Young & Beautiful

concerned (or is it pitying?) eyes set on Zayn in watchful caution. Niall’s muttering in low tones to
them, his back a little more taught than usual, his foot jiggling as he continues to hold the door
open, knuckles white.
But worse than that is Harry. Who is still staring. Just staring.
And Louis refuses to stare back.
“All right, lads. Hush your whispers,” he suddenly announces, turning around and making his
way back to them. He won’t look at Harry, won’t let them whisper about him when he’s in the
same fucking room, won’t let any of this affect him, won’t look at Harry. Harry who he’s in love
with. Fuck. “Yes, my father is coming. No, I haven’t seen him since…I don’t remember when. So
today’s an exciting day. But I think I best put on some clean trousers and just plunge head first
into it, yeah? Now, you’re welcome to stay, of course,”—he prays they won’t stay—why would
they stay?—“but I’m going to be terrible company. Thank you for coming, I appreciate you lads.
Best mates I could ask for, really.” He grins, hoping his smile is unaffected and his demeanor
relaxed.
But, of course, Zayn sees right through him.
“You don’t have to pretend, Louis,” he mutters, lidded eyes cutting through Louis’ soul on a tidal
wave of eyelashes. “And we can leave, if you like. No fuss.”
Louis blinks.
“Or we can stay!” Liam offers, hopeful.
Harry remains silent, not even moving a muscle.
At a loss, Louis looks to Niall. Because what should he do? He wants them here, wants the
comforts of his friends, he does. But is it selfish? To pull them into this mess of a situation? And
worse yet, there’s Harry—who he can’t even look at it because he’s afraid he might do something
insane like kiss his palms or tuck his curls behind his ears while he smells his neck.
Niall stares back with wide, vacant eyes. He raises his hands in surrender. “This is out of my
league, man. Your call.”
Another moment of silence passes, with Zayn gently studying Louis, Liam glancing between the
two worriedly, and Harry never blinking.
He has no idea what to do.
“I can leave if you’d prefer,” comes Harry’s quiet voice, out of the blue.
As one, all eyes turn to him, Zayn and Liam craning their necks in surprise. Harry’s eyes never
leave Louis, though. Sad, cautious, imploring. It physically hurts to keep his gaze.
“No,” Louis finds himself responding almost automatically. Because, no, he really doesn’t want
Harry to leave. Sure, it hurts to be around him. But the idea of him leaving? It hurts more. “Stay.
Please,” he emphasizes, and all the worry, the panic, and distance in Harry’s eyes part, leaving
way for a softness that splinters Louis’ fucking soul.
There’s so much unsaid between them. So much. And all they can do is stare.
“Come on in, then,” Niall barks happily, stepping back, interrupting Louis out of his reverie.