Young & Beautiful

Are there people in the world who actually find this kind of conversation interesting?
“Ah, yes,” Louis fake-relates, nodding his head as he stares at a plant. “My father owns the British
space programme, so we’ve a bunch of old rockets and spaceships lying about.”
“Oh, do you?” Nameless Boy asks, intrigued.
For fuck’s sake.
“No. That was meant to be a joke.”
"Oh."
An awkward silence ensues.
“So…What does your father own?”
And then Louis officially un-invests himself in the conversation.
Since then, he’s stripped down to his trunks (and yes, he caught a few gazes so maybe he's not as
pasty and ill-shaped as he had thought) and has been swimming luxuriously, occasionally spotting
Liam and Zayn and having a laugh. Liam even hopped in the pool for a bit to keep Louis
company at one point, but Zayn never even changed into proper swim attire, opting to sit on the
marble benches to the side, elegantly smoking cigarettes and adjusting his fedora. Which doesn’t
surprise Louis in the slightest--Zayn doesn't seem like the type to splash around in pools.
Currently, Louis is lying on the cool floor of the room alone, staring up into the sunny blue sky
that peeks through the skylight. His hair is still damp, his fingers are still pruny, but he honestly
couldn’t care less, feeling relaxed and at peace with the world.
Perhaps he should text Niall.
It’s just as he’s reaching for his trousers that a large pair of feet saunter up to him.
And Louis prays, absolutely prays, that it’s not who he thinks it is. With agitation already building
in his stomach, he looks up.
And, yep.
It’s him.
Dressed in tiny pink swim trunks and nothing else. And, to Louis’ surprise, peppered with tattoos.
There’s a ‘G’ on his right shoulder, an 'A' on his left, and unfamiliar scrawls written near his
collarbones and down his left bicep. There are little images as well, like crowns and triangles and
diamonds and what may or may not be a doodle of a cat, and on his wrist is a tiny lock and what
appears to be the zodiac sign for Aquarius.
Interesting. (Not.)
“Well, hello,” Harry rumbles, staring down his nose at Louis. How appropriate for the egotistical
twat.
“Where’s Cleopatrick?” Louis asks pointedly, refusing to greet him in return.
“Zayn’s watching him,” he says smoothly, and offers his hand to Louis. “May I help you up?”
“Why do you think I want to stand up?”