young and beautiful || larry s.

chapter 27

As soon as Louis and his mum step through the door of his uni flat, Niall is suffocating him to death.

"TOMMO!" he bellows heartily, lithe arms squeezing every particle of oxygen out of Louis' small bones. Well, not small. Compact. "How've you been, mate? I've missed you! We've all missed you! Zayn told me to fetch you as soon as you came-they're all in his rooms!" He's golden and smiling and his blue eyes look like January and a fresh term, his thick knit jumper pushed to his elbows and his tennis shoes whiter than the snow that's already begun receding back into the earth.

"Easy there, killer," Louis says, brushing his fringe away, but he's smiling and the sight of Niall is, to be honest, sort of wonderful. Just seeing and smelling their flat in general brings a tidal wave of joy and relief, and though he's going to miss the girls (he's got Charlotte's gift tucked safely in his shoulder bag) and Stan and the quirks of his hometown, Louis is quickly beginning to realize that home is no longer confined to a single location.

Even the piano looks comforting right now.

"Niall m'dear!" Louis' mum exclaims, wrapping the bouncing boy in her embrace, and Niall laughs happily, hugging her like they've known each other for years.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it down," Niall says sincerely, kissing her cheek. "Got a bit wrapped up in youthful pleasantries."

Youthful pleasantries?

Couldn't make it down?

Was he invited??

Louis raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, it's fine, love," she says, smoothing out the wrinkles of his jumper. "I'm just happy to see you."

Louis successfully resists a snort. He's trying to be more supportive of the whole 'Niall is his mum's new best friend' situation. It seems to actually be helping her attitude about things, which is always welcome, so. He's biting his lips until they bleed, basically.

"Likewise," Niall says happily, and they chat a bit more as Louis unpacks-setting the photo of him and his family on his bedside table with care-and checking his phone every 4 minutes.

Because, see, Harry had texted him that he was coming back today. And, putting two and two together, it's likely that he's one of those people waiting in Zayn's rooms. Which is good. Just the fact that Harry has even begun texting him at all is good. And it's not like it's a lot or anything, and they haven't spoken on the phone since New Years, but Harry texts him, he does, and that tells Louis that Harry's thinking of him and that he cares. In some way he does.

Oftentimes, Louis will wake up to these texts-Harry always sends them late at night, creeping into morning-and sometimes it's just one word ('loblolly' or 'scurryfunge' or 'de profundis' and Louis has no fucking clue what any of those mean but that's sort of the majestic beauty of it all so he, maybe, takes a screenshot of each one), and sometimes it's just a tiny, insignificant, random sentence. Like saying, 'I wish I could sail,' or 'Bluebirds are the most beautiful bird in the world and they were made for the morning,' or 'I will never match the beauty of my vanilla candles.' And, on one such occasion, 'I should like to be a pincushion.' Sometimes he'll just send Louis quotes. ''I knew I should create a sensation,' gasped the rocket. And then he went out.' Or 'I believe in Willie Hughes.'

No, Louis hasn't memorized every text. Nope.

But that's it. Those are all the texts he gets.

To an outsider, each message may appear to be a tiny drop of nothingness. But to Louis, in some strange, intangible, inexplicable way, they hold the secret of a universe in them, and each word is sweet on Louis' tongue, and each word he cherishes.