Alaska

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/980098.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: One Direction (Band)
Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson
Character: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Eleanor Calder, Liam Payne, Niall
Horan, Zayn Malik (mentioned)
Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Alaska, Louis wearing Harry's clothes basically, tea too, a
lot of it, physical abuse in chapter 16, and then mentionings of it for the
rest of the story, Stockholm Syndrome, Top!Harry, bottom!Louis, Sort of
at least, it's been one year already, it feels like yesterday, LOOSELY
based upon Stolen by Lucy Christopher, I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO
ADD IT IM SO SORRY, disturbing relationship, harry's disturbing and
gross bye, i feel bad for making him like this, sex in chapter 18 ithink,
maybe 19 i cant remember, also I don't justify any abuse in this, all
abuse is horrible and disgusting, HARRY IS PROBLEMATIC AF
LISTEN, P R O B L E M A T I C
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2013-09-25 Completed: 2013-12-26 Words: 85,452
Chapters: 23/23

Alaska
by BeyondxLawliet

Summary

“Let’s go out to my car, yeah?” he heard Harry say, Louis looking up at him. The ground
was moving underneath his feet, or maybe it was just him. He raised his hand to push him
away because no, this wasn’t happening, but he felt too weak. The hand was only falling
down to his side again. Harry? No, he was too nice.
Maybe he was taking him home?

“Are you taking me home?” he whispered with a slur, his eyes fluttering closed as he
stumbled into Harry. He could hear his heartbeat. It was beating quickly.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, taking his coat and put it over Louis’ shoulders through his
blurred vision. He had no idea what was even going on. Where they even in the café still? It
sounded like he was underwater, colors jumping around before him. “I’m taking you home,
love.”
 Chapter 1

It was hot. Really hot, even though it was this late at night. It was different from England’s usually
cold thrills, so that was probably why Louis Tomlinson felt like he was going to faint. Having been
in an airplane for almost six hours together with women with screaming babies and snoring men
isn’t something that made you relaxed – even if it doesn’t sound like something exhausting.
Altogether he had barely gotten any sleep or food down due him being so nauseous it was
ridiculous. He loved his job; he really did, having to travel all over the world to write different
articles and reviews for movies and plays. You could say he was a writer for newspapers, all of
them calling if they wanted him to write a paragraph or two. Still, he hated flying. He was
frightened that it would crash or that something would go wrong, but he never showed it. So, he
was relieved when he now stepped out of the airplane at the LAX, his big and grey bag being
placed on his shoulder, his phone clutched in his hand. He almost stumbled when the woman
behind him bumped into him, her just excusing herself before she hurried on. Louis only sighed
and ignored her, trying to turn the mobile device on at the same time as he pushed through all the
humans that he thought took awfully a lot of space. They obviously didn’t, but Louis loathed being
in a hurry and being slowed down. So here he was, just mumbling a million “Excuse me,” as he
tried to reach a seat. A chair, or a couch even, so he could set his bags down as he called for a cab.

He had to stop for a moment just to look around when he was finally out of the actual arrival area,
Louis feeling how his heart pounded in his chest. He brought a tan hand up to it and just felt it,
trying to calm it down before he glanced down at his phone again. It waited for him to type in his
PIN code, the blue eyed twenty-three year old quickly doing it before he just hurried to the closest
seat and threw his bag onto it. He breathed out, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear
after he had dialed the taxi service. He bent his leg and placed his foot on the seat, just so he could
tie his shoe.

“I’d like a cab that can take me to Baxter 5,” he said into the phone, thankful that his breath had
calmed down. He took the device in his hand again and sat down for a moment, fixing his fringe
when he was done tying his shoes. His back rested against the bags when he leaned back and he
hissed a little when something sharp cut into his back. A book, probably. “In about twenty
minutes.” He looked out to nothing while the woman talked and asked where he was, Louis just
telling her as he glanced around the large hall, at the girl in the purple dress that was yelling after
someone, the man that was helping another man in a wheelchair, and the little child that was
carefully coloring in her coloring book, trying to get everything inside the lines. Louis smiled a
little, turning his attention back to his conversation. He thanked her and hung up, taking a deep
breath again. He stretched, and then chose to take his things again and look for a café or
something. He was going to fall asleep if he didn’t get any caffeine, or at least some tea or
something to eat, Louis excusing himself when he accidently walked into a suitcase that belonged
to a man with a green t-shirt. The man snorted and turned back to what seemed to be his wife,
Louis continuing.

It was almost comical how many humans that were running in and out of souvenir shops and
restaurants with plastic bags and wallets, Louis moving out the way when two teenage girls passed.
He bit his thin lip, carefully making his way into a café that seemed empty enough for a quick cup
of tea, walking up to the line and stopped behind the rather thin lady that was the last person in that
line. He sighed.

“It’s a pretty short line for being such a busy day.”

Louis flinched a little, turning around to face the boy that spoke to him. His eyebrows rose just a
little. “Excuse me?” he asked, changing the hand he was holding his bag with. Still, he couldn’t
help but smile a little, the boy’s hair so messy he looked like he just got out of bed.

“I mean, it should be more people in here at this hour, when a plane just landed. It usually is,” the
boy explained, Louis slowly nodding in agreement. He swallowed a little.

“How do you know?” he wondered, looking at the cashier that stood and waited for him. He took a
step forward, nervously scanning the menu. The boy behind him did the same.

“I travel here quite a lot, so I know how these things work,” he explained, Louis’ eyebrows
furrowing a little. “You’re from England too, I suppose.” Louis asked for a cup of tea with some
milk and sugar and a cinnamon roll, then just turned back to the curly, whom he now noticed had
green eyes.

“You're from there too?” Louis asked. “You sound more American than English.” The boy
chuckled.

“Been living here for a while, but I was born and raised in London,” he smiled, Louis blinking and
grabbed his coffee. He licked his lips, looking around for an empty table, seeing one by the
window, surprisingly. He glanced at the boy again.

“You’re going to eat here too, right?” he said, nodding to the two chairs by the table. “It’s more
crowded upon the tables.” The green-eyed lifted his eyes from the menu and to the table, then
down to Louis again. He smiled softly.

“Are you asking me to sit with you?”

Louis laughed softly. “Maybe.” The curly just nodded.

“If you don’t mind.” Louis only nodded and pulled his bag towards the table, shoving it under one
of the chairs before he sat down. He quietly set the cup and his cinnamon roll down on the table,
looking up at the curly again when he started making his way towards him. Louis wrapped his
fingers around the warm paper mug, his thin lips making a line as he glanced at his watch that sat
around his wrist.

“I have to leave in about ten minutes though,” he said, the green eyed nodding and took a sip from
his own cup. He licked his lips shortly after, Louis noticing the small twitch in his cheek.

“No problem. That means I’ll have the table for myself,” he chuckled, Louis snorting.

“Of course you will,” he said, looking up at the boy. He took a quiet sip of his tea. “Why are you
here, even? Why aren’t you still in England?”

The boy took a bite of his sandwich, keeping his eyes on the light brown bread. “I like to see new
people, I suppose. England got a little boring, so I just decided to move here instead. It’s warmer
too.”

Louis bit the corner of his lip. “Wasn’t it scary going alone though?”

The curly tensed up a little, Louis seeing how his fingernails tried to dig into the dark wood of the
table. They left small marks, the blue eyed swallowing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a sensitive
subject,” he added. The boy breathed out and shook his head.

“No, I just… I came here with my sister, but we lost contact.”

“Why?” Louis asked.

“You’re a nosy one, aren’t you?” the curly shot back, the blue eyed shaking his head too, just like
the one of the opposite of him just had done.

“Sorry.”

It was weird. He didn’t sound mad, yet he sounded like he wanted to tear someone’s head off all of
a sudden. Hopefully not Louis’. Louis gently kicked on one of the four table legs. He breathed out
a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. The green eyed didn’t say anything for a
while. At least not until those ten minutes had passed and Louis stood up, taking his phone and put
it in his pocket. He took his bag too.

“I have to leave,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. He looked down at him. The curly looked back,
Louis tilting his head a little before he took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair. “Bye then.”

The curly watched him. Louis could feel it as he walked away, turning and bending his curvy body
when he avoided bumping into someone. He hadn’t even finished his coffee, still feeling the
awkward tension even though he was halfway out the airport. Perhaps he screwed up. Maybe he
threw him off. Sent him the wrong expression. Gave him some kind of false signal. Made him
think that he wanted to get to know him or something, which wasn’t the case. Definitely not, Louis
breathing out a harsh breath. So that was it. He upset a person just ten minutes into America. It
wasn’t often that he did so, and it wasn’t his intention either. Still he could feel how he was
blushing like crazy, fingers nervously drumming on his bag. Maybe his thighs were trembling too.
He couldn’t tell.

Last time he had really made someone snap was when he had asked Niall, one of his childhood
friends, to drive him to Doncaster in the middle of the night because he wanted to say a “Happy
birthday,” to his mother in person, but apparently it was too late for that according to Niall. So
Louis had sent her a text instead, and she had been a little disappointed. But he had explained
between apologies and she forgave him. But aside from that, never. He didn’t like upsetting people
either since he felt a rather large feeling of guilt inside of him every time. So, in other words, he
preferred to have friends instead if enemies.

Louis turned to his left to see if the cab had arrived, immediately starting to walk towards it when
he realized that it was already waiting for him, thanking the cabby when he helped him lift his bag
into the backseat. Louis sat down right next to it, lifting himself further back with his hands. His
thin lips made a line when the car started to move and he looked out the window, over the passing
lights that were blinking at him as a silent welcoming. The temple of his rested against the cold
glass window. He was still sweating like crazy, the dark blue t-shirt of his sticking to his back in a
rather disgusting way. Louis tried to make him stop by leaning forward instead, resting his elbows
on his knees before he took out his phone. He started scrolling through text messages. Almost all of
them were from his co-workers, so he realized that he wasn’t very social. He sighed. He had
actually promised to send his fiancée a text message when he had arrived, Louis tiredly watching
his fingers as they danced over the screen.

'Arrived half an hour ago. I’ll text you before I go to the meeting tomorrow. I love you. Sleep tight.
x'

It wasn’t until the next day that Louis felt completely rested out, his blue eyes blinking open when
his phone went off. He ruffled around in the thin sheets for a moment, fumbling after the phone
that was somewhere on the nightstand. He turned it off when he found it, letting it rest next to his
pillow. He stretched a little, groaning. The sun was stinging his eyes through his eyelids, Louis just
tugging the blanket over his head to shut it out. He yawned. He knew that he had about two hours
before he would have to be in the Los Angeles Times building, Louis tiredly rolling out of bed and
onto the floor, unplugging his phone from its charger. He ran a hand through his messy hair,
rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. He took a deep breath before he stood up and padded over his
bag that was filled with clothes and hair products. He decided on a white button up and a pair of
black jeans, setting them down neatly on the bed before he went onto the bathroom to take a
shower.

The hot water had a relaxing feeling on Louis. It always had, the blue eyed standing there with his
forehead resting to the white wall, water running down his hair and naked back and thighs. He
breathed in the steams, tilting his head back to let the water wash his face too. He hummed. Every
time he was showering with Eleanor, his fiancée, or alone, it was often like this. Just staying quiet
and let him get wrapped into the warmth while Eleanor was slowly kissing his neck or shoulders,
her hands maybe even washing him. In return Louis would often give her pecks and kisses, but that
was it. He wasn’t much for the whole sex-in-the-shower thing, judging from previous experiences
with slipping and how the shower cabin often was too small. So no, nothing in the shower.

Louis licked his lips as he stepped out of the water, reaching for one of the blue towels and dried
his chest with it before he wrapped it around his hips. He had to stand up on his tiptoes to reach
over the wide sink to the mirror to wipe some of the fog off; opening the door and the window too
so it would wear off quicker. He looked around for his contact lenses for only a minute, biting his
lip as he put them in. He blinked shortly after, looking around the bathroom. It seemed good
enough so he walked out again, getting dressed and fixed his hair, going out of the room together
with his phone and his keys to the room.

The keys spun around his finger while he went down the stairs, his vans making small sounds
against the wooden floor. His jeans were rolled up his ankles and his shirt was to his elbows, Louis
pulling his blazer over his shoulders as he pulled the door to the outside open with his back. He had
to squint against the sun as he reached the pavement, phone already pressed to his ear as he called
for a cab again. Thankfully it arrived within ten minutes, Louis climbing inside and gave him the
address, leaning back in the warm seat with a sigh.

It only took half an hour to get into the actual city, Louis paying the cabby with his phone, once
again, close to his ear as he spoke.

“Yeah, I’ll be there within five minutes,” he said into it, turning his body so he wouldn’t bump into
an old lady when he passed, pushing the door into the building open. He walked up to the reception
desk, smiling politely at the woman behind it, her black hair in a low pony tail and her suit neatly
buttoned. She looked like she belonged here, so Louis decided that he liked her. She smiled back,
Louis hanging up.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft.

“I have a meeting with Liam Payne at one o’clock,” Louis responded.

“Name?”

“Louis Tomlinson.” Louis watched as she started typing on her computer, long and slender fingers
dancing over the keyboard. He noticed her name tag, her name apparently being Courtney.
Courtney Anderson.

“The writer, I suppose?” she smiled, Louis looking from her name tag to her eyes. She tilted her
head a little. “I’m a big fan of your work, you know. Your paragraph about the wedding of
Sweden’s crown princess and Daniel was amazing.” Louis smiled.
“Why, thank you. I’m doing my best.”

Courtney let out a small laugh and placed a paper sheet on the counter, pointing at different areas
with her pen as she spoke. “I just need you to fill in this. It’s a confirmation that you’re here and
that you will do this properly. You never know with people nowadays,” she said, Louis nodding
and took the pen she offered. He signed his name, looking up at her with a smile.

“Why, you have any previous experiences with slackers?” he chuckled, going back to signing.
Courtney shook her head.

“I don’t since I’m pretty new. But my co-worker has.”

“What happened then?” Louis asked, finishing the paper and handed it back to her. She chuckled.

“Someone came in drunk and asked for Zayn Malik, a journalist that works in New York for the
moment. He got furious when they told him that he didn’t work here anymore, but they told him
that he could come in and wait for another journalist. It ended with a ruined office.” Louis watched
her speak, his eyebrows raising and then lowering, letting out a laugh.

“That was a pretty stupid decision then,” he said, running a hand through his now styled hair.
Courtney just shrugged and took the paper, checking it before she gave Louis a white card with a
triangular arrow on it. She pointed to her left, onto three elevators that were right next to a large
pool of flowers. This looked more like a hotel than a business building. Dark brown floors, red and
white walls and large windows. It didn’t exactly scream ‘boring newspaper.’

“You take the left elevator to the tenth floor. You use it by sticking the card into the slot and pull it
out, then press the button,” she explained, Louis nodding. “Then you can just wait on one of the
couches. He will be right with you.” Louis nodded and thanked her, taking the card with a smile.

Slowly but surely he went up when he had stepped into the elevator, quietly swaying on his feet as
he watched the red numbers above the doors change from one to ten. He took a deep breath as they
slid open, Louis curiously peeking his head out before he just took a step right into the waiting
room. It was rather pretty, dark green paint covering the walls except two of them, one having the
middle third of it being an aquarium, colorful fishes swimming around, and the second one just
being windows showing Los Angeles. It wasn’t as sunny anymore. It wasn’t raining though; it was
cloudy, if anything.

Louis sat down in one of the two black leather couches, elbows to his knees. He impatiently shook
his legs repeatedly, hands tangled together. He looked around, eyeing the paintings and
decorations that were on both the walls and on the tables and shelves. It was modern, Louis
assumed. He was never a big fan of paintings.

About ten minutes later one of the doors flew open and a man with a buzz cut stuck out his head,
looking around the room before his brown eyes landed on Louis. Louis slowly stood up.

“Mister Payne?” he said, drying his hands on his jeans. “I’m Louis Tomlinson.” The man smiled
and nodded, opening the door for the both of them.

“Come in,” he said, Louis running a hand through his hair as he walked past him into the office
that looked pretty similar to the waiting room. “Sit down, please.”

Louis did as he was told and watched Liam as he rounded the large desk, sitting down on the other
side of it. Louis had expected him to be older, but he seemed like he was younger than Louis
himself. Liam cleared his through and adjusted the dark purple tie of his. Louis swallowed himself.
“First of, welcome to Los Angeles, mister Tomlinson,” he said, Louis shaking his head.

“Louis, please.”

Liam just looked at him, a small nod following after that. He took out a folder from the shelf
behind him, giving it to Louis. “You see, we would be very happy here on Los Angeles Times if
you would write a paragraph or two for us,” he said, Louis opening the black folder with a lick of
his lips, looking through the pages of information and pictures about something Louis didn’t quite
understand. He assumed that he wasn’t so used to big newspapers yet. He turned to Liam again.

“About what?” Louis asked, closing the folder again. He tilted his head. “I don’t really… write
about news, Mister Payne. I’m more for the casual articles about life and politics.” Liam hummed,
fingers quietly drumming on the chin of his, which was dressed by slight stubble, just like Louis.
Maybe he should have shaved.

“We would like you to write about Los Angeles over all,” he said, Louis’ back straightening. He
chewed on the inside of his cheek. “You know, what there’s to see. Your first impression. The
beauty of it. Why people should visit it. You know, like a review.” Louis’ eyes squinted a little.

“Isn’t that more like a school essay than an article for a newspaper?” he said carefully, Liam
resting his chin on the tip of his fingertips. Louis shifted a little in the black leather chair of his.

“Perhaps,” Liam said, looking out the window for a moment, onto the skyscraper that was right
next to them. He let out a breath himself, Louis seeing how his chest lowered. He placed the folder
onto the desk again. “The tourism has sunk drastically, so Los Angeles needs someone to lure them
here again.” Liam looked at Louis in the corner of his eye. He smiled a little. “A good writer, also
known as you.”

Louis rested back in the chair. “I’m very honored, Mister Payne, but I don’t really think that I’m
the guy for it.”

“Why not, if I may ask?”

Louis sighed, rubbing his eyes for the second time that day. “I don’t know, it’s just… What am I
supposed to write? Baxter 5 has a lovely service, and serves delicious breakfast every day. You
should check it out?”

Liam shrugged, “If you’d like.” Louis sighed, leaning forward again and buried his face in his
palms. It felt like he was quiet for hours, but when Louis glanced at the clock it had only been
about ten seconds. He looked at Liam.

“When do you want it done?” he asked. Liam lit up.

“In a month, preferably. That way you’ll have more time to actually explore the city,” he said,
Louis looking out the window again. “Will you do it?”

Silence then again, Louis speaking up after another ten seconds. “Yeah, sure. I went all the way
here; I don’t want to go home again for a while.”

Liam smiled and nodded, reaching a large hand to him. Louis took it and shook it, the both of them
standing up. “Welcome to Los Angeles Times, Louis.”

Louis felt nervous when he stepped out of the building later that day, the sun slowly going down.
He breathed in and breathed out, looking down at the piece of paper he held in his hand. It
contained everything he needed to know, but that was it. All he had to do was write about Los
Angeles, and that would be it.

Fair enough.

Louis folded the paper and put it in his chest pocket, straightening out his blazer as he started
walking down the street. It was more crowded than before, Louis smiling at a woman that bumped
his shoulder. She smiled back but continued, Louis first now noticing the child she held in her
hand. It was a boy, hair blonde and messy. Just like his mother. Or aunt, maybe. Could be anyone.
The writer bit his lip, stopping for a moment to watch the child. He reminded him of the boy at the
airport, with the curly hair. The child’s hair wasn’t curly, but it sure was similar to it. He
swallowed a little and turned again, continuing to dodge everyone walking in the other direction.
He really hoped that he hadn’t upset the curly haired man. But he couldn’t have known either, that
he shouldn’t ask about his family. Still, maybe it was obvious without someone actually saying it.
He could barely remember what he looked like, or where he was going. Hell, he didn’t even know
his name.

Louis muttered to himself as he glared down at the ground, feet stomping slightly. Why had he
gotten so mad, anyway? Louis was just a stranger to him. Who the hell gets mad at a stranger?

The blue eyed huffed when he was forced to stop, stumbling a little. He had run into someone, or
something, his hand placing over his forehead. He had to bite his lip just to not whimper since he
could feel a bruise or something appear. He sighed instead, just looking up at the person, or thing,
through his eyelashes, swallowing a little when he saw that it actually was a person. Or maybe it
was because he recognized that head or brown curls and those green eyes. The twitches in his
cheek too, something that some people would call a dimple. He could feel how his lips parted.

“You,” he breathed, the curly in front of him lighting up.

“Hi,” he said, Louis flinching, as if he had imagined him being there. Like he didn’t even exist, or
that he hadn’t expected him to talk. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Louis swallowed, moving his hand from his forehead to his blazer instead, holding onto the hem of
it. “Same to you,” he said quietly, looking down at the street, then to the curly again. “I didn’t
mean to walk into you.”

“I know you didn’t,” the dimpled one smiled, Louis looking up to the sky, which was getting
darker and darker. He wouldn’t be surprised if it started to rain soon. He turned back to the boy,
who was so tall it was ridiculous. He was looking down at Louis, which was embarrassing. Louis
cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to… you know, say that thing yesterday either,” he said, fiddling with one of the
buttons.

“Would you like to take a cup of coffee with me?” the boy asked, Louis looking up at him. He
furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

“I’m quite sure you heard what I said.”

Louis closed his mouth and looked around for a moment, looking if he was actually talking to him.
Which he apparently was, because everyone else was moving. He blinked up at the curly again.
“Why?”

“Because it’s probably going to rain soon, and I’m already on my way there. I could use some
company.” Louis swallowed again. His mouth felt dry. “Besides, I’ll treat you. Come on.”

Louis squirmed where he was standing. “Fine,” he groaned, sighing when he felt a rain drop land
on his hand. This would be a good opportunity for his article. A cozy café. Everybody liked those.
“Only if you pay. I’m broke.”

The boy nodded. “I’ll pay. No worries.”

 Chapter 2

Louis ran his hands through his hair as he followed the boy down the street, quietly fiddling with
the button on his blazer again. It was properly raining by now, but it was more of a drizzle than
something that you would run from. He sighed quietly, looking at the back of the boy’s head as he
walked in front of him, his curls moving a little in the wind under the dark red beanie he was
wearing. He looked around for a moment, over the cabs that were driving past them and the
skyscrapers, the street lights and the people that were crossing the street. Louis would have taken
picture if he wasn’t in such in a hurry, because apparently the curly wanted to get out of the rain.

“Can you slow down?” Louis said, jogging up to his side. “You got longer legs than me.” The
green eyed, who turned to look at him, smiled and then chuckled, slowing down.

“Sorry, just want to get out of the rain,” he said, taking off his beanie for a moment to push his
curls back again, Louis watching his pale hand. It had such a contrast to his dark hair. He couldn’t
be in California very much. Louis just nodded and looked away, down on the ground and up at the
people so he could see where he was going.

“Are we there soon?” he asked, lifting his coat collar up so the rain wouldn’t drip down the back of
his shirt so much.

“A minute, at most,” the taller one said and straightened a little. He was so slim and lanky. Louis
was jealous. He nodded.
None of them said very much after that, Louis finding nothing to do but watch people and cars until
they reached a small place at the corner of a street, the boy holding the door open for him until he
moved inside and shrugged out his hair so it would stop dripping. It was a nice little place, walls in
some kind of mustard yellow with a dark brown wooden floor, black chairs and tables set out on it.
Strings of lanterns and small lights dressed the ceiling and parts of the walls, a counter just at the
opposite of them. Louis regretted not bringing his camera. His phone didn’t take good pictures
either. He would make sure to come back here.
He turned, seeing the curly take off his jacket, him already smiling at Louis. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he
said calmly, looking around himself for a moment. “I come here quite often. They have delicious
sandwiches.”

Louis licked his lips, deciding to keep his blazer on. He didn’t know how to wet the back of his
shirt was, and he didn’t want anyone to see it if it was soaked. “It is,” he agreed, looking around for
an empty tale. Three of them were free, one in the corner and one close to the counter. The final
one was by the window, Louis starting to walk to it.

“Wait,” the boy said and Louis turned his head, stopping in his tracks. “What do you take in your
coffee?”

Louis thought for a moment. “Milk and two spoons of sugar,” he simply said and started moving
towards the table again, sitting down on one of the two chairs. The table was clean enough, Louis
only brushing away some crumbles from it. He hummed a little, drumming his fingertips on his
table. He glanced at the curly, watching how he set two spoons of sugar into one of the cups, and
then poured some milk into both of them. He turned around and Louis smiled weakly, the boy
carrying the two cups and two sandwiches on a tray painted in bronze.

“Thank you,” he said and took one of the identical sandwiches, setting it in front of him, the boy
doing the same and one of the cups. Louis took the other one, taking a small sip. His eyebrows
furrowed his eyebrows, licking his lips. “Doesn’t taste like what I’m used to,” he said quietly, the
curly laughing softly.

“You’re that used to English coffee, huh?” he said, Louis shaking his head.

“No, I don’t drink English coffee,” he admitted, taking another sip. He swallowed. “Canadian.”

“Canadian?” the lanky one smiled and raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his own. ”Didn’t know
they did any specific coffee.”

“I don’t know either, but they sell it at home,” Louis shrugged, setting the cup down on the table
again. He took his sandwich and took a bite of that instead, a small smile on his thin lips. “They are
actually quite good.”

“Told you,” the curly said and continued sipping his coffee, watching Louis eat curiously. He
swallowed. “Where are you from then? I haven’t been in England for a long time so I barely
remember any accents.”

Louis chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “I was born in Doncaster, but I
moved into London almost right before I started high school. I hated leaving my friends, but if I
hadn’t left I wouldn’t have been where I am today.”

“Where are you then, exactly?”

Louis looked up at him, taking another bite of his sandwich. “A writer for various newspapers,
engaged and with a stable economy,” he said, sipping his coffee again.
“What about you? Where are you?”

The boy only glanced at him, then looked out the window at the three men that were passing
outside, then entered the same café they were sitting in. Louis didn’t get an answer. Louis sighed.
“Fine, I’m sorry,” he muttered, running his fingers along the rim of the cup of his that actually
looked antique. Louis pouted a little. The curly chuckled, Louis seeing how he shook his head out
of the corner of his eye.

“It’s fine, I just don’t like talking about them,” he admitted, giving Louis a weak smile. He rested
his chin in his hand. “What’s your name, love?”

Louis looked up at him, glancing away. “Don’t call me love,” he mumbled, finishing his coffee.
“It’s Louis.”

The boy smiled. “Sorry,” he said, letting his forearms rest on the table. Louis glanced at them,
watching the black ink that dressed them. He hadn’t seen them the day before. The curly had been
wearing a long sleeve, if he wasn’t mistaken. Louis had no idea how he managed when it had been
so warm, but maybe it was cold for the ones that lived here. Louis assumed that that was the case.

“What’s your name, then?” he asked quietly, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed it, his blue
eyed meeting the green ones of the tall one.

“Harry,” he smiled, running a hand through the sides of his curls. “It’s stupid though.”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t like the name?” he asked, licking his fingers from
crumbs when he had finished his food. Harry shrugged.

“Nah, it’s just old,” he said, lifting his arms a little so he could stretch them, a small groan
vibrating through his throat. Louis nodded.
“Harry, then,” he said, folding the plastic his sandwich had been in neatly, putting it on the tray
together with his cup. He looked up at Harry again. “Don’t suppose you could tell me the name of
this place?”

Harry looked at him. “Why, you want to come back?”

Louis smiled a little, shifting on the chair he was sitting on. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to write
about Los Angeles for a newspaper,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “About different places you
can visit and such. This is definitely something that people would love to go to.” Harry smiled.

“It’s called Foreign,” he said. “It’s a pretty old place so having more people come here would
probably help them.” Louis slowly nodded and took a deep breath, locking his eyes on the small
candle that was on the table. His mouth felt a little dry, so he swallowed.

“I’ll write it down,” he said and looked at Harry again, brushing some hair away from his eyes. He
breathed out, quietly rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“There are other places too further down the street,” Harry said, Louis glancing up as he noticed
the curly starting to gather everything up and put it on the tray again. Louis licked his thin, now dry
lips. He wanted to clear his throat, but it was like something was making him not to. His tongue
started drying off too. “Buildings are pretty fun to see too, obviously. You don’t have to eat in
every single restaurant just do find a place to eat.”

Louis chuckled quietly, closing his eyes for a moment. The meeting with Liam must really have
really worn him out. He felt like he was going to fall asleep. Light blue dots were jumping in front
of his eyes and his fingertips felt slightly ticklish. Perhaps his head was spinning too. He couldn’t
really tell since he was way too concentrated on the pair of pale hands that reached towards him,
only realizing a few seconds later than he should that it was Harry. He was smiling when Louis
started lifting himself up from his chair with his head just hanging on his neck, his pupils so dilated
his blue irises wasn’t even visible.

“Let’s go out to my car, yeah?” he heard Harry say, Louis looking up at him. The ground was
moving underneath his feet, or maybe it was him. He raised his hand to push him away because no,
this wasn’t happening, but he felt too weak. The hand was only falling down to his side again.
Harry? No, he was too nice.
Maybe he was taking him home?

“Are you taking me home?” he whispered with a slur, his eyes fluttering closed as he stumbled into
Harry. He could hear his heartbeat. It was beating quickly.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, taking his coat and hang it over Louis’ shoulders through his blurred
vision. He had no idea what was even going on. Where they even in the café still? It sounded like
he was underwater, colors jumping around before him. “I’m taking you home, love.”
Louis breathed out in a sigh and nodded, his legs bending underneath him, but Harry was
apparently holding him up, because he didn’t fall. “Okay,” he whispered, but he knew, that he
didn’t want to say that. He was sure that Harry knew that too.
They weren’t going home. Louis felt it.

About a minute later Louis could feel himself being dragged out of the coffee shop and onto the
street. He didn’t want to come with him; he wanted to push him away. But he was holding him up
and if he would let go Louis would only fall. The strength in his legs was completely gone. If he
tried lifting one he only stumbled on his tiptoes and got tugged up again more properly against
Harry’s side, so he had no choice unless he wanted to lay there on the soaked pavement until a
friendly soul took him home. But apparently not, it was like no one saw him now either, even when
he tried to scream for help. But it was more like a sigh or a groan, Louis somehow managing to get
his eyes open for a second.

He stepped into a yellow car which he recognized as a cab, letting himself be set down in the seat.
His head was kind of lolling from side to side when the door closed, his hand fumbling after the
car lock. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen. He felt Harry climb into the car next to him and
say something to who he guessed was the driver, Louis’ eyes falling shut again.
Louis’ eyes continued to open and close through the whole ride, feeling how he was lifted and
particularly carried, hearing voices around him even though he couldn’t hear what they said. He
even heard a few beeps and greeting in happy voices, but that was it. It felt like hours had passed
when he got set down in a chair again and he relaxed against the soft fabric. He felt it under his
fingers, even if he couldn’t move them properly. They were twitching when he tried at least, so that
was good.

“Where are we?” he whispered, but it was nothing more than a slur. He felt something click and
being put around his hips, then something big and warm being put over his body.

“Just try to go to sleep,” Louis heard, immediately recognizing it as Harry’s voice. He squirmed,
managing to turn his head away. He could make out a sigh from Harry’s direction. “We’ll be there
in about seven hours.”

Louis wanted to shake his head and scream, but his words caught in his throat. What was
happening? Where were they? On a train? A car? A plane, maybe? They were standing still for the
moment, at least. But Louis couldn’t do it, so he just leaned back against the seat of his and dozed
off, a lump still in his throat. Only this time, he knew what it was. Fear. It wasn’t even anger. It
was just pure fright and fear.
Still, Louis dozed off into some kind of slumber, even though he was only slipping in and out of
consciousness. He wasn’t even sure if he was dreaming or not, his thoughts were just everywhere.
If you can even call them thoughts. More like imaginary happenings that probably were going to
happen between him and Harry, if that even was his name. He didn’t know anything anymore. All
he could see was black and a few white dots when he tried to open his eyes, but he soon figured
that it was no point. He was being taken away, and he was too frozen to even stop it. He felt like a
statue. A statue that was cold and forgotten, that no one even cared about. Had someone seen him
being all limp against Harry’s body as he was carried and lifted? Had they called the cops or
something?
When Louis felt how he moved forward and up in the air, he got his answer. No, no one had seen
them or called the cops. That was just wonderful, wasn’t it?

When Louis woke up he was blinded by white colors and sweaty from thick blankets. He was in a
bed apparently, seeing the white sheets and blankets as soon as he had gotten fairly used to the
light. He couldn’t really move though, finding himself getting surprised at how he wasn’t tied to
the bed or anything. He was free, but his body was still paralyzed, drowning in the sheets.

Louis tried to move his arms so he could lift himself up, but a wave of pain washed through him so
he collapsed against the fluffy pillow that smelled of apples and something that Louis couldn’t
quite set out, the blue eyed boy sighing into it as he gave up for just a second. He wasn’t able to
think straight either with his horrendous headache and aching legs, so he wasn’t quite sure on
where he were. It was quiet. It was almost too quiet, Louis slowly turning his head in the search for
a window. He found one on the left of him, the sky light blue and stripped from clouds. The walls
were just as white as the covers and Louis blinked, eyes going wide when he noticed the window
being open. Could he get out through it? Could he find a cab? Call one, at least? Run away? Even
if Louis didn’t know how far up he were he decided that it was worth a try, slowly starting to move
his fingers. Yes, he could move them. Same with his toes, feeling how they moved under the
blanket. He even managed to move his arm just a little, the very top of his fingers grazing the
fabric of his blazer that he was apparently still wearing, but it was soaked in sweat. Louis breathed
out and tried to focus, locking his eyes at the ceiling. Actually it wasn’t the ceiling. It was some
white fabric that Harry – or someone else, had draped across the roof over the bed and down its
sides, Louis glaring at it. He must have a woman here or something. A single man wouldn’t put
this much effort in decorations and furniture.

Louis growled. He had genuinely been taken away, hadn’t he? To someone else’s place? Because
this sure as hell wasn’t Louis’ apartment. He felt disgusted and nauseous, and somehow he had
enough energy to lift himself up on his elbows and roll out of the bed. But sadly the world flipped
over underneath his feet and he collapsed onto the floor, hearing how he tipped something over. It
broke and Louis turned to face the floor, groaning against it. He felt much heavier than he should,
yet lighter than necessary. He still felt like he was going to throw up too, a salty taste in his mouth.
He even gagged, but nothing came out. It stopped in his throat.
Just as he thought that nothing could get worse he heard the faint sound of footsteps that got closer
and closer. Soon he even heard a door open and Louis turned a little, spotting the two pale hands
that slid around his waist and under his thighs. Louis raised his hand to pull it off but it got moved
away, the poor blue eyed trying to lock his eyes at something, but he got set down on the bed too
quickly.

“You should stay in bed, the drug has not worn off yet,” a raspy voice said, Louis hearing that it
was Harry. A sleepy Harry, he noted, and Louis looked up at him. The curly was smiling, his face
pale and his eyes sleepy, him being dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of grey boxer
briefs. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, Louis only now noticing that half his hair was in a
ponytail at the back of his head. Louis’ mouth went even drier, if that was possible.

“Drug?” Louis breathed, Harry nodding and placed a glass of water on the wooden nightstand.

“Yeah, the drug,” Harry confirmed, licking his lips. Louis wanted to slap him, but his arms still felt
way too heavy. “Sorry. But I had to get you to come with me somehow.”

Louis let out a small breath. He hoped it sounded like a growl, or at least that he sounded angry.
But he assumed that he failed when Harry only looked at him with a small smile. “Drugging me is
not the way to do it,” Louis whispered, desperately trying to move away from the curly when he
moved closer. He saw him shrug.

“Maybe not,” he simply said and reached for the glass, giving it to Louis. Louis refused, Harry
frowning. “Come on, you need to drink. You’ve been asleep for two days. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m not taking anything from you,” Louis sneered, giving him a glare. Harry sighed.

“Look, I know you’re not too happy with me right now, but-“

“You got that fucking right,” Louis spat, looking away. He heard Harry take a deep breath.

“Love, you have to listen to me for a second here-“

“I don’t have to do a single thing you tell me to do,” Louis hissed, trying to raise his hand. “I’m
sweaty and hungry and thirsty. I have no idea where the fuck I am and I am one hundred percent
sure that this bed is drowned in my own fucking piss. I feel nauseous and I could literally throw up
in this bed any second. So, I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t even have to look at you. Don’t call
me Love, either.”

Harry watched him as he spoke, setting the water glass down on the table. Louis sure noticed the
small twitch in the corner of his mouth. He snarled again. He sure as hell wouldn’t mind throwing
up in his mouth. “I suppose not,” Harry said and looked at Louis again. He rested his hands in his
lap, Louis swallowing back. He hadn’t really noticed, but he was actually quite certain that he had
actually pissed the bed. He looked away. This was nothing but humiliating.

“Take me home,” he whispered, and even though he couldn’t see him, he knew that Harry shook
his head.

“You are home,” he replied. Louis snorted.

“I don’t even know where I am. Don’t start with that bullshit,” he muttered, gagging again. Still,
nothing came up. He closed his eyes. Harry sighed again, Louis’ body lowering a little on the
mattress when the curly slid off it. But for some reason he soon sat down again, Louis glancing at
him. He was holding the glass of water again.

“Drink a little,” he said, Louis glaring. He sure didn’t get the point in ‘I don’t like you so I won’t
eat or drink anything you give me.’

“No,” he spat, Harry sighing again. It felt like a habit, Harry sighing because of Louis. They had
literally been talking for max five minutes, yet Louis hated him with all his life.

