Young & Beautiful

Giggling slightly, eyes planted on Louis, Liam mirrors the gesture, and Zayn full out grins.
“So then,” Louis says, licking his lips as he sets down the glass, “Are there going to be others at
this luncheon?” He motions towards the spread of empty seats.
Like clockwork, the low rumble of voices begins drifting into the room, the click of heals against
wooden steps echoing.
“Yeah,” Zayn replies unnecessarily, and his face is so flawlessly amused, staring openly at Louis
like he’s a comedy sketch with his cigarette dangling between two fingers, that Louis almost
wants to burst into laughter.
Because who are these people? And what are they made of?
Zayn is obviously made from smoke, wine, hair product, and the faded pages of a novel.
Liam is made of Hermes, polite conversation, teeth, and crystal.
Louis is probably made of bad breath, a short temper, and all the bacon he ate this morning.
At that moment, boys begin to pile into the room.
A slew of greetings are made, hands are shook, nods are exchanged, drinks poured, and eggs and
cheeses plucked from the baskets. The guests all look generally the same—male, beautiful, cleancut,
suited in summer colors, and smelling of the best oils and aftershaves the modern world has to
offer—and as they seat themselves, they each look to Louis but make no inquiry, too polite to
question his presence, and treat him with all the quiet respect of one who assumes they’ve met
before. One boy in particular, all ginger hair and sweet smiles (Edward, was it?) makes Louis feel
at ease, laughing at all his jokes and topping off his wine regularly.
The other boys are enjoyable as well, and Louis slowly begins differentiating between them all;
Matthew is a bit neurotic and blonde, George is aggressive and sporty, Philip is pretentious and a
total hipster, and Lyle is the living embodiment of every Disney villain ever.
But Louis finds himself charmed.
Eventually, after having heard Liam referring to him as “Louis” enough times, the boys begin to
catch on, and vice versa. And Louis can almost say he’s enjoying himself.
“Lads, lads,” he suddenly announces to the table, and the chatter and chuckles die down as
everyone looks to him. “I feel it’s only appropriate to make a toast, yes?” There are a few scattered
nods and even more bemused smiles. “Yes. So here’s to fucking up the first week of school, and,
of course, to Zayn Malik and his incredible ineptitude at holding down his liquor.”
There’s a brief and stunned silence as all eyes flick to Zayn, and yes, Louis is absolutely sure now
that nobody insults or takes the piss out of this boy. Actually, from what Louis has observed, they
don’t interact with Zayn much at all. He just sits there, laughing at the odd joke, observing one
and all on his throne, but he seems content out of the spotlight, enjoying the company of Liam and
his cigarettes.
He also just looks bored as fuck.
So, without apology, Louis turns to grin at Zayn who is openly grinning back, lounging in his
steep-backed wooden chair, limbs outstretched.
“Here, here,” Zayn smiles, raising his own glass. “And, of course, to our new friend Louis