Young & Beautiful

“You’ve no right to ask me these questions. I have no reason to answer them.”
“Louis.”
“Just go, for fuck’s sake,” Louis continues, voice nearing shrill. “This is fucking pointless! You
drove all the way here to look at me? Just go!”
“Louis,” he says again, more insistently, and there is a definite edge, the corners of the word sharp.
Sharp enough to cut at Louis at least. In places he didn’t know existed within him.
Why does he care? Why is this bothering him?
Why is his father here??
“I’ll be fine,” Louis says, quieter, almost to himself.
“Louis. You can’t expect the world to care about you,” Charles says as Louis stares at the space
on the floor between his feet. “Not when you have so little to offer.”
And that. That pings Louis. That pings Louis so fucking much.
And he’s just starting to feel his flair wilt, his resolve crumbling, his confidence swaying
unsteadily on its feet.
But then the door is pushed open.
“How fucking dare you say that,” a voice practically hisses.
Louis’ head snaps up.
Harry’s in the doorway, eyes positively livid. And Louis stops breathing.
Charles whips around.
“Excuse m—“
“You have no fucking right to come here and tell your own son that. You have no fucking right to
do that!” Harry’s nearly shouting, his face blotchy and pink, eyes wide and glistening. It’s like
he’s on fire, blazing and bright, sizzling and crisping, ready to consume the world and the sun
itself.
Louis’ jaw most certainly drops.
Is this real life?
And where did he even come from? Was he at the door listening?
“Your son—Louis—is brilliant,” Harry continues, taking a fierce step inside, eyes churning with
inner flame. His stance is adamant, impassioned, defiant. But his frame quivers ever so slightly, his
breath shaky, the line of his shoulders trembling, and Louis wonders if it’s from fear or feeling as
Harry plows on, never pausing for breath. “He’s genuinely smart—I should know, I tutored him
myself—and he can write a proper essay, yeah, and he can memorize an equation and calculate a
percentage and remember all of that trite bullshit. But he’s not just intelligent with his education.
He’s intelligent in every fucking manner you could conceive of. He—he sees people.”
His eyes are so, so bright. Glassy and glittery. Louis can’t look away. Can’t feel. Can’t even feel
his own tongue or his heartbeat or the cold floor beneath his bare feet. Can only feel Harry’s