“You have to drink. You haven’t done it for two days. The human body can only survive for three
without water.”

Louis looked up at him. “Why do you care?” he asked quietly. “Don’t you want me dead or
something? That’s what all rapists do, don’t they? You wouldn’t have brought me here otherwise.”

He stayed quiet when Harry looked at him. He almost glared, Louis just blinking. Here it came. He
was going to die. He just knew it.

“You think I’m a rapist?” he asked, and Louis would lie if he said that he wasn’t surprised. He
barely looked mad. His eyebrows were furrowed and his face stern, but he definitely didn’t look
mad. Maybe he was just a good actor.

“Obviously,” Louis mumbled. “My back hurts.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “You have been sitting for two and a half days, that’s probably why. I
would never rape someone like you.”

“So you would rape someone else?”

“Absolutely and definitely not.”

Louis stayed quiet, staring up at him. Harry only smiled. He was disgusting. Louis could slap him
if he could only lift his arms.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “If you didn’t rape me you did something else.”

“Yeah, I drugged you,” Harry laughed and the blue eyed growled at him, feeling how his hands
tightened and how his toes curled. He needed to go home. Home to England. Home to Eleanor and
Niall. Home to London, home to the life he was supposed to have with a wife and three kids,
maybe even a dog.

“Take me home,” he said again but more clearer this time. His speaking ability was coming back.
“Now.”
“You are already home,” the curly said and Louis felt his face scrunch up. Harry frowned. “You
alright?”

Louis somehow brought a hand to his mouth and a sat up, bowing his head. His eyes couldn’t help
but fall shut, so tightly he even saw stars, and he bent forward. He felt a hand on his back and he
immediately slapped it away. Harry shouldn’t touch him. He wouldn’t touch him. At all.
Preferably he should be one thousand miles away from him. He shouldn’t even exist.

“Have some water, seriously,” Harry tried and Louis raised his hand. He slapped the glass out of
his grip, even if he was aiming for his cheek. The glass fell to the floor and the water spilled out
over the carpet, but Louis didn’t hear it breaking to his disappointment. He’d love to have Harry
cut his feet. The taller one stayed silent and watched Louis, watching him gag and choke. Louis
would have told him off if he could, but it was like he didn’t want to. Maybe he wasn’t even worth
it. Maybe he should just turn to him and scream in his face? Louis even tried, his blue eyes meeting
green and he took a breath to scream, but he failed and felt how his body bent instead.

“Do you need to throw up?” the much taller and lankier one asked quietly and Louis bent over even
more, taking a deep breath. His hand moved from his mouth to the sheets and fisted in them,
clenching to them like they were supposed to help him through this. It was a pretty ridiculous act,
really, but it was too late now. He felt it coming, and Harry placing a hand on his back again didn’t
help for a single second. He felt him move away just a little, but still stayed on the bed. If Louis
saw it correctly he could even make out that Harry reached for the glass again. He assumed that he
was starting to clean up, but sadly enough he couldn’t actually register much more because just a
second later he gagged, and his stomach flipped around and he emptied what was left in it.
 Chapter 3

Louis felt his teeth clench when he pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his naked body with
the new white cover he had been given by Harry. He couldn’t help but glance at the curly,
watching him bend over the bed to tear the sheets away. Louis was embarrassed. Embarrassed that
he had someone clean away his dirty sheets because he couldn’t do it himself. Especially someone
like Harry.

Louis still didn’t understand how someone like him could do this. He had been so nice and now
Louis sat there naked and wrapped up with Harry stripping the bed from his piss and vomit
drenched sheets. Louis was so ashamed it was ridiculous. Harry deserved it, having someone ruin
his bed. But Louis had expected him to get angry and maybe beat him, but instead he had just
helped him out of his clothes with Louis protesting and attempts of hitting him – which had failed
miserably, the curly lifting him up and gave him another white blanket. He had been set down in
the armchair he was currently sitting in in the corner of this room. Harry had somehow even
convinced him to drink a little, but that was it. Louis had been afraid of the water being poisoned or
something, but now, about five minutes later, he felt better. Still horrible, but definitely better. The
head and backache was still there, and his legs were as frozen as ever, so that was the only reason
to why he didn’t just stand up and walk out. Harry seemed busy enough to even notice. He knew
that Harry did faces of disgust, but he didn’t complain. Louis wasn’t too sure of what he should
make out of that.

He looked up when he heard the sheets fall to the ground, Harry sighing a little as he went over to
the just as white drawer, opening it without looking at Louis. Louis glanced into the drawer and
noticed that it was filled with thick sweaters, Harry closing it again and opened the second drawer
instead, pulling out clean sheets. They were also white, just like every single thing in this room.
Aside from the light wooden floor and a few decorations, such as a few braided baskets and
candles, that is.
Louis watched as Harry returned to the bed and quickly redid it, setting the pillows out against the
carved headboard. He stretched when he finished and Louis looked away, glaring out the window
instead. The sky was just as blue and he saw that they were in a forest or something along those
lines, trees surrounding the lake that was just outside. Mountains were spotted in the distance along
with fields of green grass, and Louis’ mouth dropped. No way that a kidnapper lived here. There’s
absolutely no way.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Harry said, walking up to Louis’ side. He immediately tried to move as far away
from him as possible, even though it was just an inch or two. The armchair wasn’t very big.

“Don’t stand near me,” Louis muttered, and Harry surprisingly took a step away. Still, he
continued to look out the window, Louis doing the same. He made sure that his whole body was
covered with the blanket. Harry wasn’t allowed to even see his feet. He’d rather die.

“I don’t have a shower so if you’d like to wash up you can do it in the lake.”

Louis grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“Not really. The water here’s cleaner than the water in London since it’s more of a river,” Harry
explained. Louis remained silent for a minute, resting his lips to the white cover.

“Why am I here?” he whispered. “You have no real reason to keep me. I will do nothing but eat
your food and waste your resources.” He looked away when Harry softly laughed, Louis quietly
nuzzling into the warm blanket. He blinked.
“I have enough for the both of us,” he said, kind of tugging out his shirt into a more comfortable
position. Louis kept his eyes out the window.

“For how long?” he whispered.

“A long time.”

Louis slowly shook his head, not even noticing that he did. “For how long are you keeping me?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. He didn’t say anything else, so Louis glanced up at him but
looked away when Harry looked back.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Maybe not.”

“Then why am I here?” Louis hissed. “Let me go.”

“I have my reasons,” the curly responded, and Louis snapped, gathering saliva in his mouth and
spat towards Harry, but sadly he missed and it went to the floor instead. A silence followed, and
Louis glared at the ground.

But Harry didn’t say anything. No, he turned around and walked away and out of the room. Louis
looked after him, and as soon as the door closed he flew out of the chair and stumbled over to the
window with the small energy he had gathered. It was only a few meters so Louis actually
succeeded, his hands fumbling along the window after the lock that separated him from the outside
world. He got it open and lifted his leg so he could climb out; hyperventilating when he realized
that it was the second floor. He wouldn’t break a leg or something, would he?

He had to take the chance, yelping a little when his feet landed on the small roof that was just
outside. It was black and actually pretty clean, Louis closing the window after him before he
crouched down. Maybe he was actually going to succeed. Maybe he would actually be able to get
home and forget about this. Also, he would never have to return to the States again. Thank God.
Louis stumbled just a little when he started walking, the blanket so tight around his shoulders it
could as well be his second skin. He was shivering too, because it was colder than he thought.
They weren’t in the south, that’s for sure.

He gasped when he fell and rolled down the roof, but he got a grip of the emergency ladder that
was stuck to the wall right next to the window, so he didn’t roll down it completely. He breathed
out and forced himself onto his feet again even if they were hurting. He had to get home. That was
all he wanted.
His feet started hurting even more when Louis set the first one down on the ladder to climb down,
feeling how his tears that were about to leave his eyes. But he held them in. Harry wasn’t worth it.
He never cried, and Harry was the absolute last person he wanted to cry about. Instead he took a
deep and harsh breath and just straightened, quickly going down until he reached the grass. Dry
and dead grass, at least. It needed some serious watering.
Louis glanced around. There had to be some kind of path. Maybe not a road or a street, but some
kind of lead through the forest just had to be there. He started walking again, eyes locked on the
trees that were right beside the fairly small lake. As long as he got through that forest and out on
the other side it would be fine, right? Harry wouldn’t be able to find him and he could find a road
or something and follow it. He would be fine. He wouldn’t see him and he’d just forget about him.
Louis would call the police and they would arrest Harry, and that would be it.

Louis could feel a small smile tug on his thin lips when he got closer and closer, and he didn’t even
hear the voice that called for him. Only when two arms slid around his waist and held him back,
his smile fell. He immediately knew that it was Harry, so he started to struggle against him, trying
to get out of his grip. He screamed and punched and actually hit his jaw and eye, and even if
Harry’s grip loosened a little it was still too tight for Louis to break away. He got tugged across the
grass again, Louis yelling and cursing into Harry’s ear that he had to let him go and let him go
home. Yet, the curly didn’t. He just hissed quietly whenever Louis tried to punch him, something
that failed due the drug still being in Louis’ blood, weakening him, and just continued to drag him
into the house again. Louis could feel the blanket drop and fall to the ground and for some reason
he stopped screaming when Harry leaned down to pick it up. But it only took a second or two for
the blue eyed to start hitting Harry’s chest again, the blanket being swept around him.

They both went inside the house and Louis was a little stunned by the surroundings. There was a
white door right next to him to his left, the walls in some kind of pale yellowish green paint. The
kitchen was open and pretty old fashioned, and you could clearly see that it was used a lot, the
towels and such being very over washed. Pots were still on the stove too. To the right of him was
an open area with a fireplace and a sofa together with two armchairs, bookshelves dressing the wall
right next to him, and a green cover and pillow rested on the couch.

Was that where Harry had slept?

Louis’ breath hitched when he got shoved into the room with the white door, his screams echoing.
The back of his legs hit something and he fell, sobbing out when he realized it was a bathtub. He
looked up at Harry that tugged the blanket away and threw it to the floor, Louis crawling into the
bathtub more properly and curled his body, not wanting Harry to see him like this. He couldn’t
even hold back his quivers and sobs anymore, so he just let it all out, hiding his face in his hands.

“Just leave me alone,” he sobbed, taking a shaky breath when he felt something warm pour over
his body. Water. Warm water. It felt nice, Louis glancing at the brown bowl that was held by
Harry, watching him scoop up some more from another much bigger one. He swallowed, shoving
the bowl away when it got closer. He turned away again.

“You’re dirty,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t care,” Louis whimpered, curling together in the corner of the tub. He hid his whole face
into his forearms. “Go away.”

“Just let me wash you, you’ll feel a lot better.”

“Please, just leave me here.”

So Harry did, standing up and walked out the door. He even closed it behind him, and Louis knew
that this was his chance to escape, but he didn’t even try. He stayed there, crying into his arms. He
didn’t have the energy to continue.

He must have fallen asleep, because when Louis opened his eyes again he was wrapped into
another blanket, this one being knitted and beige with some kind of red pattern, on the couch in
front of the fireplace. It wasn’t lit though. It was like Louis was unused to the light when he tried to
open his eyes more properly, but he could only squint. He sat up, looking around the room. Empty,
yet the front door was open. Louis stood up, but only stumbled onto the couch again. He felt a lot
better, but he still felt tired and a little dizzy. So instead of trying again he got out of the blanket,
blinking when he didn’t expose his naked body, but himself being dressed in a t-shirt that was way
too big on him. It could only be Harry’s, there was no other explanation.
He decided to try to stand up again, sliding down on the floor with his upper body still on the
couch. He slowly rose onto his feet, thighs trembling. Nothing hurt anymore. His head, if anything.
Slowly but surely he straightened his arms too, breathing out when he stood up straight. He took
one step, and then another towards the door. It went fine, he only stumbled on the third, fourth, and
fifth one. By the time he took his sixth he was already at the door, peeking out.

He must have slept for quite some time, because the sun was setting. The whole area outside the
house was more orange and yellow, the water in the lake being green instead of blue. Louis took a
slow step out, quickly going in again when he heard a splash. At first he thought it was a fish, but
when he saw a white piece of fabric, he understood that it was Harry washing Louis’ blankets.
Washing away his piss and vomit. He looked too casual doing it. Louis didn’t like it.
He watched for a moment, seeing how Harry dipped it into the water and then up again, the white
t-shirt he was wearing getting soaked in the lake water. Louis could see right through it, seeing the
faint patterns of even more tattoos. He looked away, quietly hiding behind the corner of the
doorway. He glared down at the floor.
What he didn’t understand was why Harry even bothered to wash them. Wasn’t kidnappers
supposed to hate their hostages? Weren’t they supposed to make their hostages’ time in their
hideouts as miserable as possible?

Louis swallowed the lump that was building up in his throat, his back resting against the wall
behind him. He looked down at his bare feet and legs. He didn’t really want to look, but he was
pretty certain that he was completely naked under the shirt he was wearing. It smelled like apples
too, just like the pillow upstairs. Did that mean that Harry had given away his bed for Louis’ sake,
and slept on the couch instead?
Louis peeked around the corner again, seeing Harry inspecting the sheets. He looked satisfied,
reaching for something that was in a bucket right next to the lake that Louis hadn’t seen before, his
lips parting a little when he saw it was a bar of soap. He really put some energy into that didn’t he?

He flinched when Harry turned his head and caught his eye, moving inside the house again. He
could feel how his face heated up, Louis bringing his hands to his face. What the hell was he even
doing? He had to run away, not just stand there.
Louis brought his hand to his hair to brush it away from his forehead, blinking in surprise when he
felt it being slightly damp. Had Harry washed him anyway? While he was asleep?

“You’re awake,” someone said and Louis looked up at Harry, watching how his head tilted. “You
feel better yet?”

Louis opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His hand went from his forehead
to his neck instead, quietly rubbing it. He literally couldn’t speak. He had a sore throat.

“Your throat hurts?” Harry asked, Louis taking a step back when Harry reached out to touch him.
“I could make you some tea if you’d like.”

Louis stared at him. He was being nice again. Louis shook his head. “Poison,” he whispered, Harry
furrowing his eyebrows. He then laughed and shook his head.

“No, I won’t poison it. I promise,” he smiled. “Just a regular cup of tea.” Louis’ hand slowly
moved towards the shirt he was wearing, taking the dark red fabric between his fingers. He bit his
lip, starting to back again, moving towards the stairs.

“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly, not entirely sure that the green eyed one heard him. He
probably didn’t, Louis glaring at him when he started walking towards the kitchen that was just
around the corner of the bathroom. Louis slowly started to move up the stairs, his toes moving as
quietly as he could make them. He kept his eyes locked on the back of Harry’s hair, and the stupid
ponytail.
“Some milk and two spoons of sugar?” he asked, Louis’ fingernails digging into the railing of the
stairs. He gritted his teeth.

“How about you take those two spoons of sugar and shove them up your ass?” he muttered,
watching Harry’s back as he started working in the kitchen. But he didn’t hear him. Louis stopped
walking, sinking down until he could look between the planks.

“Are you fine with lemon?” Harry asked.

“… No,” Louis said, grimacing when his throat started to sting. He decided to breathe through his
nose.

“What would you like then?”

Louis’ fingers quietly wrapped around two of the planks. “Blueberries,” he whispered. He rested
his temple to one of the railing supporters, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when he felt the
strength in his legs coming back. The drug had worn off, hopefully.
Harry nodded and turned on the stove, filling one of the pots with water. Louis continued to watch
him, throwing at the glance at the door. It was still open, and Louis could be able to escape if he
was quick enough. So he made an attempt, slowly starting to tiptoe down the steps after he stood
up again. He kept his eyes on Harry, making sure that he didn’t turn around. He had no idea what
he could do. He could kill him for all Louis knew.
He cleared his throat when he reached the floor, biting his lip when Harry didn’t turn around.
Maybe he could actually do it.

“You don’t want some sugar then?” Harry asked and Louis froze, looking at him as he turned.
Harry smiled. Louis just shook his head.

Tomorrow, maybe.
 Chapter 4

Louis didn’t drink any tea at all. He was still afraid of being poisoned, even if he knew that Harry
was drinking from the same pot. They had both been silent for at least forty minutes, and Louis
was still throwing glances at the open door. If he started running for all his might he could at least
make it out to the lake before Harry reached him, but that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to
reach the forest or anything; he would just be pulled back. He was afraid, even if he didn’t want to
admit it to himself.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t moved a single muscle since he sat down in the kitchen. He had his
fingers wrapped around the teacup, trying to warm them up. It was getting colder by the minute,
and the room was getting more and more orange as the sun continued to set. He didn’t really like it,
that he sat in Harry’s clothes in his house, pretending to not wanting to kill him. He had also
confirmed that he was, indeed, completely naked under Harry’s shirt, and that definitely didn’t
make this whole situation better.

Louis glanced up at Harry who was on the opposite of him sipping his tea, his green eyes locked
on a book he was reading. Louis couldn’t see which one it was, and he didn’t want to ask. No
casual conversation would ever be held between the two of them.

He looked away when Harry looked up for a second, glaring at the stairs. Maybe he could sneak
out the window in the middle of the night, while Harry was asleep? He wouldn’t be able to grab
him then.

“You’re not going to drink your tea?” Harry asked, Louis slowly shaking his head. He bit down in
the inside of his cheek, Harry sighing. “Fine. I figured you wouldn’t anyway.”

Louis snorted. “How come?” he muttered, realizing that he had already thrown the ‘no casual
situations’ aside. “You don’t know how I think or act. You don’t know me.”

“Because it’s not often that someone like you drink tea that people like me offer.”

“You got that right,” Louis mumbled. He looked up when Harry rose, reaching over to take Louis’
cup together with his own, leaving the book in the table. Louis wanted to look at it, but had to stop.
He wouldn’t be curious in front of Harry. Never. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest instead,
sinking down in the dark wooden chair. He glared at the back of the curly’s head, trying to not
imagine how it would be like to shoot him or something along those lines. Stab him, maybe. Louis
wouldn’t mind that either.

The blue eyed boy swallowed when he heard a small rumbling from his stomach. Harry had said
that he had been asleep for two days. That also meant that he hadn’t gotten any food since the
sandwich on Foreign. He was hungry. Really hungry. He kept his eyes on Harry, but he didn’t
seem to hear anything. At first he was relieved, but then disappointed. Relieved that he wouldn’t be
offered poisonous food, yet disappointed that he would have to go without it. He could probably
make something himself. He wasn’t too sure that he had any good resources though.

“I’m going out for a while,” Harry said after a moment, Louis almost flinching in surprise. It had
been so quiet, so he had a reason. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed, because he couldn’t believe his ears. “Aren’t you afraid of me
leaving?” he asked.
Harry shook his head. “It’s getting colder, and you have nothing but that shirt.”

“I could manage,” Louis said.

“I doubt it. Besides, there’s nothing out there. Only miles of fields.”

Louis took a deep breath, his thighs trembling. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “If that was the
case, then you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought,” Harry smiled, walking up to the front door and took down a jacket
from the wall, Louis looking away when he pulled it over his shoulders. “But it’s not because of
that. I didn’t want you to die out there.”

“I won’t die,” Louis simply said. Harry didn’t say anything either. He just pulled on his shoes and
waved, closing the door behind him. Louis stared at the white door, staying still for about ten
seconds before he flew out of the chair and up to it. He opened it as carefully as he could, not
wanting it to creak. He peeked through the small crack that had appeared, then his whole head,
looking around the surroundings. There was no Harry, so Louis opened it a little further. It was
slightly windy, so it was colder than it should be. The sun was setting behind the mountains, Louis
squinting at it. Harry was right. He would be freezing like hell if he didn’t change clothes.

But he didn’t have time, leaning into the house again. He looked around for a jacket or something,
almost exploding of happiness when he found a pair of shoes and the beige and red blanket from
before. He draped it over his body and stepped into the two boots. He looked hideous, but even
though they were too big they would have to do, Louis sneaking out of the house again and tiptoed
out on the grass. His heart was beating so fast it could as well fly out of his chest.

He dove behind a large tree when he heard someone cough, shaking when he looked around it. He
knew that Harry was still there; because there was no way that he could have left in only ten
seconds, but seeing him in some plaid jacket and a beanie with a shining shotgun in his hand, was
definitely the last thing he thought he would see. He wouldn’t use it on Louis, would he?

Louis bit his lip and crouched when Harry passed, thanking God that he didn’t see him. The curly
disappeared into the forest and Louis figured he was going hunting or something, so he didn’t think
of it more than once.

He snuck into the forest too, but a few meters from where Harry had went in, as quietly as he could.
He made sure to not step on any large branches that could snap and make unnecessary noises,
looking up when he reached a narrow path.

He had yet to figure out where he was, trying to figure it out by watching the trees, but failed. He
hated biology in school, and he barely even knew what an oak looked like, so trying to figure out
what country he was in by nature was like asking a blind man to read a map. Still, he supposed that
he was in the north, the evenings getting colder instead of warmer. It wouldn’t surprise him if he
woke up with frost on the windows.

Louis huffed a little when he stumbled into a tree with his shoulder, quietly rubbing it as he stepped
around it and over a rather large rock. Sadly enough he stepped right into what seemed like a
swamp or a lake, whining when the cold water went right through the fabric of the boot and to his
foot, making it all wet and smelly.

Louis moved and stood on the rock instead, leaning against a tree while he tugged the shoe off,
pouring out some water.
He hated nature. He was so used to the city life that he had barely even seen some living fish in real
life, unless they were on TV or in an aquarium. He hated bugs and spiders, dirt and mud. There was
no use to it, according to him.

Louis sighed, forcing himself to continue. It was getting chillier; the wind blowing up the shirt
Louis was wearing, making things that shouldn’t be this cold ice blocks. He hissed, throwing both
his shoes to the side and stomped into the water, eyes sternly locked at the distance that lead to
God knows where.
It took him about twenty minutes to walk out of the forest, thighs trembling from the cold and feet
blue from the cold water, yet bruised from the branches and twigs he had walked into. He was
quivering, almost falling apart, falling to his knees for just a second. He tried to catch his breath,
cuddling his feet under his thighs to warm them up, but sadly couldn’t do so. They were just as
cold as the rest of his now pale and blue body. He looked up again, expecting to see some
buildings. Hopefully even skyscrapers, but no.

It was nothing but fields and fields and even more fields; Mountains and trees dressing wherever
nature decided it didn’t want to be naked. Louis stared and maybe even glared, then just screamed.
At the top of his exhausted lungs, he screamed. But from fear this time, not even anger. No, this
time it was exhaustion and tiredness, maybe even hunger. He wasn’t at his best when he was
hungry either.

Harry had been telling the truth. There was nothing there.
Maybe not here, but somewhere it was.

Louis shakily rose to his feet again, stumbling over nothing so he fell, but quickly stood up again.
He’d rather die than go back on his own free will, and this was a way more appealing place to die
on than in some bathtub or a room.

Louis swallowed, the blanket still around his shoulder when he continued, the sky above him dark
blue, almost black. There were no stars, which Louis would have found very odd if he had noticed.
But he didn’t, whimpering when his toes clashed together with something. Another rock, perhaps.
Louis couldn’t see. It was too dark and he couldn’t even be bothered to look. He had fallen again,
cheek resting against the soft grass they felt much more lovely than the grass at Harry’s cabin.
This would make a perfect death bed, he thought.

He didn’t fall asleep because he died. It was more from walking through the forest barefoot, not
eating in three days and being cold. So, of course, he didn’t notice the two arms that wrapped
around his body for the second time that day, about two hours after he had fallen asleep. He didn’t
notice the fact that he had been walking in circles either, or at the fact that he was being carried
into his captor’s house, and once again was set down on the bed.

When Louis woke up, he felt weird. His head felt thick and heavy and his nose was slightly
clogged, and he felt warm. He thought he had been dreaming it all, but apparently not, judging
from the cup of steaming tea that stood on the nightstand together with what seemed like a bowl of
soup. Louis stared at it out of the corner of his eye as if he thought it was going to move, but then
he reached out and took it, shivering against how hot it was. He tried to smell it, but his nose was
still clogged, so he took the spoon instead.

It could be poisoned, yet it could be a perfectly fine soup. That was why he hesitated before he
carefully poked his tongue out, cursing loudly when he burnt it. He should have figured that if it
was steaming it was also hot. He sighed and just went for it, blowing a little before he put it in his
mouth and swallowed. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t much, but it definitely filled the emptiness in
his stomach, so it would have to do.

He finished the soup but left his tea, knowing that it would be cold by now. Harry may have gone
through some trouble doing it, but Louis refused.
When he ten minutes later rolled over in the bed and sat on the edge of it, he could properly go
through what had happened without having his head making an imitation of a drunken man on his
birthday.

He felt a little dizzy, but still he could make out that Harry had found him and carried him here,
which meant that he hadn’t passed out completely. Also, that was the only explanation.

Louis groaned a little as he stretched his arms and toes, feeling the warmth from the morning sun
and soup warm his back and his stomach. He slowly scooted out of bed shortly after with a small
cough, curiously opening the door.

He had never been on the second floor before, the white bedroom transforming into a corridor that
stretched to his left and to his right, a staircase to the right of him. He recognized it as the one he
had walked up just yesterday, biting his lip as he tiptoed over to it. He bent down so he could see
the bottom floor without actually having to go there, seeing that someone was sitting in the couch,
reading. Harry, obviously, Louis swallowing when he moved just an inch or two closer to the steps,
toes hanging off the edge of the floor. He leaned forward, trying to glance into the kitchen. He
couldn’t, since it was slightly behind him, sighing a little. It was no use.

“You can come down if you want to,” Harry said, Louis flinching and stumbled down three of the
steps. He managed to remain silent, grabbing onto the railing as if his life depended on it, looking
at Harry who stared up at him, his curls this time not in a ponytail. They were hanging into his eyes
instead and at the upper back of his neck, Louis looking away. “Are you okay?”

Louis nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he said quietly, standing up again. He stayed where he were. He
didn’t dare to go down.

“Did you eat your soup?” the curly asked after a moment. “It wasn’t cold, I hope.”

“No, it… It was fine,” he replied. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Why aren’t you mad?” Louis mumbled, taking a slow step down, and then stopped again.

“Why would I be mad?” Harry asked, folding the corner of the page in his book before he closed it,
setting it down on the side table next to him. His elbow moved to the top of the back of the couch,
Harry’s chin resting by his elbow. He continued to watch Louis. Louis looked away again.

“Because I ran away.”

Harry smiled, letting out a small chuckle. He shook his head too. “I knew that you’d try,” he said.
“I don’t see why I should be mad.”

“You said you kept me here for a reason,” Louis now said, but more sternly this time. “If I ran
away, you’d be mad. Why aren’t you?”

Harry shrugged, his shoulders rising and lowering. “If anything, I should be mad at you for leaving
my shoes in the middle of the forest.”

Louis crossed his arms. “How did you know?”

“Because they were gone when I came back, and a certain little rebellion was too,” Harry smiled.
Louis rolled his eyes.
“I could bet my ass I’m older than you.”

“Perhaps you are.”

“How old are you, even? Seventeen?”

“Do I look seventeen to you?” Harry asked, tilting his head with a small, yet noticeable smile.
Louis looked down at him.

“You’re too tall for being seventeen.”

“Height doesn’t have anything to do with my age, love.”

“I told you not to call me ‘Love,” Louis spat, looking up to the second floor again. Harry laughed
softly. “Still, you look too young to be twenty.”

“At least you got that right.”

“How old are you, then?”

Harry only smiled, a small shrug once again moving his shoulders. “As old as you want me to be.”

“You’re hopeless,” Louis sighed and turned to walk up the stairs again, toes quietly dragging along
the wooden floor. He stopped though, before he reached the bedroom door again, crouching down
on the floor so he could see Harry, who was still looking at him.

Harry blinked. “What?” he asked.

“Why me?” Louis wondered. “Why am I here? Why did you pick me?”

Harry smiled again, reaching over to his book and opened it. He flipped through it until he reached
the page he had been at just before Louis had arrived, his hand finding its way to his curls so it
could support his head. Louis could see how he let out a long breath.

“Because you have blue eyes,” he responded. Louis decided that that was enough of an answer,
knowing that Harry wouldn’t say anything more.

He turned and walked into the bedroom again, closing the door behind him. His back leaned
against it and he looked down at the floor, looking at how his toes curled. He was wearing another
shirt. This time it was grey, the hem of it pooling down about halfway down his thighs, just like the
red one. Louis blanked down at it, and then had to rest his head back against the door.

He could hear Harry move around on the bottom floor, hearing him walk in and out of the house
and even work in the small garden he managed to have outside Louis’ window. He snuck up to it
and peeked out, watching Harry as he stood on all fours, the same jacket from the day before
dressing his upper body as he tore weed away from the ground, wiping his forehead from time to
time. It must be hot, Louis thought, feeling his own shirt press to his shoulders quite
uncomfortably. He blew a strand of hair away from his forehead, quietly opening the window so it
could let in some fresh air.

It barely worked. The hot air only blew in more, Louis shaking his head. He turned around and left
the room, quietly tiptoeing down the stairs again.
Harry’s blankets were still on the couch and the one Louis had brought with him when he tried to
run away was neatly folded over the arm rest on some of the armchairs. He was still disappointed
that it hadn’t worked, running through the forest. But there was at least one way out of here, and
the blue eyed was still dead set on finding it.

Louis swallowed and looked around the room, quietly strolling up to the bookshelves on the
opposite of him. Nothing too interesting, he noticed. Classics mostly, such as Sherlock Holmes and
Charles Dickens. Even some Jules Verne, an author that Louis had never given any interest in.
They were too hard to understand, according to him.

Apart from those, there were mostly dictionaries and educational books, at least four bottom halves
of the shelves being books about nature and science. Small papers were sticking out from between
the pages from time to time, Louis glancing at the door before he pulled one of them out, looking
over the brown cover. It was an old book, golden letters being pressed into it. An old astronomy
book, Louis figured. He didn’t know much about space either, so he put it back after he had closed
it again.

The bookshelves weren’t more interesting than that, Louis jutting his bottom lip out while he went
into the kitchen instead. It was clean now, at least. A pot with some stew was on the stove
steaming, but he still couldn’t feel any smell, so he couldn’t figure out what it was.

It was a rather large kitchen, the floor made out of light wood just like the rest of the house. The
difference was that the walls here was white instead of bright green, the cabinets the same. Louis
opened a few, making himself familiar with everything, inspecting the patterns and where the
edges had cracked on the plates, carefully putting them back. He didn’t want to make a mess for
Harry, even if he disliked him. He had been raised better than that.

Louis turned his head, running his fingertips over the counter, pulling out drawers that were filled
with cutlery and kitchen knives. The thought of stabbing Harry crossed his mind again, but Louis
wasn’t a murderer. He just closed it again, furrowing his eyebrows when he reached the third
drawer, but he couldn’t get it open. He pulled and pulled until he heard a quiet crack, and he
immediately let go. He didn’t want to break something either. He still wasn’t too sure about
Harry’s temper.
He leant down, eyebrows rising when he saw the lock made of brass in some kind of curly pattern.
It looked just as old as the books, so Louis wasn’t sure that it could be picked. He even tried to see
through it, but it was pitch black, so he just gave up.

He groaned when he stood up again and stomped over to the door and threw it open, muttering to
himself when it crashed into the wall. It probably made a mark, but Louis didn’t necessarily care.
No, he continued to go over to Harry and stopped right beside him, glaring down when the curly
looked up at him, eyes squinting from the bright sun. Louis’ jaw clenched.

“What’s in the third drawer in the kitchen?” he asked, crossing his arms. Harry rubbed his eyes
with his wrist, something that he should do since his hands were dirty from the gardening he was
doing. He rested his elbow on his knee shortly after, letting his arm hang limp.

“Nothing of importance,” he said, shaking his head so some curls moved away from his eyes.
Louis’ toes curled.

“If it’s of no importance you can as well tell me.”

Harry laughed softly. “As stubborn as always, I see,” he said, smiling. Louis snorted.

“I’m not stubborn,” he muttered.

“I believe that you are,” Harry said, returning to dig through his plants with the gardening spade he
had in his hand. “Really, it’s nothing important. Not to you, anyway.”
“Is it to you?” Louis asked, letting his arms hang along his sides when he saw Harry nod.

“Sadly enough, yes,” he said. Louis swallowed, looking over the plants. He furrowed his eyebrows
again. “Now stop asking.”

Louis sighed then, looking around. He had never taken a really good look outside, all he had seen
was the lake, forest and mountains. He hadn’t seen the garden, and definitely not the slightly
smaller house that stood in the corner of the small field that you could call Harry’s property. It
could as well be stolen, for all Louis knew.

“What’s in the house?” he wondered. He kept his eyes on the house, Harry looking at it too,
chuckling a little.

“Things,” he teased, and Louis only rolled his eyes. Harry stood up, leaving the spade in the dirt.
He wiped off his hands on his jeans, leaving large marks on them.

“But really, I can show you.”

Louis looked at Harry again, fiddling a little with his fingers. “It’s nothing dangerous, right?” he
asked. Harry shook his head and reached out a hand for Louis to take, but he rejected it, going off
on his own. Harry jogged up to his side, hands in his jacket pockets. Louis didn’t dare to look up at
him.

The few meters they had to walk to get there felt like miles, Louis walking at least three meters
away from Harry. But the curly didn’t really seem to mind, fishing up a ring of keys from his
pocket when they reached the two, large wooden doors. Louis bit the inside of his cheek when he
got it open, following nervously when Harry entered.

He hadn’t really expected it to be a stable, two cows and four horses standing in individual stalls.
Louis gaped, hearing how Harry hung the keys onto a nail on the wall, running a hand through his
curls.

“It’s a little colder in here,” he said, Louis not answering while he slowly walked up to one of the
four horses. He carefully reached out a hand, pulling it back when the animal backed with an angry
sound. Louis backed himself, deciding to stand there and admire it instead.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Harry said, Louis slowly nodding. He pouted when Harry easily
placed a hand on its muzzle, the horse nudging it gently. Louis crossed his arms.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, blushing lightly when Harry laughed and took Louis’ wrist, guiding it to
the horse. Louis yanked it away. “Don’t touch me,” he spat.

Harry shook his head. “I won’t do anything,” he said. “Come on.”

“Bullshit,” Louis muttered, still allowed Harry to take it, Louis shivering when he felt the horse’s
warm fur underneath his fingertips. He glanced at Harry who nodded in approval, moving his own
hand to its back instead, patting it. Louis carefully patted the horse too, slowly sliding his hands
along it as he went to its side, stroking her loin and hip.

“See?” Harry smiled. “She likes you.”

Louis glanced at him, nodding slowly, and then rested his cheek to the warm fur. “What’s her
name?” he asked quietly.

“Superbia,” Harry said, Louis looking up at him again. “It’s Latin.”

“What does it mean?” the shorter one asked. His fingertips continued to brush over the beige fur,
quietly touching Superbia’s mane.

“Pride,” Harry informed. “Don’t know why, though. She just looks like a Superbia.”

Louis shrugged. “Guess so,” he mumbled, continuing to pat the horse for a while, then looked
around again. He went over to another horse, the one that was right next to him, the horse large and
proud where he or she stood.

“Hiems,” Harry said. “Winter.”

“It suits him,” Louis whispered, putting his toes under his other foot so they would warm up a
little. “Because he’s white, I suppose.”

“Correct.”

Louis looked over the other horses, one white with brown spots and mane, the last one as dark as
night. Louis bit the corner of his lip. “You can… take care of them, right?” he asked. “They’re
never hungry, I hope.”

“Never,” Harry assured, walking past the blue eyed and up to the black one. Louis watched as he
petted it, smiling when its muzzle nuzzled into his shoulder. He chuckled a little. “There there,
Caeruleus,” he laughed. “Behave.”

“Caeruleus?” Louis asked.

“Yeah,” Harry hummed, quickly glancing at one of the cows as it mooed. Louis looked too, but
turned back to Harry within a second, maybe two.

“That’s a complicated name.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, shrugging again. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

Louis hummed in response and looked back at the open door, his fingers touching the fabric of the
shirt he was wearing again. “Do you ride them?”

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Often.”

Louis shivered, crossing his arms again. It was getting colder, just like Harry had said, and the sun
had disappeared. Louis could even hear the weak sound of rumbling outside.

“Are you cold?” the curly asked, Louis nodding. “Let’s go in then. I don’t want you getting sicker
than you already are.”
 Chapter 5

Louis had been right about the rain, resting his chin on his forearm as he sat in the same armchair
as the day before, watching lightings and listening to the thunder outside. It was pretty cozy, the
room being colored in a red and grey color with the sky being dark blue, yet slightly orange from
the sun peeking out. He had decided to enjoy it while he could. It never looked like this in
England.

He had been thinking a lot of Britain since he came here. How he had taken things for granted –
like a shower, and a TV, and how quickly he had lost them.
Eleanor too, and Niall. He wasn’t even sure that they knew that he was gone yet. The trip to Los
Angeles was supposed to last for a few months, and now he didn’t know when he would get back.
Even if he even would come back.

The boy breathed out a little, making the window fog slightly, watching as it disappeared again. He
was bored and still a little cold, even though Harry had given him a blanket that Louis at first had
refused to take. But the curly had left it on the bed and left, and Louis had stared at it before he had
walked over and wrapped it around himself.

He had wondered if autumn came quicker here, because leaves were already starting to change
color, even if just a little. Yet, the days were warm and the night’s cold and Louis had no idea what
was going on. This could count as summer, for all he knew.
He kept his eyes out the window when he heard the door open, footsteps walking up to his side.
Louis prepared himself for feeling a hand on his shoulder or back, but all he could hear was the
drawer next to him open and close. Some quiet grunting too, Louis figuring that Harry pulled on a
thicker shirt. He was quiet afterwards, and the blue eyed one glanced at his bare feet, then to his
own. Harry’s was pale and a little blue. He must think it was cold too.

