Young & Beautiful

“Perhaps.” The tone is cold.
“You’re Louis’ father, then?” Harry continues, unaffected.
Louis bites his cheek.
“I am. Is he here?”
And Louis tries not to roll his eyes. Because really? They’re within arm’s length, for fuck’s sake.
“Um, he’s just beside you, actually,” Harry purrs, but his voice is…almost sharp? “If you just turn
around, of course.”
And Louis braces himself as he hears the shuffle of feet behind him.
“Ah. Louis.” The man’s voice couldn’t sound any less thrilled.
“Ah. Charles.” Louis turns around. “Long time, no see,” he continues, taking in the man’s
appearance which has changed so little—his eyes still sharp and his hair still speckled with gray,
his suit still pristine and his jaw still set. Louis doesn’t even bother painting on a smile, very aware
of everyone’s eyes on him. Very aware of Harry, whose face has returned to quiet and concerned
as he searches Louis’ face.
Charles nods once, lips slightly pursed, his light brown hair glowing golden under the crystal
lights and sun. It’s so odd to be in the same room as him, as if nothing’s changed and no time has
passed. It’s all just so fucking odd. Louis feels as though he’s dreaming. And he could be, to be
honest. This could be one long hungover hallucination. Hopefully it is.
“I presume your mother has told you why I’m here?” Charles asks, straight to business. As usual.
Fuck, it’s been so long.
“Naturally,” Louis continues, folding his arms. “You’re here to make sure you’re not wasting your
money.”
There’s a brief pause in which all the boys stare, Liam’s eyes practically bugging out of his head.
Niall’s eyebrows are raised, almost to his hairline, and Zayn’s eyes are narrowed, assessing.
Harry’s brows are furrowed, his gaze now firmly locked on Charles.
“Can you blame me?” is all the man replies, tilting his head.
Louis’ blood simmers. “Not a wink, Charlie. But even so. A bit more warning would have been
nice. I haven’t even had time to put out the fine china!” His voice drips with sarcasm.
Tension begins to fill the room. Liam shifts uncomfortably.
“Shall we talk somewhere more private?” Charles asks, eyes sharp.
“Splendid idea. This way,” Louis says, already mad, just mad, leading Charles to his bedroom.
Niall mouths to him, ‘You okay?’
Louis nods, biting on his tongue. He hears Zayn mutter a, “We should go, Li,” before he enters
his room, leaving the door cracked ajar as his father strides inside. He’s not going to shut the door.
The very idea of being trapped in a room with this man is the epitome of suffering.