Young & Beautiful

“No particular reason. He’s just a bit of a wild animal.”
“A wild animal," Louis repeats flatly. "Are we talking about the same person? He was like a
bloody houseplant!”
“I’m not saying he’s like Harry Styles. But he’s definitely a big partier. And he knows what
people want to hear.”
“He’s phony?”
“No, I don’t think he’s phony. I think he’s a nice guy but I also think he knows how to play
people. He’s smart. Extremely well-bred, as you’d say. Just keep that in mind, all right?”
“All right,” Louis agrees, watching Niall. “And Zayn, too? Should I watch out for him as well?”
“Nah. Unless you feel like you need to. But.” Niall pauses. “Just, watch out for Harry especially.”
Louis’ head might actually be spinning in circles. Too many warnings. Too much new
information.
“I thought you said he was this great guy that everybody loved. And that he wasn’t dangerous,”
he says, on the verge of exasperation.
“He’s not. But. He’s not right in the head, I don’t think.”
“I could’ve assumed that much.” Louis watches as Niall chews on his lip, surprised by the boy’s
sudden solemnity. “Do you have a specific reason why you’re saying this?”
“No, nothing specific. But I’ve seen him during some dark moments. And he fucks everything
that walks, as well, so don’t let him take advantage of you.” Niall gives him a hard look, tone
protective, hand firmly planted on the counter.
Louis grins despite himself. Because he now realizes that Niall is clearly being a mother hen. And
since his own mother (who hasn’t called since Louis left her that voicemail reminding her to focus
on his sisters and not him) never really gave helpful advice, Louis feels rather touched.
“Awwww, Nialler!” Louis teases, pinching his cheeks. “You’re starting to be all protective of me
like a mum!”
“Fuck off,” Niall laughs, but doesn’t deny anything.
“Well. I appreciate it, mate,” Louis says more seriously with a grin that he hopes displays as much.
“But next time they invite me to something, you’re coming with me.”
“Sorry. Not my crowd. Too pretentious and…weird. They have tea parties and play croquet and
talk about the theatre and…no. I’ve had enough of that growing up.”
“Hm, yes, well, you’re still coming. Now. Let’s play FIFA before you take me out to dinner, all
right? Loser gives Rory a piggyback all the way home from the pub.”
“Better rest your back then, Tommo.”
“Not a chance, Nialler,” Louis counters, and doesn’t even flinch at the nickname.
**
Two hours later, Louis’ phone buzzes with a text and his social life has become so monopolized