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked. Louis slowly shook his head, not wanting to talk. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Louis mumbled.

Harry hummed a little, staying where he stood. The shorter one thought that he would leave,
looking up at him for a second. Harry wasn’t looking at him for once, just out the window, but
glanced down when Louis started moving around. He would have done the same thing, actually, so
he didn’t snarl at him. He eyed him up and down instead, over the skinny jeans that Harry still
wore together with a navy jumper. Louis swallowed, eyes traveling over the metal chains that hung
around his neck. He hadn’t noticed them properly before. Or maybe Harry didn’t wear them at all.
He was never a very observant person.
He sighed again, hugging the thick fabric of the blanket between his fingers. He shivered a little,
looking away when the lights flashed outside the window again.

“We’re in Alaska,” Harry suddenly said.

Louis looked at him again. “Alaska?” he asked. “Why Alaska?”

“Why not?” Harry smiled. “It’s the best State of them all, according to me.”

Louis continued to look up at him, feeling how his teeth bit on the inside of his cheek. “Why did
you decide to tell me?” he whispered. “Now I can just tell me police and they’ll find me.”

“Maybe,” the curly shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers drumming on his biceps. “I
just think that you deserve to know.”

Louis looked away. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered.

“So you’ve told me.”

Louis blinked again, shifting in the armchair. His heels were cold against the upper part on his
thighs, his legs bent to his chest. He sighed to himself.

“I’m cold,” he said. “You should have picked Hawaii or Australia.”

“I don’t like the heat, so no,” Harry laughed. Louis ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at
how dirty it felt.

“Why did you leave England then?” Louis mumbled. “It’s not exactly heat waves there.”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t the happiest I could be over there.”

Louis looked up at him again, eyebrows furrowing when he noticed the expression Harry was
wearing. He was smiling, eyes on the floor, fingernails digging into his arms. Yet, he didn’t look so
happy.

“Are you now?” Louis asked. “Here, I mean?”

“I’m happier than before, at least,” Harry said, looking at the bedroom door. Louis followed his
gaze.

“What makes you unhappy then?” he muttered. “You got a house, and horses, and a beautiful
view.”

Harry shrugged again. “There are more to life than having things,” he said, smiling softly down at
Louis, who had to tear his eyes away from him.

“How can you be happy without a house?” Louis snorted.

“Believe me, you can,” Harry said, studying his fingers for a moment. “I think a homeless person
can be happier than someone with a mansion, a car and a complete family.”

“How?” Louis expected an answer, but when he didn’t get one he frowned, fists tightening.
“Answer me if I ask you something.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, turning his head to look down at the smaller boy that sat with
the blanket around him. “You could be unwanted.”

Louis looked up at him, lips parting a little, so unnoticeably that he barely noticed it himself. He
was about to ask him, to ask him if he had been unwanted, but Harry smiled and turned, walking
away before he got the chance to.

The door closed behind him and Louis found himself standing up and following him, stopping
halfway down the stairs. Harry stopped when he heard him follow him, looking up at Louis with a
small smile.

“Can I help you?” he asked, Louis clearing his throat.

“Unwanted?” he wondered.
Harry smiled. “You know. That you don’t want them there anymore, even though you love them.”

“Where you unwanted?”

“Let’s save that for another time.”

“What if there won’t be another time?” Louis breathed.

“It will,” Harry said, quietly chewing on his tongue. “Someday.”

Louis snarled just a little, Harry gesturing Louis upstairs with a small nod and a smile. “Why don’t
you go upstairs?” he suggested. “I can take you out tomorrow.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Louis muttered at him. Harry chuckled softly, hands playing with
the hem of his jumper.

“How about you do it for yourself then?” he said. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” Louis mumbled. “But I can still ask.”

Harry nodded, nodding up the stairs again. “If you have no more questions you can as well go up
then.”

Louis glared at him. “Where are you going? Are you leaving me alone?”

Harry shook his head. “I’d never leave you alone for more than a day,” he said. “I’m just going to
the bathroom.”

Louis swallowed. He seemed to still be dead set on keeping him here. It was uncomfortable, and
Louis was very sure that Harry knew that he thought so. If he didn’t get it from the glares and the
declines of food and water, he didn’t know what would. Not even the running away thing, yet
Harry almost pulled him back like he was a ragdoll or a small child that wasn’t obedient to its
mother.

“Why don’t you have a shower?” Louis whispered.

“The toilet was expensive enough,” Harry smiled, and that was it, Louis returning to the bedroom
and threw himself onto the bed again, and Harry went to the third kitchen drawer and took out its
contents, before he went into the bathroom and locked the door behind himself.

Louis lost track of how long he stayed there. It stopped to rain at least, and the sun even peeked out
from behind the clouds, painting Louis’ bare feet and thighs in sunrays. He had sat up a while ago,
quietly pulling his knees to his chest and fiddled with his fingers, eyes locked on the closet in front
of him. He had even sneaked over and opened it, but there was nothing of any use for running
away in there, just some t-shirts and button ups. They were clean and barely used, so Louis figured
that Harry may not always go dressed at all. It’s not like he would need it, anyway. He was in the
middle of nowhere in Alaska.

Alaska.

Louis hadn’t been paying much attention on the geography lessons, so he could only point it out on
a map if he received one, but that was it. He didn’t know any cities or towns, so that would
definitely not help him in anyway if he could find a way to get out of there.

He still didn’t understand why Harry chose Alaska of all places either. He could’ve picked Canada,
France or Finland. Sweden, even.

Louis shook his head and sighed, resting back against the headboard, fingertips quietly drawing
small and hopeless patterns on the sheets. His cheek rested to his wrist that was still sleeping on his
knees, breathing softly onto it as he drew small and pointless patterns onto the new sheets. What if
he had picked England? London?

He bit his lip when he rolled out of bed again and down on the floor, getting on his knees with a
small whimper. They were a little sore, something that Louis couldn’t blame them for. He had
probably been walking for ages in that forest, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his legs were red from
scratches and his knees blue from the cold.

He stood up and went over to the window, pushing it open and crawled onto the roof again,
yelping a little when he slipped. But once again he didn’t fall, making his way down the
emergency ladder as quietly as he could, not wanting to make too much noise. Harry was still in
there doing something, and the blue eyed figured that it may be something that shouldn’t be
disturbed. Yet, the feeling of what he only could figure was fright overwhelmed him and he had to
stop, hand clutching to the hem of his shirt. He stopped right outside the window and nibbled on
his bottom lip, quietly looking through the crack that was between the doorway and the actual
door, watching Harry that was sitting on the couch again with his eyes locked on the pages of a
thick book. It was different, this one, the cover being white with some pictures on them. Louis
squinted his eyes just a little bit in an attempt to read the title of it, but he failed, just shaking his
head instead. It was no use. Harry was too far away and Louis had lost his lenses long ago. It was
starting to hurt his head.

He stood up, freezing about midway when Harry suddenly turned and met his eyes, a small smile
stretching across his lips.

“Come on in, it’s cold outside,” he said and Louis did as he was told, not because he wanted to be
obedient to the curly, but because it actually was cold as hell. His thighs trembled a little when he
closed the door behind him, the boy glancing down at the two boots that stood by his feet, both of
them wet and dirty. Louis recognized them, knowing that it was the ones he had stolen when he
tried to ran away. He blinked at them, then back at Harry.

“You found them,” he said quietly. Harry nodded and turned back to the book. Louis now noticed
that he was also sticking papers between some of the pages of it, scribbling small notes down in it
where there was no text.

“Yeah,” the curly replied. “It took me some time.”

“Don’t you have any more?”

“Yeah, but they are for autumn and winter.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I won’t stay for that long.”

“You never know,” was the last thing Harry said before he lifted his feet onto the couch and
started reading again. Louis snarled at the back of his head and completely refused to believe for a
single second that he wouldn’t get out of here in any way. Whether he walked, ran or even found a
car somewhere, he was going to get home somehow. He had a life, for God’s sake.

Louis turned and went into the kitchen, glaring holes into the empty walls and the bookcase that
was along the underside of the stairs. He blinked. “Do you have a car?” he asked. Harry sighed,
rubbing his eyes behind Louis’ back.
“In the garage, yes,” he confirmed, elbow hanging over the back of the couch again as he watched
his hostage, even though he hated to call him something like that. He wasn’t after all. “But I’m not
telling you where the keys are.”

“How do you know that I can’t start it anyway?”

“You don’t.”

Louis glared, watching Harry’s stern yet unnecessarily calm face. He even saw the small smile,
and he immediately felt sick. It was like he was laughing at him, finding joy in the fact that he had
literally been taken away from his home. Louis took a shaky breath, looking away. His eyelids
burned again and Harry seemed to notice because he stood up and walked over, Louis seeing his
bare feet on the floor in front of him. The curly leaned down and reached out, and as soon as Louis
felt three warm fingertips on his cheek he took a quick step backwards, his back slamming against
the wall. He whimpered, eyes falling shut. His long eyelashes started to stick together as tears
started falling again, Louis taking the collar of the shirt and wiped them away, then looked up at
Harry. But Harry only had a small smile on his lips, and Louis hated it. Him, even. Everything.

“Don’t touch me,” Louis whispered and Harry frowned, yet lowered his hand. It was good enough
for Louis who, once again, looked away. He didn’t like meeting his eyes. It was like watching a
child getting run over.

They were both quiet and Louis knew that Harry watched him the whole time, judging from how
he could see him not moving out of the corner of his eye along with his pale and bruised fingers
drumming on his thighs. Louis felt like he was being undressed and left naked in a room full of
cameras. He even wondered if that was why Harry actually kept him here. So tie him up and film
him and then sell it. Maybe he was overreacting, but that was the least thing that Louis had in
mind. Harry murdering him wasn’t number one either, frightening enough.

“I’m hungry,” Louis whispered after what felt like years, his small toes curling together on the light
wooden floor. He blinked down at the ground. “I’m cold too.”

Thankfully his tearing up was starting to calm down, the blue eyed happy that Harry probably
didn’t see anything. Harry nodded, watching Louis with a small smile. He ran a large hand through
his curls.

“I have got some clothes in my dresser upstairs. You can take some,” he said, more quietly than
normal, Louis noticed. He shook his head.

“I want mine,” he mumbled. “I don’t want yours.” Harry sighed where he stood and shrugged,
raising his hands as if he had given up.

“Fine. I’ll go and get them and then I’ll make you some dinner.” Louis remained quiet, quietly
kicking the floor with his toes, hands locked together behind his back.
Harry was silent too when he turned and went up the stairs two steps at a time, Louis’ gaze finding
his legs in the last second, standing in the same spot while he listened to Harry’s mumbling and
grunting upstairs. Maybe he talked to himself a lot. Louis never talked to himself. He returned
downstairs a few moments later with what looked like a pair of sweat pants and a cardigan, Louis
immediately shaking his head.

“I said I wanted mine.”

“This is all I’ve got, Love.”

“Don’t call me ‘Love’,” Louis muttered and just took the clothes, too tired to even argue. He
looked up at Harry again before he snuck into the small bathroom and locked the door, quietly
sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. He sat there for quite a while, somehow getting dressed
about halfway through, wiggling his bare toes onto the floor. He sighed, leaning his head back to
the ceiling. The white paint was peeling off. Not that it was an important detail or anything.

When Louis exited the bathroom again his old shirt was neatly folded on the toilet seat and he was
greeted by a wonderful smell, Louis grateful that his nose was alright again. Louis could
immediately smell that Harry was making chicken, that fact getting confirmed when Louis
curiously peeked around the corner to the kitchen, seeing Harry flip something in a pan. He
watched for a while, wondering if he cooked to other people just like he did to him, biting on the
inside of his cheek when Harry started cutting up some paprika, throwing it into the pan also.
Maybe it was only a coincidence, that Louis loved paprika.

He had to hide when Harry turned around to get somethinf from a sheld, Louis staying there until
he could feel a familiar smell of curry. Maybe that was a coincidence too. That Louis used curry in
almost everything he ate. He turned to face the taller one when he appeared beside him, his cheeks
pink from the heat of the stove and the curls by his forehead sticking to it. He stood awfully close
so Louis backed away, tugging on his cardigan for a moment.

“Dinner’s ready,” the curly smiled and Louis nodded, not looking at him as he passed and sat
down by the table. It was already made, two white and chapped plates standing on the opposite of
each other together with two glasses and cutlery. Harry had even put some green napkins on there,
but Louis was rather sure that none of them would use them. He sighed a little, watching Harry’s
hands as they put some of the food in the pan onto his plate, Louis hating to admit that it smelled
absolutely wonderful.

Louis didn’t thank him for the food when Harry had sat down on the opposite of him even though
it seemed like he was waiting for it, the blue eyed simply taking his fork and started eating without
a word. He didn’t want to tell him that it tasted good either, unless he asked.

“Does it taste good?” Harry asked. Louis mentally cursed.

“Yes,” he mumbled, continuing to chew on that damn piece of chicken that tasted like heaven
itself. Harry made a low hum of satisfaction. Louis snarled, stabbing a piece of paprika before he
put it in his mouth. He then shoved the plate further onto the table, leaving two strips of vegetables
and one piece of chicken behind. He’d give his life to eat those too, but making Harry believe that
he did something that was good was out of the question. Harry noted that he left some of the food it
seemed, taking his plate and poked the remaining content onto his own plate, eating that too. Louis
crossed his arms and leaned back.

“Don’t suppose you’d like dessert then,” Harry said softly with a chuckle, swallowing his last piece
of food, finishing his water too.

“No,” Louis muttered in response and stood up. He pushed the chair closer to the table.
Unnecessary maybe, but it felt needed. He started walking up the stairs, feeling better now when
he had eaten a little.

His hand found its way to the railing as he walked, fingertips feeling the cold wood. The steps were
cold underneath his feet too. He was ridiculous, complaining about something so useless, really.

“I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

Louis looked down on Harry again, watching the dimple on his cheek appear when he smiled. It
was a wonder, how someone so sick could smile so much. It was stupid, Louis thought, that he
even smiled as something so small. The blue eyed was almost happy that he hadn’t smiled a single
time since he got here. Obviously, there wasn’t much to smile at.

“Am I going home?” Louis asked, the small spark of hope inside of him dying down just as quickly
as it appeared when Harry shook his head. No, of course not. What was Louis even thinking? That
he would just let him leave?

“No, I’m taking you hunting.”

Louis snorted. “Oh wow. I’m jumping out of joy.”

Harry chuckled a little, walking up to the kitchen counter together with the now empty plates and
glasses, putting it all in the sink. Louis rested his elbow to the railing, quietly playing with his own
fingernails.

“… What are we hunting?” Louis asked after a while. He might as well ask.

Harry seemed to think for a while. “Birds,” he then said. “Eagles.”

“Is that even allowed?” Louis mumbled, looking up the stairs to the second floor. He had never
been hunting before, so he had absolutely no idea. Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, his body lowering a little as if he was breathing out a large breath. “No
one caught me so far.”

Louis sighed, rubbing his eyes a little. He felt tired even though he had done almost nothing all
day. He was used to the high-speed environment, so doing nothing wore him out more than he first
had thought it would.

“What if it’s illegal?” he mumbled.

“I kidnapped you. I don’t think killing a few eagles is considered worse.” Louis looked down at
him, noticing that he continued to run his hand through his hair. It was his habit, Louis guessed. He
just hoped he hadn’t done that while he was cooking Louis’ food.

“You make a valid point,” he said, twisting and turning a little where he was standing. Going
hunting with Harry wasn’t the most appealing thing he had heard, but it was much better than
sitting alone all day or die in the cold from trying to escape. Besides, maybe Louis could grab the
gun and shoot Harry. No, he still wasn’t a murderer. Maybe he would be soon though.

“Fine,” Louis said, giving in. “We’ll go hunting tomorrow.”

Harry turned around and lit up, his eyes squinting a little. “Good. We’ll start early in the morning.
Go and get some rest.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Please go to bed, Love.”

“Don’t call me ‘Love’.”

 Chapter 6

Louis cursed to himself when he pulled on that ugly, blue sweater that Harry had given him
together with the plaid jacket Louis had spotted him in before. It was too big for him, but Harry had
said that, “It’s the warmest thing I have right now, so I want you to have it,” so here he stood
getting dressed in the middle of the bedroom of his. Harry himself was waiting outside on the
porch, Louis smelling the cigarette smoke through the window. He grimaced; hating people who
smoked, but he couldn’t do much.

Louis threw another glance into the mirror, turning his body from side to side to see how it all fit.
The jeans were fine and the sweater hideous, jacket going about half-down his thighs. The shoes
actually looked decent, but they were too big. Harry must have gigantic feet, Louis thought.

He sighed as he walked out of the room and down the stairs, stumbling just a little when the front
of the shoes scraped along the floor. It was a sunny day at least, Louis closing the door behind him
when he stepped out on the porch. Just as he had predicted, Harry stood leaned over the railing of
it, cigarette hanging between his fingers. He grimaced again and decided to stay there until Harry
was finished, leaning to the wall with a small frown on his face. People he knew had passed away
from smoking, so maybe that was why he hated it so much. He watched Harry’s back instead, not
mentioning it because really – it was Harry’s business whether he smoked or not, seeing his own
sweater that looked a million times better than Louis' flutter lightly along his back. It looked thin.
He would start freezing if he wouldn’t wear a jacket.

It took about fifteen minutes for Harry to finish, his green eyes locked at the mountains in the
distance the whole time. The cigarette got thrown to the ground and Harry breathed out a last cloud
of smoke, shaking his head to move the curls away from his forehead. He sighed a little too,
turning to Louis. The blue eyed man was almost surprised. He didn’t know that Harry knew he was
there.

“Ready to go?” Harry asked, already halfway down the three steps that lead down the porch and
onto the grass. Louis only followed a few meters behind him, wrapping the jacket around himself
like a blanket when he realized how cold it actually was outside. He looked up at Harry again,
following him to a small shed right next to the house. He stayed outside. He still didn't trust him
enough. Not that he trusted him at all.

“Aren’t you going to have a jacket on you?” he asked when he returned outside, halfway loading
his shiny shotgun with bullets. Louis almost immediately felt like he was going to faint. Harry
looked back at him and shook his head. He smiled a little.

“Nah, I can deal with it,” he said, flinging the weapon onto his back. “Besides, you have it.”

“Have what?”

“My jacket,” Harry smiled. Louis looked down at it for a moment.

“Why don’t you wear it then?” he mumbled. “It’s yours.”

“Then you'll get cold.”

Louis shook his head, figuring that this was hopeless. He raised his hands just like Harry had done
the day before, before dinner. He looked away. “Let’s just go,” he said and walked past him,
stumbling back when Harry took his wrist. He fell onto Harry’s side and quickly stood up again
when he regained his balance. “Don’t touch me.”

“We’re going that way,” Harry explained and pointed to another direction, Louis going there
without another word. Harry’s shoes brushed against the grass as he walked and Louis found it a
little annoying and scary, that someone with a shotgun walked behind his back. He stopped and
looked up at Harry for a moment.

“Can I walk behind you?” he asked, Harry looking up from whatever he found interesting on the
ground. His eyebrows furrowed a little, a small wrinkle appearing in his forehead.

“Why?” he asked.

“You have the shotgun. If… something comes, you can shoot it quicker,” Louis lied. He wouldn't
say that he was scared. Harry seemed to believe it though, just shrugging a little and walked past
him, Louis walking after him.

The forest felt thicker for some reason. Louis remembered it being much less trees and bushes, but
the forest may not be the same everywhere. Harry could easily climb it all over, but Louis had to
climb and push himself over many stones and dodge under low branches while Harry just pushed
them aside. But Harry’s hand got bruises and cuts from it, so Louis wondered why he continued
doing it.

Louis looked down on the ground, kicking around in the colorful leaves for a moment. It should be
early fall if Louis counted the days correctly. He had completely lost track. He had been here a
week, maybe two. He hadn't really been counting. He looked up at Harry again, the curls of his
bouncing a little at the back of his neck. They looked newly washed. It must be too cold to bathe in
the lake now. He must have warmed some water up and washed himself in the bathtub – just like
he had done with Louis a few days ago. Louis blushed lightly, still embarrassed over the fact that it
actually had happened, Harry washing his naked body like it was nothing. Louis had been asleep so
he didn't know exactly what he had done, but it was only obvious that he actually had washed him.

“Watch out, there’s a bump there,” Harry said and Louis immediately stumbled, falling face first to
the ground. He whined, crawling onto his knees among the yellow and red leaves. He spat onto
them, tasting dirt in his mouth. He sat up. Harry was already on his knees too, brushing dirt away
from Louis’ – well, his own, jacket with his hands and from his knees, Louis too busy with
clapping dirt away from his hands to even care. “You okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“Like you care,” Louis muttered, standing up on aching knees. He brushed the last of the damp dirt
away from his arms.

“Of course I care. Why wouldn't I?” Harry asked, genuinely confused. Louis spat onto the ground
again, coughing. His hands even went to his dirty hair to shake away any leaves that could have
ended up there, but nothing fell out. He sighed.

“Forget it,” Louis said instead, bumping shoulders with Harry when he went past him, starting to
walk down the narrow path again. His hands found their way into Harry’s jacket’s pockets, fisting
them in there. Harry jogged up to him.

“You don’t want me to walk first?” he wondered.

Louis shook his head. “You don’t have to.” Harry shrugged, shotgun falling to his back again.
They were quiet after that.

It took another hour for them to reach a river, Louis walking up to it and dipped his hand into it,
cleaning them. It was cold, fish jumping up from the water almost everywhere. Louis pulled his
hands out and sat back, waving his hand around in an attempt to dry them. He wiped them on
Harry’s jacket just a little bit later.

They were closer to the mountains, the sun resting right behind it. It had to be really early. The
forests were orange and yellow on both sides of the water, grey and slightly pink rocks and stones
outlining it all. You could see right into the river very easily, and Louis found it beautiful. Harry
sat down next to him, his elbows once again resting on his knees. Louis pushed himself away just a
little, one meter holding them apart.

“Pretty, innit?” Harry asked, Louis recognizing that question from when Harry had asked him
about the view from the window of Harry’s house.

“Yeah,” Louis said quietly, resting his chin to his own knees. He started counting the trees,
something that he quickly was bored off and closed his eyes instead. He listened to the water.

“This where I catch all the fish you and I eat,” the curly explained and Louis rolled his eyes
underneath his eyelids, growing bored.

“Where’s the eagles?” Louis mumbled.

“They should appear soon. Patience.”

Louis sighed, resting his forehead to his arms instead. If someone heard them haunt eagles, they
would probably go to prison. But then Louis could tell them what was going on and he would be
able to go home. Away from Harry. Very far away from Harry, actually.

The blue eyed carefully looked at the other one again, seeing that he was watching the sky. For
eagles, obviously. He breathed out, warm air hitting the thick jacket of Louis’. Harry’s forearms
looked pale and cold, the curly rolling down his sleeves like he was reading Louis’ mind. Louis
slowly played with a strand of his hair that hanged by his ear, nibbling on his lip.

“Aren’t you cold?” Louis asked.

“I am,” Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Very. But I’m used to it.”

“Won’t you get sick?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Harry sighed, his head rolling to the side so he could look at Louis.
“Would you take care of me then?”

“No,” Louis snarled, looking away again. “Take care of yourself.”

“It’s just fair though, isn't it? I’m taking care of you.”

“I’d be better off in England, with a shower.”

“Are you still on about the shower?” Harry laughed, shaking his head and crossed his arms instead
of letting them hang limp on his knees. Louis couldn't see it, but he was a million percent sure that
he was still smiling and watching him, even though they had been quiet for at least five minutes
after that question.

“…It’s disgusting to bathe in the lake, and you know it.”

“That’s why I boil it first and then wash myself in the bathtub.”
Louis had to, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a small shiver, cold air blowing up his
shirt and sleeves. He nibbled on the inside of his cheek.

“You said you bathe in the lake,” he whispered.

“Perhaps I said it wrong,” Harry smiled, head snapping up to the sky when he heard a sound. Louis
heard it too. Eagles. “I take water from the lake and boil it to remove bacteria, and then I use it to
get clean in the bathroom.”

Louis watched him and then looked up to the sky too, seeing two large birds fly in a circle above
them. Louis wished that he could see them closer. He had never seen an eagle up close before.

“Come on, stand up,” Harry said and Louis first now noticed that he stood behind him, shotgun
already ready in his hands. Louis did as he was told, suddenly getting nervous. What if he missed?
“Do you want me to show you how you do this first?”

Louis nodded slowly, taking a step to the side, watching when Harry raised the weapon, the pipe
pointing straight to the flying animals in the sky. Louis even felt bad for doing this.

It took a few seconds for Harry, one of his eyes closing as he aimed. Louis raised his hand to his
ears to cover them, biting his lip as Harry’s whole body twitched when he pulled the trigger, the
sound echoing in the whole forest. Birds flew out of the forest and up to the sky, Louis swallowing.
Indeed, one of the two eagles started to fall, the poor bird making a shrieking sound. Louis felt like
he was going to throw up.

The bird landed on the rocks on the other side of the river, both Louis and Harry watching it. Louis
took a deep breath. He wasn't too sure about this anymore. Harry let out a small chuckle and
brushed some hair strands away from his forehead, looking at Louis. He smiled.

“Was it loud?” he asked and Louis nodded, uncovering his ears. Harry reloaded the shotgun, Louis
not knowing how they worked, so he just went along with it. “I know, sorry. I can’t do much about
that.”

Louis shakily took the shotgun when it was handed to him; the cold metal feeling like it burned
marks into his fingers. He took a deep breath. “The other one flew away,” he said quietly. Harry
nodded.

“I know,” he said, nodding up to the sky again. But there will be more in just a minute.”

Louis looked up again, almost amazed at how many birds appeared on the sky just a second later.
It was like they were attracted to danger.

“So, hold the shotgun like this,” Harry said, somehow appearing behind him and started guiding
Louis’ arm, the blue eyed soon holding it exactly like Harry had done.

“Hold your finger on the trigger.”

Louis did like Harry said, his heart beating quickly in his chest. His eyes were locked on one of the
birds that kept on flying above them.

“Spread your legs a little,” Harry instructed and Louis blushed, slowly but surely moving his feet
apart. He looked at Harry again, watching his eyes roam Louis’ body and how he from time to time
moved it. Louis swallowed, Harry’s hands on his ribcage. Louis had to giggle, quickly stopping
himself. Harry seemed to stop too, looking at him curiously. He fought a smile.
“Are you ticklish there?” Harry asked and Louis flushed red, glaring up to the birds again like they
suddenly were the most interesting thing in the whole universe.

“Just get on with it,” Louis mumbled, trying to calm down his burning face. He took a few deep
breaths.

“Right, sorry,” Harry laughed, placing his hands on Louis’ waist instead and turned it a little to the
side, Louis deciding that that would have to do. Even if he didn't like having Harry touching him
like this. “So, close one of your eyes so you can see straight.”

Louis did exactly so, hands trembling a little. He would mess up. He knew it.

“The bird should be right above the end of the pipe,” Harry informed. “When it is, you keep steady
and you pull the trigger.”

Louis nodded, shaking again. He actually tried though, taking more than three minutes to aim. He
pulled the trigger and yelped, stumbling backwards from the strong pressure, eyes flying open.
“Did I hit it?” he asked.

“No,” Harry smiled. “You’re horrible at aiming.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis muttered and gave Harry the shotgun, crossing his arms. Harry set the
weapon on his back again, smiling a little. He started walking away from him and Louis wondered
where he was going, figuring that he was going to get his own eagle. Louis pouted and followed,
hurrying across the water when Harry crossed it, his shoes and jeans getting wet. Louis kicked it
off, water splashing everywhere. He watched Harry as he bent down next to the eagle, studying it
for a moment. Louis wanted to see it too, but he didn't really want to be close to Harry right after he
had touched him like that. So he stayed there, just looking as Harry picked it up, moving his finger
close to the bird’s eyes.

“Cover your ears,” he suddenly said, Louis furrowing his eyebrows.

“Why?” he asked.

“Just do it.”

“You still can’t tell me what to do,” the shorter one said and crossed his arms. Harry turned to him
and almost glared, and Louis actually took a step back, but he didn't cover his ears.

“Suit yourself,” Harry then said; his long and slender fingers going over the bird’s feathers, Louis
wondered what he was doing. When Harry turned the bird to the side and wrapped both his hands
around its neck, he figured it out and hurried to cover his ears, but he was too late.

The sound of the eagle’s neck cracking apart filled Louis’ ears and he shuddered, legs shaking so
much he had to sit down, the world suddenly spinning. He felt sick and he even threw up a little
into the water, his vision going blurry. He let out a small sound that could be anything between a
sob and a chuckle, and Louis would even class it as a whimper. He sat back and almost fell
completely, but managed to sat straight, looking as Harry tied something around the bird’s feet and
wings, placing it on his back too. Its neck hanged limp, its dead eyes staring straight at Louis. He
looked away.

“Told you,” Harry said and reached a hand to Louis to help him up, but Louis smacked it away and
stood up himself, but the world was spinning so much he fell again, his body just collapsing into
the water.
Now he knew what it would sound like if Harry snapped Louis’ neck.

Louis rose to his feet when he had calmed down, locking his eyes on the forest again. He started
crawling towards it. But he got lifted up and started struggling, kicking on Harry’s legs.

“Calm down, fucking hell,” Harry said and let Louis go when they were on the right side of the
river again, Louis breathing harshly against the rocks. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t touch me again,” Louis hoarsed, still feeling sick. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
Harry was silent, just standing there with dripping legs and sleeves. Louis stood up, glaring up at
him. He must've looked hideous.

“Why?” Harry asked quietly, his eyes soon going wide. He then laughed. “I won’t snap your neck,
if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Louis growled and flipped him off, going into the forest again, stomping along the path. Harry
followed with his hands deep in his pockets.

Louis didn’t say anything to him on the whole way back, throwing the front door open when they
were back at the house and ran through the house and up the stairs, hands trembling the whole
way.

It took many hours before Louis came out again, two days to be exact, always sneaking down to
the kitchen to have some water or to make him some food when Harry went out to the stable or to
the garden. The fear of Harry was starting to build up again, the small part of it that had
disappeared appearing again. It was on the second evening that they saw each other again, Louis
going down to have an apple when Harry walked out of the bathroom, his eyes bloodshot and his
skin as pale as a ghost. Louis thought that he had been crying, the curly lighting up when he saw
him, yet didn’t say anything. Louis didn’t either, taking an orange from the bowl on the kitchen
table before he scurried up the stairs again, and that was it.

On the third day Louis was awoken by a small knock on the door, rolling over and rubbed the
sunlight away from his eyes. His eyes met with Harry’s, the taller boy standing there in nothing but
a pair of grey sweatpants and the top of his hair in a ponytail again. Louis was about to curse him
out when the curly opened his own mouth to say something, but it was definitely not what he had
expected it to be.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Harry asked, his fingertips drumming to his thigh. Louis
blinked; surprised that he would even ask such a thing.

“It’s September,” he said quietly, hands tightening on the white sheets that he had slept in now for
quite some time. He wanted to change them, but he decided that if someone were to change them, it
would be Harry.

“I know,” he said, continuing to drum his thigh. “But if I’m going to save money for something, I
need to know how much it has to be.”

Louis couldn’t believe his ears. Harry? Saving money? For a Christmas present for him? “I,
uhm…” he started, shifting a little on the bed. “…I want a plane ticket to London.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Harry disappeared and Louis was left alone again, a small rumble in his stomach. He cleared his
throat.

“Harry?” he called, the curly soon sticking his head around the doorway again.
“Yeah?”

“I want breakfast.”

Harry smiled. “Toast or scrambled eggs?”

Louis swallowed, his stomach suddenly rumbling louder. Harry chuckled. “I’ll take that as a
‘both’.”

Louis looked up at Harry when he received a pot of steaming water later that day along with a large
white towel, also a smaller one along with a bar of soap.

“Shampoo and such are in the cabinet next to the bathtub,” he said, Louis hoping that he wouldn’t
drop the pot. He slowly nodded instead, taking a step back just in case. “If you need more water,
just call for me, yeah?”

“You won’t come in,” Louis said, looking down at the steaming water and the soap. He nibbled on
his bottom lip. “Right?”

“Of course not. I would never,” the curly assured, nodding to the bathroom door. Louis turned
around and glanced at it, carefully walking over so the water wouldn’t burn his upper thighs. He
nudged the door open with his toes, looking at Harry one final time before he went inside and
locked the door.

After Harry had left to make breakfast Louis had followed him and asked for a bath, Harry just
shrugging and agreeing. So he had walked out and got some water, Louis patiently watching him as
he got it and boiled it. He was going to get something he wanted, so he had no right to complain.
So now he was here, stripping down until he was fully naked and sat down in the bathtub, starting
to wash himself like he had never done it before. All the dirt from the forest went down the drain
and Louis cursed from the hot water, a shaky breath entering him. He always preferred hot
showers, sure, but boiling water was something completely else.

He breathed out again, taking the soap and just held it for a while, feeling how the water in his hair
dripped down on his back and onto his thighs. Last time he was here, it was together with Harry.
That was something Louis promised to never, ever experience again, sighing a little as he leaned
back, staring up at the ceiling where the paint was still falling off.
 Chapter 7

Louis couldn't help but pout, the grass wet underneath his feet. It was raining again, but of course
Harry saw this as the perfect moment to dig around in the garden. At least Louis was fully dressed
this time, Harry’s blue and red plaid jacket matching with the red beanie he had managed to snatch
from a shelf that was way too high up for Louis. He hoped Harry didn't have lice.

“Pass me the shovel,” Harry suddenly said and Louis groaned, taking the item it question in both
hands and gave it to Harry, the curly smiling in response. He started digging for whatever reason,
his thin shirt getting soaked in rain water. He still refused to wear the jacket, not wanting Louis to
get cold. Louis’ shoulders rose as he tried to stay warm, hands fisting in the jacket pockets and his
nose dripping from rain. He shivered.

“What are you even doing?” he stuttered, teeth clattering together.

“Digging,” Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair, water drops flying everywhere as he did
so. He then continued digging. “Obviously.”

Louis muttered at him. “I’m serious.”

Harry laughed softly. “I’m going to plant a tree,” he said. “Right here.” Louis pulled the sleeves
over his hands in an attempt to warm them up even more, but that attempt failed just as quickly as it
started. He whined.

“Right here?” he wondered, looking up to the sky and blinked when water fell into his eyes. He
rubbed them with the back of his now red, cold fingers. He breathed onto them for a while. “Can’t
it wait?”

“This way I won’t need to water it,” Harry said and let go of the shovel, some dirt falling onto his
bare feet. He didn't seem to notice. “Also, the sun shines here all year, so it’s only good.”

Louis snorted and looked around, glancing at the stable and the small shed. Then at the very small
tree that stood next to him, its roots being held in a sack. He poked it gently with his toes.

“Can I go inside?” he asked. “It’s cold.”

Harry looked at him. “You can after you give me the tree,” he said with a straight face, reaching
out his hands. Louis sighed and it handed to him, waiting until it was in the hole in the ground
before he turned around. He hurried, shaking the water out from his hair like a dog and went inside,
stepping out of Harry’s shoes, jacket and beanie. He didn’t close the door, watching Harry for a
while longer. The shirt of his stuck to his back again, just like it had done when he had washing
Louis’ sheets, the black drawings on his back shining through the fabric. Louis had to look away,
his feet getting colder than they should when he started walking towards the couch, sitting down
on the very edge of it.

It had been a week since they had gone hunting, the eagle now hanging above the fireplace staring
down at Louis, and the fear of Harry snapping his neck was still in the chills that he got in the
middle of the night. Sometimes he even dreamt about it, the blue eyed shakily running his
fingertips along his veins and Adam’s apple. He shivered.

He looked up at it, meeting its dead and sad eyes. He – or she, was taken away from his or hers
family now too, right? Maybe it had a family. Children. Louis sighed, leaning forward to rest his
elbows to his knees, lips softly pressing against his fingertips. He watched the unlit fireplace.
Suddenly, he shuddered again and curled together, trying to warm his toes underneath the blanket
that Harry was sleeping in. It was warm. Warm enough, at least. He looked up when he heard a
small cough, Harry walking straight past him and up the stairs, Louis looking after him for the few
minutes it took for him to get done and come down again, newly dressed in a shirt that reminded
him of a pea coat, jeans handing over his feet. Louis tilted his head, Harry’s cigarette package
already half-way out of his pocket. Louis grimaced and looked away.

“I’m cold,” he said, Harry’s cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips as he leaned over the
couch next to Louis. Louis moved away just a little, sitting down on Harry’s covers with his knees
still pulled up to his chest. He locked his eyes on the fireplace.

“You want me to make a fire?” Harry asked, the cigarette rolling between his lips as he moved his
jaw from side to side.

“Preferably,” Louis responded. Harry immediately stood up then, going into the kitchen and
opened a cabinet. Soon he returned with his arms filled with logs, setting them down on the carpet
on the floor. Louis found himself annoyed with the fact that it probably was about one million tiny
bugs on the floor by now. He looked up when Harry sank to the ground, starting to throw logs into
the fireplace along with some dry grass he pulled out from a basket.

Within two minutes there was a fire burning in there, Harry lighting his cigarette against the grass,
letting it hang between his lips while he breathed in, then between his fingers as he blew out in a
thin strike, the cloud of smoke rising to the roof. Louis watched it, the smell soon reaching him. He
hid his nose behind his sleeve instead of complaining. If he didn't complain to others, he shouldn't
do it to Harry either.

