Young & Beautiful

everything is sharp and cold as he sits up in bed. His throat itches like it wants to be sick.
Niall. Is something wrong with Niall? Rory would know. Rory would call Louis if something was
wrong with Niall.
Suddenly, his phone begins vibrating in his hand again—it’s Rory calling for the twenty-fourth
time. His name flashes across the screen, bold and bright and terrifying, too bright for Louis’ tired
eyes.
He stares, feeling another icy streak of panic shoot through his entire body as he stares at the
screen before answering with one swift swipe, toes tingling and heart beating uncomfortably. He
can hear his sisters’ soft snores drifting from the hall.
It’s probably nothing. He’s probably just being paranoid. Niall’s probably fine.
“Hello?” he answers, and his tone is obviously stricken with worry, too discombobulated to
assemble any sort of poker face.
“Louis.” Rory’s tone is flat, almost hesitant. Sounds simultaneously relieved and apprehensive at
finally being able to reach him.
“What?” Louis asks immediately, maybe a little abrasively, but he doesn’t care. His hands clench
the sheets that have fallen to his waist. He can’t see, everything black and formless around him. So
quiet, save for the soft snores and his heartbeat.
“You better come back, Louis.”
His heart jumps into this throat at the firm words. He tries to swallow, over and over, tries to push
it back down so he can breathe.
“Why?” He’s keeping his breath even.
Dread. He feels dread. Something is wrong.
“You better come down,” Rory just repeats and Louis’ about to growl like a wild dog, when:
“We’re at St. Francis.”
Thud, goes the drop of his heart.
“Hospital?” Louis manages and there’s gravel in his mouth. “What’s wrong? Niall? What’s
happened to him? Is he alright? What the fuck, Rory?”
“We don’t know where Niall is.”
What??
“What does that mean?”
There’s a strangled sigh on the other end and Louis’ already pushing his sheets off, trying to blink
through the crust in his eyes and the heavy silence of night and dark.
“Just come back. It’s better to…” Louis stops breathing, stops moving, just listens. “It’s better if
you hear in person.”
Everything freezes around him as little acidic white spots begin blinking in Louis’ eyes.
“Tell me,” is all he says, but it’s in a tone unfamiliar to himself, one he’s never used before, and