Young & Beautiful

Zayn sighs, pulls him in to brush his lips across his cheek.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it. If it’s anything less than what you want I’ll rip you out of there
myself and take you somewhere better—anywhere in the world.”
Liam smiles, pleased and cooing.
“I love you,” he simpers.
“Love you, too,” Zayn replies, easy as air, before ushering him over to the table.
They sit down, Liam immediately commenting on the beauty of the flowers—which almost
knocks Harry off his feet with how hard he is positively preening—and everything feels so normal
and familiar that it takes Louis a moment to notice that there is one chair that is still yet
unoccupied.
“Niall?” he enquires, turning around.
He’s still at the window, hovering on the outskirts of the room awkwardly, his entire demeanor
hesitant and cautious. His frown clashes with the light of his face, his summer blue eyes cloudy.
Wrong wrong wrong.
“Niall, have a seat, pull up a chair,” Louis says, smiling invitingly and sweeping his hand over the
table. “Don’t be shy.”
Niall just bites his lip, doesn’t move a muscle.
“Yes, please do,” Liam smiles, plucking the napkin off the table with one hand and gesturing to
the chair beside him with the other. “It feels like ages since I’ve seen you, mate. I miss you!”
Liam’s face is wide, innocent, and smiling like the gleaming china before them.
He probably has no idea that Niall’s been as fucked up as he has been over the entire ordeal. No
—scratch that. He absolutely has no idea.
“If you’re sure,” Niall says, low and quiet. Wrong.
Liam tilts his head, his smile turning quizzical.
“Of course I’m sure. Come on, then.”
There’s a beat and then Niall smiles, walks over and takes a seat, smiling wider as Liam beams at
him.
“Thank you for coming,” Liam says sincerely.
Niall’s positively shining now. “Thanks for having me, mate.”
And maybe Zayn, Louis, and Harry are all watching the two with watery smiles. And maybe it
gets the tiniest bit awkward when the other two boys turn to them, raising their eyebrows at the
three sets of eyes intently fawning.
“Well, then,” Louis announces, clearing his throat and attempting to maintain composure. But he
can’t stop smiling because Niall is smiling—proper smiling—and this is the most normal it’s all
felt since everything happened. And fuck, his body feels oddly close to being emotional and fuck,
why do his eyes keep doing that? Why is there moisture??