The warmth from the fire spread itself, Louis soon moving his feet from underneath Harry’s
blanket to the floor instead. His hands found their way between his thighs and squeezed them,
trying to warm them up. Louis’ gaze found the fire and he watched it, getting relaxed, so he
couldn't tear them off it.

“There’s space on the floor if you want to feel it more,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing the
cigarette so gently Louis wondered if he even touched it.

“I’m fine up here,” he replied in a weak mumble. Harry nodded from the corner of Louis’ blue
eyes. The only sound that was heard after that was the cracking and occasional hissing from the
fireplace, the ashes underneath it building up slowly but surely.

“What day is it?” Louis asked after a while. Harry turned around and looked at him.

“It’s the 16th of September,” Harry responded. “In two days you have been here for three weeks.”

“Do you plan on letting me go soon? Haven’t you had enough?”

“Not yet,” Harry said with a small falter in his voice. Maybe he didn’t know that Louis heard it, the
curly turning back to the fire. He nudged his cigarette two times so some ashes fell to the floor.
Louis drummed his fingertips on the couch.

“When… have you had enough then?”

“I don’t know.”

Harry moved his bare foot a little when a spark cracked from the fire. He brushed it away, pale
fingertips picking it up like it was nothing. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed. He would have flinched
away, yet Harry didn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t as hot as Louis thought it would be.
He sighed for a moment, hands slowly pushing him off the couch and onto the floor. He crawled
over to the fire and sat down in front of it, next to Harry, yet sat as far away as possible. He crossed
his arm and rested them on his knees.

He had many times wondered if he would ever get home. If he would ever get hurt by Harry. If he
would beat him or snap at him. If he would ever get raped or locked in, tied up even. Maybe he
would never see Big Ben or the London Eye again. Or Eleanor. Perhaps he would never start a
proper family with her or give her the diamond ring that still waited in the small black box in his
desk at home.

Louis stared out to nothing when his shoulders sank and he shuddered, soon burying his face in his
forearms. It only took a few minutes for his sleeves to get soaked in tears, Louis silently crying and
shaking.

“I hate you,” he whispered, voice cracking when he pulled his wet sleeves over his hands and
wiped his cheeks. But it was no use; soon tears were dripping down on his shirt and the floor
again. “I hate you so much, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry responded, nudging his cigarette again. His green eyes were still locked on the
flames in front of him. “I wish I could say the same about you.”

Louis swallowed, looking away and watched the stairs instead. “If you liked me you wouldn’t do
this.”

Harry blew out another thin line of smoke. Louis grimaced again, hiccupping. “Perhaps not,” the
curly said. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Then why?” Louis said, taking a deep breath as he looked at Harry. Still, he pretended like Louis
wasn’t there. He didn’t want him to acknowledge him either.

He had almost expected an answer right away, but that’s not when he got. He received a silence
instead, the cracking from the fireplace continuing. Harry even threw two more logs and some dry
grass in before he decided that it was time to talk, the cigarette hanging from between a pair of red-
bitten lips.

“I’m not sane,” he said, Louis wiping his eyes with his shirt again, sobbing filling the room for just
a split second.

“I know you’re not,” the blue eyed whispered.

“You don’t know me, so that’s impossible for you to know,” Harry muttered.

“But I was right.”

“There’s a difference between insanity and desperation,” the curly said, removing the cigarette
from his lips and held it between his fingers, just parting his lips. The blue smoke poured out down
his chin and past his nose and Harry blew the remaining smoke in his mouth out manually, and
Louis shivered. Cold chills went down his back and his fingers tightened on his sleeves. Harry took
too long on that one cigarette, Louis thought.

“You’re still insane,” Louis mumbled.

“You have no right to put labels on me.”

“You’re doing that very well yourself.”

Harry chuckled then, finally pulling out the cigarette completely and threw it into the fire. It made
a very small hissing noise and Louis watched it, the fire going slightly blue. “Maybe I do,” Harry
said. He looked up at the ceiling for a while, blowing out the last cloud of smoke towards it. Louis
watched it too, watching how it slowly rose and disappeared. “I can’t help it though.”

Louis blinked. “Yes you can. You don’t do it.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“It could be.”

Harry smiled; his hand hooking onto the collar of his sweater for a moment gave it a tug, blowing
into it. He was probably hot.

Louis wiped away the last tears of his, moving a little so his legs were crossed underneath him
instead, hands resting between them. He kept his eyes away from Harry.

“I know you, you know,” Harry then said but Louis still didn’t look at him.

“No,” he simply said. There wasn’t much to say after that for him.

“Yeah, I do.”

Louis could only shake his head. The first time they met was on the airport, and Harry knew it just
as much as Louis did. He was sure of it, and nothing in the whole wide world could make Louis
believe something else without proper evidence and proof. He swallowed.

“No, you don’t. I haven’t told you anything about myself,” he whispered, suddenly getting
uncomfortable. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Perhaps you should start doing it then,” Harry said, looking at Louis calmly.

“Never,” Louis said sternly. “Never.”

“What if I do it then?” Harry suggested.

“Do what?”

“Talk about you.”

Louis looked up at him, slowly shaking his head. No. No, no, no. No way. Never. Never ever.
“Don’t,” he breathed. “Please don’t.”
He stood up, not wanting to hear this. His feet just kind of allowed him to stand up on stable legs
and hurry over to the stairs, not knowing that Harry followed until he grabbed his wrist, Louis had
to stop, only halfway up the stairs, refusing to look at him in anyway. He was frozen, Harry’s
fingers so tight around his wrist it went numb.

“You were born in Doncaster,” Harry started, Louis’ eyes glaring up to the second floor. No. “You
lived together with both your mother and father until your sisters were born. That’s when your
father died and you and your family moved to London. You were sixteen by then, and very
nervous to transfer to a new school. But you did well and got many friends, and you even did well
in school. Your best subject was economy, math and science, and your worst was geography and
home economics. Your first kiss was Kristen Howell in your second year, and you later developed
a sexual relationship with her – no strings attached. Then you ended it when she moved and you
met Eleanor Calder. You graduated with horrible grades but somehow managed to get into
University, and that’s where you got your journalist degree. You later moved into a flat together
with Eleanor and got a job. A good job. You went to Los Angeles because they wanted you to write
an article about them, and then you ended up here together with-“

The sound of skin slapping together was almost loud enough to wake the dead, according to Louis
at least. It only took a few seconds for Harry’s cheek to turn red and sore, his fingers moving from
Louis’ wrist to his own cheek instead. He looked terrified, pale fingertips brushing against the
reddened area.
Louis breathed heavily, his own hand stinging. He even did it again, just for the sake of it, and then
again and again. Harry’s face snapped to the side each time, his curls flying from side to side,
falling in front of his face which made Louis unable to see it. He was almost happy about it, really.
He felt better about himself, knowing that he had wanted to do that for a really long time.

When Harry looked up again Louis was still smiling to himself, and it was almost comical how fast
it dropped. Harry looked furious, cheek flashing red and pink and his eyes looked wide, Louis
taking a step back because of it. He swallowed, watching Harry’s chest move as he breathed, the
blue eyed’s hands clutching to the railing. He stumbled when Harry shoved his chest, his heels
making him fall backwards onto the steps and he fell, his lower back hitting the sharp edges rather
harshly. He whimpered, looking up at Harry and prepared for the worst. Harry followed, walking
up two steps it took for him to stand right above him, his large hands gripping Louis’ shirt with a
large pull, lifting his upper body off the stairs. His hand rose too and Louis could feel how he
turned pale, his eyes squeezing shut to tightly he could almost see stars. He waited and waited, his
body curling a little against the stairs. His hands even went to Harry’s wrist and tried to move it
again, but it was no use. When he still didn’t feel Harry’s hand on himself he opened one of his two
eyes, looking up at the curly that still stood there with his hand raised. The difference was that he
didn’t look mad anymore. He didn’t exactly look calm, but he definitely looked… more human.

Louis didn’t dare to say anything, just lying there with his whole body shaking and his hands
wrapped around Harry’s thicker wrist. Both of them were still breathing heavily when Harry finally
let him go, Louis wincing when his back and head hit the steps again. He let go of Harry too,
laying there until Harry was done staring at him. The curly turned around and Louis almost
screamed out of gratitude, sitting up and watched after him as he finally took the jacket and his
shoes, disappearing out the door.

Louis rubbed his wrist and the back of his head, glancing down on his body for a moment.
Fingermarks were placed on his wrist and they didn’t look like they would disappear within a few
days. There were some smaller marks too, all of them shaped like a half circle, the boy figuring out
that Harry must have dug his fingernails into him without him feeling it. It wasn’t weird, he could
barely feel the skin right there at all.

He frowned when he brushed his fingers over the marks, a barely unnoticeable line of blood
sipping through. He blinked, whimpering just a little.
It could be worse.

None of them spoke for a while after that, Louis staying in his room for as much as he could, Harry
going out into the forest almost every day. He never came home with anything, Louis always
standing behind the bedroom curtain spying when he came home. He felt like a dog or a house
wife that was worried that her husband cheated on her, always having that little spark of hope that
he one day would walk in and apologize for what he had done or maybe it was Louis that should
apologize.

Louis pretty much lied down on his bed all day and tiptoed down to the kitchen and the toilet when
he got hungry or when he needed to do his own business. Also, since Louis had no idea how to
cook it all ended up with many apples every day and sometimes the rests that Harry left on the
stove when he had eaten himself. Louis was almost a little hurt that Harry didn’t bring food up to
him, even though he would protest.

It took Louis twelve days to build up enough courage to go to the bottom floor and even look at
Harry who was looking through his books at the time, dressed in what looked like a black band
shirt, the hem of it stopped just above the middle of his thighs. The sleeves were rolled up to his
shoulders, and if he were to wear it, it would go past his knees, Louis noticed. He shook his head
and stopped there in the middle of the stairs, watching Harry for a few quiet minutes.

If you passed him on the street you wouldn’t know that he was like this. Dangerous. Insane,
disgusting and so incredibly poisonous, something that Louis wished he wasn’t. They could have
become friends.

Harry pulled out a blue book, something that looked like a dictionary from where Louis stood, the
Curly flipping through the pages and dragged his finger across the paper as if he was searching for
anything. The hand went to his curls when he found what he was looking for, pulling out the pencil
that was placed behind his ear and wrote something into it, Louis blinking in surprise when he
suddenly tore the whole page out and folded it together. The pencil fell back into place behind his
ear and the paper got held between his lips while he set the book back in his slot. Harry started
mumbling to himself after he had moved the paper, reading it again as if to make sure of
something. He didn’t look up for what felt like years, and Louis got scared and nervous, and he
went into his room again and stayed there for another day.

It was Harry’s time to take the initiative the next time, the tall man walking into the kitchen while
Louis was there, attempting to make a fruit salad, his back facing Harry. He had found a knitted
and thick dark yellow sweater that he had pulled on top of a regular t-shirt. The sleeves had been
pulled up to his elbows since he didn’t want them to be in the way, the sweat pants he was wearing
being folded up to his ankles. He had gotten used to wearing Harry’s clothes. He didn’t have much
of a choice either.

“Let me make you something,” Harry said and Louis turned around, knife clutched in his hand. He
almost dropped it when he flinched, but thankfully he didn’t, breathing out. He didn’t say anything
though. “You’ve eaten nothing but fruit and rests for two weeks.”

“I’m doing fine,” Louis mumbled and turned back to his cutting board, hacking up a banana.
“Besides, it’s only thirteen days.”

Harry smiled and walked up to him, Louis immediately shoving the board to the side along with
his bowl of poorly cut fruit and followed it, staring down at it as he continued. Harry followed.
Louis couldn’t move away anymore since he was pretty much pressed to the wall, waving a little at
Harry instead. But Harry stayed where he stood, putting one hand in his pocket and rested the other
one on the counter that was red of dried strawberries. “One day more or less, does it matter?”

“It does to me,” Louis said, putting the mushy banana pieces into the bowl. He grunted at it,
muttering small cuss words. He reached for another apple. “I’m counting the days.”

“How many so far, then?” Harry smiled and gently pushed Louis’ side, making him stumble away
from the cutting board and took the knife away from him, starting to cut the fruit himself instead.
Louis just crossed his arms and took a few steps away, standing on the other side of him instead.
He watched how Harry so disgustingly professionally cut up the apple into smaller cubes, eating a
few of them himself between the chops. Louis looked away.

“Thirty-three,” Louis muttered. “Let me go home.”

Harry shook his head. He threw one of the cubes into the air and opened his mouth to catch it,
cursing when he missed and it fell onto the floor. He bent down and picked it up instead or leaving
it there, something he would have done if Louis wasn’t there, and threw it into the sink for now.
He turned to Louis. “Not yet,” he said softly, turning back to the apple.

Louis watched him, looking for any weird expression changes, but didn’t get any. He sighed then.

“I didn’t mean to slap you,” he mumbled.

“You did though,” Harry smiled down at Louis. “You got mad. You should have done it long ago
to be honest.”

“I tried on my first day here,” he confessed. “When… you know.”

Harry nodded. “I know what you mean. You don’t have to say it.”

Silence, until Harry finally gave him the bowl of fruit together with some jam he said he had made
a few days ago. Louis took it without a thank you, starting to eat immediately on the spot. Harry
started washing up the mess that Louis had left after himself, humming quietly.

“You look good in yellow,” he said when he was done. “It suits you.”

Louis almost choked, couching up a banana piece. He looked up at him. “I hate yellow,” he
coaxed.

“You shouldn’t.”

Louis met his eyes for a moment, but then had to look away. His fingers drummed on the sides of
the white bowl, the edges a little chapped on this one too.

“Why didn’t you hit me back then?” he asked softly, hands tightening a little and he backed half a
step.

“Why would I?” Harry asked back, drying his hands on his jeans. “I had no reason to.”

“I slapped you,” Louis reminded him. Harry pushed himself up on the counter.

“You had a reason to. I didn’t have a reason to slap you in return.”

Louis looked up at him, suddenly losing his appetite. Harry seemed to somehow notice and took
the bowl from him, starting to eat from it instead with the same fork. Louis swallowed. “What’s
reason enough for you to hit me, that I can do?” he asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure that Harry
heard him. But apparently he did, the bowl being placed in his lap as he looked up to the ceiling.
He thought for many minutes.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, starting to eat again. “But if I ever were to hurt you, you must have
done something really stupid.”
 Chapter 8

The next day Louis woke up because of a loud rumbling, his eyes flying open but quickly closed
again, still unused to the light in this room. His bedroom was grey and dark purple, which meant
that he had a hard time getting used to the white walls.

He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, his grey t-shirt hem resting on his thighs. It had started to get
colder outside, so Louis hadn’t told Harry that he took his shirts and slept in at night. He would
rather wear them than freeze to death, but telling him was a whole another story. He squinted his
eyes open when he had gotten most of the tiredness out of his eyes and looked around, the room
being slightly blue. He looked out instead, the sky purple, large rain drops slapping the floor
through the open window. The curtain was catching the wind and Louis shivered, knowing why he
now was so cold.

He had to literally roll out of bed to even get over there, the thick covers around his little body as
he padded over. He closed it with some struggle and a few curses, his whole face getting wet from
the rain. He muttered a little and was about to go back to bed, flinching violently when another
rumble rang through his ears, this time along with a lightning. Louis wasn’t exactly afraid of
thunder, but it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

He sighed and collapsed on the bed again, listening to the rain for a moment until he had to groan
again, Harry’s loud footsteps and cursing from downstairs echoing through the whole house and
probably the whole forest that surrounded them. Louis whined, looking up and glared at the open
bedroom door. He refused to get up and close it. Nope.

He muttered and crawled out of bed after another five minutes of cursing and stomping, marching
over to the door and could only place his hand on the door handle before a curly haired man
hurried past him and into the room right next to Louis’ bedroom, soon coming out again with what
looked like a billion blankets. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you…?”

“Go back to sleep Love, I’ll be back in a moment,” was all Harry said before he ran down the stairs
again, almost slipping on one of the blankets. He even dropped it, Louis about to pick it up for
him, but Harry was already out the door.

Louis looked after him with a surprised expression, never seeing Harry in such a hurry. Louis had
to admit, he got curious, so he went inside the bedroom again and pulled on a pair of sweatpants
and one of Harry’s hoodies, running out the door. Harry was still struggling with the blankets so he
hadn’t gotten so far, Louis running up to him and pulled on the back of his shirt.

“What’s going on?” he asked, taking the blanket that Harry had dropped in his own hands. “What’s
with the rush?”

“It’s Mary,” Harry panted, his steps quickening. “She’s having a baby.”

Louis froze and stopped, Harry continuing to run towards the stable. Louis then got it. Mary was
one of the cows, obviously, hurrying after him again. The rain was still smacking his cheeks and
nose when he ran, wiping them off with his sleeves as he held one of the large door open for
himself. He looked up at Harry who was already by the cow’s – Mary’s, side, patting her side and
whispered soft sentences into her ear. She seemed to be in pain, the sounds she made making Louis
want to cry. He sat down on the other side of her on the hay, watching her for a moment.
“How do you know she’s having a baby?” he asked after a while, Harry continuing to pet her.
“How do you know she’s just not in pain?”

Harry looked up at him, a small chuckle falling from his red lips. He must have bitten them. He
must be nervous, Louis thought. “Because she was pregnant when I found her,” he said. “She must
have run away from another farm somewhere. I found her a few months ago, and she was pregnant
by then, so.”

Louis bit down on the very corner of his lip, both his hands placing on Mary’s stomach. He pulled
away when she started screaming, Harry hushing her. Louis placed them on her back instead. He
stroked it.

“For how long are cows… pregnant then?” he wondered. “Maybe it’s not due yet.”

“Nine months. It’s been about that long since I found her.”

Louis remained quiet after that, continuing to gently pet and pat her.

It took about four hours before Mary started pushing, Harry hyperventilating the whole time. Louis
was pretty used to it though, being with his mother all the time when his sisters were born. It
wasn’t very different from this. Louis just turned around and laughed to himself, finding the look
on Harry’s face priceless.

“It’s a boy,” Harry said when the calf was out and wrapped in blankets, Louis shyly petting its head
while it was lying in his lap. It had immediately grown attached to him apparently, making small
mewl when it was stumbled over to him. Louis hadn’t known exactly what to do, so now he just sat
there and petted it. Mary had fallen asleep almost immediately. Harry himself was drying his hands
from something that Louis didn’t even want to look at. It looked like a sack, more or less.

“It seems to like you,” the curly said with a laugh, sitting down in front of Louis with his legs
crossed underneath him. Louis just hummed, smiling a little when the calf looked up at him with
large, brown eyes. Louis ran his hand over its head again.

“Maybe so,” he said quietly, pulling his hand back when the calf started licking it, grimacing. He
wiped it on the hay next to him. Harry laughed.

“How about you name it?” Harry suggested. “I’m not very good at naming animals, as you’ve
noticed.”

Louis let out a breathy laugh, letting the calf lick his hand this time. It made a small sound again.
“You’re horrid at it, actually,” he admitted, pulling the calf a little closer. It was heavy, Harry
reaching out and helped it to lie down on Louis’ lap more properly. Louis stroked its back instead.

He thought for a moment, his tongue sliding over his thin lips many times. He had never named
anything before in his whole life. Except his goldfish, but that’s barely a life changing experience.

“… Whiskey,” he whispered after a moment, running his thumb over the yawning calf’s mule.
Whiskey nudged it.

“Whiskey?” Harry wondered. “Why Whiskey?”

“Why not?” Louis shrugged, looking up at Harry. Harry smiled and shrugged.

“You got a point,” he said, looking back at the calf again too, reaching out and ran his own hand
over the animal’s head. Whiskey seemed satisfied, tilting his head back with another sound. Louis
smiled a little again, and then looked up at Harry. The curly had moved closer, smiling too when
the small bull licked his hand. Louis didn’t really say anything, just watching how Harry’s
eyelashes just barely nudged his cheekbones every time he blinked. Louis swallowed.

“You know…” he said, Harry continuing to watch the calf without looking up at the blue eyed boy
on the opposite of him. “… I don’t hate you less just because of this.”
Harry continued smiling, even though he noticed that his crinkles disappeared. He still didn’t look
at Louis. “I know,” he said with a small nod. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“Why did you let me come here then?” Louis wondered, looking away for only a second when
Harry’s eyes flickered, thinking that he would look at him. He looked back at him when he noticed
that he didn’t.

Harry shrugged. “I saw how much you like animals, judging from the first time you saw the
horses,” he said, a small shrug dressing his shoulders.

“That’s the only reason?” Louis asked.

Harry shrugged again. “Perhaps I tried to make you smile too.”

Louis blinked, sitting up straight. He squirmed a little, the hay suddenly uncomfortable. “Smile?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You haven’t smiled since the airport. It was the first thing you did when you
saw me. I wanted to bring it back.”

Louis looked up at him, then at Mary. She was still sleeping. “Why?” he muttered. “You’ve seen it
before.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. The smile from the laugh stayed the same on his
plump lips, and Louis watching them, figuring that his own had to look much more chapped than
those.

“I like you the most when you smile,” Harry nodded, taking Whiskey and lifted him up in his arms,
setting him down next to Mary after he had unwrapped him from all the blankets.

Louis blushed, quietly covering his face with his sleeves, fingers running through his hair. His eyes
were left unfocused for a while until he found a very interesting bucket by the door. “I like you the
most when you’re quiet,” he muttered, and Harry laughed.

Harry spent most of the day on the stable that day, Louis staying with him for only a few hours
before his stomach started screaming at him, the boy hurrying back into the house to get something
to eat. He ended up with some milk and corn flakes that he found in the far back of the cabinet,
happy that it hadn’t gotten old yet.
He sat down by the kitchen table, quietly staring out at nothing as he ate his breakfast. Or lunch, if
you’d like.

Harry came back in the evening when the sky was yellow and orange, the trees around them
throwing shadows over the flat piece of ground that was Harry’s yard. He was tired, he said, and
ate nothing but some spaghetti he made himself that day, Louis moving over on the couch when
Harry snuggled down between the sheets in nothing but his t-shirt and his underwear.

“Is this were you have been sleeping for this month?” Louis had asked and Harry had propped
himself up on his elbow, watching him. He only nodded, a small shrug following.

“It’s enough for me,” he said and fell back on his pillow again that was pressed rather ridiculously
to the corner of the cushions.

“Why did you give me your bed?” Louis asked instead of commenting on the pillow.

“Couldn’t let you sleep on the couch. The least I could do was giving you a comfortable place to
sleep.”

“My bed at home’s better,” Louis stated. Harry said nothing and only closed his eyes, his forearms
diving under the pillow. The other hand tugged on the cover until it covered his whole body, and
Louis sighed. He was getting tired of reminding Harry that he had another home. He didn’t seem to
buy it.

Louis stood up when Harry had fallen asleep and went up the stairs as quietly as he could, stripping
down until he was in Harry’s shirt only and lied down on the bed again. He barely moved at all
until he fell asleep too, finding himself wondering what Eleanor looked like.

The next day came quicker than Louis had wanted it too, glancing up at Harry when he came in
with a tray of yoghurt and eggs. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You never brought me breakfast to bed before,” he stated, making sure that his body was covered
when he sat up even though he was still wearing the grey shirt.

Harry laughed softly and crawled onto the bed too, setting the tray down next to the other one.

“Some time’s got to be the first,” he simply said and gave Louis the bowl of yoghurt and chopped
up fruit, Louis taking it with a small “Thank you.”

He took the spoon and slowly started to eat, glancing up at Harry who stayed, resting back on one
of his hands as he watched him with a small smile. Louis swallowed thickly.

“What?” he asked.

“Would you mind if we ate breakfast together today?” he wondered. Louis looked at him for what
felt like years, even decades. To him at least, and apparently to Harry too, because soon he smiled
and shook his head, giving up. “Guess you do.”

He took the second bowl and egg that Louis hadn’t even noticed was there and walked out, closing
the door behind him. Louis brushed it aside though, deciding not to think about it, continuing to eat
his breakfast and then stretched a little, yawning.

A while later he stood up and pulled off his shirt, throwing it down on the floor – something that
he had done for a while now. Harry always picked it up and washed it, so he didn’t really see a
problem in it. Still he had gotten a little guilty over it, but there was no way in hell that Louis would
step into that lake.

He bit his lip as he searched through Harry’s clothes, lifting some out and walked up to the mirror,
holding them up in front of himself. He held one red t-shirt and one yellow in the other, both of
them having the same pattern, only different colors. Louis looked between them and shyly pulled
the yellow one of the hanger, tugging it over his head. He turned and twisted in front of the mirror
again, deciding that this would have to do. Harry said that he looked good in yellow, after all.
Louis suddenly stopped in his track and tugged the shirt off, immediately pulling the red one on
instead. He wouldn’t wear yellow just because Harry said he looked good in it. No, he wouldn’t
please him like that. Never.

Louis ended up taking the red shirt after all along with a pair of skinny black jeans and a grey
beanie, his ears getting cold. It was soon the middle of October, and it definitely started to show. It
was more and more often that Louis woke up to frost on the windows and on the grass.

Louis bounced down the stairs that morning in an awfully good mood, Harry already making a fire
in the fireplace. He lit it just as Louis set his foot on the bottom floor with his lighter, putting it
back in his pocket when he looked up at him.

“Hi,” he said, sitting back on the floor, his feet close to the fire. He was cold too, it seemed, his
blanket already around his shoulders. Louis hummed a little, standing there at the bottom of the
stairs. “Did you sleep well?”

“I guess so,” Louis responded and made his way over to the couch, sitting down on the edge of it.
He pulled his knees to his chest. “… Did you?”

“Nah,” Harry said, turning back to the fire. He rested his hand in his curls. “I think I’m catching a
cold. I’ve been sweating all night.”

Louis blinked, pouting his lips a little as he watched the back of Harry’s head. He then looked the
fire also, fingers drumming on his knees and the back of his thighs.

“You shouldn’t sleep with clothes then,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Harry was quiet, Louis almost thinking he was dead, but then he mumbled something that he
couldn’t hear.

“What?” Louis said dumbly.

“… I didn’t,” Harry said, this time a little clearer. He waved his hands underneath the blanket.
Louis blushed lightly.

“But you were dressed when you brought me breakfast,” he said.

“Well, I got dressed,” Harry said plainly. He laughed a little and looked at Louis. “It is possible,
you know.”

Louis muttered and waved his hand so Harry would look away, something that he actually did. The
blue eyed felt stupid for a moment. Obviously. He should have thought of that before.

“Oh,” Louis said in response, shifting where he was sitting. Harry didn’t necessary notice, not that
he should, anyway. He still eyed the fire, the flames coloring his pale skin in orange and red, his
whole face flashing in colors. Louis sighed, his fingertips brushing some of his hair away from his
forehead. The warm air from the fire burned his feet.

Harry stayed quiet too, something that Louis had noticed he didn’t do very much when there could
be things said. He coughed from time to time and even sneezed once, Louis moving a little further
away on the couch. He didn’t really want to be sick again, like he had been some time ago.

“Could you make me tea, Love?” Harry nasally said suddenly, looking up at Louis.

“No,” Louis muttered. “Make your own damn tea, and I told you not to call me Love a million
times.”

“I think it suits you though,” Harry smiled tiredly. “Please make me tea.”

Louis muttered at him. He would have done it if it wasn’t Harry to be completely and perfectly
honest. Maybe he was a bad person because of it, and Harry had made him food and given him tea,
even a bed and a place to live in this awful place. Also, he hadn't hurt him.

Louis glanced down at his wrist and over the five marks that were still there. It had gone blue and
purple and even a little green and yellow, the small cuts being almost completely healed. They had
been worse than Louis first had thought though, the marks leaving small white scars after
themselves.

Okay, he had almost never hurt him. But this wasn’t a big deal, Louis thought. It could have been
worse. He could have slapped him.

Louis sighed and looked at Harry again who also had watched his wrist, but turned away when
Louis caught his eye. He must have at least some guilt in that tall body of his. Louis looked at him
before he stood up and went into the kitchen, crawling onto the kitchen counter to open one of the
cabinets.

“What flavor do you want?” he asked. Harry crawled onto the couch and looked at Louis, his lips
resting to the back of the couch. He smiled a little, even.

“Lemon and mint, please,” the curly responded and Louis rolled his eyes, digging through all the
packages of different teas and flavors, opening the box that he was looking for. He breathed out in
relief when there were four bags left in there. So he crawled down and looked for a pot, placing it
on the stove when he found it.

“Where’s the water?” he asked, Harry nodding at the door.

“In the lake,” he responded. “Make sure that you boil it properly first, though.”

Louis grimaced. “You have a working toilet but no sink,” he said. Harry shrugged with a small
chuckle and a cough.

“Sorry.”

Louis snarled and took the pot, walking past Harry and stomped out, whining as he sank the pot
down in the awfully clear water. He went inside again, carefully so he wouldn’t spill any water and
put it on the stove again. He put a lid on and but the heat on, muttering curses the whole way.

“Doing okay, I see,” Harry laughed and Louis flipped him off.

“Be happy I’m even doing this,” Louis spat. “You should do it yourself.”

“Then you can make the food you eat yourself too,” Harry hummed. “Or maybe you want fruit
salads every day.”

Louis saw the point pretty clearly and shook his head, knowing that he should argue about such a
small matter like this with Harry out of all people in the whole world. He would with Eleanor, but
she wasn’t here now, so whatever. He sighed again and watched how the water started to steam
and make the underside of the lid wet with water droplets.

“Do you cook a lot at home?” Harry then asked, rolling off the couch and walked up to Louis’
side, the blanket thankfully still around his body. Louis slowly shook his head.

“No, I… I can’t cook anything except pancakes and tacos,” he mumbled, knowing that he actually
should do more at home. Eleanor always cooked for him. A pretty basic thing, such as pasta or
mashed potatoes, but it was good. Really good. No things like Harry had done so far though, such
as curry chicken and vegetables or soup made from a piece of heaven. Louis bit his lip.

“That takes some skills too,” Harry said, leaning his hip to the kitchen counter right next to Louis.
He glanced into the pot. Louis chuckled softly.

“Ah yeah, flipping pancakes and cutting vegetables.”

“Not everyone can do that.”

Louis chuckled softly and started looking through the cabinets again, pulling out one blue cup and
one red cup. He gave the red one to Harry, pulling the now boiling pot of water further onto the
stove. “Take it yourself,” he said and lifted the lid off, carefully sinking his cup into the water so it
filled, taking a teabag himself. He put it in and turned around, not even noticing Harry’s small
smile as he went up the stairs and into his bedroom, sitting down on the bed with a smile of his
own because really – who wouldn’t?

Louis ended up sitting in that room for the rest of the day, exploring the second floor for a while
when he heard Harry walk out and into the stable again. Louis had the urge to do the same thing, so
visit Mary and especially Whiskey, but as long as Harry was in there too he didn’t really want to –
so he ended up here, looking through boxes in a storage that he maybe shouldn’t even have found.

There wasn’t much in them, a few blankets and thicker sweaters that hadn’t been taken out from
the winter yet and some more books that the curly probably couldn’t fit in the bookshelves.

Louis coughed when he blew some dust off one of them, brushing the rest of with his fingers, later
wiping them off on his pants. ‘Photos’ was printed on the cover with bold and fancy letters, the
gold in them going well together with the blue book. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed because really, this
weighed quite a lot, corners of photographs and letters sticking out from between the pages. The
blue eyed turned to the open door for a moment to see if Harry wasn’t leaning to it listening or
something, slowly opened the door when he saw that it wasn’t.

He sat down on one of the boxes, eying the photographs in it. Nothing special really, some pictures
of trees and crappy flowers, some of Harry’s teenage years too. Louis chuckled a little at one of
them, a baby photo actually, the photo containing a small child with its hands to the ceiling and
what looked like baby food all over his chin and cheeks with a large grin. It reminded Louis of his
sisters actually, all of them being messy children. Yet Louis loved them, of course.

He turned the page. He smiled once again, a beautiful and very pregnant woman covering her face,
obviously because she didn’t want to be on picture. Louis took it out and turned on it for a moment,
trying to find the date. But the only thing he found was thick coverage in blue ink. Louis decided to
not mind that, putting the photograph back and turned the page again.

The same woman, this time by the kitchen table and her mouth filled with food. She was looking
into the camera, her dark hair in a bun on the top of her head. She was still pregnant. She was
beautiful, Louis thought. She reminded him of Harry too, probably a sister or even his mother.

Louis swallowed when he turned the forth page, feeling nauseous. He didn’t know what he had
expected, another baby photo maybe, but definitely not himself. He stared at the photo of himself
together with Niall and Josh, another one of his childhood friends, all three of them sitting on the
grass right next to the school’s football field laughing. Louis looked away when he closed the
book, standing up and placed the book in the box again. He did it like he was afraid of it waking up
or something, walking out like nothing had happened. The door closed behind him and Louis’ hand
stayed on the door handle, staring at it. The whole thing about Harry knowing his life story wasn’t
as weird now, Louis swallowing the thought of Harry being a literal stalker away. He didn’t know
his whole story, and he had no right to but labels on him, just as Harry had said. But still,
something like this wasn’t pleasant. But of course, what did Louis know?
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

If anyone's interested - I have a tumblr dedicated to my fics where I reblog things that
remind me of it. http://bxlfanfic.tumblr.com/

Louis only poked his dinner the next evening, Harry as concentrated on his book on the opposite of
him as ever. He only looked up when Louis scooted the plate of his away, the food barely touched.
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed underneath his fringe of curls.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry asked. “You didn’t touch your breakfast either.”

Louis shook his head, looking down at his lap. His thumbs were carefully playing with each other,
Louis’ thin lip caught between his teeth. Harry had a concerned look on his face that the blue eyed
one didn’t even notice, the book being closed after Harry had folded the corner. He took the plate
and moved it closer again.

“Please eat,” he said, crossing his arms on the table. “I made it for you, after all.”

“Why do you have a photo album with pictures of me and my friends in your storage?” Louis
asked, seeing no point in hiding it. Harry blinked and sat up a little straighter, a genuine surprised
sound coming from his parted lips.

“A photo album?” he asked, being quiet for a while before he spoke again. “Oh, the blue one? It’s
not just you in it.”

“You never told me you went to my school,” Louis spat, now looking at him. “When were you
planning on telling me?”

Harry looked back at him, sighing a little. He tore his eyes away from Louis, pale fingers running
through his hair. “Never,” Harry honestly said. “Never… planned to.”

“Why?” Louis glared. “Have you been following me for my whole life in London?”

“No,” Harry said and shook his head.

“Then for how long?”

Harry was quiet again, like he was thinking. “Never,” he said again, but more quietly. Louis
thought that he looked embarrassed, but maybe not. He had looked like that quite a lot when Louis
was around. “I never… followed you anywhere.”

“Then how did you know about my life?” Louis asked, standing up, palms resting on the table.

“Eavesdropping, mostly,” he mumbled. Now it was his turn to play with his fingers, green eyes
locked on them. Louis snarled.

“What’s your deal, Harry?”

“Can we take this another time?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“The least you can do is telling me.”

“No, the least thing I can do is not telling you.”

Louis groaned loudly, hands fisting on the table. He was getting angry; maybe he shouldn’t have
brought it up at all. It wasn’t his business, or maybe it was. He wasn’t thinking straight. He walked
up to the couch and then back to the table, pointing a warning finger at him. “Listen here Kid, I
deserve to now.”

Harry looked up at him slowly shaking his head. He looked stern again, just like he had done when
he almost slapped him, but he looked more nervous this time. Louis wasn’t sure that he liked it.

“You will someday,” he simply said instead of even answering Louis, taking the two plates and
stood up himself, walking over to the kitchen counter. He stumbled a little and Louis furrowed his
eyebrows just like Harry had done before. Had he hurt himself or something?

Louis shook his head, throwing the thought away. “'Someday' isn’t a date,” he said, stomping over
to him and slapped his back. Harry breathed out and turned to Louis, looking down on him. Louis
almost wanted to stand on his tiptoes so they would be the same height, but he didn’t. “I’ll be gone
soon.”

“No, you won’t,” Harry said and smiled a little. “Right?” Louis hissed at him.

“I will, and I want to know right now.”

Harry sighed, the plates falling into the sink together with the cutlery and the glasses. He rubbed
his eyes.

“Please, I-“

“No, Harry. Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?”

“No, I really don’t,” Harry spat, finally glaring at him. Louis had to take a step back, the change of
Harry’s expressions being something that Louis didn’t really want to play with at the moment.
“You will know one day, but today is not it.”

Louis looked at him, slowly shaking his head. “Do you really like me?” he asked quietly.

Harry swallowed and nodded, starting to wash the dishes. “Yeah,” he said, his eyelashes fluttering
his cheekbones when he blinked. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“…Is this your way or showing love?” Louis asked quietly.

“I never said I loved you,” Harry said, this time pointing at Louis. Louis watched the pale finger as
he took another step back. “Don’t think that for one single second.”

“Then why would you…?”

“Some things aren’t that easy to explain,” Harry sighed and stopped what he was doing, head
hanging on his shoulders as he closed his eyes, his fingertips resting over the edge of the sink. His
chest rose and lowered as he breathed. Louis watched it, the thin and black fabric loosely hanging
off of Harry’s broad torso and shoulders looking like a weak wind blew through it.

Soon enough Harry reached for a clean towel and wiped his hands from the water he had been
washing the dishes with, throwing it on the counter. He turned and went up to the stairs, walking
up them at least three steps at a time, leaving Louis in the kitchen.

Louis looked after him, thoughts just steaming inside of his head. Not easy to explain? "I’m a
freak,” could have been easy enough. So could "I’m sorry, I’ll take you home,” have been, but that
was something that he wouldn’t hear for a while, it seemed. Maybe never.

