Young & Beautiful

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For the next month, Louis finds himself engaged every day with Zayn Malik and co. His days are filled with wine and cigarettes, grassy plains, pastels, and luncheons. His nights are smoke and martinis and expensive cologne and dancing and leather seats pressed against his bum as they travel the city in limos, hopping to and from destinations and toasting life with the finest beverages money can buy.

He’s grown quite fond of Zayn Malik.

With his calm demeanor, unassuming eyes, and languid movements, he finds a strange kinship with the lad; he’s poetic without being pretentious and sweet without being phony. He paints in his spare time—Louis discovering that the stacks of beautiful paintings in his rooms are actually his own—and sketches anything and everything on bits of paper he finds before slipping them into the boys’ pockets unnoticed. He’s fun and easy and creative and generous and loyal, and every day Louis finds new things to laugh about with him, and new mischief to run with.

His other partner in crime, Liam, is also becoming a necessary fixture in Louis’ life, if not for the mere fact that Liam seems to worship him. He’s clean and professional, says the right thing at all times, and has gotten the lads out of many a sticky situation (particularly that time when Niall was discovered in the school fountain without any clothes on, unconscious and clutching a large Crockpot filled with confetti). He does it all happily, smoothes over the messes with pleasantries and cordiality, and then, just when they’re back in the clear and away from the prying eyes of their superiors, he lets loose a shit show and seizes all of life’s opportunities and throws them in the air, dancing and playing amongst them like falling rain. He’s full of life and can manipulate a situation to his best advantage—as he is a stunning businessman in the making—and Louis admires the joy and kindness that seems to come to natural to him.

Even if he can be a bit of a spoil sport on the odd occasion.

Still, surprisingly, Louis’ been able to keep up with his studies as well, occasionally able to successfully convince the group to hold sessions in the library or in Liam’s rooms which are tucked in the far corner of the school, wide and very un-distracting. Louis could almost say that he’s excelling at his studies even, if it weren’t for a particularly boring course, “The Study of Prose in Victorian Era Playwrights” which does nothing for his self-esteem or patience.

But he’s pretty sure he’s at least passing that course, so he doesn’t allow himself to worry. Too much.

He’s also successfully managed to thwart off his mum (who seems to be doing all right, according to his sisters’ Facebook messages) and he’s even managed to get a bit of exercise since Liam and Niall enjoy playing football at odd hours of the day, particularly after they’ve smoked and had their evening brandy.

All in all, Louis is winning at life.

There’s only one slight catch.

And it comes in the form of a curly haired, green eyed, pompous mouthed dandy who struts around like he owns the place and flits through empty passions like he does escorts. Because yes, every single fucking time Louis sees Harry, he’s got some new conquest on his arm, some new heart for him to mangle and press against thorns.

And oh, all the “new things” he gets into…it’s enough to drive a man crazy.

At each social event, Harry manages to paint himself even more ridiculous. Whether it be his three day obsession with yellow roses (everyone had to dress in yellow, and when they attended a symphony, Harry made them all throw yellow roses on the fucking stage) or his infatuation with the word “peafowl” which spurred him to litter live fucking peacocks on the lawn of Zayn’s lake house while they played croquet (“They’re my spirit animal,” he drawled), or his particularly annoying little stint where he fell in love with antique doorknobs and refused to open any doors that did not possess them, thus forcing others to open them for him all day, every day. (Louis took advantage of that one by slamming doors in his face at every opportunity he could get. It was rather marvelous, actually.)