing lights and too much bass.
Niall laughs, hearty and booming, before nodding, immediately beginning to exaggeratedly grind
on Louis. It’s so fucking obscene and Niall looks so ridiculous and Louis can’t stop laughing as
they dance, dance, dance, everything just getting more ridiculous as they play it all up to the
highest degree. He can honestly say he never expected to spend the larger portion of his night
dirty dancing with Niall fucking Horan. Especially when he finds himself bent over, laughing
nonsensically, while Niall smacks his ass in time to a Katy Perry song. He briefly sees Zayn
laughing hysterically at them from a few bodies away, snapping pictures. He doesn’t see Liam, he
doesn’t see Harry.
Harry.
He doesn’t see Harry.
Like having been hit with a live wire, Louis jolts, immediately standing up, raising himself on his
tippy toes to look over the crowd.
“Where’s Harry?” he shouts as Niall begins winking at a cluster of boys who have gathered
nearby, admiring his skills. (Which is absurd and Louis will save that judgment for another time.)
“Dunno, mate. But I need to piss.” He takes off without a backward glance.
Louis’ eyes continue to search for Harry as he fights through the crowd. He’s even sweatier, even
messier, even dizzier, but he fights through color and sweat and vibration—and then he sees Liam.
Who is…sitting on the floor?
“Liam?” he asks cautiously, immediately going over.
His eyes are glazed over, his head leaned back against the wall. “Louis,” he smiles dreamily, once
he’s registered his presence. “When did you get here?” he sighs.
Louis frowns. He’s fucked up.
“What did you take?” he mumbles, helping him up.
Barely, Liam manages to stand, his crisp trousers now rumpled and stained. “I didn’t take
anything.” But he laughs almost manically.
“Where’s Zayn?” Louis asks.
“I lost him awhile ago.” Liam frowns as Louis deposits him on a velvet couch in the corner, near a
chipped wooden table and several empty glasses. “I had to go to the toilet. And then I never saw
him again…”