Young & Beautiful

Niall must pick up on his inner turmoil because suddenly he’s crowding closer, inspecting Louis’
face and strengthening his hold on his shoulder.
“Tommo?”
“I’m in love with Harry Styles,” Louis blurts pathetically, burying his face in his sweaty hands.
And, nope, he did not intend on telling this to Niall but fuck, his defenses are down and his
stomach may or may not contain an army of poisonous insects gnawing on his intestines and his
fucking throat and head are pounding in synch—he’s only human, after all.
Anxiously, he peers at Niall from between his fingers.
“Yeah,” Niall replies, as if it’s just a detail. As if that’s not fucking huge. As if that’s not the
reason Louis’ world is currently undergoing the apocalypse.
He lifts his head, glaring. “What do you mean ‘yeah’? That is huge fucking news, you bloody
potato.”
Niall snorts, shaking his head as he begins dragging Louis up from the bathroom floor. “Hardly. I
have eyes, you know. And ears. And this lumpy thing called a brain.”
“That’s not your brain, that’s your dick,” Louis burps, feeling his stomach churn and, oh shit, he’s
still so thirsty and so sick and sort of hungry? And maybe cold but also hot?
A barking laugh escapes Niall as he guides Louis to the couch, his phone digging into Louis’ side,
before depositing him unceremoniously down onto it. “You are so weird.”
“I’m hungover as fuck and utterly heartbroken. I’m allowed to be as weird as I want,” Louis
groans, immediately wrapping himself up in blankets and shutting his eyes from the sunlight that is
too much.
Niall shakes his head, glancing once at the phone in his hand before smoothing his features and
sighing.
“Well then, go on,” he says, taking a seat at the end of the couch, settling Louis’ feet onto his lap.
“What happened? Talk to me and then… Then I have to talk to you.”
Louis peers at him from beneath the arm he’s just slung over his eyes. “Why do you need to talk
to me?” he asks suspiciously.
Instantly Niall’s demeanor changes as he shifts uncomfortably, refusing to meet Louis’ gaze. His
grip on his phone tightens and he knocks it against his knee unconsciously.
Something’s wrong. Yay.
If Louis currently didn’t feel like a medieval sewage system, he would absolutely be consumed
with worry and weariness. Maybe even be somewhere near livid or hysterical, given the fact that
Niall never worries or hesitates or feels whatsoever, so whatever’s gotten his panties in a twist
must be significant.
As is though, he just closes his eyes and swallows down some bile.
“You first,” Niall says, clearing his throat. “Where did you and Harry get to last night? What
happened? Why’d you two leave?”
“I didn’t go anywhere with Harry, you twat,” he croaks. “I left on me own! I swear, you are the