Louis was about to walk right out the door when Harry returned, the photo album in his hands. The
blue eyed snarled at it and Harry even rolled his eyes, taking Louis’ wrist.

“Come with me,” he said and started pulling on Louis, Louis tearing his arm around from Harry.
He whimpered a little, looking at the blue bruises that finally had started to fade. They were a lot
greener now, him looking up at Harry angrily as he followed. Harry sat down on the couch and
Louis did the same, as far away from him as possible. But Harry had none of it and wrapped his
arm around Louis’ waist, pretty much lifting him closer. Louis was too tired to even protest and
sighed, looking into the photography album when Harry started to flip through it.

“There’s you,” he said and Louis rolled his eyes. Harry flipped another page again. “And here are
other people. You’re not the only one. If you had continued you would have seen that.”

Louis glanced into it, over the other people that he also recognized. Kristen, Stephanie and even
Eleanor, every single one of them not even realizing that someone was taking a picture of them.
Louis watched when Harry continued to flip through the pages.

“But why?” he wondered.

“Why not?” Harry muttered. “They're memories.”

Louis pouted, crossing his arms when he leaned back on the couch. “It’s creepy,” he said and
looked away. He watched the bookcase that was underneath the stairs. He had always wanted one
of those.

“Maybe. They’re for me though, not for anyone else, so I don’t see why it’s wrong.”

Louis sighed, his fingertips brushing his fringe away from his eyes. He rested his head on the back
of the couch. Harry seemed to get his hint, that he still wanted an explanation, the curly placing a
large hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“One day,” he said.

Louis gently brushed his hand away, crossing his arms again after that. “Fine,” he said, slowly
blinking.

Harry seemed satisfied and stood up, the photo album being set onto the cushions on the other side
of the curly. They both sat still for a while, Louis starting to feel drowsy.

“I never saw you in school,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“I left,” Harry said, Louis being satisfied with that answer. He couldn’t ask for more either.
“Something came up.”
Harry turned to Louis when he didn’t get a response, leaning forward in an attempt to see Louis’
face that was still turned away. He smiled softly, standing up as quietly as possible when he
noticed that he had, indeed, fallen asleep. His hands slowly tipped him forward and into his chest,
carefully moving his head so it was resting to his shoulder. One arm went around Louis shoulders
and the other one under his legs, lifting him up slowly. Louis muttered a little, Harry breathing out
a chuckle. Louis’ small breaths hit his bicep as they started moving up the stairs again, Harry
counting the steps so he wouldn’t stumble and trip. Harry set Louis down in bed that day with a
small smile on his lips, making sure that he was comfortable, brushing some more hair away from
Louis’ forehead. It was starting to get long, Harry noticed, chewing on his bottom lip as he watched
him for a moment. He then walked out and closed the door, going down the stairs and went to bed
himself.

When Louis went down the stairs on the 5th of October, the next day, if you will, he was actually
the first one to wake up. Harry was snoring on the couch, half the blanket on the floor on the rest
over his back and bum. Louis looked away after he had inspected the tattoos on Harry’s body for a
moment; most of them looking like flames that went from his full sleeves and out over his
shoulders. They were pretty, Louis thought. He had never been a fan of tattoos, but the curly suited
in them, frankly enough.

Louis didn’t really know what he should do for the first hour on the bottom floor, aimlessly
walking around, inspecting books and souvenirs as quietly as he could. He didn’t necessarily want
to wake Harry up. He had seemed so tired before, Louis remembering how he pretty much had
collapsed onto the couch. Was taking care of the animals that much of a job?

Louis pouted a little, drumming his fingertips on one of the shelves, eyeing the books and the
sculptures that looked like something you would buy on a vacation – some of them being lanterns
and some of them being boats or animals. Louis smiled a little at one that looked like a cow,
poking it with his fingertips. It tipped a little yet didn’t fall, Louis having enough of it. He was
going to continue to look around, but Harry woken up and cleared his throat, making Louis flinch
and turn around. He blinked, watching when Harry moved around in his sheets.

“Good morning,” he said, the same rasp as the one on his very first day here. Louis swallowed.

“Hi,” he responded, turning from side to side on his feet. “I was just… looking around. I wasn’t…”

Harry shook his head. ”Never thought you did,” he smiled, blankets sliding down just a little when
he sat up, hand rising to run through his curls.

“You could have,” Louis said quietly, only glancing at the elephant. Harry shook his head.

“I got it when I was little,” he confessed. Louis swallowed.

“Is it fragile?” he wondered.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I’ve dropped it quite a lot while I’ve been cleaning, so it alright.”
Louis then nodded, fingertips ever so gently fiddling with the hem of his shirt. So Harry still had
things from when he was little even though he was here. Louis found it quite fascinating, even
though he maybe shouldn’t. It was just things. Louis had them too, after all, it wasn’t rare to have
them.

“Do you have anything else?” he asked quietly, the feeling of pressuring Harry strangely erupting
him, yet, he only shook his head.

“The photo album, if anything,” he responded. “I didn’t get anything else with me when I left.”
Louis hummed. Not much else to do. Harry stood up after a while, making sure that the sheets
were still wrapped around him, thankfully. He padded over and the blue eyed boy immediately
took a step to the side when Harry reached for his shoulder, but missed and went to the bookshelf.
Louis didn’t realize that it had been his goal all along until he held the elephant again, inspecting it
and gently blew some dust off of it.

“I got it from my sister while she was in India,” he said, Louis looking between the stone animal
and Harry many times. “She’s an airhostess and brings me things like these quite often.”

“Does she know about this?” Louis asked. “I mean… us?”

Harry shrugged. “She could be. She knows that I have something here that I’m trying to hide, but it
being you is something that she hopefully doesn’t know about.”

Louis swallowed. “Would she… you know, call the police if she founds out?”

Harry was quiet, something that had happened quite a lot recently, speaking up when Louis gently
poked Harry’s arm. He then shook his head. “For some reason, I don’t think so,” he said, putting
the sculpture back. “She understands why I’m doing this, I hope.”

Louis nibbled on his thin bottom lip when Harry studied him, Louis looking away and refused to
meet his eyes; he crossed his arms instead. Harry made a small chuckle and his hot breath hit
Louis’ cheek, a very small shiver going through him. Louis had expected Harry to have bad
morning breathe due his smoking, but apparently not. It smelled like nothing, if anything. “Where
is she now?” Louis mumbled, taking another step backwards.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, shifting on his bare feet. “She could be anywhere. Depends on if
she’s working or not.”

Louis swallowed. “Alright,” he said. Harry smiled and went back to the couch, sitting down as he
searched for his shirt that had been tossed to the side, just by Louis’ feet. Harry saw it and Louis
kicked it, making it fly through the air and into Harry’s lap, the curly taking it and pulled it over
his head. He then stood up and Louis turned around, glaring into the books again. Naked. He was
naked. Louis blushed lightly and locked his eyes on a book that seemed interesting enough for him
and pulled it out, going through the pages as if he was studying.

“Alright, I’m dressed,” Harry laughed after a while and Louis hummed in response, fingertips
drumming on the book. He set it back and turned around, looking at Harry who was halfway into
the kitchen. He looked back at Louis, the blue eyed boy wondering if he ever thought about his
family at all. He had said that he was happy enough here, that he hadn't been that in England. He
had also said at the airport that he came here with his sister but lost contact with her. Why did she
send him things in that case? Was she asking for forgiveness? The questions spun in Louis’ head as
he listened to Harry who asked if he wanted some breakfast, Louis quietly nodding instead of
saying anything. He went over to the kitchen table and sat down, watching when Harry started to
work in the kitchen, pots and pans rustling around on the store and under the sink.

Soon enough they both had fruit, bread and eggs in front of themselves, Louis taking whatever he
knew he was going to eat with a small “Thank you.” It felt necessary by now, Louis knowing very
well that he never said thank you or thanks in the beginning, but Harry had taken care of him after
all. It was just something that you should do, shouldn’t it? Louis looked up at Harry who was, in
fact, already looking at him too, blinking a little when Harry smiled.

“You slept well?” he wondered and Louis nodded, poking his scrambled eggs before he put some
in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
“I usually do,” Louis mumbled, licking his lips from the small crumbles of food that had managed
to stay there, slowly reaching for his glass of milk.

“You do?” Harry blinked, his long and slim back straightening in wonder. “You don’t seem to.”

Louis looked up at him. “Why, you go in and watch me sleep?” he muttered. “That’s creepy.”

“No, of course not,” the curly laughed, taking a bite of his own sandwich. “You talk sometimes
though.”

Louis swallowed. “I do not,” he snarled, crossing his arms.

“You do,” Harry nodded. “I promise.” Louis snorted, stabbing his eggs in a rather violent manner.
Harry even flinched and grimaced a little, the sound of the fork scraping against the plate filling the
whole house. Maybe it even echoed in the mountains.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked. “I have no reason to.” Harry then surprisingly smiled, his
cutlery being put down and his plate and glass scooted away from himself, his arms crossing on top
of the flat and smooth surface of the table.

“I have never lied to you, Love,” he smiled. “I never will, either.”

Louis snorted. “Bullshit,” he mumbled. “Pure bullshit.”

Harry only shook his head. “Believe me or not,” he said. “But I really haven't lied to you.”

“Even if you haven’t, you will one day,” Louis whispered and stood up. Harry seemed to shrug and
maybe even smile rather sadly, but Louis didn't quite catch it when he turned around and went up
the stairs, hand slowly going along the railing. He stopped before he could reach the second floor
and leaned over a little, shyly looking at Harry. Harry looked up at him and tilted his head, curls
slightly brushing across his forehead. His lips made a small twitch before he smiled properly,
watched Louis as he twisted a little on his feet. “You know, you will have a great life too,” Louis
said. “Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but you will someday.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, slowly shaking his head. He looked down at the table and ran his
fingers through his hair, one of his curls twisting around his fingers.

“I already do,” he said, looking up at Louis again. “With you.” For some completely unexplainable
reason, it seemed like the whole world just froze around Louis and he breathed out, everything
going black and white except him and Harry who was still smiling at him with something that
Louis could only describe as fond. He shook his head, hands tightening on the railing. No. No, no,
no.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head more properly. “I don’t like you, you’re definitely not happy
with me.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m working on it,” he said. “About you not liking me, I mean.”

“I will never stop disliking you, Harry,” he breathed. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m not,” Harry shrugged. He stood up and started collecting all of the plates and cutlery,
something that he always did. Louis watched him, head still shaking. He took a slow step towards
the second floor again, his bare toes moving on the wood of the stairs. It was cold. Louis’ feet
were too.
“You’ll let me go one day,” he mumbled. “Not because I run away, but because you want to.”

Harry hummed, plates falling into the sink together with water that Harry apparently already had
heated up. “Perhaps,” he plainly said.

Louis kept his eyes locked on him while he made his final steps up the stairs, almost tiptoeing over
the floor as if he was afraid of being heard. Afraid of being heard by Harry, at least. He’s
dangerous isn’t he? He hadn’t hurt Louis until he would be in need of medical attention, only a few
bruises on his wrist and on his lower back, and after that he hadn’t done much else except the
whole drugging down thing, right? He sighed when he crawled onto the bed and wrapped himself
into sheets and blankets, sitting up as he looked out the window. Red and orange and yellow
dressed the bottom of the trees outside, the leaves starting to fall off the tops. They were left naked
and exposed to the whole words to see, and Louis couldn’t say that he felt very different. He closed
his eyes when small water drops started to smack against the window, the wind whistling through
the window. It was a nice sound, Louis decided, small air puffs of cold air hitting his cheeks and
forehead. Some of his hair strands that were getting way too long fell into his eyes and he shook
them away by moving his head to the side, eyelashes quietly brushing the white fabric of the
blanket. He whined a little when the sheets suddenly got wet and Louis wiped his cheeks, shaking
his head. No, no more crying. He was getting tired of it, some it was no use. It wouldn’t make a
difference anyway, and Louis looked nothing but pathetic doing it.

He had lost count of how many times he had done it since he came here, how many times he had
thought about Eleanor and Niall and even Liam who probably had no idea what was going on, if
Louis just had left or if the article was just a little bit overdue. Louis muttered. Damn you Liam, for
making him do this. Look how it turned out. He groaned quietly as he threw himself back and just
glared up to the ceiling, toes curling inside his cocoon of sheets. He sighed. One day, he would get
out of here. One day.
 Chapter 10

About one week later Louis was wrapped in sweaters and blankets when he padded down the stairs
to make himself a snack, feet clothed in thick socks that slid over the floor when the blue eyed one
stepped onto it. It had gotten colder in just a few days, Louis had noticed, remembering how it even
had snowed a little the day before. Harry had been rather stressed about it, running in and out of the
stable at least twenty times. At first Louis had thought that Mary was having another calf, but then
Louis had asked Harry just laughed and shook his head, telling him that he just had to make sure
that the animals were warm and comfortable. That had been that, Louis now shivering when he
went over to the curly that sat on the floor in front of a lit fireplace, a small bottle of blank ink in
front of him. Louis’ eyebrows furrowed and he curiously watched him for a few seconds before he
sat down next to him, noticing the small needle that was between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, Harry looking up as if Louis had startled him. He then
smiled and turned his upper body, showing a tattoo covered arm.

“I’m painting,” he said, Louis leaning back a little.

“Painting?” he wondered and Harry nodded, Louis’ blue eyes following the needle when Harry
dipped it into the bottle of black ink. He swallowed when Harry put the tip to his skin, to an area
that was pretty much clean from tattoos and made a line with it, wiping some off with a cloth that
Louis hadn’t even noticed.

“You can get ink poisoning,” he mumbled and pulled on the covers around him, pulling them over
his head so only his face was visible.

Harry softly laughed and shook his head, dipping it again. “I’m careful,” he said reassuringly,
Louis watching when he made another line. It looked painful, Louis thought. Harry made small
hissing noises every time.

“…Why are you doing it?” he breathed. “Stop.”

“There aren’t many tattoo artists around,” Harry smiled, wiping some ink off again. He blew a little
on the lines that stayed. “This is the best I can do of the situation.”
Louis could only glance at him. “I don’t like tattoos,” he said quietly. “I’ll never get one.”

“Really?” Harry asked, looking at Louis. He let the needle rest in the ink, wiping his hands with the
cloth. His head tilted a little and the curls that were in a ponytail moved a little at the back of his
neck and Louis watched them, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. “You don’t like mine
then?”

“I don’t hate them,” he mumbled. “They look cool on others, but I wouldn’t look good in them.”

“You’ll never know,” Harry said and took the needle again. “How about I give you one? A small
one, of course.”

“Absolutely and definitely not,” Louis said and straightened, shaking his head. “I’d never let you
do that.”

“Oh,” Harry said and pouted, a childish one that Louis could see was fake from even a mile away.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Make me breakfast, Harry,” he said and Harry looked at him, leaving the needle again as he went
into the kitchen. Louis nibbled on his lip, hating himself for being too curious about it; reaching for
the thin and pointy object that still had some ink on it. He poked the tip and whimpered when it
stung him, a minimal drop of blood peeking out through his skin. Louis muttered at it and looked
on his forearms, actually wondering what a tattoo would look like on him. Also, what would he
get? A quote or something would be boring, wouldn’t it? He glanced at Harry before he moved the
needle into the bottle again and then to his skin, his right shoulder actually, slowly starting to
write. He hissed a little, making a small ‘H,’ wanting to write ‘Home,’ but Harry was too quick in
the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and a cup of tea, Louis quickly putting the needle back
and pushed himself onto the couch. He looked almost frightened and Harry laughed, giving the cup
to Louis, a white one with small floral bands around it. Harry often drank from this, Louis
remembered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he smiled and sat down also, placing Louis’ sandwich on
Louis’ lap. He took a bite of him own and leaned back, the cracking from the fireplace filling the
room for only a moment. Harry was smiling at Louis and Louis was watching the needle that was
dripping of black liquid, quietly chewing on one of his cucumber slices.

“You didn’t,” Louis whispered, and Harry crossed his legs underneath himself, reaching for his
teacup that he had set down on the floor. He took a sip.

“Why did you get so startled then?” Harry wondered.

“Because,” Louis simply said with a shrug and took another bite of his sandwich, chewing it as if
he was afraid of breaking his teeth or something. Harry chuckled.

“Childish,” he said and Louis muttered, trying not to think of the burning pain that tickled in his
shoulder.

“I don’t even know how to do all of this,” Louis spat a few hours later when him and Harry stood
in the stable, both of them in thick jackets and big scarves, Louis even wearing a blue, grey and
white beanie. He was holding a saddle and struggled to get it over Macula, the white horse with
brown spots that Louis never got to know the name of before this, but failed again and again. Harry
had already gotten Caeruleus ready and stood by the door waited, the back of his hand covering his
mouth so Louis wouldn’t see him smile. But he already had, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like
being embarrassed. Not over something like this, at least. He was a rather fun person that didn’t
mind making a fool over himself, but in front of a capturer who also was someone that Louis may
even open up to – he definitely didn’t find the thought appealing.

“Just push it over his back,” Harry said and Louis muttered at him, flipping him off with a snarl.
Harry smiled and let go of Caeruleus before he went over to the blue eyed, gently nudging his hip
so he would move over. Louis did exactly that with a mumble, watching when Harry took the
saddle and threw it over Macula’s back with far more ease than Louis would have liked him too. It
only took him a little more than two minutes to get the horse ready, Harry taking the white and
brown horse and the black one in both his hands, leading them outside with Louis quietly following
behind him.

“Take a helmet. They’re on the wall by Mary,” the curly said and Louis shook his head, crossing
his arms.

“No, I’m not wearing a helmet,” he said stubbornly ad crossed his arms. “You’re not wearing one,
and neither am I.”

Harry sighed and shrugged, giving the reins to Louis. He took it with a small hum. “Can you get up
by yourself?” he wondered.
“Yeah,” Louis muttered in response and put his foot into the stirrup, groaning when he tried to
push himself up. But obviously he didn’t have that kind of luck, trying four times before a pair of
large hands on his waist.

“Place your hands on the front and back of the saddle,” Harry instructed and Louis swore that he
would have slapped Harry’s hands away if he hadn’t been so eager to get up on the horse back, so
he let it pass. He did as Harry said and pushed himself up when Harry said he should, feeling how
he got lifted up at the same time. The shorter one swung his leg over the horse and soon sat down
properly, the reins so tightly held in his hand that his knuckles whitened. He got scared.

“Is he nice?” Louis asked quietly, voice shaking a little. “Will I fall off?”

“Not if you go slowly,” Harry smiled and lifted himself onto Caeruleus after he had closed the
stable doors, the black horse making a sound and moved a little, Harry gently patting its mane.
Louis felt a little jealous. “Are you ready to go?”

“I guess so,” Louis said and watched as Harry gently kicked the four legged animal's behind, the
animal immediately going forward. Louis swallowed and did the same, whimpering when Macula
moved. “How do I stop?” Louis whimpered, feeling his breath quicken. He had never ridden a
horse before, and the thought of it being this scary had never even crossed his mind.

“Just pull,” Harry said and pulled the reins, the horse stopping. Louis mimicked. Macula did the
same. Harry nodded and went off again, a little quicker this time. Louis watched him and kicked
Macula again and soon one more time, the horse going a little faster. Louis tried to breathe calmly.

“You’re doing well,” Harry praised, riding up to Louis’ side. He smiled at him, Louis feeling like
he bounced up and down on the horse back – probably looking ridiculous, but Harry didn’t say
anything. “You want to go for a ride into the forest? There’s a flower field right behind it, so we
can ride freely there.”

Louis barely noticed himself nodding when Harry sped off again, Louis forcing himself to do the
same. He didn’t want to get lost. He didn’t know when he would be able to get out again. Macula’s
hooves clicked against the path rather beautifully when both he and Harry entered a pretty wide
path, Louis’ lips parting a little when he noticed how strong the orange color of the trees was by
now. Louis found it really pretty. He glanced at the back of Harry’s head, watching how the thick
jacket he was wearing moved when he rode the horse. He was skilled, Louis figured, biting his lip
a little. He looked down at Macula’s mane that was quite long, watching how it bounced as he ran.
He found it fascinating, how horses just didn’t mind being ordered around and carrying people on
their backs. He looked up again when Harry made a clicking noise with his mouth and the horse
started running more properly, Louis panicking when his curly head went further and further away.

“Wait for me!” he yelled and Harry turned his head, Louis hearing the weak sound of him
laughing. He went a little slower again and Louis soon reached his side, glaring at him. “Don't you
dare leave me on this damn thing,” he spat. “I could have died.”

“That ‘thing,’ is Macula,” Harry smiled and Louis stuck his tongue out at him, slowing down even
more until the horse was just walking. Louis liked this pace more.

“Whatever,” he muttered and saw Harry slow down too in the corner of his eye, Harry staying
silent with a small smile on his lips. He looked around too, Louis glancing at him.

Louis still couldn’t believe that someone that looked like Harry could be so different. He assumed
that that was the right word, noticing how one of Harry’s curls fell out of his ponytail and brushed
across his cheek. It had such contrast to his pale skin. Louis had noticed that when they were on
their way to Foreign too, but something was different this time, like the fact that Louis noticed how
every hair strand of Harry's curled together so softly. He looked away when Harry turned to look at
Louis instead, keeping his eyes on the path until Harry looked away also. Louis didn’t mind him
looking. He had grown used to it, he guessed.

“Is it far?” Louis asked and Harry shook his head.

“No, just over this hill,” he said and Louis nodded, blinking when the sun peeked through the
leaves by his side. He rubbed them, and then gently patted Macula’s side. He was soft and warm.

“How did you find them?” he wondered quietly when they started going over the hill. “They
haven’t always been yours, have they?”

“No,” Harry agreed. “They haven’t. Superbia and Hiems were already in the stable when I got
here. I found Caeruleus and Macula over time.”

“This isn’t your house?” Louis asked.

“No, I… No,” Harry said plainly and locked his eyes on the top of the hill.

“Whose was it then?” Louis asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed with a shrug. “I don’t know much about this farm, really.”

“But… why are you here?” Louis pressed, keeping his eyes on Harry, not even noticing the field
that spread out in front of them. “What happened to the farmer?” Harry looked at Louis but didn’t
say anything. Louis swallowed. He couldn’t, right? No, Harry would never kill anyone. “You
didn’t… right?” Louis whispered, hands tightening a little.

“Of course not,” Harry muttered. “You still think of me like that? After all these months?”

“It’s only been two,” Louis mumbled. “It’s not like it has been a year.”

“Will you stop thinking I’m a murderer after a year?”

“I won’t be here for one year.”

“You’ll stay here until I say that you can go back to England,” Harry hissed.

“And when will that be?”

“Never.”

Louis glared at Harry and Harry glared at Louis, both of them staying quiet. Harry then huffed and
set off, Louis looking after him. That’s when he first saw the fields that seemed to never end, the
weak images of mountains being in the background behind more orange trees, greenish grey grass
painting the ground. Harry was already rather far away and Louis clicked with his mouth, Macula
starting to run after him. Louis continued to glare at Harry when he ran, only stopping when he
noticed that Harry was actually doing. Some kind of route, Louis noticed, turning the horse when
he needed too, the animal jumping over logs and stones that were conveniently placed everywhere.
Louis watched him, Harry looking up at him when he ran past him. He looked so gracious. He
moved like he had done this for years, something he probably had, the horse seeming so
comfortable with having Harry’s on his back. Maybe he was Harry’s favorite. Louis pouted a little,
Macula stomping impatiently on the ground. He seemed to want to run too, Louis swallowing
when he gently kicked him and they both started to move, Louis still watching Harry.
He looked so concentrated and Louis found it absolutely beautiful, the way his eyebrows furrowed
just slightly every time the horse jumped and how his bottom lip got caught between his teeth
when he turned and how his clothes blew in the wind. Perhaps Harry was kind of good looking.
Nothing else obviously, just… good looking. Maybe his nose was a little too crooked. Louis smiled
a little when Harry cursed, apparently doing something wrong. It looked perfect to Louis, but
perhaps not, Harry patting Caeruleus’ side before he set off again. Louis hadn’t even noticed that
Macula had stopped and was now eating grass, Louis slowly sliding off him and started to pat him
instead.

“You did good,” he said quietly, looking down on the horse, into its dark brown eyes that looked
back at him, almost like a puppy that sat by the kitchen table while a family was eating dinner –
begging. Louis ran a gentle hand through his mane and took a small part off it, braiding it with a
hum. He looked up when Harry suddenly appeared at his side, his chest rising and lowering rather
quickly. He was panting. He didn’t say anything though, Louis keeping his hand in Macula’s mane
while Harry just watched him, his fingertips quietly patting his thigh while the other one was still
holding onto the reins. He then smiled a little.

“You want to try?” he wondered and Louis blinked.

“Try what?” he wondered.

“Riding like this,” Harry said. “I’m sure Caeruleus can hold one more.”

“I don’t,” Louis swallowed. “Macula can run away.”

“Nah, he’s too nice,” Harry laughed and reached out a hand, Louis watching it. He then looked up
at Harry.

“I’ll fall off,” Louis muttered.

“I’ll go slowly,” Harry smiled. “Judging from how slow you went with the horse, I assume that
you like it slow.”

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, raising his hand and was about to take Harry’s hand, but pulled it
back, looking up at him again. “Promise me,” he said. Harry just smiled and nodded, Louis almost
breaking down laughing when he raised his pinky.

“I promise,” he said. “Pinky promise.”

“And you say I’m the childish one,” Louis smiled and linked his own pinky, letting Harry take his
wrist and help him up on the horseback, Harry moving back on it and placed Louis in front of him,
Louis taking the reins. Harry took it too, close to Louis’ hands but thankfully didn’t touch them,
Louis looking up when the black horse suddenly started to move. He tensed up but Harry shook his
head, Louis trying to calm down.

“He’s get nervous if you are,” Harry whispered, Louis leaning away a little when he noticed how
close Harry’s lips actually were to his ear. He just glanced at him and looked in front of him again,
Harry kicking the horse again. They moved a little faster.

“You won’t fall off, alright?” Harry said and Louis chose to believe him, mostly because he tried to
keep calm. “I’ll catch you if you’re about to, but you won’t actually do it.”

“Okay,” Louis whispered and stiffened again when Caeruleus suddenly made a small jump and
Louis winced, Louis hearing the low and raspy chuckle in his ear. He looked down on his hands
that were just a few millimeters from Harry’s. They didn’t look as cold as Louis’ did. If he touched
them he could easily make it look like an accident. Harry breathed out when they turned and Louis
felt his breath on his cheek, and Louis wondered if he was watching him, holding his breath when
they were about to make another jump. They did and Louis pulled his hands away when he felt
warm fingers on them, but immediately put them back when he felt himself slowly sliding off, but
Harry wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him back, smiling a little even though Louis
couldn’t see it.

“Hands on the reins, Sunshine,” he said and Louis pouted, Harry taking his hands again and Louis
breathed out, letting them get moved on the leather band. Maybe it wasn’t leather, Louis didn’t
really know.

“Then don’t touch my hands,” he mumbled and whimpered when they made another jump, and
Harry laughed.

“I was just going to move them,” he hummed and Louis knew that he lied.

“I thought you told me that you would never lie to me,” he informed.

“One exception can’t hurt,” he said softly and Louis sighed, just slowly shaking his head. They
both turned and Louis felt himself slowly slide closer to Harry, moving himself forward when he
felt his back pressed up to Harry’s chest. But Harry wasn’t having it, arm wrapping around Louis’
waist again and he got pulled closer, Louis shaking his head.

“No,” he mumbled and Harry’s grip loosened, but stayed. Louis swallowed nervously many times,
his heart beating so fast in his chest that he wouldn’t even flinch if it flew out. They were quiet
until they rode up to Macula again, Harry leaning over and took his reins, holding it as he started
moving into the forest again. Louis barely even protested, hands tightening on the reins that were
on Caeruleus, cheeks so pink that he was grateful that Harry couldn’t see them. Harry’s arm were
still around his waist.

“…Is this so I won’t fall off too?” he whispered and Harry chuckled again, warm air hitting Louis’
shoulder. He nodded, leading Macula next to them, the horse obeying him.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back and Louis looked down on the ground, wanting to get off and run
away, but his body didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. He didn’t blink either.

“…Does two exceptions pass too?” he mumbled. Harry stayed silent and Louis knew that this
wasn’t going the right way. None of it was going the right way.

“Yeah, I guess they do,” Harry whispered. Louis was starting to feel weird though and he refused,
completely refused to admit it, but maybe – just maybe, Harry wasn’t so bad. Just maybe though.
 Chapter 11

On the forth of November Louis got sick and had to lay on the sofa for three days, Harry laughing
more than he should at how Louis sounded when he spoke, the nasal sounds that came out of his
mouth amusing him quite a lot. Louis only snarled at him and flipped him off, refusing to eat any
food that Harry made him until he looked away, Louis quickly taking a few spoons of soup and
then put the spoon back, pretending like he hadn’t even touched it. Harry knew though, often
coming home to an empty plate of fruit salad and soup, pretending like he thought that Louis slept
when he took it and went into the kitchen.

It was on the second day that Louis groaned and Harry looked up from the fireplace that he was
about to light up, looking at the sick man that was laying on his couch with a red and runny nose,
white tissues scattered all over the floor. Harry was planning on throwing them, but he could as
well burn them.

“I’m bored,” Louis said and glared up to the ceiling, Harry softly laughing.

“Well, I can’t do much for you,” he said and went back to throwing wooden sticks into the
fireplace, looking for his lighter in his pockets. Louis coughed instead of answering properly for a
few moments, lazily turning to look at Harry instead.

“You should get a TV,” Louis muttered, “How can you survive without shitty reality shows and
Facebook?”

“I don’t know,” Harry laughed and crawled over when he had lit the fire, feeling Louis’ forehead
with the back of his fingers, but Louis took it and moved it, just looking up at the curly. “You’re
warm. Do you want some tea?”

“I have had at least forty cups of your goddamn tea in the last couple of days,” Louis sniffled,
fumbling after the tissue box that stood on the floor. He blew out into it and tried to throw it into
the fireplace, pouting a little when he failed.

“Well, are you feeling any better?” Harry wondered.

“No. I feel sick. I’ll never be able to drink tea again.”

Harry smiled a little and sat back again, running a hand through his curls. Louis pulled the blanket
further up his body and closed his eyes, enjoying the hot air from the fire on his face for a moment.

“What do you usually do for fun then?” he mumbled. “You have to do something that doesn’t have
anything with the farm to do.”

Harry hummed as he thought, looking up at the ceiling. His elbow was lifted onto the couch and
set down by Louis’ thighs, Louis moving just a little further onto the cushions. Harry breathed out.
“I read,” he shrugged, rolling his head to look at Louis again. He smiled a little. “That’s it. I take
the horses out too. Otherwise, nothing.”

“That’s not a very exciting life,” Louis mumbled. “You don’t, you know… play football or
anything?”

“With myself?” Harry laughed, shrugging again. “I used to play it a little while I was still in
school, but that’s it.”
Louis sighed. “I’m still bored.”

“I can’t help you with that, unless you let me read for you,” Harry smiled.

“I can read for myself, thank you very much,” Louis spat, crossing his arms after he had pulled the
blanket over his head. He closed his eyes, both of them being quiet for a long time. Harry even
went to the bathroom once, but soon sat down by Louis again. He hated being sick. “…Fine,” he
muttered, and looked at Harry again. “Only if it’s a good book though.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said and stood up again, strolling over to the bookshelf and started
looking through his whole damn collection while Louis just watched him, already getting tired.
Harry returned a few minutes later with three books, giving them to Louis who sat up, the blue
eyed one looking at the covers and read the backs, deciding on one that was titled ‘Buttoned,’
Louis just lying down again. Harry hummed when he sat down on the couch too, by Louis’
stomach. Louis muttered but ignored it, nuzzling into the pillow. He heard how Harry opened the
book and flipped through a few pages and cleared his throat, starting to read with such a soft tone
that Louis almost didn’t believe that it was him.

The book wasn’t like Louis had thought it would be, sitting up after just a few pages and looked at
Harry who was resting his head in his hand, Louis listening as he told him the story of Jane
McKenzie, a woman that traveled to Paris after she had won the lottery and got killed, spending her
whole after-life to find out why she had been murdered. Harry sighed when he had read about half
the book, looking up at Louis. “You had enough yet?” he wondered and Louis shook his head,
nudging his thigh.

“No. Continue,” he ordered and Harry rubbed his eyes and did, Louis only stopping him when
there was about one fourth of the book left. It had gotten dark outside.

“Are you finally done?” Harry muttered and Louis nodded, looking at the fire that was pretty much
only sparks by now.

“Yeah,” he breathed, biting on his bottom lip. “Let’s continue later.” Harry nodded and folded the
corner of the page, giving the book to Louis who took it and quietly ran his fingertips over it. He
tried to find the name of the author on it but didn’t, looking up at Harry again. He was pretty much
asleep, his eyes closed as he continued to rest his head in his hand. “Harry,” he said and Harry
glanced at him, closing his eyes again.

“Hm?” he hummed and breathed in, breathing out through his mouth. Louis frowned and nudged
his thigh again.

“Harry, who wrote it?”

Harry grumbled, Louis kicking his thigh instead. His chin fell out of his hand and he flinched,
rubbing his eyes before he looked at Louis with a very tired expression. Louis almost felt guilty for
making him read for so many hours.

“Who wrote it?” he asked again but more softly this time. Harry shrugged.

“No one knows,” he mumbled and Louis wasn’t satisfied, but accepted the answer. Harry could as
well be talking in his sleep. Louis instead muttered and rolled off the couch, taking the blanket with
him. Harry grumbled behind him and Louis rolled his eyes, blanket and book tight in his hand and
he tiptoed up the stairs. It was starting to get a little lonely in there by now, Louis never really
sleeping alone ever since he met Eleanor. Louis sat down on the edge of the bed, feet hanging
above the floor. He sighed, hand running through his hair that was really long by now. As time
started to go by here, Louis thought less and less about Eleanor. He remembered what she looked
like, of course, and how her eyebrows furrowed just a little when she was irritated – but he couldn’t
quite remember what she sounded like or what the first thing she did when Louis got home from
work was. He didn’t really remember what her food tasted like either. Or what her pajamas looked
like. He breathed out when he sank back on the bed and closed his eyes, placing the book on his
nightstand. He was tired too, already hearing the very faint sound of Harry’s snoring. He had
learned that it was about three seconds between every snore when it came to Harry, Louis lying
sleepless more and more rarely, so maybe that’s why he noticed such small things by now. He had
seen everything there was to see, so perhaps he had gone over to noticing small details instead. He
closed his eyes and fell asleep rather quietly, not knowing that he didn’t need to cry over wanting to
go home anymore.

He was awoken by Harry the next day that came in with a silver tray and some breakfast, Louis
rolling over and the bed and buried himself underneath the layers of sheets. “Get out, Harry,” he
muttered. “I’m tired.”

“Relax, I’m just going to leave you some breakfast,” he laughed and Louis peeked out, glancing up
at him. He was a little pale, like always and his hair was just everywhere, his boxers and the white
shirt he always wore being the only thing that dressed his tall and lanky body. Louis breathed out,
remembering that he still was wearing his grey sweatpants and the red shirt he had worn a few
weeks ago, probably looking like he was a living corpse or something. He nibbled on the inside of
his cheek, watching when Harry was about to walk away and sat up, the blanket going around his
body.

“Hey, Harry…” he said and looked away when he turned, drumming his hands on the covers.
“Remember when you asked if we could eat breakfast together?”

“Yeah?” Harry said, leaning to the doorframe. “What about it?”

“Today could be that day,” he mumbled and Harry blinked, straightening a little. He frowned, but
then smiled, shaking his head.

“Sorry Love, I already ate. I’m going to the stable to check on Whiskey.”

“Oh,” Louis simply said and awkwardly looked at him, Harry tilting his head. He looked like a
lamb. A big lamb.

“But… tomorrow, perhaps?” he suggested and Louis slowly nodded, the corners of his mouth
twitching just a little.

“Alright,” he agreed and reached for his bowl of cereal and yoghurt, Harry going out the door. Him
and Harry were obviously just going to eat together so Louis wouldn’t be lonely. Obviously. Even
if Louis didn’t get thoughts of murdering him anymore, he wasn’t one to say that he would want to
stay here if he got the choice too. He still missed Niall and his sisters – and obviously Eleanor too.
He glanced down on his hand for a second, chewing on a piece of bread as he looked at his ring
finger. It felt empty. It would have been a ring there by now if Harry hadn’t stolen him away. He
sighed a little and sat back on the sheet again, hearing the door open and close downstairs and soon
Harry’s footsteps outside the window, Louis swallowing his sandwich pretty thickly. He could feel
a small lump in his throat and a shiver going down his spine, legs shaking just a little when he
stood up and padded over to the wardrobe, opening with a small breath. It was pretty much only
sweaters and cardigans in there by now, Louis quietly pulling his t-shirt over his head and let it fall
to the floor before he pulled out the yellow t-shirt he could have picked instead of the red one that
one time, pulling a grey sweater over his head. He swallowed a little when he adjusted the ankles of
his sweatpants and rolled them down again, muttering when they pretty much draped over his feet.
“Great,” he mumbled and ran his hands through his hair, going down the stairs and to the front
door. He took the plaid jacket he always wore and Harry’s boots, closing the door behind him as he
went out and hurried towards the stable.

It was still a little cold in there, but Harry had told him that it got warmer during the winter and
colder during summer so the animals would have a good temperature – so Louis just assumed that
that was true. He closed the stable doors when he entered and looked around, seeing Harry move
some hay with a hay fork. He looked up when he heard Louis and smiled, but still went back to
work without saying anything. Whiskey was sleeping in the corner of the stall, Mary chewing on
some of the yellow grass that Harry gave to her.

