Young & Beautiful

“Oh, excellent. Is this a Black Petite Lancero?” Niall inquires, bringing the thing to his nose to
sniff for no apparent reason. Louis will never understand the ways of the rich.
“It is. The only kind I like. In August, at least,” Zayn adds, and his smile widens at Niall’s
cackling laughter.
“Cheers, mate,” Niall laughs, raising his teacup.
The china clinks as they meet, sending Liam into little sugary smiles as he takes a bite of a
croissant, while Louis looks between the two, eyebrows raised. How is it that Niall becomes best
mates with every. single. person. that’s in the same room as him? And just what the fuck is a
‘Black Petite Lancero’?
“You really are the social little butterfly, aren’t you?” Louis sighs, shaking his head as Niall grabs
a fistful of scones.
Niall shrugs, and begins slathering on the jam. “I’d like to think I'm more of a dragonfly and less
of a butterfly, but it’s all good, mate.”
And Louis is just about to deliver a witty response when suddenly Niall’s gaze focuses on
something just beyond Louis’ shoulder.
“Harry, mate!” he exclaims, immediately standing up and walking towards the source of all evil.
Louis turns around to see Harry gliding into the room, wearing a pale yellow suit, a prominent
Native American necklace (this one looks a bit more like a dream catcher) and his signature bow
tie, looking very much like the cat who got the cream.
And oh, would you look at that. He’s brought guests again—this time a beautiful boy and a
beautiful girl.
How endearing.
“Niall Horan,” Harry greets in his velveteen voice, shaking hands and smiling charmingly. “How
are you, m’boy?”
“Not as good as you apparently. Who are your guests?”
“Oh. This is Roxy and Lullaby.”
Lullaby? Someone’s name is Lullaby? Really?
“Which one’s Lullaby?” Louis asks as they stand on either side of Harry and stare at him like he’s
Jesus.
But apparently Harry is still ignoring Louis’ existence.
“Let us indulge now. After you, my darlings,” Harry smiles, allowing Niall, Roxy, and Lullaby to
walk ahead.
The girl is stunning, with powder blue hair and a white dress that hangs off of her bony shoulders.
The boy is even more stunning, his silken gold hair tousled above lavender eyes--hello, contacts.
His clothes are artfully disheveled, in the way only buckets of money can create.
“How are you, Harry?” Zayn asks and though his tone is slack, his eyes are careful.