Young & Beautiful

Harry’s staring at him, standing behind the unit that is Zayn and Liam. He’s tucked in the
background, wearing a ridiculous yellow and black striped shirt and a black fur coat, but he looks
ripped from the pages of a fashion ad, shaded in grayscale and tucked in the back of a dusty
scrapbook. He looks fucking timeless and perfect and like his eyelashes whisper or some shit and
his face is soft like the petals of a rose and his eyes are like the green, piercing thorns that leave
scars and shit fuck bastard goddamn.
Louis is in love with him. This boy. This boy standing within reach. Louis is in love with this boy.
It’s horrid.
And it’s only more horrid when Harry stares at him, quiet, careful, his face a careful composition
while storms and floods thrash just beneath the surface, as evident in the flickers of his eyes and
the twitch of his Grecian Tragedy lips. Barely blinking, just breathing, just eyes and just curls with
a powder gray sky as a backdrop.
Louis needs to look away. Absolutely needs to look away because if his eyes convey one tenth of
the adoration he feels for this boy, then he’s fucked and he’s just…not ready for that right now.
Not today. Not this morning.
“I… Yeah,” he says, breaking his stare from Harry and feeling flooded. And yet dehydrated
because he’s so fucking hungover. “I got sick.”
Niall’s watching him now, completely at a loss and, most likely, afraid to speak for fear of saying
the wrong thing.
Zayn’s eyes flicker between them. “Something wrong?” he asks smoothly, and it’s not a question.
It never is with Zayn.
“Er. Maybe now’s not a good time for visiting,” Niall says, clapping a hand to Zayn’s shoulder as
Louis turns his back on them, walking deeper into the apartment.
Louis sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, through his greasy hair.
“What’s wrong with Louis?” Liam asks, almost panicked. “Louis?”
“Nothing, mate. He’s just… Family’s coming. On their way now. For a visit,” Niall supplies, and
Louis can feel the stares on his back.
“His mum?” Liam asks. “I thought they didn’t get on. She doesn’t like him or whatever.” Oh,
Liam.
“Er, no, not that parent,” Niall says, and he sounds so incredibly uncomfortable that this would be
hilarious in any other situation.
“His father?” Liam then surmises with incredulity and Louis sort of really wants to pelt them all
with rocks.
“Well—“
“Is he all right?” Zayn asks, his liquid voice laced with an edge of concern.
And then suddenly the voices drop and the mumblings begin. Which sort of sets Louis’ teeth on
edge.
One glance back reveals Zayn’s snakelike, inspecting eyes as he mutters with Niall, Liam’s wide,