Young & Beautiful

“I fucking told you, I’m just fucking looking for him to see if he’s all right! He fucking
disappeared, what do you fucking expect me to do?!” Niall spits, and he’s livid, absolutely livid,
bright and glistening and terrifying, his blue eyes like ice picks, ready to slice flesh.
Louis has never seen him like this.
“And why the fuck are you looking for him?” Harry growls, shoving him, his long, shadowy
body crowding in on Niall.
What the hell?
“He went missing, you cunt, I’m looking after him. Because, you know, he’s my mate? You have
a lot of fucking nerve after the way you treat him—“
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You don’t own the bloody kid!”
“Well, neither do you!” Harry snarls, and looms over Niall threateningly, teeth bared. “So just
stop!”
But Niall has never looked less afraid in his life. “What the fuck has gotten into you?” he asks in
disgust, shoulders squared. “I thought we were mates, yeah? What the fuck?”
Harry is blinking rapidly (blinking back tears?), his face contorted into a fierce scowl, his hands
fisted and shaking at his sides. He ignores the question. “Why do you care where he’s at? What
were you doing in there?” he demands, almost frantic and desperate, words wet with threatened
anguish. He's like a cornered animal. In so many ways.
“He’s one of my fucking best mates, fuck sake,” Niall cries, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“Why is this such a fucking issue?! I actually care about him. Unlike you, you goddamn selfish
cunt. You make him miserable, you know that? You—“
But then Harry moves forward, ready to strike.
“STOP!” Louis shouts, panicked and quick, rushing forward to catch hold of Harry’s arm.
Niall’s pupils are blown, adrenaline flowing through him, ready to fight, but one look from Louis
keeps him at bay.
He doesn’t release Harry’s arm.
“What are you doing?!” he asks, alarmed.
Harry won’t look at him. “Leave me alone.”
“Harry—“
“I’m fucking leaving—leave me alone!” he shouts, actually proper crying now, tears and
everything, and he rips his arm away from Louis, stalking off into the night. The very portrait of
an erratic, wilted mess.
Louis makes to run after him—his whole body is being torn apart, cell by cell—but Niall grabs
him.
“Let him go. Something’s wrong with him. Something’s seriously fucking wrong with him.”