“He’s sleeping,” Harry said quietly, Louis walking up to the stall and leaned to the wooden post
next to him as he watched the calf’s chest rise and lower.

“Can I help?” Louis asked, Harry stopping what he was doing and just looked at the blue eyed one.
He then laughed softly.

“You? In a stable?” he chuckled and shook his head. “You can’t even put a saddle on a horse.”

Louis snarled at him. “Just let me do something. It’s boring inside the house.”

“You could finish the book,” he said and Louis rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“No. Let me help,” he said. Harry sighed and Louis got satisfied when he admitted himself
defeated, giving him the hay fork.

“How about you continue giving the animals hay then?” he said. “While I milk the cows.”

Louis decided that it was a good idea and started to shuffle large amounts of grass into the stalls,
animals making sounds and moving around as he did so. Louis smiled softly and gently patted
Caeruleus’ muzzle. “Thank you for the ride yesterday,” he said and the horse nudged him, Louis
giving him a soft giggle in return. He turned to Harry again just to see what he was doing, blinked
when he saw him petting the second cow’s side, sitting on a low stool with a bucket right
underneath her. He had his eyes closed and his forehead rested to her. If Louis didn’t know better
he would have thought that he was listening to her stomach or something, but obviously not.

“What are you doing?” he wondered and Harry looked up at him, smiling softly.

“Nothing, really,” he said and started milking her, Louis grimacing a little. “She’s warm.”

“She should be,” Louis responded and went back to giving the horses hay.

“Guess so,” Harry hummed and went on with whatever he was doing, Louis keeping his eyes on
him, watching how his lips pouted a little and how he blinked almost twice as much as he usually
did.

“What’s her name?” Louis asked when he was done and went over to Harry again, sinking down
next to him. He crossed his arms onto his knees again.

“Anne,” Harry smiled. “After my mother.”

Louis laughed. “That’s not nice,” he said, shaking his bangs out of his face. “Are you calling your
mother a cow?”

“What’s wrong with cows?” Harry wondered, looking down at Louis. Louis’ smile fell.
“Well, nothing, but… It’s usually not a nice thing to say,” he mumbled.

“I think cows are beautiful animals, so I don’t have a single problem calling her that,” the curly
haired boy mumbled. Louis blushed lightly, watching when Harry milked the animal instead. It got
kind of awkward after that and Louis stood up, making his way over to Macula instead that nudged
his shoulder with a curious interest, Louis gently patting his muzzle too, just like he had done with
Caeruleus a few moments ago. He then went on with petting his mane, untangling the braid that he
had done when he rode him last time. He sighed a little.

“Is she nice?” he wondered. Harry looked up at him while he went over Anne’s other side, sitting
down by it. He didn’t really do anything special at first, Louis wondering if he didn’t hear him, but
soon Harry nodded.

“I would say so,” he admitted. “I just think that she’s unhappy.”

“Why? Has she done something?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly and Louis’ eyebrows furrowed, a small spark of interest going through
his body.

“What did she do?” he wondered.

“Another time,” Harry muttered.

“Harry-“

“I said, another, time,” Harry spat and glared at Louis, very shortly after going back to milking the
cow. Louis only snarled at him and finally got the braid out, resting his hands on the back of
Macula. He sighed softly and buried his nose in it. Harry had been right about how warm the
animals were, Louis finding himself closing his eyes too and resting his cheek to it, hands gently
stroking it. He breathed out. Perhaps he was too pushy.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Another time.”

He wanted Harry to say something as a confirmation, but when he didn’t Louis couldn’t do much
else than accept and brush it away, walking away from Macula and up to Harry again, standing
next to him until the green eyed boy looked up at him. “What do you want for Christmas?” he
asked, a little harsher than he intended. Harry blinked in surprise and almost fell off the stool,
Louis’ eyebrows furrowing at his reaction.

“Christmas?” Harry repeated, his eyes meeting Louis’.

“Yeah, you know. Presents and Santa and fattening food.”

Harry chuckled softly. “I know what Christmas is,” he said and stood up, apparently being done
with the milking. “I just didn’t know that you would actually get me something.”

“Well, say something before I change my mind,” Louis mumbled, crossing his arms. Harry laughed
quietly and put the hand that wasn’t holding the bucket in his jacket pocket, looking up to the
ceiling. He looked like he was thinking.

“…Nothing,” he then said, looking down at Louis who stood unnecessarily close.

“That’s boring,” Louis muttered. “Anything but that.”

“I don’t want anything,” he smiled with a shrug. “You can’t give me much either.”

“Harry,” Louis groaned. “C’mon.”

Harry bit his lip and looked around again, changing his grip on the bucket handle many times.
Louis grew impatient. “If I can have anything…” he said, letting his lip go from between his teeth.
“…I’d like a fruit salad.”

Louis muttered. “That’s the worst present ever.”

“Well, you can’t give me anything else,” Harry smiled, nudging Louis’ shoulder with his own.
Louis stumbled just a little, and crossed his arms, turning away.

“Fine,” Louis mumbled. “I’ll give you your goddamn fruit salad.”

Nothing special happen for the next week, Harry going out to make sure that the animals were well
fed and had it good, Louis just sitting in his bedroom or on the couch, setting tissues on fire and
then threw them into the fireplace all day. It was at the end of November when Harry told him that
he would be gone for the whole day, Louis immediately getting the idea of running away but
discarded it when he remembered that they were in the middle of a forest and that there was
nothing but fields behind the trees. So when Louis stood by the door and watched Harry get
dressed in the jacket that Louis usually wore, so had no idea what he was supposed to do.

About three hours after Harry had left Louis started to walk around the house and go through all
the boxes in the storage, almost exploding of happiness when he found an old jigsaw puzzle,
hurrying down the stairs and sat down on the middle of the floor, pouring out all of the pieces from
the paper box. The motive was ironically a forest with mountains and a lake, Louis sitting there for
many hours.

He got tired around midnight, just deciding to sleep on the couch for today. The puzzle was about
one fourth done when he collapsed onto the cushions and crawled under Harry’s sheets, his whole
head just burying in the pillow. He fell asleep in the matter of minutes and didn’t notice when the
door opened and Harry came in again with a small envelope, putting it in the fourth kitchen drawer
before he went to the couch to fall asleep. He stopped when he saw the puzzle and Louis, his lips
curling upwards for a second and shook his head, quietly leaning down next to his and gently
brushed some hair away from his forehead, Louis breathing out against his fingers. Harry slid his
arms around Louis’ body and lifted him up, the two of them going up the stairs slowly but surely,
Harry crawling onto the bed so he could set Louis down more carefully, making sure that he was
wrapped up in blankets before he exited, the final glance telling him that maybe, just maybe, this
didn’t really go as he planned either.

Louis felt better when he woke up the next day in the middle of the day, the blue eyed one
groaning when he realized that his alarm clock for the day had been the sun. He didn’t hear
anything from the bottom floor either so perhaps Harry was out for the moment, Louis getting up
and went down the stairs to get some breakfast, humming a little as he started to dig through the
cupboards and the fridge, blinking when he found a bag of what looked like strawberries. He had
never seen it before, finding it a little weird yet didn’t really think of it more than that. Instead he
took them out and placed them on the counter, huffing a little when he pulled out a pot and opened
the door to the outside, whining when he tiptoed over the cold porch and over the wet grass,
sinking it down into the river with a huff until it was filled. He kept his arms straight when he
slowly walked back, pot resting by his hips. He huffed when he stepped up on the porch again and
padded over to the door; turning around and pushed it open using his back; keeping his eyes on the
water so it wouldn’t tip over. Yet he didn’t get inside, yelping when something hit his back and he
stumbled, the pot moving pretty violently and the water poured over the edge and got all over
Louis’ legs, the boy standing still and just stared for a moment. He then turned and looked up at
Harry who stood there too, staring just as much. He blushed when Harry started to laugh and
reached around him, taking the pot away from him.

“Watch out,” he laughed and Louis swatted his arm, taking a large step over the puddle of water
that now was right underneath them.

“Shut up,” Louis muttered and dried his feet on the carpet in front of the couch, crossing his arms.
“It was your fault.”

Harry laughed and Louis turned to him, watching how he took a better grip around the pot and then
looked at Louis too, his lips quietly curled into a smile. Louis swallowed when he saw how pale he
was and how red his eyes were. Louis had seen him like this once before and when Harry passed
him and went into the kitchen to turn the water on. Louis didn’t know what he had been doing in
the bathroom. He was almost a little scared of finding out, so be honest.

“You want some lunch?” Harry wondered. “Breakfast time was ages ago.”

Louis swallowed and nodded, his fingertips playing with a loose string on his t-shirt. “Yeah, I’d…
yeah.”

Harry turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “You alright?”

“Yes I just… I’m fine. More than fine.”

“You sure?” Harry wondered.

“I’m sure,” Louis said, even though he wasn’t.

 Chapter 12

“Why do you even have all of this?” Louis groaned when he lifted one of the boxes from the
storage into Harry’s arms, who placed them on the floor outside.

“I obviously should. They’re Christmas decorations,” Harry laughed, wiping his hands on his jeans
as he took the last box from Louis and walked out, the blue eyed boy following with a mutter.

“Well, isn’t three boxes a little much?” he asked, watching when the curly one started lifting the
boxes onto the blanket that he had set out on the floor, taking the edge that was the closest to the
stairs and pulled, everything following him.

“I don’t think so. I haven’t used them though. Can you take the other side?” Harry said and looked
at Louis, Louis taking it and lifted it up, groaning at how heavy it was. Harry lifted it up too and
slowly started to back down the stairs, keeping his green eyes on the boxes.

“We don’t even have a Christmas tree,” Louis informed.

“Yet,” Harry smiled. Louis grumbled and took the stairs one step at a time, frightened that he
would drop the blanket on his feet or something. He hated stubbing his toes into furniture, so
dropping boxes onto them didn’t seem too pleasant.

“Are you taking one from the forest?” Louis wondered, counting every step he took.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Harry shrugged, telling Louis to let the blanket go when they both were on
the floor. Louis straightened and stretched his arms, looking down at Harry as he started opening
all of the cardboard boxes, digging through them with small hums. “What do you usually do for
Christmas?” he asked and sank to his knees by another one of the boxes, keeping his eyes on Harry.
He started to pull out everything, the whole floor soon covered in glitter and plastic candles.

“Nothing,” Harry chuckled. “I never really had anyone to spend it with.”

Louis frowned. “What about when you were in England? Before you got here?” Harry shrugged a
little and pushed one of the boxes aside, taking another one. Louis watched when he opened it.

“Well, we usually went to my aunt. We ate some food and watched Christmas cartoons, and soon
everyone opened their presents. I usually got some crappy music album or money. Or sweaters,
even socks,” he explained, Harry resting his elbow on his knee when he looked at Louis. He
smiled. “Like the one you’re wearing.”

Louis blinked and looked down on the grey and red one he was wearing, remembering that he had
worn it for the first time when he still was drugged down on the couch. He turned back to Harry.
“This one?” he asked. “Who did you get it from?”

“My grandmother. She’s gone now though. She passed away before I went to Alaska.”

“Oh,” Louis mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry smiled. “I barely knew her.”

Louis hummed then and sat down on the floor, the box between his legs as he continued to look
through everything. He pulled out a Christmas tree decoration that reminded Louis of a football,
golden glue making out six-cornered squares all over it. He hummed. “Where these here when you
got here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry responded. “Everything was, except the clothes and the things I got in the
bookshelves.” Louis breathed out. He wished that he and Eleanor had been so lucky when they
were looking for their apartment. They hadn’t been able to find one for many months, and the one
they got were in a desperate need of a renovation. It should still be building if Louis didn’t
miscalculate. He sighed and put the ball back in the box, running his hand through his hair. He had
cut it himself just a few days ago and it looked absolutely ridiculous, but Harry had done it too, so
Louis supposed that they could as well look horrible together.

“What day is it?” he mumbled and Harry looked at him, silence falling over the room for a second.

“December nineteenth,” he said. “Why?”

“Am I going home on Christmas Eve?” he wondered. “That would be wonderful.”

Harry’s head tilted when he smiled and he raised his eyebrows rather sadly, fingers tightening on
the edges of the box. “You miss them?” Harry asked and Louis nodded, quietly scraping on the box
with his fingernails.

“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible. Louis had almost expected him to accept the request, but he
was hoping for too much. Harry didn’t say anything to Louis’ disappointment and Louis watched
him, the light from the fireplace making his face flicker in orange and yellow. Louis bit his lip. He
didn’t really hope for much either. He didn’t want to be disappointed.

Louis watched when his breath made a cloud when he breathed out, following it when it
disappeared out into nowhere. The snow was literally up to his ankles and he shivered, lifting his
feet when he continued to walk after Harry. He was still a little anxious about walking in front of
him when he had a weapon – in this case an axe, and he would much rather stare at the back of his
head when he walked. It was less frightening at least. “How about that one?” Harry suddenly said
and Louis followed his stare, his blue eyes landing upon a small pine, raising his eyebrows.

“Isn’t it a little small?” he mumbled. It’s barely taller than you.”

“But it’s taller than you,” Harry laughed and Louis swatted his arm again, kicking some snow at
him shortly after. He tugged on his – Harry’s, jacket, looking around. He stopped at another pine.

“What about that one?” he said and pointed at it, Harry looking where Louis was. He walked up to
it but Louis stayed there, leaning to a tree instead. Harry seemed to inspect it, Louis breathing out
when he raised the axe and started to chop it down. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed again. They did
that quite a lot lately. The tree soon fell to the ground and Harry picked up, getting snow and many
of those green things that grew on pines. Louis laughed softly when Harry cursed and went over to
him, taking the top of it. Harry just smiled at him and they both started walking, Louis soon letting
the tree go and let Harry carry it by himself. He seemed to handle it pretty good.

“Is it heavy?” Louis asked and Harry shook his head, looking at Harry as the two walked.

“Nah. I’m strong,” he said, and Louis sure would see that wink. He chuckled and rolled his eyes,
arms crossing tightly over his chest again instead. Harry had started flirting with him more and
more and Louis had ignored it at first, but Harry only stopped when he got a reaction – so here they
were.

“Bet you are,” Louis hummed and looked up to the pale grey sky, blowing out against it so a small
cloud was made.
“I am,” Harry hummed.

“Stop flirting with me already,” Louis said. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Not yet,” Harry laughed and shook his head, adjusting his grip on the pine, making him stop for a
second. Louis smiled and stopped too, waiting until Harry started walking again. He sighed a little.
None of them said anything for a few minutes. None of them really felt the need to either, Louis
kicking the snow from time to time and Harry continuing to carry the tree on his shoulder.

“What do you usually do or Christmas then?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Louis sighed, shrugging a little. “My mom and my sisters come to mine and Eleanor’s
place one year and then we go to their place for one. Eleanor’s parents are in Brazil and Eleanor’s
afraid of flying so we don’t really go there. We eat and open presents and that’s it. It’s nothing
special to be honest.”

He sighed a little, Harry looking at him with a smile. Louis didn’t see it though. “I get better
presents than you at least,” he then added.

“Oh?” Harry laughed. “What could be better than ugly sweaters?”

“Well, I get mugs every year,” Louis smiled. “With dirty sayings on them.”

“What do they say?” Harry asked.

“Christmas things that sound wrong,” Louis chuckled. “Like: ‘We got a lot of white stuff this
year.’”

Harry snorted. “Clever.”

“I know right?” They both laughed for a moment, Louis moving his hands into his pockets, due
them getting a little cold. He sighed. “Are we home soon?” he mumbled. “It’s really cold.”

“Yeah well, it’s December, Love. It usually is.” Louis rolled his eyes and turned around, starting to
walk backwards instead with his eyes locked on Harry. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You have never called me by my first name,” Louis stated, tilting his head. He raised his
eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“Because Love suits you better,” Harry teased and Louis kicked some more snow on him, turning
around again. His steps got a little longer as he walked.

“I prefer Louis,” he hummed. “I want that for Christmas. That you call me Louis.”

“We’ll see about that,” Harry smiled. Louis only hummed. The white snow was soft underneath
their feet and Louis watched when he made footprints in it, the brown grass underneath it shyly
peeking through the ice. Louis stopped for only a second and watched it, continuing when Harry’s
pine brushed his hair and he raised his hand to brush some dirt away, glancing up at Harry that had
yet to find a comfortable grip on the tree. Louis jogged by to his side again and even slightly past
him, looking up at the tops off the trees around them, and at how naked they seemed against the
grey sky. His fingers hooked onto the hem of the jacket, teeth grazing his bottom lip almost
sensually. He breathed out again, and the cloud once again appeared in front of him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a snowy Christmas,” he said quietly.
“Really?” Harry wondered, just as carefully as Louis. “Why’s that?”

“It’s been raining away,” Louis said. “I almost forgot what it looked like.”

Harry stopped, Louis knowing that since the sound of his footsteps stopped too. He looked down
on the snow again. Suddenly it got very bright, the sun appearing from behind a cloud, making
their surroundings grow. “I’ve had it for many years now,” Harry breathed, Louis slowly nodded.

“I suppose I’m jealous,” he mumbled and started walking again, hands deep in his pockets. He
spun around for a moment, making a circular line with his foot, and then moved forward again.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Harry said. “It’s just really cold.”

Louis laughed softly, shaking his head. “I haven’t made a snowman or a snow lantern in about a
decade,” he shrugged. “I’m not a nostalgic person, but…”

“…It would be nice to do it, just for the sake of it," Harry smiled.

Louis turned and looked at Harry, the curly haired man smiling with that dimple that could make
anyone swoon. Louis smile a little himself. “Exactly,” he confirmed.

Harry let out a breathy chuckle and shrugged, looking up at their house that they could see in the
distance. “I haven’t really done it either for quite some time,” he confessed. “It’s not fun to do it
alone.”

“Guess not,” Louis chuckled. Harry turned to Louis when he looked at the snow again, the small
smile of his threatening to reveal itself rather obviously, so the green eyed boy looked away also.
He had smiled at Louis many times before, but this time he didn’t really want him to see it. Louis
sighed when he stepped up on the porch again and opened the door, walking in with a small hum
when he stepped out of his shoes. He stripped off his jacket too and walked up to the couch, sitting
down on Harry’s covers. They had gotten thicker since August when Louis first had gotten here,
Louis remembering how Harry had cursed when he had searched through the whole storage after a
cover for both him and Louis. It had taken him at least an hour and Louis just sat in his bed with
small laughs and giggles leaving him.

The blue eyed one looked up when Harry pulled the tree into the house and stepped over all of the
decorations, looking around for the thing that you put the Christmas tree in. Louis never learned
the name of it. “Where do you want it?” Harry wondered. “There’s not that many places, but…”

“Over there,” Louis said and pointed to his right, at the corner just by the bookshelves. It seemed
like a decent spot. Harry nodded and lifted the whole thing past Louis and down on the floor,
straightening shortly after. He groaned a little and Louis frowned, shifting on the couch. His back
must hurt. He had been sleeping on the couch for almost four months just so that Louis could have
his bed. It must actually hurt quite a lot.

“How about we decorate it tomorrow?” Harry suggested.

“Why not now?” Louis wondered. “Does your back hurt too much?”

“So you noticed,” Harry chuckled and shrugged, then nodded. “It does. It’s okay though, it’ll go
away until Christmas.”

Louis frowned again. “Is it because you can’t have the bed?”

“Well, I was so used to it. But the couch’s my bed now, so don’t even think about-“
“Take the bed,” Louis said plainly, almost sternly. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“Babe, I’ve hurt myself in more ways than just sleeping on the couch,” he smiled. “I can deal with
it. Don’t worry.”

Louis snarled and crossed his arms. “But then you can’t decorate the tree,” he mumbled. Harry
laughed.

“Why don’t you do it then, and I watch?” he said. “It’s alright; I barely know how to do it
anyway.”

“That’s not fun.”

“Love, please.”

Louis muttered and rolled his eyes, hands quietly going through his uneven hair. He had never
done it on his own before. Not that he couldn’t do it because really – it was just a tree, but there
had always been at least two pair of children feet by him and an adult one. Lottie and Daisy had
always been the enthusiasts of decorating Christmas trees, and doing it without them just felt
wrong. “…Fine,” Louis said quietly then and slid off the couch, circling around it and picked up
one of the boxes. “But this is only so we can have it done.”

“Of course,” Harry smiled and sat down where Louis had sat before, crossing his arms while he
watched him open the box again and pull out all kinds of things covered in glitter and strings.
Louis had to at least hum an old Christmas Carol while doing this, seeing how Harry didn’t have a
CD player or even an iPod. He blinked when he started wrapping the whole tree into red and
golden strings and the small plastic candles, finding a box of small golden bells, deciding to put
them in there too. Harry smiled by now and had his arms crossed again, head resting to the back of
the couch while he watched, taking note of how Louis’ crinkles started showing when he muttered
and how his lips got caught between his teeth many, many, many times. Maybe he was even a little
jealous that Eleanor could see it every day – and Harry couldn’t.

“Done,” Louis said after an hour and a half, wiping his hands on his thighs from dust that didn’t
even exist. “But I can’t reach the top.”

“What’s going on the top?” Harry wondered and stood up, walking up to him. He smiled a little
when Louis sighed and looked up, the very top branch looking empty.

“The star,” he said and crossed his arms, leaning to the bookshelf that was by the side of him.
“Perhaps you can do it so you have done at least something.”

“You want me too?” Harry laughed. “You can’t do it on your own?”

“I just said that I did,” Louis said. “And no, I’m too short.”

“How about I lift you up?” Harry suggested.

“Your back hurts,” Louis stated.

“So?”

“I’ll break it.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I’m fine, Love. It’s not like I’m eighty years old. I’m one
hundred percent sure that I can lift you up for a few seconds.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” Louis said, looking up at him with his eyebrows raised. “Ever
thought of that?”

“No, it never crossed my mind,” Harry said and leaned down, starting to dig through the half-
empty box under he found the star, giving it to Louis who took it with a small hesitation, feeling
the edges of it. He then glanced up at Harry again.

“You’ll drop me,” he whispered.

“No, I won’t. I won’t get hurt myself either, I promise.”

Louis swallowed before he turned around and took a deep breath, waiting for Harry to lift him up.
He yelped when Harry placed his hands on his ribs and squirmed away, shaking his head. “Oh
right,” Harry laughed. “You’re ticklish.”

“Shut up,” Louis mumbled and turned around, Harry placing his pale and very large hands on him
again, this time on his waist and Louis jumped a little, Harry lifting him. But Louis was soon set
down on the ground again when he once again shook his head and took Harry’s hands, holding
them in the air for a second or two. He then placed them on hips and he felt how even Harry tensed
up when he did so, hands getting slightly tighter on Louis’ body. Louis even blushed a little
himself, glancing down on Harry’s fingers that made the fabric of Louis’ sweater wrinkle and ride
up a little, Louis swallowing when he saw his own waistline. He looked away and down on the star
again, removing his hands from Harry’s.

If this had been a month or two ago, this wouldn’t happen. Harry wouldn’t even get close to him,
and Louis would probably curse him out or even slap him. Again. Louis frowned a little at the
memory. He wouldn’t say that he had overreacted that time, but slapping him four or five times
was perhaps a little too much. He had been lucky that Harry hadn’t hit him back. Louis sighed
when he had glanced away from his wrist that now had tiny nail-shaped scars, Louis guessing that
getting scars could be that easy. He looked down on his face feet and then to Harry’s feet again,
swallowing thickly.

“Just this once, Harry,” he said quietly and Harry’s hands loosened a little, Louis fiddling with his
sweater and the loose string. “Okay?”

Harry swallowed and breathed out, Louis’ hair quietly moving when his breath hit it. He nodded
though, even if Louis wasn’t aware of it and smiled a little, something he had done so much these
past months that he was surprised that his face hadn’t gotten stuck like that. “Okay,” he whispered
back, taking a better grip on him. “Just this once.”
 Chapter 13

Louis yelped a little when he took another step out on the ice and stumbled, almost immediately
flipping Harry off that stood just a few meters away from him. He was laughing, something that
Louis didn’t really like to be completely honest. At least not at something like this, the blue eyed
boy’s legs shaking as he took another step onto the slippery surface underneath his feet. “This is
stupid,” he muttered, fisting his hands. “I’ll slip.”

“Well, then I’ll catch you,” Harry smiled and slid over to him, reaching out to take his hand. Louis
nudged it away, arms crossing over his chest.

“No you won’t,” Louis muttered. “I’ll hurt myself.”

“Not as long as you’re careful.”

Louis snarled at him and looked down on his feet and onto the dark blue ice, slowly sliding a foot
forward, and then the next one. He sighed, a cloud of cold warm air rising to the grey sky, like
always. It was ridiculous how cold it had gotten. It had been snowing up until this day and you
almost had to swim through it all, so it was a wonder that Harry even had managed to persuade him
to go out on the lake like this. Louis bit his lip. “What if it breaks?” he mumbled. “What if I
drown?”

“As I said, I’ll save you,” Harry hummed. “Have you never been on a frozen lake before?”

“I have, I’m not incompetent,” Louis snarled. “I’m just wondering.”

“Well, I’m here. Which means that you won’t die today.”

Even if there was some kind of calming tone in Harry’s voice, Louis definitely wasn’t convinced.
Maybe it’s because when he took another step he almost slipped again, a small scream flying out
from between his lips. Harry reached out to catch him but Louis managed to keep his balance,
standing up with a mutter. “I’m fine,” he mumbled and Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows at him.

“You sure about that?” he snorted and Louis snarled, glaring holes at him.

“Why are we even here?” he muttered. “Please tell me it’s a purpose of this.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, love,” Harry chuckled. “But it’s Christmas. We could at least do
something that we haven’t done before.” Louis muttered.

“We are not doing anything together,” he mumbled.

“Obviously, we are,” the curly haired boy laughed, and that was that, both of them just staring at
each other. Louis sighed though and fisted his hands in his pockets as an attempt to stay warm,
warmer, at least, looking around for a while. Feather light snowflakes were drizzling everywhere
and Louis was amazed that when though it was Christmas Day, not one single firework had been
heard in the distance or seen at all. It was almost sad, to be honest. For Harry’s sake, that he had
been in the middle of nowhere for so long unless he was lying about it all. Louis could obviously
not know for sure whether he lied to him or not – but since he had told him to never be dishonest
with him, the least he could do was actually to believe him. He deserved it, Louis supposed. “Are
you cold?” Harry wondered and Louis looked at him again, slowly shaking his head.

“…No,” he lied.
“You can borrow my gloves.”

“No,” Louis said again, obviously freezing to death. He even thought that his hands would fall off
for a moment, but when they didn’t he was almost surprised. They were numb and purple, and
Harry sure noticed.

“Bullshit,” he said and slid over, Louis looking down at his hands when Harry pulled his gloves off
his own and onto Louis’. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “There,” he hummed.

Louis moved his fingers a little, feeling them slowly getting warmer and warmer. The gloves were
huge and Louis glanced at Harry’s pale hands again, noticing that they actually were rather big. He
hadn’t really paid any attention to it before. “Thanks,” he breathed then, rather grumpily. “I still
don’t want them.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Harry laughed and Louis slapped his arm, Harry stumbling a little.
But somehow he managed to keep his balance, just like Louis. The blue eyed boy looked down on
his feet again and onto the blue ice, taking a slow step out. He flinched when it cracked a little
though and Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

“It should be fine,” he hummed. “Just walk around it, Honey.”

Louis glanced up at him again, feeling like a penguin as he padded over to Harry and around him,
walking the opposite way – towards the house. “I’m going inside,” he mumbled and Harry smiled,
watching how snowflakes landed in Louis’ hair and on his shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” the curly haired boy asked and Louis shook his head. “I have made some
turkey.”

Louis snorted a little. “Turkey?”

“Yeah, turkey.”

Louis stopped for a moment to look at Harry, watching how he, too, slowly made his way over. He
had a smile on his face, his curls going onto his forehead. “We need some kind of Christmas food
after all.” Louis pouted a little and assumed that Harry was right, continuing to walk towards land,
even if the ice continued to crack underneath him. But it seemed solid enough according to Louis,
so maybe that was why he froze so quickly when hit cracked louder than necessary and he wasn’t
able to move, his shoes and socks and pants and soon his whole body getting wet by the freezing
water that he just had fallen into. It was so empty and quiet underneath the ice that Louis barely
knew what happened, unable to open his eyes. Was he going to drown? Maybe it’s for the best.
This way he wouldn’t have to try to go home anymore. He wouldn’t need to drink more of Harry’s
tea either. It may have been cold down there, but Louis knew that this was as far away from
everything as he could come, and he almost felt relaxed. So he didn’t notice when he passed out
from the cold, and when he got pulled up by Harry again.

He woke up on the floor in front of the fireplace, almost screaming when he realized that he
actually wasn’t dead. He was fairly warm again and he noticed that he was naked when he pulled
the blankets off. He could barely move his hands though, so being able to pull the blanket back
wasn’t far from a miracle. He felt like he was drugged again, but he knew very well that it just was
cold. Louis leaned back again on the pillow that was also laying on the floor, watching the
fireplace and how the flames seemed huge from this angle.

“Are you cold now?” Harry asked and Louis turned his head, watching him where he sat on the
couch with his book in his hands, just in a pair of sweatpants. He looked a little worried.
“No,” Louis croaked and cleared his throat, something that Harry apparently found amusing
because he smiled.

“That’s bullshit too, isn’t it?”

Louis only nodded, trying to wiggle his toes underneath the blanket. Harry then slid of the couch
and sat down next to the cold boy, wrapping an arm around him. Louis immediately tried to push
him away when he got hugged tighter. “No,” he protested but Harry ignored it, just hugging him to
his chest.

“You have to get warm,” he whispered and Louis whined, collapsing back against the pillow.
“Only this once.”

Louis felt Harry’s body heat almost immediately and relaxed, being cold and tired and thirsty and
hungry at the same time and arguing wasn’t something that he was in the mood of. So there was
pretty much only one thing that he could do. “Okay.”

They both stayed there, Louis being too tired to move. Harry had fallen asleep too, so it’s not like
Louis expected him to move either. He had called out a few times, but the curly haired boy had
only stirred a little and even pulled Louis closer, so if that was how it was going to be he didn’t
really want to try to make him wake up. Soon enough Louis fell asleep again also and ironically
Harry woke up, glancing down at Louis who was literally sleeping in his arms. Perhaps he even
smiled a little and carefully slipped a hand under Louis’ blanket, placing a gentle hand on his chest
to feel if he was warm. He was, so Harry stood up and lifted Louis, being careful so the blanket
didn’t fall off his body.

He set him down on the bed as quietly and gently as he could – like always, and moved some of
his hair strands away from his forehead with his fingertips. Louis mumbled something that Harry
sadly couldn’t hear and straightened again, turning to leave. He only glanced back once, when
Louis turned in his bed, blankets twisting around his small frame. The curly wanted to stay, but he
couldn’t, and walked out instead.

Louis was actually awoken in the middle of the night by a knock on the window, groaning loudly.
He hated waking up by someone disturbing him. It was annoying. He even pretended to be asleep
for a good five minutes until the knocking became louder and he turned, glaring at the window that
wasn’t very visible in the dark room. But his eyes soon adjusted and he saw the smiling face of
Harry outside of it, sitting up with a mutter. Harry then beamed and waved him to come over,
Louis shaking his head. “It’s cold,” he mouthed and Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. He
pointed at the closet and Louis cursed, waving him away before he crawled over. He only pulled
on a sweater and sweatpants, and a pair of socks of course. After that he just fumbled over to the
window and opened it, glaring at Harry.

“What do you want?” he spat. “I was sleeping.”

Harry, who was sitting by the side of the window, leaned down, continuing to smile. Louis actually
kept his eyes on him until the curly haired boy nodded out to nothing and Louis turned, jaw
immediately falling open. Green and dark pink covered the sky in large waves of beautiful colors,
the pitch black sky behind it making such a wonderful contrast to the northern lights that Louis
barely could believe it. He had to tear his eyes away when he got a small poke to his shoulder,
looking at Harry again. He had yet to stop smiling and reached out a hand, Louis’ eyebrows
furrowing. “There’s a better view from the roof,” he said and Louis got excited, but obviously hid
it, just letting Harry take his hand with a fake mutter.

“It’s snow on the roof,” he said and Harry shrugged.

“So? I have a blanket.”

Louis ran out of arguments quicker than he thought was possible. But he didn’t really think of it
since he was already halfway out of the window and stumbled onto the roof in front of him,
Harry’s hand tightening on his own. Louis would usually not allow Harry to help him like this, but
he would rather have him do that than fall down into the snow. Louis shivered when he started
climbing up the emergency ladder in front of Harry, blinking a little when he spotted the plaid
blanket that was set out on the snowy roof. There were footsteps all over the white snow that was
shifting in all sorts of different colors by now.

“Sit down,” Harry said and Louis glanced at him, Harry raising his eyebrows. “C’mon.”

“I’ll freeze,” he whispered and Harry sighed. “But you won’t. You have a jacket that’s damn
thick.”

“You can have it. Just sit down, please.”

Louis decided that that was a pretty good deal and carefully made his way over, sitting down with
a small huff. He watched as Harry did the same and pulled off his jacket after he had searched
through his pockets for a while and gave it to Louis. Louis took it and tugged it over his shoulders,
his hands being held between his thighs. Harry pulled his knees to his chest with his arms being
crossed on top of them, looking up at the color explosions too, just like Louis. Louis didn’t really
find it necessary to talk at all. He wanted to just watch, and he found this exciting since he had
never seen something like this before.

“You have never seen this before, right?” Harry asked quietly after what felt like literal hours,
Louis turning to him before he shook his head.

“No, never,” he replied. “It’s not… cold enough in England.”

Harry hummed. “It doesn’t happen a lot here where I am eitherI'm afraid. I didn’t really know that
this would happen today.”

“Is it still Christmas?” Louis wondered, and Harry nodded. “What time is it, then?”

“It’s half past eleven,” Harry smiled and leaned back on his hands, Louis seeing the small shiver
that ran down his spine. He felt a little bad for taking his jacket to be honest. But he wasn’t going
to give it back. It was big and large on him, and Harry’s body heat had already warmed it up. Louis
smiled a little and pulled the jacket together. It was really warm, actually. It felt nice.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” he whispered as quietly as he could, blushing lightly when Harry turned
to look at him. He beamed.

“…Happy Birthday, Louis.”

Louis knew very well that he had personally asked Harry to call him by his name on Christmas. He
didn’t even want to know how he knew that it was his birthday to be honest. He figured that he had
forgotten since he got so surprised. “You called me by my name,” he breathed.

“Well, yeah,” Harry chuckled and ran a hand through his curls. He then looked at Louis again. “…
Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“…Yeah,” Louis mumbled, almost fainting of relief when he realized that Harry couldn’t see how
his cheeks flushed in bright red and pink. The curly haired boy’s lips curled a little and he crossed
his arms once again, Louis only glancing when his fingertips placed on his biceps.
“I never made you your damn fruit salad,” he muttered after a minute. Harry laughed loudly.

“How about you make it some other time then?” he chuckled. “I don’t really feel like eating some
fruit salad at the moment.”

“Deal,” Louis said and Harry smiled, looking up at the sky again. Louis did too.

The pink and green had gone over to yellow and orange and red by now and Louis’ breath caught
in his throat, knowing how his lips were slightly parted and his blue eyes wide. It was wonderful,
he thought, how nature behaved. Before he had gotten here he had never really noticed how it
looked like when the leaves fell off the trees during fall, how the sun reflected in the water during
summer and how pretty it looked when snow fell like drizzle during winter. He had been blinded
by the London streetlights and the Christmas decorations that he hadn’t even noticed. It was kind
of sad, that he had missed out on something so beautiful. He wouldn’t mind to see it more. He
would have taken pictures if he had a camera. Harry had taken his phone after all. At least he
thought so, since he hadn’t seen the sight of it for many months. He was a little jealous that Harry
had seen it so many times.

“Harry,” he said then, the green eyed one turning to him. “Please tell me why you’re here.”

Harry looked at him and Louis found himself not wanting to look away, his fingers tightening on
the hem of his jacket. He blamed the northern lights that his eyes looked especially green tonight.
He wouldn’t admit anything else. “…I was born in Cheshire,” he said and Louis swallowed, almost
regretting it. Maybe he didn’t want to find out, after all. “I’m the second child in my family after
my sister, Gemma.”

Louis nodded, yet decided to not say anything. “My mom’s name is Anne and my dad’s Des, and
they met in art school. I have never been a big painter myself, but when I was little I thought I was
the new Picasso,” Harry continued with a small smile, resting his lips to his forearms when he had
propped them up on his knees once again. “We moved to London when I was seven years old after
my dad got a job there, and I started school almost immediately. I had a small group of friends and
I got my crushes and my heart breaks, and I would say that I had a pretty good life.”

“Then why did you move?” Louis asked softly. “If you had such a good life in London…?”

“My father died,” Harry breathed. Louis would lie if he said that he didn’t see how he tensed up
and how his fingers suddenly got oddly fiddly. “And my mom blamed it on me.”

“Why?” Louis whispered. He didn’t like where this was going.

“I don’t know,” Harry laughed unsurely and tried to smile a little, Louis seeing how his eyes got
glassy. Harry looked away again, looking at the stable by the side of him. He was quiet for many
seconds, and then sighed.

“You didn’t do something, did you?”

“Of course not,” Harry muttered. “Stop thinking of me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis mumbled, pulling on his coat collar. Harry just shook his head.

