Young & Beautiful

“Because he always has been,” Liam had said simply, glass in hand, jacket buttoned to the top. He
crowded closer to Louis with delighted eyes, lowering his voice. “Even when his mum died.”
“So Niall said,” Louis murmured, sipping his drink, eyes on Harry across the room.
Liam’s eyes glinted, his smile secretive. He inclined his head closer to Louis’. “Heroin overdose.
Harry was away at school. I heard that when they told him, the only thing he said was that he
needed to go shopping for the right outfit.”
Louis had shaken his head in disgust.
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s Harry,” Liam had said, and smiled wide when Louis turned to him, incredulous.
But now.
Now Harry is here, on the floor, bemoaned and speaking of his mother and Louis’ mind is
clicking and whirring and the story that he had once pieced together, the bits he had been fed and
had swallowed without question, are now jumbling together and breaking apart.
And Louis doesn’t know what to think.
“Harry…” he says, bereft of words and oxygen.
“Gemma told him that I’d found her,” Harry continues, sad. Sad and staring at his hands, lying
limp on his thighs. “Because she’s mad. She wants to get at me because I never helped her—but
she wouldn’t let me help her, Louis! So she told father that I’d found her.”
The words don’t make sense. There is so much happening. Louis’ heart is in his throat.
“But the joke’s on her,” Harry continues in a laugh, cold, small, sad. “Because she doesn’t want to
see me. My mum doesn’t fucking want me!”
“Harry—“
“He’s so mad, Louis,” Harry whispers, gripping onto Louis’ elbows as tight as he’s gripping onto
his. “He never wanted me to find her. That’s why he made her leave after I’d found out who she
was.”
Louis’ head is spinning.
What?
What?
“Harry, what are you talking about?” Louis practically begs, overwhelmed, trying to search
Harry’s drunken, manic eyes.
This is not what he expected. This is not what he expected.
But Harry doesn’t answer, he never answers, just hangs his head, hands still gripped onto Louis’
elbows.
And then the door swings open.
“Harold!” Liam calls happily, walking into the room, Zayn trailing behind him, cigarette pinched