young & beautiful | harry's pov

viii.

Wednesday begins as a mess.

Not physically, no. It begins almost too smoothly, which almost bothers Harry. As usual, he was all smiles and nods, with an occasional cackle he would give out exaggeratingly, for effect, of course, as he meandered his way around the school, an Oscar Wilde book in hand. Many expressed their happiness of him being back, which he thanked absently, before wandering off again. It was the usual, the ordinary, and almost going his way too well.

It was what was happening in his head that drove him mad.

Because his father was still gone. He had no idea where he'd gone. He's sent people everywhere, to scout for him. He's searched every single possible place he could think of, yet the fucker has set off, disappeared. It worried him to no end, because he knew Des wasn't stable currently and he's probably fucking high off coke and whatever else he does.

He was panicking.

He's growing more and more impatient, his foot tapping slowly growing more rapid as the day drags on, his heart beating faster and faster, as he bombards the people searching with phone calls, desperate for any hint that his father is okay.

But nothing comes.

"There's no sign of him yet", "We'll find him soon, don't worry", and of course the "He'll come back soon, I promise" calls that echo throughout the phone, and he nearly fucking screams at them, almost throwing his phone across the room, for saying shit like that. Because he knows the last one wasn't true. That asshole isn't going to come back, unless someone finds him. He'll just fuck himself up more and more, until he eventually fucking overdose or pass away from the sheer amount of drugs and alcohol he uses, if his absolute insanity doesn't get to him first.

So Harry worries.

As he gets a text from Zayn asking him to come to his rooms, Harry stands from the table, glad to have some sort of distraction. He gets up, approaching a large nearby group of people, a slew of females and two males, asking them to come with him to Zayn's rooms. They agreed, of course (because who in the right mind wouldn't), as the girls squealed in happiness and the boys grinned. They crowd him with thank yous and and praises, and Harry thinks that maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to forget about his father.

So the hands link, the crowd moves, and Harry is swept away, to Zayn's flat.

**

If Harry could take back everything he said about distractions, he would. Because Louis Tomlinson is here, again.

Every moment from when Louis took care of him came rushing back to him.

After nearly a fucking week of not seeing him, and the constant worry of his father, Louis had almost completely slipped his mind, with the exception of last night. He didn't think he'd be seeing him this soon.

He stares, as his lips tug into a forced half sneer, as he clutches his champagne glass tighter, firmly sticking his pinky out, ebony coat and bowtie on full display. He tries his best to glare at Louis.He didn't even have the motivation to do that, however, and he's pretty sure he just looks empty.

Kind of like everything, recently.

He doesn't even want to glare at louis.

Harry had to admit to himself. He was actually kinda thankful that Louis took care of him that night.

But he sure as hell isn't gonna tell anyone that.

"Well, well, Shady's back," he hears Louis mumble, and he watches as Louis glances back, hands in his pockets.. But it wasn't a glare, no. It was, awkward?