Young & Beautiful

arely above a whisper, maybe to himself, he says, “I tried so hard to be.”
Louis’ ribcage might be smashed. Louis’ stomach might be disintegrating. Something horrible and
lethal might be happening inside of him.
“Why?” Louis asks. “After everything you just said…”
“I meant every word.”
Louis swallows.
Too much.
“I wanted you to mean it,” he says, all that feeling beginning to break free and flood his limbs. He
takes a step forward and it’s almost beyond his control, what his body is doing, as he raises a hand
to Harry’s cheek. He’s almost seeing white, his body fucking betraying him, his mind going
haywire, but it’s like he’s under a spell as he stares at Harry, his pale, cool skin so soft beneath
Louis’ hot hand. “I don’t want you to get rid of me anymore, Harry.”
He shakes his bowed head, looking almost as if he’s scowling, his body relaxing under Louis’
touch. “I couldn’t if I tried. It’s too late.”
“Too late?”
Harry finally looks up, eyes glazed once more.
“You’re all right, though?” he whispers, face softening.
Louis nods, daring to brush his thumb across the smooth plane of Harry’s cheek, softening the
boy’s gaze even more.
Relief pools in his eyes. “Good.” He bites his lip, looks away. “I’m sorry about your father. I
know… I know how hard it can be.”
And that he does. Harry most certainly knows the hardships of a shitty father. Of a shitty family.
And right now, with Louis practically spilling with unbridled emotions—emotions he hasn’t had
to feel in years—and an overwhelming sense of displacement and the very real question of his self
worth that has been thrust into his mind… Well. He wonders if this is what it feels like to be
Harry. If these are the emotions he carries with him every day. If that’s why the option of
‘emptiness’ is so appealing and hedonism is so frantically desired.
The thought bowls Louis over and all he wants to do is grip onto him. He wants to hold the little
fucker that’s imprisoned his heart, and, god. He’s in love. He’s in love with him. And fuck, he
needs to calm down. He needs to be alone.
He’s so overwhelmed.
Luckily, it’s at that moment that Harry’s milky rumble interrupts the silence.
“I need to go,” Harry says softly, grabbing Louis’ wrist with both hands and gently removing his
hand from his cheek. “I’ve…I have dinner with a professor.”
Louis nods again, feeling so much that he feels nothing.
“But tomorrow evening. I’m having a small dinner. Just us lads. My rooms. You’ll come?” he
asks, beginning to back towards the door, eyes distantly hopeful and set on Louis.