“He… He died in a car accident when he was running late. Mom got really depressed and Gemma
had to move to her boyfriend because she couldn’t deal with her anymore. She left me there, but I
don’t blame her. She went onto the whole airhostess business just a few months later and I called
her when I got thrown out of the house one day when mom got really mad at me and she got me a
ticket, letting me go to her and her boyfriend’s place for a while. I got many small jobs to get a
ticket here, as far away from my mom as I could. I found this house and decided to stay here. I
don’t really want to go back.”

“Weren’t you lonely?” Louis wondered quietly.

“I was,” Harry confirmed and looked at Louis again with a smile so sad it made Louis tear up
himself. He remembered how he had complained so many times during his life for not getting the
computer game he wanted or how he had gotten mad when they didn’t get pizza for dinner, and he
felt guilty because of it. Harry didn’t deserve any of that. None at all. “That’s why you’re here.”

Louis looked away when he felt that one single tear run down his cheek and he dried it off, shaking
a little inside of Harry’s jacket. He had gotten taken away just because Harry didn’t want to be
alone. He felt sick again. He felt sad too, sad because someone like Harry had been thrown out by
his own mother.

“You don’t deserve it, Harry,” he said and turned to him again, watching how Harry wiped his
own cheeks. He looked sick, Louis noted and he decided that from now on – he was going to be
nice. So nice that Harry could forget about all of that, even if just for a second. He felt bad for
doing it, playing it up like this, but maybe… Maybe he could go home, if he was nice enough.

“Why not?” Harry muttered, looking at Louis. “Why don’t I deserve it?”

“Because you’re nice,” Louis said truthfully. “You haven’t hurt me once.”

“But I’ve hurt other people.”

“They don’t matter, Harry,” Louis sighed. “Everybody hurts someone at some point.”

Harry sighed too and Louis wondered if he had made him feel better, but when the curly haired boy
looked up at him with the same sad expression as before he had to throw that thought to the side.
“Why did she do it, Louis?” Harry whispered, his wet cheeks changing colors in the light from the
sky. “Why did she just throw me out like that?”

“I don’t know,” Louis whispered. “But she loves you, Harry. You’re her son. You can’t hate your
own son. You deserve every single bit of love that you get.”

Harry watched the blue eyed one and Louis smiled a little, knowing that it wasn’t a happy one. He
just wished that it wasn’t sadder than Harry’s, because that was the last thing they both needed.

“People like me don’t deserve to be loved,” Harry said and Louis almost broke apart, knowing that
just with that single sentence, he was lost. In Harry, in his ridiculous apple smell and how his
tongue dove out as he ate, how his eyebrows furrowed when he rode a horse and how his eyes
squinted when he smiled. His large hands and mile-long legs and how he had treated him, how he
had given him food every day and how he had been so nice even though Louis had treated him like
shit for these past four months.

They were quiet, the stars and the moon and the northern lights throwing a beautiful canvas of
colors over Harry’s narrows features. Louis watched him, fingertips ever so lightly tugging and
twisting on his jacket. This shouldn’t happen. He should hate him and curse at him and he was
supposed to run away as far as he could and slap him and kick him – but he couldn’t. Not anymore,
finding reason for his behavior and how he only wanted someone with him, and Louis found
himself parting his lips and lean just a little closer, Harry staying in the exact same position, his hot
breath hitting Louis’ cheek and chin as he watched him.

“Kiss me,” Louis whispered, and Harry did.

 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

Because I didn't upload anything last friday, I'm doing it today. Sorry. x

Louis smiled a little when he felt Macula’s soft mane underneath his fingers once again, glancing
up at Harry who was already far ahead. According to Harry Louis needed a real birthday present
since he never got one the day before, so taking him out for a ride was apparently the best thing he
could come up with. Not that Louis necessarily minded since he had grown quite attached to the
white and brown horse of his, and riding him was something that he enjoyed doing. Harry had
seemed excited when he had asked too, and since he didn’t get an actual Christmas present either,
Louis wanted to do at least something, and if this was what Harry wanted, then so be it.

“Can you wait for me?” Louis shouted at him and Harry turned around in the distance, waving a
little. Louis then lightly kicked Macula and he set off, locking his eyes on Harry with a small
smile. Even though Louis had told him that he would get sick if he didn’t wear a jacket he insisted
that Louis should take it instead – so he ended up in a t-shirt and a thick sweater instead while
Louis sat with the jacket and a scarf. It didn’t snow more at least and Louis slowed down when he
reached Harry’s side, turning in front of him and Caeruleus, sitting there with Macula’s reins in his
hands. “Slow down, I can’t keep up with you.”

“Sorry, Honey,” Harry laughed then and Louis rolled his eyes, kicking his horse again and rode in
front of Harry instead.

After the two of them had kissed the day before, none of them talked about it. Still you could say
that it showed. Even though Louis didn’t let Harry touch him all the time, he didn’t poke his hands
away anymore. They hadn’t had their second kiss either, and for some reason Louis didn’t really
expect it to happen. He didn’t know why.

“You know, we never built that snowman,” Harry said then when he had appeared at Louis’ side
again. “We should do that soon.”

“So you’re actually up for it?” Louis chuckled and turned to Harry who was smiling at him, his
head slightly tilted forward.

“Well, why not?” he shrugged. “It’s not like we will embarrass ourselves.”

“Embarrass ourselves?” Louis wondered. “That’s your only worry?”

“Isn’t that yours too?” the curly haired boy asked with a laugh, leaning back on his horse. Louis
shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I’m not afraid of making a fool out of myself.”

“What’s yours, then?”

Louis swallowed then and tore his eyes away from the other one, just sitting there on Macula’s
back for a while. Harry didn’t stop looking at him even though he could, nibbling on his bottom
lip. Louis didn’t tell him off, something that he didn’t have a legitimate reason for. “I don’t know,”
he hummed. “I haven’t really thought of it before.” He turned to Harry again, watching the dimple
in Harry’s cheek get deeper and deeper. He bit on the inside of his cheek.

“Spiders?” Harry wondered. “Bats? Snakes? Heights? The dark?”

“Nah,” Louis pouted. “I still don’t know. I’ll tell you if I come up with something.”

“Weren’t you afraid when I almost hit you though?” Harry asked. “I could have done it.”

Louis bit his lip. “A little,” he shrugged. “You never hit me though. You told me that you’ll only
do it if I do something really stupid.”

“No, I said that if I do it you must have done something really stupid.”

Louis sighed and Harry laughed a little. “Well, I don’t see a difference,” Louis muttered.

“Babe, I would never hurt you, alright?” Harry said and reached out, patting Louis’ thigh. He
looked up at him with a small frown, his blue eyes piercing into Harry’s.

“You told me that you won’t lie,” Louis said. Harry smiled sadly then, a small breath leaving him.

“Okay, fine,” Harry said and leaned away. “I’ll never hurt you just for the sake or hurting you.”

“Oh wow. That’s reassuring,” Louis muttered and adjusted himself where he was sitting, happy
that Harry was the one that had put the saddle on. He still had no clue how to do it, and it sure was
a little embarrassing that Harry still was the one to do it. He didn’t have much choice though,
unless he wanted to stay at home for the whole day while Harry went out.

“Well, you didn’t want me to lie,” Harry smiled.

“Well, I don’t want you to abuse me either,” Louis mumbled.

“I won’t, as long as you stay good,” Harry laughed. “I’m just joking, baby. If I feel myself getting
angry I’ll try to calm down as fast as possible, alright?”

“Better than nothing,” Louis shrugged and kicked Macula again, going down the snowy path with
Harry after him.

“You know, you never told me about your family,” Harry said a few hours later, giving Louis a
plate of pasta and some kind of paprika sauce, Louis taking it where he was sitting on the couch on
top of Harry’s sheets. He licked his lips and quietly blew on his food, keeping his eyes on the
curly.

“As if you don’t know literally everything about them,” Louis muttered and rolled his eyes, rolling
some spaghetti onto his fork.

“It would be lovely to hear it from your point of view,” Harry smiled when he sat down next to
Louis, the blue eyed boy sighing.

“They’re not very interesting,” he said. “I got my mom and my sisters and I have no idea where my
dad is. In Hawaii, I think.”

“Hawaii?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows. “That’s odd.”

“Why?”
“Well, why not… I don’t know. Go on.”

Louis cleared his throat and chewed on his pasta, looking at the fire that was in the fireplace. It was
mostly ashes by now anyway. “Well,” he hummed. “…There’s my mom, Jay. She’s probably the
best mom in the whole wide world. She makes amazing chicken stew too.”

“Is that your favorite food?” Harry wondered.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Louis laughed and swallowed. “I’d say that my favorite food is tacos.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now continue, please.”

Louis sighed and shrugged then, leaning back on the couch and started poking his food. “Then
there are my sisters. They’re too many I’m not even bothering. They’re lovely though. Really good
sisters.”

“You got any pets?”

“I got my fish in London,” Louis laughed. “I think he’s dead by now though.”

Harry smiled softly and Louis looked away, quietly twisting one of his hair strands between his
fingers. “What was its name?” Harry wondered.

“Levvelli,” Louis laughed. “A friend of mine named him.”

“Levvelli?” Harry smiled. “That’s cute.”

“Isn’t it?” Louis laughed and shrugged. “It’s just a fish though. I’ve had a million of them through
my living years.”

“I had a cat,” Harry hummed. “It was a long time ago though.”

Louis chuckled softly. He had never really spoken about his family like this, not even with Eleanor.
She had met them obviously, but they didn’t talk about their families just for the sake of it. Louis
had tried once or twice, but it was always the whole ‘I’m busy right now I can’t talk,’ or the ‘I
already met them, you don’t have to tell me.’ It wasn’t just once or twice that Louis had thought he
was boring for talking about them. He even avoided from for a whole month once, and he felt
really bad afterwards.

“Do you still want your fruit salad?” Louis asked and Harry laughed and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you still on about that?” he smiled. “You don’t have to make me one.”

“Well, I didn’t get a Christmas present either, so I want to be nice and show you how you should
be.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, I couldn’t get your ticket. Sorry,” he smiled. “I don’t really know what else
to give you though. You never told me.”

Louis breathed out. “Can I have anything?” he wondered.

“You can have anything that I can offer.”

Louis jutted his bottom lip out then and looked up to the ceiling, setting his finished plate off to the
side. He had no idea what the hell he wanted unless it was tickets to England. He had almost
forgotten about them, even. “Well, what can you offer?” Louis wondered and turned to Harry
again.

“Kisses,” Harry smiled, and Louis blushed. He looked away. “And… books. Food. That’s it
basically.”

“I got many options I see,” the blue eyed one laughed and looked at Harry again, just smiling at
him for a moment. “What do you want then? Except for a fruit salad.”

“Kisses,” Harry smiled. Louis rolled his eyes then.

“Harry, listen, that kiss wasn’t… Well, you know,” he said and ran a hand through his hair,
looking up at him rather awkwardly. “Don’t… get ahead of yourself.”

“I won’t,” Harry smiled. “I just want a kiss.”

“You won’t get one,” Louis said. “I don’t… I’m not gay, Harry.”

Harry smile fell. “Then why did you kiss me?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said dumbly. “I felt bad for you, I guess.”

“That’s not nice,” Harry chuckled lowly.

“I’m sorry,” Louis pouted and bit his lip. Harry fell silent for a while, his eyes locked on the
fireplace and Louis leaned forward a little to see if he was dead or something, but then he was the
small smile that he had on his lips.

“You could still kiss me you know,” Harry said and looked at Louis again. “There’s nothing gay
with kissing a guy.”

“I think you’re in denial,” Louis laughed and shook his head, rubbing his eyes for a moment. “You
don’t necessarily have to be gay, but you sure have something for men if you do it, babe.”

Louis froze. Harry seemed to do the same thing, both of them staring at each other. Louis was
frowning and Harry was too, but soon he let out a small chuckle and then another one, Louis
flushing in a very, very deep red. “Babe?” Harry laughed. “Are you sure you don’t have a thing for
me?”

“Oh, shut up,” Louis muttered and shoved Harry’s chest, the curly haired man just laughing harder.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he smiled and wiped his eyes, looking up at the blue eyed one again. He
tilted his head. “Not even a peck?”

Louis sighed then and shook his head, standing up again. “No,” he simply said and started going
up the stairs, stopping about midway and looked at Harry. He was still smiling with his elbows
propped upon the back of the sofa, that one stupid grin on his face. “I’m not gay.”

“You are for me.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” Harry teased. “You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“What will you do if I never will?”

“You will,” Harry nodded. “I hope so, at least.”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, watching how Harry shrugged and looked at the fireplace once
again with the same smile on his lips. If Louis didn’t know better he would have thought that Harry
just said that he wanted Louis to like him. But what would Louis know? Nothing.

Louis woke up the next day in a rather good mood, sitting up in bed and just kind of stretched for a
few minutes. The sun was even shining and the whole room seemed a lot brighter than usual. He
had started to like the bright colors by now, even though he had been so used to darker ones before.
Harry had even suggested that they could repaint it once, but Louis had dismissed that idea. He
wanted it like this. It lit up what should have been dark instead, figuring that out when the sun
literally set many hours earlier than Louis actually wanted to. He hummed a little when he went
out of bed and walked over to his closet, pulling out a grey button up and the yellow sweater he had
worn before, looking at himself in the mirror as soon as he was fully dressed. The house was empty
when Louis went down the stairs, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw that Harry’s shoes and
jacket was gone. Maybe he had gone hunting or something, so Louis didn’t really get worried.

It was first when an hour had passed that he started to get fiddly, his feet tapping against the
wooden floor again and again. That was when he stood up and looked around, finding a pair of
Converse that he pulled on and went out the door, shaking when he realized how cold it actually
was. He bit his lip and started to run over to the stable, cold fingers going around the door handle
and pulled, teeth clattering as he slid inside. “Louis?” Harry said when he had looked up from
Whiskey, a smile tugging at his lips. It only lasted for a second, and he frowned, eyeing the shorter
one up and down. “Why are you so lightly dressed?”

“Because someone took the only jacket,” Louis muttered and crossed his arms, walking over with a
small pout. He sat down next to him and gently scratched the calf behind its ear, smiling a little.

“You’ll get sick,” Harry stated.

“It’ll be your fault.”

Harry laughed then and stood up on his knees, taking a grip on one of his sleeves. He pulled the
plaid jacket over his shoulders and set it over Louis’ instead, the blue eyed one moving his fingers
so he could take a properly grip of the hems of it. He looked up at Harry when he sat down again
and placed Whiskey’s head in his lap, gently stroking over its muzzle. He hummed. “Why are you
here?” Louis asked.

“Why not?”

“Well, it was lonely in the house,” Louis pouted. “I have been in there for an hour.”

Harry laughed softly. “Sorry, babe. I just had to make sure that the animals were warm.”

Louis crossed his arms then and ran a hand through his hair; the yellow hay nudging his shoes that
he now realized was way too thin for a December day. He shivered a little and he felt Harry place a
hand on his thigh, the boy looking up at him. Harry only smiled a little and Louis blinked, moving
his leg slightly so Harry’s hand slid off instead and placed on the ground. Louis watched when
Whiskey crawled over to him and laid down on the ground, looking up at him with those big
brown eyes that Louis fell in love with. He smiled shyly when he reached out a hand and ran it over
the baby bull’s side, scratching him a little. He giggled when the animal mooed at him.

“He’s growing,” he smiled and Harry nodded, patting Whiskey’s leg.

“Yeah,” he hummed in agreement. “He’s still very fond of you.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathed. “Good thing it’s mutual.”

Harry then laughed softly and Louis looked at him, his head tilting as he did so for the few seconds
it took for Whiskey to fall asleep and snore loudly, the curly letting go of the calf and started
petting the sleeping Mary instead. Louis nibbled on the inside of his lip. “You know,” he said.
“You’re… doing good.”

“With what?” Harry smiled.

“This. Everything. The house and the stable and the animals. Me, too. You always make sure that
I’m never hungry.”

“Well, what can I do?” Harry laughed softly. “I don’t want you living a bad life here.”

“I’m not. I’d say I have it good here.”

“Will you stay here then?”

Louis looked up at Harry again, blue eyes widening with his cheeks flushing in a bright shade of
pink. His fingertips started drumming on the ground and on the animal by his side. “Harry,” he
mumbled, running a hand through the back of his hair. “You know that I can’t. I have to go back to
London. I don’t belong here.”

Harry sighed. Louis almost felt a little bad. “I understand,” he said. “I guess I just don’t want you to
leave.”

Louis breathed out. “You know, you can move into a city,” he mumbled. “Get a job and meet some
friends. You don’t have to spend your whole life alone.”

“I want to be alone. I just don’t want to be lonely.”

Louis bit his lip again and hesitated just a little, raising his hand and held it there in the air before
he placed it on Harry’s bicep. He gave it a light squeeze, feeling how his muscles moved
underneath his fingers when Harry turned to him with a small smile. Louis had to move it within a
few seconds, knowing that it he didn’t let go now – he probably never would.

“Why am I here then?” he wondered. “If you want to be alone…”

“I said that I want to be alone, but not lonely.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Harry laughed. Louis smiled softly and turned to the ground, rolling his hair
between his fingers again. Perhaps it was turning into a bad habit. He had stopped playing with his
fingers by now, something that he always did before he got here. He had thought many times that
he was taking after Harry, and maybe he didn’t really mind.

“You’re a good guy, Harry,” Louis said after many moments of silence, the curly turning to him
with his fingertips buried in his chocolate colored hair. He smiled shyly, and for the first time even,
he saw how his cheeks heated up and went slightly pink.

“Thank you,” he said. “You are too.”

Louis smiled, too, and pulled his knees to his chest after he had patted Whiskey’s head one final
time. He was peacefully snoozing by his side by now so Louis didn’t want to be too loud when he
scooted over.

“You know, even if I’m still not one hundred perfect fond of you, I wouldn’t mind another kiss,”
he said quietly, smiling a little when Harry’s fell.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry breathed. “You ranted about not being gay yesterday.”

“I did,” Louis nodded. “But you know, I never really tried anything with a guy before.”

“You make it sound like you want something more than just a kiss,” Harry laughed when he slid
his hand around the back of Louis’ neck. The blue eyed boy laughed softly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he mumbled, feeling how his toes curled a little inside his shoes.
“It’s just a Christmas present.”

“I want to give you something too then,” Harry pouted, their mouths being so close that Louis
could feel Harry’s small breaths on his thin lips. Louis leaned forward, but stumbled a little,
balancing himself with his hand when Harry leaned away and started fiddling at the back of his
neck, Louis swallowing when Harry soon held his paper plane necklace between his fingers.

“I can’t take that,” Louis stated. “It’s yours. It’s important.”

“You’re important,” Harry laughed and slid the thin silver chain around Louis’ neck and Louis
looked up at him, blinking when he felt how the pendant fell against the skin between his
collarbones, the metal being cold against him. Louis moved his fingertips up to touch it, slowly
shaking his head.

“I don’t want it,” he said. “I’ll drop it. Or break it. One of the two. Or both.”

Harry smiled again and shook his head also, hands going to the sides of Louis’ neck. “No, you
won’t,” he hummed. “You’ll always keep it around your neck like this, right?”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Louis mumbled, his hands fisting on his thighs. “Why should I do
what you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “Because you want to?”

“Well, I don’t want to,” Louis whispered.

He shivered a little when Harry chuckled, the warm air from his nudging Louis’ cheek. He watched
when Harry tilted his head a little and got closer and finally kissed him, Louis’ eyes falling shut.
“How about you do it for me, then?” Harry smiled, his curls tickling Louis’ forehead. He
swallowed.

“Okay," he whispered.
 Chapter 15

It was January fifth when Harry told Louis that wanted to show something very special to him.
Louis had blinked where he sat on the windowsill in his bedroom while the curly haired boy
appeared in the doorway, a large grin on his lips. His cheeks were a little rosy and his hands were
pale, and Louis noticed, yet acted like he didn’t know what was going on even though he had seen
him run in and out from the stable many times.

“What are we doing?” Louis had asked with a tilt of his head, sliding down on the floor and stayed
there, leaning back against the sill. Harry had laughed and gone over to him, fingers wrapping
around his wrist and started pulling him out the room. Louis had simply stumbled after him and
cooperated when he told the blue eyed one to pull on a pair of shoes. That’s how they ended up
here, Louis gaping up at the treehouse that was a few meters above the ground. He turned to Harry
who was tying Macula and Superbia to a tree. “A tree house?” he said. “Really?”

“Yeah, I built it a few years ago. It’s crappy, but it can easily hold a few people.”

“How do you know that if you have been alone and never had someone up there?”

“True. I guess we’ll have to hope for the best.” Louis pouted but allowed himself to get pulled
along, watching when Harry let him go and started climbing up the very crappy planks that had
been nailed to the tree, swallowing thickly when Harry soon disappeared into the house. He
followed on shaky hands and legs and stopped about midway, glancing down at the ground.

“Don’t look down, Honey,” Harry hummed above him. Louis looked up and looked at the hand
that Harry had extended, nibbling rather roughly on his bottom lip and quickly took it.

“Can’t help it,” he replied while he got pulled up. He crawled across the floor, sitting down next to
Harry with a small huff.

“You would’ve fallen down,” Harry laughed. “You’re lucky I caught you.”

“I guess I was,” Louis shrugged then, his cheek resting in his hand as he started to look around the
fairly small room, inspecting the photographs and drawings that were placed all over the walls. All
of the drawings were signed by Harry himself, some better than others. “How come you never told
me of this place?”

“You never asked.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yet you’re taking me here.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“I didn’t exactly ask to come here,” he chuckled and turned, shifting on the wooden floor so he was
sitting on his knees instead, the hem of his jacket folding against the floor. He bit his lip. “So I
assume that I’m here for a reason?”

Harry laughed then, shrugging a little as his fingertips ran through his curls that were on the sides
of his head. “Both yes and no,” he said. “You’re here because I want to show you something very
special to me, but also because I just wanted to do something nice.”

“Isn’t both of those ‘yes’ reasons?” Louis giggled. Harry leaned back and propped himself up on
his elbows, his head tilting a little when he looked up at Louis.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” he smiled. Louis looked away from him and up on the walls again,
pouting a little when he looked over the drawings. Most of them were flowers drawn in crayon, but
then there were some pictures that looked really photorealistic. Horses and trees, mostly, but a few
other animals too., like squirrels and owls drawn in colored pencils.

“Have you made all of them?” he wondered. “Aren’t you afraid of them getting wet and ruined
while it rain?”

“It can’t get wet in here,” Harry hummed and sat up again, crawling over to a wooden box that
Louis hadn’t even noticed and opened it, Louis trying to look over Harry’s shoulder to see what
was in it. He blinked when there suddenly were paint jars and brushes in front of him.

“Paint?” Louis said and Harry nodded, giving Louis once of the brushes and started opening all of
the jars and the tubes.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Let’s draw together.”

“But there’s no paper,” Louis stated. Harry only chuckled and rolled his head.

“The walls, the floor and the ceiling,” he said. “Let’s paint on those.”

Louis blinked. “But there are drawings on the walls.”

“It’s not like you can’t remove them,” Harry laughed. “C’mon, Honey. Draw with me.”

Louis sighed, his head moving up and down in a small nod. “Okay,” he said and shrugged his
shoulders, glancing up when Harry started to remove all of the papers from the wall. Louis himself
felt like he didn’t really have the right to say that he should let them stay there, but when Harry
started to just throw them into a corner he had to bite his tongue just so he wouldn’t say anything.
He reached for the blue jar and a red tube, looking around for something that he could pour it on.
When he didn’t find anything he just poured some on the floor and stirred his brush around in it,
adding just a little white until he was satisfied with the purple shade he got. He breathed out and
started searching for a spot on the wall that he could paint on. He then just began. He probably
didn’t talk for an hour or two, cursing when the colors didn’t mix together like he wanted them too.
Flowers and crappy cars soon covered his corner of the wall and he turned around, glancing at
Harry that sat behind him. He was drawing on the wall that was on the opposite of Louis’, blue
skies and green grass covering about half the wall. Louis swallowed and blushed lightly; looking at
his cars and flowers again and the octopus that only had five arms. He bit his lip.

“Are you doing good?” Harry asked then and Louis flinched, immediately throwing himself over
his drawings.

“Uh, yeah,” he lied and tightened his fingers on his now dirty brush that was completely covered in
color, looking over Harry’s painting. He was smiling where he sat and looked over it himself,
leaning forward and adjusted something that Louis couldn’t see what it was. Harry made a thin line
over it, and apparently he was happy with it after that.

“Why did you only use the corner of the wall though?” he laughed. “You could have used it all if
you wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I was going to draw,” Louis mumbled. “I didn’t really think that I was allowed
to… you know. Do that.” He pointed at Harry’s wall and Harry chuckled, shrugging.

“Well, I think it’s more fun to paint landscapes than cars and flowers,” he smiled and Louis
blushed again, moving away from his wall. It was no point in hiding it if Harry already had seen it.
“Even though they are lovely. Very good.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic about it,” Louis muttered. Harry chuckled and crawled over,
leaning forwards to watch Louis’ small drawings more closely. Louis crossed his arms with his
back resting to the wall, only looking at the curly out of the corner of his eye. Harry was smiling
and brushed his fingertips along the paint, making it smudge just a little. Louis muttered at it.

“Sorry,” Harry laughed and wiped the paint on his shirt. Louis looked away and onto Harry’s
painting once again. It was actually really pretty. It had skies and clouds and trees and grass, and
mountains and some flowers that where just large parts of the ground in a different color, a small
white house being in the distance. His and Harry’s probably. It would be a lie if Louis would say
that he didn’t imagine him and Harry living here together forever. He had it good here. He got free
food and no rent. It was quiet and it had beautiful scenery. It’s not exactly like Louis could
complain. He glanced up at Harry again who somehow had found a cigarette package in his pocket
along with a lighter, the cigarette resting there between his lips as he seemed to add something to
Louis’ drawings. It looked like two stickmen holding hands.

“Look,” he said with a smile. “It’s us.”

“Cute,” Louis snorted and rolled his eyes, knees being pulled to his chest with his arms wrapped
around them. “Hey, Harry, if you would guess, for how many months could our food last?”

“Forever,” Harry shrugged. “As long as the animals don’t disappear, we would be fine for as long
as we decide on staying here.”

Louis nodded and quietly ran his thumb along his lips, looking at everything but Harry. The curly
haired boy seemed to notice. “Why? Are you considering staying?”

“Oh fuck off,” Louis mumbled and rested his forehead to his forearms, glaring down at the wooden
floor. He wasn’t, was he? No. He had a life back in England, not with some psychopath named
Harry.

“Then why?” Harry smiled.

“No reason,” Louis sighed, rolling over and laid down on his tummy with a small huff. He rose to
his elbows and turned his head, looking at Harry once again. He was smiling. Like always. Harry’s
head tilted a little and he chuckled, the smoke from his mouth sliding out. Louis shivered, tongue
going over his lips when he turned away. Maybe he had a very small reason, that he actually
considered staying.

“Thought we would never get home,” Harry laughed an hour or so later and shrugged off his
clothes, shaking his head so his curls flew everywhere. Some rain water landed on Louis’ face and
he grimaced, backing away and wiped his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“You know you could just grab a towel and not behave like a dog,” Louis stated, and lifted the
collar of his shirt a little so he could dry his chin off with it. Harry laughed then; rolling his eyes
with a smile that Louis knew was rather genuine. It was mostly genuine ones between them by
now.

“Fine, alright, I’m sorry,” he chuckled and walked around Louis and into the bathroom, soon
returning with two towels – one white and one red. He gave the red one to Louis. “Are you hungry?
I could make some dinner.”

“Not really,” Louis shrugged. “I’m a little thirsty though.”

Harry smiled, head moving as he nodded and he pulled his hair up in a ponytail, the hairband
around his wrist being tied around it. He made his way into the kitchen and Louis watched him,
biting his lip when he saw him take out a glass and how he filled it with water that he and Louis
had boiled before. He made one for himself too and Louis blinked, making his way over to the
couch and sat down with his eyes still locked on Harry. On his back, to be specific. How his
shoulders were broader than his hips.

Louis swallowed. He had to look away.

“Here you go,” Harry hummed and gave Louis his glass over his shoulder, Louis taking it with a
small “Thank you,” and a pout. Harry sat down next to him, unnecessarily close, Louis thought, but
didn’t exactly mind, the smell of dirt and apples filling him. Harry’s arm pressed to his and his
thigh to his own too, and Louis shivered, Harry being so warm it was barely natural when they just
had been out in the snow. Louis sipped his water, trying now to think of the warm breath that hit
his shoulder or the sound of Harry’s breathing. He didn’t really want to think of it. It wasn’t right.
Not for someone like him and Harry.

“You know,” Harry said then after a while, pulling his feet onto the couch. “I quite enjoy having
you here.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Louis mumbled. “I would much rather have you love me being here than
hate it.”

Harry laughed softly and bit his lip, shrugging when he turned to look at Louis. “I don’t think I
could ever hate you being here,” he said quietly. “If I would have picked someone else it could
have been a different story though.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed. “How so?” he wondered.

“Well, you know,” Harry shrugged. “I’ve got a few reasons.”

“Like what?” Louis asked and finished his glass of water, setting it on the bedside table. “Come on,
I want to know.”

Harry’s head rested back against the back of the couch and he looked up at the ceiling, teeth
quietly chewing on his bottom lip. “Well,” he said, Louis tilting his head. “You’re nice. Most of the
time, at least. You’ve gotten nicer lately, I don’t know why.”

Louis shrugged then and looked down on his thighs, fingertips following the fabric. Louis, himself,
knew the reason, obviously. But he didn’t want to tell Harry about it, knowing what could happen
and what the consequences could be. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to leave then either.

“I just think that you deserve a little more gratitude,” he said and looked away, running a hand
through his hair. “You’ve been through more than enough. You don’t need another one hating
you.”

Harry frowned then and leaned away, Louis turning to him in confusion. Did he say something
wrong?

“Did I say something?” Louis wondered.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Harry mumbled and sank down on the couch, fingers drumming on his
biceps after he had crossed his arms.

“Then what?” Louis pressed and he knew that he shouldn’t, so when Harry looked up at him with a
small frown he wasn’t exactly surprised.

“Nothing,” the curly haired boy said and he smiled then, eyebrows raising a little. “It’s just that
that no one hates me. They just don’t need me.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not to me,” Harry smiled. “I don’t want to think of myself as hated. No one does.”

“It makes everything so much easier though,” Louis said softly. “You don’t have to worry about
pleasing everyone.”

Harry laughed softly and sat up, lifting his elbow onto the back of the sofa. His head rested in his
hand and Louis looked up at him, nothing more than a decimeter or two away from each other.
Louis blinked and his eyes flickered between Harry’s and he bit his lip, looking away just so he
wouldn’t do anything stupid. “Isn’t that good though?” Harry smiled then, Louis frowning when he
felt Harry place a hand on his cheek and tilted his head up, making Louis look at him. Louis
expected him to move his hand but he didn’t and he parted his lips in wonder, Harry smiling still.
“Making people happy?”

Louis swallowed. “If you only focus on other people then you will become unhappy yourself,” he
breathed and closed his eyes for only a second, hating the way that his hand moved to Harry’s
chest and fisted his shirt, absolutely loathing how Harry chuckled at it and slid his hand to the back
of his neck instead.

“You get happy when you do good,” Harry said lowly, his other hand circling around Louis’ waist
and Louis felt like he needed to push him away but didn’t, his breath quickening. “Right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis blurted and he felt himself get pulled closer, his knuckles whitening in Harry’s
shirt. He was pretty much shaking, Harry’s arm long and strong around him. He swallowed again,
blushing lightly when Harry buried his face in the crook of his neck all of a sudden. “Harry,” he
choked, suddenly flushing in crimson. “No, it tickles! What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Harry hummed and Louis breathed out rather harshly when he felt something soft
against his neck. He squirmed in Harry’s arms, but he held him still, Louis helplessly tugging and
pulling on Harry’s shirt instead.

“Stop,” Louis whimpered. “What are you doing, Harry, stop it! I said it tickles. Wait, no! No
marks, Harry!”

Harry laughed softly and Louis grimaced, Harry’s hand sliding from his neck to his hip instead and
somehow he managed to get him onto his back on the couch and Louis covered his face, refusing
to let Harry see him like this. Never in a million years.

“Fine, no marks,” he laughed and Louis felt how long and warm fingers wrapped around his wrists
and gently moved them, the blue eyed boy looking up at the other one that was hovering over him.
He was smiling and Louis knew that he couldn’t expect anything else, so it wasn’t even worth
taking note of anymore. Louis’ lips made a line when his hands got guided to Louis’ neck and
shoulders, Louis almost panicking. He didn’t even know what they were doing anymore. They
weren’t… right? No. Of course not. Harry would never force him to do anything he didn’t want to
do.

He got so lost into his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Harry leaned down again and pressed his
lips to Louis’, moving away after a few seconds and went down again, Louis just wanting to sink
through the ground and never come back again. He breathed out again when his bottom lip got
slightly tugged on by Harry and when he felt a hand on his inner thigh, just doing as Harry wanted
him to and spread them so Harry could slide between them, wondering if Harry could hear his
heartbeat. Louis sure could.

He moved his hands just a little, the two of them going to the back of Harry’s hair when Harry
started kissing him again. His eyes fell shut and he knew he was giving in way too easily, arms
going around Harry’s neck just to pull him closer. Harry breathed out too, his hand suddenly
sliding up Louis’ sides and up his shirt, Louis shivering. He whined a little when Harry pulled
away and raised a little, looking down at him. Of course, Louis did the same, not knowing what
else to do. Breathing quickly, he blinked, watching how Harry’s face was slightly flushed and his
eyes a lot darker than they usually were – lips being dark pink. Louis thought he was going to
move for a moment, cold fingertips clenching on Harry’s shoulders, lips closing. But Harry didn’t,
Louis feeling both relieved and frightened at the same time, looking down a little when he felt his
stomach getting colder and colder, his shirt getting pulled up his chest. He blushed and looked
away when Harry leaned down and kissed him there too, lips brushing one of his nipples. He
gasped and squirmed, trying to calm down when Harry’s fingers tightened on his sides, the little
blue eyed boy glaring up at the ceiling. This was embarrassing. Humiliating, even. Louis would
never have let anyone do this to him. Unless it was Harry, Louis thought, but immediately stopped
thinking like that, his back arching off the couch when a pair of teeth suddenly scraped his
sensitive skin.

“Harry,” he breathed, eyes fluttered closed again when Harry slid down his chest and stomach,
trailing kisses all over him. Louis felt warm and tingly, fingers traveling into Harry’s hair again and
tangled together with his curls, the hair band sliding out and down on the floor. Soft hair stands
embraced Louis’ hands and he shuddered, feeling how he tugged lightly, making him come closer
once again. Harry didn’t say anything, stopping right at Louis’ hipbone and kissed it, Louis making
an embarrassing sound. His back arched off the couch again and he let go of Harry, covering his
face with his forearms.

“Are you ticklish there too?” Harry chuckled lowly, Louis feeling a shiver going through him when
he felt the small air puff of Harry’s hitting his hipbone. Louis only nodded, biting down on his lip
when he felt Harry kissing his body again, his hands going up his chest. The thing is that when it
came to Eleanor, it was never like this. She was in the center of attention, Louis kissing her softly
and lovingly while he only got to feel her hands on his back from time to time. Her legs always
wrapped around his waist and pushed him down in what could only be described as uncomfortable,
which meant that Louis had never, ever, been treated like this. Perhaps he felt wanted.

Louis blinked his eyes open when Harry suddenly pulled away and stared down at Louis’ stomach,
Louis’ eyebrows furrowing. He looked down at himself after he had propped himself up on his
elbows, swallowing when he saw the small red marks at his hipbone. But that couldn’t be what
Harry was staring at.

“Why did you stop?” he breathed, kind of regretting that he said it right after. Harry only continued
to stare and Louis carefully pulled his shirt down again, covering his chest and stomach. He looked
up at Harry, head slightly tilted. Harry wasn’t pale, so he wasn’t sick, but he looked almost scared.
Louis had never seen him like this before.

“I can’t do this,” he said and sat up, glaring out to nothing. “I can’t do this, Louis.”

Louis frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

Harry shook his head and stood up, moving over to the door. Louis blinked after him and got to his
knees, hands placing on the back of the couch when he watched Harry pull his jacket and shoes on.
“Where are you going?” Louis whimpered but didn’t get a response, flinching when the door
slammed shut after the curly haired boy. Louis sat back then and rested his chin to his forearms
and tried to ignore the half-assed erection in his pants. He knew one thing, a least. He had to get
out of here, before he wouldn’t be able to anymore.
 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

Holy shit, I made a twitter. I'll make updates about the writing progress and whenever
something fairly interesting happens in my life, basically. Follow me,
@BeyondxLawliet if you want. x

(There's abuse in this chapter, so if you somehow find that triggering, you shouldn't
read this chapter. x)

Louis’ breath hitched when he heard the floor clacking outside his door three days later, his head
snapping to the side to look at Harry in case he would walk in – which he didn’t.

“I’m going to bed, babe,” he said instead and Louis swallowed, nodding at the white door even
though Harry wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Okay,” he coaxed, hands tightening on the shirt that he was folding into a bag he had found as
quietly as he could. “Good night.”

It was like a rock had been removed from his chest when Harry’s footsteps moved away and went
down the stairs, Louis’ hands shaking like crazy. He was afraid, knowing that it was late and dark
outside and the snow was flying down from the sky in large and cold snowflakes. Perhaps he could
have picked a better time for this, but the protection of the dark felt like it was something that he
could rely on.

