Young & Beautiful

Again, Louis glared, folding his arms across his chest and kicking a foot out, colliding it with
Niall’s shin. “No. Absolutely not. You’re here for me tonight and I have a lot of shit to sort out.
Now drink some water and sit back because I’ve got to start deciding whether or not to tell Harry
fucking Styles I’m in love with him and whether I want everything that goes along with that.”
“Like the cat statues?”
“Like the cat statues,” Louis confirmed before sighing and laying his head atop Niall’s shoulder.
They talked for about two more hours before Niall started snoring obnoxiously in the middle of
one of Louis’ soliloquies discussing the subtle differences between Harry’s amused smile and
Harry’s shy smile.
So.
Louis really hasn’t slept all that much. And waking up to the knowledge that Harry called him last
night—probably around the time he was insisting that his lips had the ability to unlock the secrets
of the world—is more than a little jarring.
But he sets his tidal wave of nerves (or feelings or butterflies or whatever the fuck it is that’s
swimming in his stomach) aside, instead focusing on waking up, getting dressed, and heading to
his lectures because, even if he leaves this term gutted like a fish because of potentially unrequited
love, he is going to do well. He is going to do well and he is going to succeed at this school.
Does that have something to do with Charles? No. Is he somehow, secretly, trying to prove to
himself that he really is smart and will be fine in life? No. Has their meeting only reignited the fires
of defiance and pride that only his own father can create within him? No.
No, Louis is independent and fine and unaffected. He just really wants good marks.
Still, though. He can’t help but think about Harry…
And he thinks he’s made his decision.
“Off to lecture?” Niall asks, pouring almost an entire box of cereal into an enormous goblet. And
where did that even come from?
Louis nods, tucking the ends of his scarf into his jacket. “It’ll be a short day, though. Only two
courses.”
“Cool.” Niall pours almost a gallon of soy milk into said goblet.
Louis eyes it wearily as he slides his feet into his Vans, one hand balancing him on the wall. “I’m,
er, gonna tell Harry today. About, you know. The feelings.”
The carton of soy plonks down upon the bronzed granite of the counter, Niall’s eyes growing
wide. “Yeah? You’re gonna grow a fuckin’ pair?”
“I myself would have phrased it better, but yes.” Louis tries to smile, his stomach careening, his
cheeks stiff with cold terror. How is he doing to do this if he’s already terrified?
Niall’s expression is warm as he clunks over to Louis, throwing his cream jumper-clad arms
around his body, hugging him tightly to his chest. His grin is wide and honest, shining like the sun
on snow, and he smells expensive and cozy and Louis feels his stomach spike even more, but this
time with affection as he smiles into Niall’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle.