Young & Beautiful

“To talk to me. I’m lonely up here.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Harry just grins back, wide and unapologetic, his hand still outstretched. And, once again, Louis
could almost believe his flirtatious sincerity—if it wasn’t for those fucking eyes. That completely
unnerving stare that's going to start haunting Louis’ nightmares if he’s not careful.
Still, Louis takes his hand, if only because his bum is beginning to hurt, and stands up briskly.
And then Harry kisses his hand.
He actually kisses his fucking hand, cold lips pressed against warm flesh.
“This isn’t Disney. You can stop now,” Louis mutters in a wry tone, wrenching his hand away.
“Hey. I was merely being polite,” Harry smirks, curls brushing into his lazy eyes.
“I’m sure.”
They stare at each other, Harry grinning winningly, hands behind his back, Louis eying him with
suspicious distaste.
“Why are you trying to pull me again?” Louis suddenly asks, voice hard as he folds his arms.
“I’m not. Never was! I’m just trying to have a nice conversation,” Harry purrs, before glancing
down at Louis’ very appealing trunks. “Not that I wouldn’t mind having a go, of course.” And the
sentiment is rude and demeaning, but Harry matches it with his dimple and tilted head, and Louis
can understand why he ensnares so many unwitting victims.
Unfortunately for him, Louis is far from unwitting.
“You’re vile, you know that? None of your child’s tricks are going to work. I actually have a soul,
something you are clearly unfamiliar with.”
Harry’s smile falls just the tiniest bit, and Louis once again sees that flash in his eyes—that brief,
fleeting moment of actual emotion that is too momentary to place. And then, once again, it’s gone.
“Are you intimidated by my tattoos?” he suddenly asks, and Louis actually starts at that, because
—what? Was that line actually just used? And completely out of nowhere?
“You mean, am I intimidated by a bit of ink that’s been stabbed into your skin? Or do you mean
the actual images themselves? Because neither are anywhere near intimidating, I can promise you.
A silverback gorilla—now that’s intimidating,” Louis says, mustering all the judgment he
possesses and pouring it on Harry, flicking hair out of his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.
“What if I got a silverback gorilla tattoo?”
“Still no. Do you want me to be intimidated?”
“Do you want to be?”
“No, for fuck’s sake. You really are thick.”
“I’m actually a genius. A prodigy, even. All my tutors tell me so.”
“That’s cute. For being a genius, you’ve got an awful lot of stupid tattoos.”