Young & Beautiful

XXXI
Chapter Summary
Harry trusts Louis.
Chapter Notes
THIS ISN'T THE ENDING. Promise.
Also, BIG, SPANKING THANK YOU to my sparkling betas, Tara and J. You
guys are too nice to me. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
As the second term of Louis’ first year in university goes by, so does his sanity.
It’s not because he isn’t enjoying himself—he truly is, and though he may despise his father for his
self-centered, ignorant ways, he can’t deny that he’s been given an incredible opportunity.
No, it’s more because everything seems to have changed, been turned on its head drastically and
irreparably…while simultaneously remaining exactly the same as it’s always been.
Niall still laughs by day, parties by night, leaving crumbs and odd odors in his wake, a trail of
cigar smoke, an echoed piano key; or sometimes Rory, much to Louis’ delight because it’s Rory
and he’s a comforting presence, especially if Louis is in need of another soul to fill the large,
elaborate flat on those particularly dark nights. And he makes a good cup of tea which Louis
always respects to a most serious degree.
But still, Niall is Niall and he fills the pauses in the day and leaves chaos in his wake. On those
particularly chilly mornings, he will barrel into Louis’ room—as he’s only just beginning to blink
bleary eyes open into blinding sun—and flounce onto the bed, wrapping Louis up in his arms.
“We’ve been nominated for a Brit and Grimshaw’s gonna meet with me about possibly doing a
mini tour! ‘Certain Things’ is still number one in seven countries! I’ve made it, Tommo! And I’m
only 20 years old!” he practically sings one morning, cheeks soft and blushed, hair damp and
smelling of quality soap and linen.
Louis groans, trying to push him away, clinging to the shreds of his dreams which were far more
pleasant than the reality that awaits him.
Which only makes Niall hold tighter, eyes closed blissfully as he snuggles in closer.
Nick Grimshaw? Firstly, no thanks.
Secondly, touring? With Des? The human timebomb? Absolutely not.
Thirdly, a Brit? Well. That’s not too shabby.