Young & Beautiful

And just like that, Liam laughs delighted as always, and Zayn smiles slightly and Harry giggles as
he tickles the end of his nose with one of the roses, and Louis feels the very cells of his body
warming and reaching out to everything that he has come to know as home.
**
The year is crawling by, slowly reaching the end of the term.
Louis spends most of his time in textbooks and Harry’s arms.
“Sugar today?” Louis enquires as he prepares his tea.
They’re wrapped up on the floor, leaning against the couch and surrounded by mounds of
embroidered pillows with tassels and thick, woven blankets that stick to their socks. A silver tray
sits near their knees, set with a gorgeous tea set that Harry claims was made specifically for him
(and it’s so ostentatious and unnervingly charming that Louis doesn’t even doubt it). They pour
cup after cup, the steaming liquid tickling their noses as Harry breezes through poetry books and
Louis highlights playbooks.
He’s the very portrait of contentment, leaning into Harry’s warm, solid chest that breathes softly,
one of his hands absently brushing fingertips up and down along Louis’ arm, his other hand
propping up Keats’ Endymion, silently mouthing the words to his favorite lines. Sometimes his
lips will brush Louis’ ear when he leans in a bit or when he whispers his favorite words to him.
Sometimes he just skims his lips across his hair and neck and temple just because, his eyes never
leaving the page. It’s perfect, it’s intoxicating, it’s a little bit distracting seeing as how Louis’ doing
his homework, but it’s abso-fucking-lutely perfect and Louis would rather roll in thorns than ever
move from this very spot.
Harry blinks lazily at the question, rips his gaze from a particularly long verse as he glances at the
dish in Louis’ hand.
“Of course not,” he rumbles musically, pressing a smile into Louis’ hair.
Louis feels him breath him in, feels his deep inhale and it’s…
Wonderful.
“I will have nothing short of agave syrup,” he continues in a purr and Louis blinks, because that
was not what he was expecting. After a pause and more of Harry nuzzling into the side of Louis’
face, wrapping his hand that still holds his book gingerly around Louis’ chest, he adds, “It’s my
new thing.”
Louis snorts his laughter.
“Stop it, Styles,” he chuckles. “You’re ridiculous. We don’t have any Algonquin syrup or
whatever the fuck it’s called.”
“Agave,” Harry corrects, and Louis feels his smile form against his neck. “And yes we do. I
bought tons of it. It’s in my rooms.”
“Well, I’m not going to fetch it for you.”