Young & Beautiful

The trickle turns into a flood.
“Yeah?” Louis asks, feeling the moisture in his eyes return. “They said?”
Rory nods, a smile forming beneath tired eyes, hand still gentle on Louis’ back. And then it’s
gone.
“Come on. He’ll want to see you.”
**
Louis isn’t allowed to see Liam, which comes as no surprise. Secretly, he’s relieved. He isn’t good
with this stuff, doesn’t know how to handle it, and seeing Liam hooked up to machines, drained of
color and consciousness…. Well.
Louis’ secretly relieved.
But that’s all very much smashed as soon as he sees Zayn, pacing back and forth in the waiting
room, still in his satin lapelled jacked and trousers and slackened tie, polished shoes gleaming
beneath the fluorescent lights as the soles click against the floor. He’s pale as a ghost, his eyes
black, his entire demeanor erratic and bright like a dying star.
Louis stops in his tracks.
He’s never seen Zayn like this. Has only ever seen smooth, smoke-breathing Zayn with his quiet
understanding and loyal looks and lightning touches, has only been met with his lidded eyes and
half-smiles. Yet here he is, twitching and pink and pale and red around the edges and gray on the
surface and jumpy and weak and blurry, sparking like lightning, jumbled like a hurricane.
“Zayn?” Louis asks tentatively, upon approaching him.
He hears Rory walk away, leaving them alone.
Zayn immediately whips around, strained, glossy eyes finding Louis. Relief breaks through the
madness.
He doesn’t say a word, just bolts up to Louis and embraces him in a tight, unyielding hug.
Louis’ never hugged Zayn before. At least not while sober. It’s new to him, the way Zayn’s lithe
frame presses against him, his hair sleek and perfumed, his skin smoke-tinged and warm.
He holds on, unsure and a little disoriented, holds on because Zayn clings to him, and he can’t
even think to ask any questions, his mind and body blank.
Eventually, Zayn peels himself away, red eyes inspecting Louis with a fury that raises the fine
hairs on his forearms, his eyes smudged with exhaustion—emotional and physical.
“He’s going to be all right,” he says, but he doesn’t say it with relief. His voice shakes and the
words are barely holding themselves together, everything about him screaming agitation. “He’s
going to be alright which is the only reason I’m here right now and not fucking killing him.”
Louis frowns.
Not what he was expecting.
“Look, Zayn. I know Liam’s made some mistakes—“