Young & Beautiful

Fuck. This. Day.
Niall shoots Louis (who successfully does not shit his drawers) one last confident nod before he
swings the door open and reveals—
Zayn.
Liam.
And Harry.
Louis’ stomach somehow sinks lower, maybe plummets to the center of the Earth.
“Lads!” Niall chirps, utterly surprised, as evident in his saucer eyes and agape mouth. “What are
you doing here?”
And now Louis really wants to die. He absolutely wants one of those cartoon anvils to fall from
the ceiling and crush his bones to bits because now, on top of everything, they’ve shown up?!
Right when Louis was mentally steeling himself for the onslaught of a father and son reunion, his
other life crisis is now on his doorstep?? Fucking really??
He can’t be near Harry right now, that poisonous blossom of mind fuckery and beauty. Can’t look
at him and his flower petal face. Not right now.
He tries to make his intentions clear when Niall glances back to him, completely clueless as to
what to do while Zayn calmly speaks.
“We just wanted to check on Louis,” he mutters, sleek black hair cutting against the pale sky, eyes
calm and sincere. He’s wrapped in a long, narrow, ebony coat with a black satin scarf twined
around his neck and he looks like a modern delicacy, like he should be kept behind glass. Liam
stands beside him, the collar of his gray trench coat popped high, a sleek button-up visible
beneath. He looks clean and concerned, his head lightly tilted as he stares inquisitively at Niall,
hand gripping Zayn’s elbow.
And oh fuck. How embarrassing is this? They’ve come to check up on the hot mess that was so
mentally and physically obliterated last night that he had to literally be carried by Harry and—
Oh god. Did Harry tell them all of this?
Do they know how he was barely able to say his own name? How he abandoned them all because
he was a selfish, emotional prick so he could fuck some nameless bloke and suck pills out of some
girl’s mouth? Is he going to have to answer their unwanted, disappointed questions and face the
complete SHAME of—
“Harry told us you got sick last night,” Liam says with worry, looking past Niall and attacking
Louis with his puppy’s eyes, concern etched in his strong brows. “Said you had an early night in.
We just wanted to make sure you’re feeling better—you left without saying a word!”
Louis stares.
What? What did Harry say? That Louis was…sick? He lied for him?
Okay. Louis can’t help it. He has to look at him.
So he does.