Young & Beautiful

Louis beams.
“Well then,” he smiles, looking up at Niall.
Niall smirks. “He came by to apologize as well.”
Louis’ heart lifts. “Yeah?”
Niall nods. “I forgave him—he’s a good lad. Just…a bit fucked, innit?” He looks over at Louis,
fingers dancing upon the keys. “How much did you hear? Last night?”
Ah.
Stuffing his feet into his shoes, Louis shrugs. “A bit.”
“Do you know what it was about?”
And no. Louis doesn’t really know. He knows he had something to do with it but… That’s about
it.
“Not really, no.”
Niall nods, but doesn’t say anything more.
And normally that would absolutely not fly, but Louis needs to meet Harry for lunch and all he
wants to do is see Harry, so he lets it rest (for the time being) and stuffs on his jacket, pressing a
kiss to Niall’s temple.
“See you in a bit, Trouble,” he sings, making for the door.
“Have fun with the husband,” Niall smiles.
Louis refuses to react as he shuts the door. Even if his stomach does fizzle a little bit.
**
He sees Harry standing by the ice-encrusted fountain, near gates twined with dead ivy and tiny
beds of frost. He’s wearing his long black jacket, a purple sweater, and powder gray trousers that
leave nothing for the imagination, his long feet stuffed in sleek boots. A tiny flower is pinned to
his sweater—which should be hokey but is somehow poetic, the fucker—and atop his tumbling
curls is a timberwolf fedora, dressed in lilac silk.
Really, he should look ridiculous. But Louis finds that he wants to paint him. With colors and
textures that haven’t even been invented.
Harry watches him approach, his face even and smooth, his green eyes hurling the winter into
summer.
“Louis,” he nods, hands stuffed in the pockets of his open jacket.
“Curly,” Louis beams, the sun in his eyes. “You caught me first.”
“Caught you?” Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow.
“I was going to find you this morning—but it looks as though you’ve found me first.” He smiles
wide, brandishing the note that he’d tucked carefully in his pocket. Did he enjoy the comfort of
brushing his fingers along it as he walked here? Maybe. But that’s nobody’s business but his own.