Young & Beautiful

this isn’t me being…whatever it is you think I am. All right? I just work differently. I’m not made
to keep people in my life permanently.”
“Fuck’s sake, Harry,” Louis manages, refusing to cry out his frustrations as he scrubs a hand
through his hair. What the fuck is happening? Is this real life? What the actual fuck? Must they go
through this bullshit every five fucking minutes?
He feels deflated. He feels like a fucking balloon that’s been deflated. That’s how he feels.
“I am truly sorry,” Harry continues, not sounding sorry at all. “But I wanted to tell you in person.
Alone.” He pauses, Louis’ steady breathing filling the silence. “You’re a good person, Louis. I’m
glad to have met you. But our time’s up.” He leans forward, tries to catch Louis’ eye.
“Understand?”
At that, Louis looks up into Harry’s barren, desolate eyes, filling his own with as much
vehemence and frustration as he feels.
“No, I don’t fucking understand,” he growls quietly. “I don’t understand this at all. We’re mates—
best mates, even—“
“I already told you we—we can’t—“ Harry stutters, looking away, his posture stiffening, eyes
fluttering in discomfort.
Louis ignores him.
“Every time you’ve acted like a tit and pushed me away, I’ve come back. I’m still fucking here. I
won’t leave—when will you understand that? Fuck’s sake, there’s no reason for this,” he
practically snarls, wishing he could dump his tea all over Harry’s perfect fucking hair and Disney
lips.
“Maybe we should have done this in private,” Harry murmurs with an exasperated sigh as a
spattering of eyes begin to drift towards them.
In private? Honestly?
Louis is done. So fucking done.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” he implores, reaching for his hand. He just needs Harry to talk. He needs
Harry to calm down, open up, and just talk. He needs to see the real Harry, the real shit that
swims beneath this hardened, creepy, off-putting surface of stone and cement. “What’s going on?
This isn’t about me at all, is it? Where were you when you were gone? Why did you leave? What
happened? Because something happened--you can't lie to me. I know something happened.”
Harry looks startled, staring as Louis wraps warm fingers around his hand, holding on firmly,
gently. He looks mildly terrified and faintly panicked but Louis doesn’t care. Just holds on.
“Nothing, Louis. I’m telling you—“
“Why did you come to my flat at nearly five in the morning? Why were you in the cold? Where
did you even come from? Why did you come to me, Harry? Why me?” he presses gently, but
there’s a desperate edge to his voice and he prays Harry can’t hear it. He doesn’t want to scare
him, doesn’t want to throw his own emotions at him.
But Harry already looks scared. Really fucking scared.
“Louis, please. I told you that, at one time, we were friends—“