Young & Beautiful

too much to bear, and who has just opened his veins for Louis.
Here is this boy telling Louis that he wants to know him. That he, who has never let himself love,
who has never opened himself up to the vulnerabilities of the world, who laughed at Zayn’s love
because it was too serious, is telling him that he wants Louis to know him.
To know him.
To know all the secrets and the dark spaces. To unlock the padlocked doors and scour the dark,
dusty passageways where nobody has yet tread and...
And the fact that Louis is waxing just a little too poetic right now is all the proof in the world he
needs to know that he's gonna go for it. He’s going to tell Harry he loves him, that he’s in love
with him, is going to scoop him up in his arm and kiss the shadow monsters away, press his lips
against every wound and pour the contents of his soul—
“I just…really need a friend right now,” Harry says, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. “What I had
with Zayn… I miss it.”
And poof!
The dream is popped.
Louis deflates instantly.
…Friend?
“It’s different with you, Louis,” Harry says, quiet and sincere, eyes so, so big and bursting with
dusty green shimmer. “I never wanted anybody in my life after that. I never wanted people, you
know? Like…I don’t—I can’t feel things. Not like normal people do. Not like everybody else.
I’m, like, I’m just…” He drifts off, unable to find the words. Find the words that press into the soft
parts that are left within Louis. “I can’t grow attached to shadows. They’re gone as quickly as they
come and, like, I just don’t feel things. I don’t, like, care properly, I guess. But. You make me feel,
Louis. You just do. And I’m not used to it and, like…I don’t even know if I’m doing it right. But
you make things different. You make me want what I don’t want with anybody else. A friend
again. A real friend.”
“Friend,” Louis repeats faintly, and he’s trying, he’s trying so hard to be okay with this because
this is what Harry needs. He’s just heard it all, all the shit in Harry’s messed up fucking life and it
makes sense on paper, it does, that Harry needs a friend before he needs a romance but it hurts.
It hurts so much.
Harry nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah. You’re different. You’re worth it, Louis.”
Stab stab stab, goes the knife in Louis’ ribcage.
The moon is out. Its beams stream through the thick velvet curtains. It dances upon the glinting
keys of the piano, it slices the floorboards, it frosts the surface of the blankets on the bed. It’s like a
dream. Everything’s bright and murky and dark. All at once.
“I’ll be whatever you need me to be, Harry,” he finds himself replying. And it doesn’t hurt as
much as he thought, maybe because he’s numb. Or maybe because he really just loves Harry that
much that it’s become one of those selfless kinds of loves that, apparently, really do exist.
Which is fucking excellent.