Young & Beautiful

VI

“Oh my GOD, that was the most insufferable human being I have ever encountered in my entire existence!”

Louis, still passionately irate, has just burst through the door to their flat, eyes seeking Niall instantly.

He’s on the couch, limbs outstretched with one arm on the back of the sofa, discarded crisp bags everywhere, empty beer bottles at his feet, and clad in track pants and an American basketball jersey as he looks up from his laptop, tellie blaring whatever footie match he’s currently half-watching.

“That bad, eh?”

“Oh, it was WORSE,” Louis exclaims, kicking off his shoes and ripping off his jumper. “I did not know people like that actually existed. I mean—I can’t believe we’re the same species. I can’t believe we’re made of the same stuff—surely there’s a computer chip in him somewhere because that is not a human being, Niall, no, that is a robotic monster with no sense of decency or feelings of any nature!” He’s out of breath from his exuberant tirade, and he stares at Niall wildly, trousers half-done.

Niall’s eyebrows shoot into the air, pausing before he brings a bottle of beer to his lips while Louis storms into his room.

“Really? He always seemed all right to me.”

“All right?? ALL RIGHT??! Niall, have you any brains in that blonde, liquored head of yours?? Has your silver-spooned upbringing clouded your sense of judgment that severely??” Louis splutters, pausing his actions of stuffing on an oversized vest (which might also be Niall’s, he can’t remember).

The rest of the beer is finished in one gulp. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’ve got pretty good judgment. I’m starving—dinner soon?”

But Louis ignores him, his face flushed with all the fury of a thousand suns.

“Niall, I’m going to set him on fire! I am! Honestly, I’m not even sure how I’m going to manage existing around this wanking, piece of shit, ponce-assed, fucking—“

“Whoah, whoah,” Niall interrupts, holding up his hands in what Louis assumes is supposed to be a soothing action. “He can’t be as bad as you say. You’ve only been gone for a few hours!”

“A few hours too many, let me tell you!”

“Well, what happened? What did he say?”

“What did he say? WHAT DID HE SAY?? He said everything! He talked about himself, he talked about his conquests, he talked about his money and his—“

“He talked that much?” Niall blinks, standing up and making his way to Louis (who is now sitting at the table with his fists clenched). “He always seemed so quiet.”

“Is that a joke? You trying to be funny again? No, he’s not fucking quiet. He yaps and yaps and yaps like a little curly fucking…poodle,” Louis finishes with angered triumph, and he glares his frustration at Niall for good measure, thumping the table.

“Zayn? Zayn Malik. Zayn Malik yaps like a poodle,” Niall reconfirms as he leans over the table across from Louis, arms braced.

Louis starts. “Who—what—Zayn? No. No! God, Niall, no, not fucking Zayn Malik! He’s all right, seems like a good enough lad. No, Harry Styles! And, oh God”—Louis brings his hand up to his mouth—“I can’t even say the name. I’m going to be sick from just voicing it.”

“Oh, Harry?” Niall says, surprised. He stares at Louis for a moment before a small laugh escapes him, his features set in sunny amusement. “Yeah, I figured he’d be there. You don’t like him?”

Louis stares. “Is that a fucking joke?”

Niall grins. “But everybody likes Harry Styles,” he mocks, and thumps down into the chair opposite Louis.