Young & Beautiful

lined shoulder. “I’ve heard Harold’s words.”
“But you’ve not heard mine.” Louis’ face is hard, refusing to look at Harry for fear he might
actually break, crumble apart. He can’t do that in front of his father. He refuses to give him that
satisfaction.
Charles pauses, surveying Louis, conflict marring the cutting blue of his eyes.
“Perhaps we can attempt another meeting,” he finally says. “At another time.”He looks as if he’s
about to say something more, and Louis perks, opens his ears, finding himself almost craving the
unspoken words, but then nothing comes. Nothing comes, and his father leaves, brushing harshly
past Harry.
Leaving Harry and Louis.
And a heart that feels so, so damaged.
“Where did the others go?” Louis asks, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly. He tries
to push thoughts of his father away because, really, there’s no reason to think of him now. There’s
no reason to be sad. Not after all this time. Why doesn’t his body understand that?
It’s all just too much.
“Zayn’s,” Harry says quietly, eyes sad as he watches Louis fidget, fiercely blinking back tears.
“Wanted to give you some privacy.”
“I see. And what about you, then?” He tries to lift his voice, force it into clarity and nonchalance.
He wants to feel casual.
Harry purses his lips, staring with wide jade eyes. “I didn’t like him.”
Louis quirks an eyebrow. “So you stayed here with him?”
Silence.
“The way you spoke to him…” Harry finally says, voice barely above a whisper. He seems
dazed, shocked almost. “He’s your father. And the way you spoke to him.”
“He deserved it,” Louis says, frowning.
Harry nods immediately. “He did.” And it’s almost as if something is dawning, a light clicking on
behind his eyes.
There’s a heavy moment, one where Harry is somewhere else, eyes caught up in distance, and
Louis feels his whole body crackling with electricity because he’s in love with Harry and, for
some reason, it’s so painfully present. All the time, all of a sudden. Especially now, when his heart
feels misshapen and brittle and Harry’s words still echo in the room. And there’s so much unsaid.
“But you’re okay? Today? Now?” Harry finally asks, voice scratchy and faint, his eyes
refocusing.
Louis stares at him, hard, tries to search the frail eyes before him, the flushed cheeks. “I thought
you were over me,” he says bluntly, and he feels his face contorting, feels it droop with sadness
and all the plagues within him.
Harry closes his eyes, bows his head. “I wanted to be.” His brows pinch together tightly. Quieter,