He stood up when he felt like he was done, taking Harry’s clothes and just shoved them into the
bag. He threw it onto the bed, glancing out the window again. It was pretty much pitch black and
Louis had been lucky that he had found a flashlight the day before in the storage. The only problem
was how he would be able to hold it, along with the bag and the reins at the same time. He sighed
then and shook his head, the very thick sweater he had found hanging loosely around his body. His
choice was to either go like this, or sneak down while Harry was sleeping and steal his shoes and
jacket. The latter seemed so much better, but if Harry saw him he would figure out what he was
doing within a second. But he had to try, so Louis tiptoed out from the room and snuck over to the
stairs, leaning down and made sure that Harry was on the couch at least. He was, so Louis started
to walk down the stairs, as far to the side as he could so the steps wouldn’t creak. His heart was
racing in his chest and his fingers were still trembling, eyes pretty much glaring holes into Harry’s
body. He seemed to be sleeping, and Louis didn’t know if Harry was one to fall asleep quickly, not
exactly counting seconds until Harry started snoring.

He took a shaky breath when he reached the floor, his bare feet being warm against the cold wood.
He couldn’t even breathe anymore, praying a billion prayers that Harry wouldn’t see him while he
started moving towards the door, holding his breath the whole way and almost screamed out of joy
when he got a hold of the two shoes and the plaid jacket, standing up again to return to his room.
He felt a little bad to be honest, leaving Harry like it was nothing without even saying good bye.
He would have done it unless he knew that he wouldn’t be stopped. He knew that Harry would get
disappointed and maybe even mad, and after the day on the stairs when Harry almost hit him he
didn’t want to do anything that would make him even more furious. Louis bit his lip as he glanced
over at Harry again, legs moving on their own when he padded over. He still seemed to be
sleeping, his chest raising and lowering at a steady pace. Louis smiled a little, hands tightening on
the jacket and the shoes, wondering that if he left – would he get the answers he wanted to know?
Why haven’t his mom contacted him again? Why was Harry so positive even though he had been
through quite a lot? What did he feel for Louis, most of all? Louis had to shake his head just to stop
thinking of it, turning to go up the stairs again.

“Louis?” Harry suddenly said rather loudly, Louis immediately diving onto the floor behind the
couch, his back resting to the sofa. “Hey, Louis!”

Louis panicked. He hadn’t seen him, had he? He was fucked in that case, eyes squeezing shut
when he heard Harry move around on the cushions. Even though it was quiet for a while, Louis
didn’t even dare to look, but had to anyway, glancing up at the back of Harry’s head. He was
sitting up, looking at the staircase. So he hadn’t seen him, Louis figured, slowly starting to pull
himself around the corner of the sofa. Harry wouldn’t be able to see him there.

Louis froze when Harry suddenly stood up and wrapped his blanket around himself, tiredly going
over to the stairs. “Louis?” he called again and Louis started shaking, frightened that Harry would
turn his head and see him. His breaths got quick and small when Harry ran a hand through his hair,
slowly going up the stairs. What he wanted with Louis, he didn’t know. He was too scared to find
out, knuckles going so white it wasn’t even funny as he continued to clutch the jacket. His eyelids
even burned when Harry finally disappeared upstairs and Louis quickly pulled on his shoes. There
was no way that he was going back for the bag now. Unpleasant shivers were going down his spine
as he threw the door open but made sure that it didn’t slam into the wall, closing the jacket around
his shoulders and set off towards the stable, leaving footprints in the snow after him.

It was warm in there and Louis had to enjoy it for just a second, groaning as he lifted a saddle from
its hanger on the wall. It was still heavy and it was cold in Louis’ hands, Louis struggling to get it
over to Macula. But he managed and lifted it onto his back, leaning down so he could tighten the
trap around his stomach. He did it as good as he could, sparks of hope and panic taking turns to
light his candles. Hands were fumbling with the reins and he succeeded in putting it on the correct
way, immediately starting to tug the animal out of the warm house and into the cold, Macula
struggling and tearing on his rope, Louis sobbing from the cold and the stress.

“Please,” he whispered and somehow the horse stopped moving and Louis threw himself onto its
back with a few needed attempts, kicking the animal – and set off.

Snow was still hitting his face and hands as he rode down the path that him and Harry had ridden
down a few weeks ago. It was pretty much the same, Louis realizing that he also had forgotten the
flashlight. He was thankful that the moon lit up his path away from Harry at least a little, kicking
Macula again even though the animal couldn’t go any faster. By now he was more overwhelmed
than anything, knowing that he was actually on his way back to England, back to his friends and
family. Eleanor, too.

He was sure that he rode for at least half an hour, passing trees and paths and rocks and the large
field him and Harry had been in, his cheeks getting wetter and wetter form the snowflakes and the
tears that he couldn’t even figure out why they were falling like this. Louis shifted on his saddle,
knowing very well that it was slowly but surely tipping to the side, figuring that he should have
asked Harry to teach him how to put it on properly. Harry had always said ‘No, I want to do
something for you from time to time, Honey.’

Honey. That had always been it. Honey, baby, babe, love, and sunshine. It had never been his
name, expect on when he had asked him too, and Louis hated it – absolutely hated it. So why
hadn’t he told him to stop?
Louis let out a choked sob when he kicked the horse again, one hand going to wipe one of his
cheeks. No, it didn’t mean anything. Louis had always disliked pet names. Nicknames were
another thing, always calling Niall Ni and Eleanor El, or even Baby if she was lucky. But never
anything more than that, thinking that they were ridiculous and immature and horrible and so, so
wrong – but still he couldn’t bring himself to tell Harry off.

Harry.

Louis shook his head again. No, nothing. No Harry, no more Alaska and no dreadful tea. Never in
his life again, would he ever think of him again. Louis looked up when his surroundings suddenly
got colorful and he turned his head, straight up at the sky. Northern lights. Louis had really kissed
Harry, hadn’t he? He had even asked him to, if he remembered correctly. It was out of sympathy,
Louis had thought at first, but he had never in his life gone that far just because that either. It was
farfetched and it was something that Louis would never have done before. Especially not with a
guy. Definitely not with a guy.

Harry.

Louis shook his head again, trying to find another path or a road. By now he was only riding in the
middle of a forest with no knowledge of direction, shifting on the saddle again just so he wouldn’t
fall off.

“Fuck,” he cursed and bit his lip, looking up at the moon. He should have looked in which
direction it was when he went off. Was he lost? Was Harry looking for him? He probably was, if
Louis knew him correctly. He knew all of his habits and how he looked when he was tired and
excited. He knew what he looked like when he was sad and angry, happy and confused. He knew
how the three wrinkles in his forehead looked when Harry furrowed his eyebrows and exactly how
much he needed to smile to make a dimple appear, and how much he needed to laugh to make the
other one appear. He knew that he had three crinkles by his eyes when he smiled and that he
needed to read at least three paragraphs of a book before he could answer a question that someone
asked him while he was busy reading. He knew what his favorite color was and he knew that he
absolutely dreaded rice and that he still had to stick his tongue out to take a bite out of his
sandwich, and Louis found him absolutely perfect.

Louis whimpered and quickly wiped his cheeks again, shaking his head to get all of the thoughts of
Harry away. He couldn’t stay. He wasn’t allowed to. He couldn’t leave Eleanor behind, nor could
he leave Niall and his sisters and his mother. Especially not now, when he had actually left, his
hands fisting on Macula’s reins and on his jacket, bowing his head and closed his eyes. His
eyelashes got wet really quickly and Louis didn’t even bother shifting again, taking a shaky breath.

No.

“Louis!”

No.

“Louis, stop!”

No.

Louis looked up when he felt himself get tugged up and somehow he saw Harry on Hiems, a
furious look on his face. Macula make a blood shrieking sound and Louis tipped over, wincing
when his back hit the snowy ground and he arched his back, rolling over. He had to crawl to his
knees and continue running, so he did, hands purple from the cold and his thighs sore and numb,
getting to his feet within five seconds and started running, screaming when his wrist got grabbed.

“Let me go!” he screamed and stumbled onto Harry, squirming against him and tried kicking him,
legs twisting in every direction possible. He whimpered when Harry wrapped both of his arms
around his body instead and Louis bit Harry’s hand, Harry screaming too and tore it away and
Louis took this as his chance, starting to crawl again but once again got grabbed, collapsing onto
the ground.

“Stop,” he whimpered and got turned around in Harry’s arms, hitting his chest and his arms and
shoulders and even his face, slapping him again and again and again. “Let me go, Harry! Let me
go, please!”

He took another shaky breath and tears were rolling freely now and he stopped, Harry’s hands tight
on his hips and on his wrist that he somehow had managed to take a hold of again. Louis looked up
at him again and he was breathing heavily, wishing that he was able to read the look on Harry’s
face. He looked angry, yet sad and annoyed, and Louis didn’t want to see him like that. “Please let
me go,” he breathed then and started squirming again, pushing Harry’s chest again and Harry
winced too, arm slipping around Louis waist and pulled him closer. Soon enough Louis felt Harry’s
hair on his neck and he closed his eyes again, snowflakes falling on his cheeks.

“Don’t go,” Harry breathed, Louis knowing that the curly haired boy’s arms and whole body was
shaking. He wasn’t in a very comfortable position, being lifted off the ground by Harry so his back
arched and his legs were bent, Louis swallowing thickly when he heard the small sobs of Harry’s.
“Please don’t go. Please don’t go, Louis.”

Louis took another deep breath and he let his head fall back, slowly shaking his head. He couldn’t
stay, no.

“Let me go,” he whispered and Harry’s arms only tightened, his nose pressing into Louis’ neck and
Louis sighed, looking up at the green and the blue that was flowing across the sky. It didn’t take
long before his neck got wet too, but not from snow. “Please, Harry.”

“No,” Harry whimpered, shoulders shaking. “Never.”

“Harry,” Louis sighed, cheeks covered in tears.

“No,” Harry breathed, hugging Louis’ body more tightly. “Don’t leave me, Louis. I don’t want to
be alone again. Stay, Louis, you have to stay. Don’t leave me here.”

Louis closed his eyes then and breathed in, feeling so incredibly cold and numb. He could barely
move. “I still hate you,” Louis lied.

Harry only sobbed again. It all just went black after that. Staying here seemed to be his only option
by now.

When Louis woke up he was on the couch in his and Harry’s house again, wrapped up in blankets.
A fire was cracking and Louis thought that he could hear some breathing, forcing himself to look
around to find the source of it. It was obviously Harry and Louis looked up at him, the green eyed
boy sitting by Louis’ legs with his elbow on the back of the couch, glaring down at him. Louis
knew that he had cried yesterday over him leaving, so seeing him like this make him know that not
everything was alright yet. He sat up a little and scooted back on the couch, making sure that he
was still wrapped up in blankets. He could feel the fabric of a shirt press to his body so he knew
that he wasn’t naked, but he still felt like he shouldn’t expose too much of himself to him.
“Harry,” he breathed after a few minutes, blinking when Harry didn’t move an inch. He was like a
statue, Louis licking his lips as they suddenly went dry. “Harry, I didn’t mean to.”

It was because Louis hadn’t expected it that he got so surprised, when Harry slapped him right
across the cheek and Louis fell off the couch and onto the floor, cheek stinging and burning. He
looked up at Harry again, completely taken back, fingertips slowly brushing the warm skin. That’s
when Harry did it again and Louis whimpered, hanging his head and placed his whole hand on his
cheek instead.

“Look at me,” Harry said sternly and Louis shook his head, pulling his knees to his chest. “I said,
look at me.”

Louis’ breath hitched when Harry grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, Louis staring up at him
like he was a monster. Harry raised his hand again, and once again slapped him, and Louis cried,
trying to get away from him. But Harry was still holding his hair and Harry yanked again, his other
hand fisting Louis’ shirt. Louis got pulled onto his feet and he tried to push his hand away again,
stumbling onto the floor again when he got pushed right into the bookshelf behind him. He started
screaming again when Harry raised his fists and hit his jaw and temple and even his lip, the poor
blue eyed boy tasting blood.

“Stop!” he yelled and got tugged onto his feet again, then shoved into the wall and a door, the door
handle going right onto his hip. “Harry, stop it!” His leg got kicked all of a sudden and he fell to the
floor, looking up at Harry again that had his fist raised. Louis heart was punching his chest and
Harry brought his fist down again, Louis screaming out in pain when it hit his eye.,“Harry, stop,
you’re hurting me,” he whimpered and tried to curl into a ball, covering his face. “You’re hurting
me! Stop!” Apparently his words worked because Harry did indeed stop, Louis glancing up at him,
fearing for his life for the second time in Alaska. Harry didn’t have his hands raised anymore and
Louis breathed out at that, only wincing when final time when he got a kick onto his thigh – and
Harry left the house.

Louis sat there for another hour and a half, staring out at nothing and watched the blood from his
mouth dripping from his lips and onto his shirt. It was red instead of grey by now. He was scared.
Frightened and worried, worried that he had done something stupid since he knew that Harry
would never do anything like this without a reason. He had promised not to lie, so beating Louis up
because he did something that he shouldn’t do was definitely the cause of this. Louis suddenly
sobbed and that made his body move a little, whimpering. He tried to stand up, but it hurt too
much, so he ended up crawling across the floor and up the steps, leaving small drops of blood after
him.

Once again, he didn’t come out for another week. He was so desperately trying to avoid Harry that
he melted the snow on the roof outside his window and drank that instead of going down and ask
for something to drink. It was his hunger that made him go down the stairs on the fifteenth of
January, whimpering and sobbing and limped down the stairs, refusing to look at himself in the
mirror. The bruise from Harry’s kick on his thigh that was dark purple by now was enough to tell
him that he looked absolutely horrible. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table when Louis came
down, a cigarette between his fingers. It barely looked touched. He wasn’t doing anything, just
staring blankly into thin air, looking up only when Louis stopped about halfway down the stairs.
He was crying, cheeks wet and eyes red, lips slightly parted. Louis felt just a little guilty, knowing
that if he hadn’t tried to run away then Harry wouldn’t have beaten him up, and then he wouldn’t
look like this.

But of course, nothing of this was Louis’ fault. But that’s not what he thought.
He only swallowed and continued taking those last steps, fingers going along the railing. He hadn’t
seen Harry for many days, so not really wanting to look at him wasn’t something that you could
blame him for. He looked down on the floor as he went over to the kitchen counter. It was filled
with pots and plates that looked like food had been scraped off of them. Had Harry lost his
appetite? He sighed and shook his head, opening the fridge. He found a finished plate with what
looked like potato salad and a small bowl of some kind of soup, not saying anything as he just took
it out and started eating with a knife and fork and spoon that he took out from a kitchen drawer. He
didn’t sit down, staying there and just glared down at his food, hearing the shaky breath of Harry’s.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered then, Louis hearing his chair scrape across the floor. Louis ignored
him and continued to stare down at his food, fingers tightening a little around his fork. Maybe he
was a little scared, knowing very well that if Harry did this again – he would probably die. At least
get knocked out cold. He shook his head.

“I don’t care,” Louis mumbled. He knew that Harry was standing behind him.

“Louis,” Harry sighed, Louis swallowing when Harry placed his hands on his shoulders and quietly
brushed his hair aside. He wanted to shake him away, but it hurt too much. A small part of him
didn’t want to either, but if he didn’t brush it away then he would do something that he would
regret later. Louis couldn’t help but shiver when he felt a small kiss to the back of his neck. He
winced a little when Harry wrapped his arms around him, stumbling back against him. He was just
aimlessly falling by now, wasn’t he?

“Harry, it hurts,” he whispered and Harry shook his head, leaving a small and red mark on Louis’
skin.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, resting his forehead to Louis’ shoulder. “I didn’t mean to, alright?
I tried to calm down but…”

“Harry, I get it,” Louis whispered and shrugged the curly haired boy off of him, returning to his
food. He knew that Harry frowned behind him, body tensing up. Louis breathed out when Harry’s
hands landed on his sides, gently, of course, and squeezed his hips just a little, Louis once again
shaking his head, hitting Harry with his elbow.

“It hurts,” he muttered, shoving his plate into the sink. “Don’t touch me.”

“I apologized,” Harry said. “You won’t let me touch you again?”

Louis bit his lip, turning around and looked up at Harry for a single second, then turned away. “Not
right now,” he said, licking his bruised and sore lips.

“So, when you’re better?”

“Don’t talk like it’s your punishment or something,” Louis snarled. “You did this. I have every
single right to ignore you or even slap you if I want to.”

Harry blinked, stepping closer again and turned one of his cheeks. “Slap me then,” he spoke,
putting his hands in his pockets. “If you want to.”

Louis glared at him, crossing his arms but uncrossed them again, whimpering when he brushed one
of his bruises. He looked horrible, he was sure of it. He tasted blood every time he breathed and he
could barely walk probably, Louis glancing down at the large bruise on his thigh. It was literally
dark purple and Louis hated it, pulling a little on his shirt so Harry wouldn’t see it. He looked up at
him again, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. The curly haired boy
smiled a little though, as if he was relieved or something, and Louis hated it, and snapped. He
raised his hand and slapped Harry then, enjoying how his hand connected with Harry's pale cheek.
Because of that he did it again, and three more times, then shoved his chest.

“I hate you,” he said and Harry nodded, rubbing his cheek.

“I know.”

“I’ll continue doing so, too.”

“I know,” Harry said.

Louis crossed his arms again and took a step backwards, Harry following. Louis was too tired to
even care then, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder when Harry pulled him closer. He
stumbled as little, letting Harry kiss the top of his head. “Too bad I can’t say the same.”

“You’re hopeless,” Louis mumbled. "I hate you so much. I'll never forgive you for this."

“I know,” Harry laughed sadly, hiding his face in Louis' hair. “You’ve told me before.”
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes

Twitter: @BeyondxLawliet
lol

It took Louis another week and a half to heal up completely, getting dressed everyday with small
whimpers and winces. He ended up walking around in the same pair of sweatpants for five days
and in just a shirt for the rest of the time, staying on the upper floor since he still didn’t want Harry
to see him so wounded. The only time he walked down was when he was going to take a bath,
sitting there until he looked like an old raisin and snatched the largest towel he could find,
wrapping it around himself and went upstairs again and quickly as he could, hurrying just so Harry
wouldn’t see him. That’s why Harry was surprised when he saw him the next time, sitting in the
treehouse with his hair full of paint and his hands completely covered in pink, bright green and
yellow. He blinked when Louis crawled in with small huffs, sitting down when he was inside
completely. He smiled softly.

“Hi baby,” he said. He had gotten a little nicer since the incident. At first Louis hadn’t thought that
it was possible, but apparently it was.

“Hi,” Louis replied then and looked around, up at the dark blue ceiling that still smelled like paint.
Then the walls that were covered in dark green except the tops of them, them also being dark blue.
Harry seemed to be painting the floor at the moment. “What are you doing?”

“Painting,” Harry smiled and nodded him over, Louis crawling across the floor and sat down a
meter away from him. He was still a little shaken, so he was still trying to stay away from him,
even if just a little. He had started to get nightmares after it happened and he didn’t want them to
come back once they disappeared.

“Well, what are you painting?” Louis wondered.

“This place,” Harry hummed. “The forest and the night sky like it should be. It’s been some time
since I last saw a starry one.”

Louis swallowed a little and looked up at the navy ceiling. So that’s what it was. A sky. “But
there’s no stars,” he stated.

“Not yet,” Harry smiled and reached across Louis, picking up a smaller brush and a tube with
white paint from the floor. “How about you do them?”

Louis bit his lips and reached out his hand, taking the two things with a small sigh. “Isn’t it too
much work?” he said.

“I can continue after you get tired,” Harry hummed. “Sounds good?” Louis sighed, feeling like he
didn’t have a choice. So, he nodded and even shrugged, standing up again with a whimper.

“I guess so,” he said then and looked around, trying to find something that he could put the paint
on. He blinked when he found a paper that was covered in paint already, Louis assuming that it
was the one that Harry had used for all this. Knowing that Harry wouldn’t mind, he poured some
on the white paint onto it and dipped his brush in it, glancing up over the ceiling. It had been some
time since he had seen a starry sky himself. The last time was when Harry had kissed him, if he
remembered correctly. To be honest, he hadn’t really paid any attention to it. He bit his lip,
swallowing as he made a small dot right above him, and then seven more. This was going to take
forever, Louis thought, and breathed out, looking down at Harry who was watching him. He
furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” he wondered and Harry smiled, resting his chin in his hand.

“Nothing,” he hummed, his head tilting a little. Louis rolled his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he said. Harry laughed.

“Fine, fine, I get it. Really though, there’s no reason.”

Louis rolled his eyes and shook his head, continuing to make stars on the ceiling. He knew that
Harry was still watching him, but he tried to ignore it, but still he could help but glance back a few
times. “Stop looking at me,” he mumbled.

“Hm, nah. I don’t really want to.”

Louis sighed. “Are you ever going to stop flirting with me?”

Harry stood up and shook his head, walking over to a few more jars that stood on the floor, all of
them having yellow and purple paint in them. Louis hadn’t seen them before, looking at the cars
and the flowers that he had made in the corner. Harry hadn’t painted over them for some reason.
They looked weird when the rest of the tree house was in such different colors. “Never,” Harry
smiled, Louis looking up at him when he suddenly was only a meter away from him. He
swallowed, nervously looking away. He still didn’t like it when he got so close without telling
Louis beforehand. He got startled so easily, so knowing that Harry could just appear out of
nowhere didn’t help.

“You’re doing it for nothing,” Louis whispered then and turned up to the ceiling, making another
few dots. “It’s a waste of time.”

“So, you’re telling me that I haven’t succeeded at all?” Harry wondered proudly. “Then why did
you ask me to kiss you?”

Louis flushed red and wanted to sink through the floor, and hopefully never come back. “Can you
just let that go?” he mumbled and tugged his jacket sleeve over his hand, hiding a little behind it. It
wasn’t something that he usually did, but since Harry had made Louis do quite a lot that he hadn’t
done before, he didn’t question it.

“Why would I?” Harry smiled. “It was a lovely kiss.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t do anything in it, so don’t say that it’s because of me,” he muttered. Harry
laughed.

“Well, it was still lovely,” he said with a smile, Louis breathing out when the curly haired boy
tilted his head up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Louis turned away again.

“No it wasn’t,” Louis lied.

“I think that you think that too,” Harry whispered into his ear then and let out a short laugh, Louis
shaking his head.

“Just shut up and paint,” he mumbled and gently shoved Harry’s chest, hand lingering a second too
long.

Louis whimpered softly when his hand tightened on the edges of the bathtub, the poor and bruised
boy sinking down in the hot bath water as slowly as he could. He was still so incredibly sore and it
wasn’t even funny, and he still refused to look at his body in any way. He had caught many glances
at his blue and purple thighs and hip, and even his yellow and slightly pink arms. He hated it. He
knew that he should hate Harry, but he just couldn’t. He wasn’t able to. He thought that he was
kind of kind by now – not when he beat him up, but when he was actually taking care of him. It
was been more than twice that he had cleaned up after him and cooked for him, getting water from
the lake or some snow and warmed them up just so he wouldn’t have to smell or literally roll
around in the snow. Louis was rather certain that no one back in England would do that for him.
But, at the same time, he wasn’t sure that he would do that for someone either. He sighed softly
when he was in the hot water, leaning back against the edge of the bathtub again with his head. He
glanced up at the ceiling and at the paint that still was falling off. Neither him nor Harry had gotten
around repainting it. His eyes fell shut, fingertips slowly going over his bruises with small winces
and painful breaths. He wanted to look, but he was afraid. Afraid of knowing what Harry could do
to him, pretty much. He had been in a few fights before, but he had never been this hurt before. For
a second he thought that that was why he forgave him, that he didn’t want to be mad at him and
snap again and causing Harry to get mad at him too. He didn’t want to admit that he could have
another reason.

Louis fell asleep and woke up about an hour later to the sound of someone knocking on the door,
fumbling around after a towel and almost fell down on the floor in the progress. He covered
himself in it and cleared his throat, already feeling himself blush before the door even opened.
“Come in,” he hoarsed and shook his head, clearing his throat shortly after. He licked his lips when
the door opened and Harry peeked in, looking around as if he was afraid of someone else being
there.

“Hi,” he said and smiled softly. “I’m going out to the stable. I’ll be in there if you need anything,
alright?”

Louis swallowed and gave him a single nod, slowly not surely sinking down in the water again. It
was a little cold by now. “Uhm, Harry,” he said and hid a little behind the towel, blinking up at
him.

“Yeah?”

“Could I ask you something, and trust you to answer it truthfully?”

Harry blinked, Louis watching when his shoulder rested against the doorway and how his tattoos
moved a little on his arm. “Of course,” he responded. Louis didn’t expect another answer.

“Why did you hit me?” he wondered. “I want the full reason.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t want to talk about that, Honey.”

“You promised,” Louis mumbled.

“No, I promised to answer your question truthfully, and the answer is that I don’t want to talk about
it.” Louis snarled a little and let go of the towel, just hiding in the bathtub instead. He felt a little
bad for glaring at Harry like this, but it was something that he wanted to do at the moment.
“Harry,” he said sternly. “Tell me. Don’t I deserve to know?”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll tell you,” Harry smiled, shrugging sadly. His hand went to his curls and he
slowly ran it through, watching Louis in a way that he hadn’t before. He couldn’t read it.

Louis sighed. “Please, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry, baby.” Louis cursed to himself then and squeezed his eyes shut,
whimpering pretty loudly when he accidently hit his own bruise. He rested his forehead to the edge
of the bathtub and took a painful breath, curling together in the chill water. He only glanced up
when he heard light footsteps coming closer and closer and soon a large hair was on his head,
gently tilting it up. Louis frowned a little and Harry smiled, his thumb brushing Louis’ sore lips.
He winced a little. Harry frowned too.

“Does it hurt that much?” he wondered quietly and Louis looked up at him, nodding slowly.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said and reached out for Louis’ hand, Louis shivering under the light
touch of his fingertips. “I promise that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“People can promise a lot of things,” he mumbled, looking away. He didn’t poke Harry’s hand
away.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But you deserve nothing but the truth.”

Louis sighed and rolled his eyes, glancing out the window that was on the right of him. It looked
like it was going to snow again. The sky was slightly purple and even a little blue. He was happy
that he was inside actually, even if the water was a little cold. If you had asked him a few months
ago he would have said that he would rather die than stay in here – but Louis now realized how
stupid he had been. Since Harry wasn’t mean, it wasn’t dangerous to stay here. He got food and a
bed, and that was enough for Louis. He wasn’t used to more than that. “Am I supposed to believe
that?” he muttered and crossed his arms, resting his lips to his forearm. He didn’t look, but if he
knew Harry correctly, he was frowning.

“You don’t think you do?” he questioned, nudging Louis’ chin so he was looking at him. Louis
blinked, eyebrows raising a little. He sighed too, breathing out against Harry’s wrist. He felt
Harry’s fingertips shake a little on his chin – a shiver.

“Not always,” Louis sighed, wiping a water drop away from his shoulder with his cheek, making
Harry let him go. Harry’s fingers had been warm on the small part of his chin that he had been
holding, and it immediately got unpleasantly cold. He didn’t like it.

“When do you think that you don’t?” Harry asked, running his fingertips through his curls and bit
the very corner of his lip when he glanced up at Louis, leaning forward just a little. Louis shook his
head at him and the green eyed boy leaned away with a small “Sorry.”

Louis thought for a moment. “When I have lied myself,” he said then, looking up to the ceiling
again. “Like, why should people tell me the truth when I just lie all the time?”

“Do you lie a lot?” Harry asked.

“I wish I could say that I don’t,” Louis chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a bad habit, I
suppose.”
“Have you ever lied to me?”

Louis looked up at Harry then and then away again, fingertips tightening a little on the towel. To
be honest, he didn’t know himself. He couldn’t remember anything specific. “No,” he said quietly.
Harry laughed softly, eyes squinting slightly. He gently slowly ran his thumb along Louis’ thin
lips. Louis slowly made a line of them, swallowing nervously.

“You just lied,” he giggled. Louis blinked.

“What?”

“Do you really think that you can survive six months here without saying a single lie?”

Louis leaned away a little. “It has only been five.”

Harry smiled. “Does it matter?”

Louis licked his lips when Harry moved his thumb to his chin instead, looking at him in the wait of
him doing something. He blinked slowly, his head tilting slightly to the side. Still smiling at him,
the curly boy sat back on the floor more properly, crossing his legs underneath him. Louis found it
weird. He would have swatted his hand away, yet he didn’t. Instead he leaned into the touch
instead, but not so Harry could see what he actually was doing. He didn’t want that. “What do you
think I have lied about?” he whispered softly. Harry kept his eyes on him as he thought, Louis
never looking away. He didn’t even know if he blinked or not. Harry did at least, the tip of his
tongue just poking out a little as he licked his lips from time to time.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “What do you think that I have lied about?”

Louis’ lips parted a little, surprised at the sudden question. It was an obvious one, but Louis hadn’t
expected it. He hadn’t expected Harry to run his thumb over his lip again either, or that his
fingertips would go to the hair that grew right behind Louis’ ear and play with it. Louis just
carefully nudged it, but when Harry didn’t move it he just let it be. “That you’re not mad at me for
slapping you,” he mumbled. “You said that I had a reason to and that it was okay – but you don’t
actually think that, do you?”

Harry smiled and shrugged again, looking out the window too. His fingers brushed the shell of
Louis’ ear. “You got me,” he said softly. Louis bit the inside of his cheek.

“Was I right?” he asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis blurted even if he didn’t want to. Harry just shook his head, not saying anything.
Shifting a little in the water, Louis sighed. Harry moved his hand and placed it in his lap instead,
breathing out a low chuckle.

“But, you know,” he said, looking down at his hands. His fingers tangled together. “I’m over it,
so… Don’t think about it.”

“Don’t lie,” Louis mumbled.

Harry laughed softly, his head falling back. Still, the smile didn’t look genuine. “Sorry,” he said.

Louis got out of the bathtub when Harry had left about half an hour later, teeth clattering at the cold
air that hit him like a brick. He made sure that Harry was out of the house too before he even dared
to peek out of the bathroom, his towel tight around his body. He hurried up the stairs with three
steps at a time, biting down harshly on his bottom lip as he stumbled into his room. He let the
towel drop to the floor and five minutes later he was dressed in a pair of Harry’s boxer briefs and a
t-shirt, humming a little when he went downstairs again and strolled over to the couch, flinching
when he heard plates and cutlery slam together in the kitchen.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry laughed and Louis breathed out, placing a hand on his chest.

“You scared me,” he breathed, going over to the couch and sat down, turning on it so he could look
at the tall man. He smiled a little, watching Harry fumble around with porcelain and coffee cups.

“Sorry, Honey.” Louis just shook his head and lied down, resting his head on Harry’s pillow. He
glanced at the fireplace then and onto the flames, listening to the sparking and the cracking of it. It
was as relaxing as always and it didn’t take long until he started to feel drowsy, eyes opening and
closing tiredly. He moved his legs a little when Harry sat down, keeping them close to his body.

“Are you hungry?”

Louis shook his head, humming a little. “No,” he mumbled, turning on the sofa so he was on his
side instead of his back, opening his eyes again. He looked at Harry, both of them being silent for a
minute or two. “Are you?”

“Nah.”

Louis nodded, sitting up a little. He would be more comfortable if he had his feet in Harry’s lap to
be honest, and Harry seemed to think the same thing. So he didn’t really protest when Harry took
his feet and lifted them, placing them on his thighs with his fingertips drumming against his ankles.

“Hey, Lou,” he said then, Louis looking up at him and moved his thumb away from his lips. He
hadn’t even noticed that he had placed it there.

“Hm?”

“Are you happy here?”

Louis swallowed, toes curling a little. Harry looked serious, but he almost always did, so Louis
didn’t know if he wanted a true or a sarcastic answer. “Uh,” he croaked, clearing his throat. He ran
a hand through his hair, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Well, I mean, uh… Well.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” Harry said simply and leaned back, lifting his elbow onto the back of
the couch. Louis licked his lips then and avoided meeting Harry’s gaze.

“Uh,” he said again, lower this time. He twisted the shirt around his finger. “Well, it’s not exactly
bad, but…”

“I said yes or no,” Harry said again. Louis bit his lip, glancing up at Harry – blue meeting green.
He had to take a deep breath, because otherwise he was sure that his voice would be really shaky.

“...No,” he whispered. That was the closest to the truth. Harry seemed to just go blank, his hands
tightening on Louis’ ankles. Louis glanced down at them and grimaced a little, resting his temple
to the sofa. He knew that he had said something wrong, and for once, he knew what it was.

“Alright,” Harry said, and that was that.

Louis fell asleep then about fifteen minutes later, dozing off and on until he just fell into slumber.
Embarrassingly enough Harry was still there when he did so and softly smiled, arms slipping under
Louis’ legs and the other one around his shoulders. As always he stayed as quiet as possible and
tiptoed up the stairs, holding the older boy close to him. He opened the bedroom door with his
back and snuck inside, setting Louis down on the bed. He made sure that he wouldn’t be cold, and
brushed Louis’ hair away from his forehead. He was going to leave and go to bed himself, but
leaned down instead, sitting on the edge of the bed. Louis moved a little when the mattress sank
down and Harry bit his lip, fingertips slowly creeping up Louis’ side and rested on his cheek. Louis
stirred when Harry brushed his cheekbone with his thumb, eyebrows furrowing a little. Harry
smiled then, moving Louis’ head a little and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight,” he whispered and Louis mumbled something, not knowing that his heart was beating
faster than usual.
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

Twitter: @BeyondxLawliet

Louis bit his lip as his hands tightened on Caeruleus’ reins, blinking when Harry’s hand slid around
his waist. Since Macula had gotten a little sick, Harry had suggested that they both took a ride on
Caeruleus instead of taking separate horses. Louis had, obviously, protested at first and said that he
could take Hiems or Superbia instead, but Harry was having none of it. Louis didn’t seem to have
much of a choice either, because if he didn’t Harry would “scream all night so you can’t fall
asleep.” So here he was, listening to Harry’s calm breathing and feeling his thighs gently brush the
sides of Louis’ every time their horse took a step forward.

“Are you doing alright?” he wondered quietly into his ear and Louis nodded, swallowing a little.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded and turned his head slightly, looking up at Harry who was, oddly
enough, not smiling. Harry dug his teeth into his bottom lip instead and nuzzled into Louis’
shoulder. The blue eyed boy breathed out.

“Hey, Harry,” he said, Harry looking up at him, still resting his chin on Louis. “Why is it that since
I went into the tree house and painted stars, you have gotten more affectionate?”

Harry smiled weakly then and raised his eyebrows, his head tilting a little. “What do you mean?”
he asked. “Have I not always been like this?”

“No. Well, yes, but,” Louis muttered. “You haven’t really touched me out of nowhere before.”

“Haven’t I?” Harry hummed. He rested his forehead to Louis’ shoulder again, Louis blushing
when he felt him place a small kiss to his neck. “That’s weird.” Louis rolled his eyes and bounced a
little when Caeruleus made a small jump over a rock, his hand slamming down to Harry’s thigh to
keep himself upright. Harry laughed softly.

It had stopped snowing about a month ago; two days after Harry had been in the bathroom while
Louis took a bath. It wasn’t necessarily green grass everywhere, and the forest still had some dull
colors, but you could see that spring was coming. Louis couldn’t wait until it was warm again so
that he didn’t need to wear scarves again wherever he went. He sighed softly, knuckles whitening
on his hands when they tightened on the reins he was holding.

“You have gotten more drawn back too,” he whispered.

Harry seemed to straighten a little behind him and he frowned, Louis unable to see him. Harry
studied the back of his head, watching when his hair strands moved in the wind. “Have I?” he
wondered, trying to sound as cheery as possible. “That’s odd.”

Louis swallowed. “Why is that?”

Harry shrugged, hugging Louis’ waist. Louis glanced down on his arms, biting down on his lip and
then on the inside of his cheek. “Don’t know,” he simply said.
Louis was sure that he wouldn’t get another answer, letting it go before he said anything more.
They continued to ride until Harry reached around him and took the reins, kicking Caeruleus so he
went a little faster. Louis yelped a little and clenched his hands on the black mane in front of him,
hearing how the curly haired boy laughed into his shoulder. Louis’ breath hitched when the horse
suddenly jumped over something and Louis almost fell off again. He was quite sure that he would
never get used to that, and that Harry would never stop laughing about it – just like he did now.
Louis simply muttered a “Shut up,” and stared down on the path they were riding on, hands
tightening when Caeruleus made another jump. He had to breathe calmly since he didn’t want to
embarrass himself even more than he already had.

“You know,” Harry breathed out then. “I haven’t gotten a kiss for a long time.”

Louis sighed. “Can you please let it go?” he muttered.

“You have kissed me more than twice,” Harry hummed. “I want another one.”

“It seems like you’re out of luck, buddy,” Louis chuckled. Harry laughed softly and Louis flushed
deep red when his jacket and sweater got pulled down just a little and when Harry pressed another
kiss to the newly exposed skin. Louis was terrified of falling off still, so pushing him away would
result in the both of them to fall straight to the ground.

“One day you’ll kiss me with your own will,” Harry smiled. His hand placed flat on Louis’
stomach and Louis muttered a few curses, turning away and started glaring at the trees around them
instead of Harry.

“The day I kiss you by myself is the same day that you realize that you should let me go back to
England,” he said and turned to Harry. Harry was frowning and Louis looked away again. He still
didn’t like to see Harry disappointed, at least not when it was Louis’ fault he was.

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly, Louis glancing down at Harry’s hand when it tightened on Louis’
shirt. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, getting pulled slightly closer. “Do you even want to
go back to England?” Louis frowned himself then and absolutely refused to answer. Mostly
because he wouldn’t give Harry the satisfaction of saying ‘No,’ but also because he would lie if he
said the opposite.

“I don’t care,” Louis said instead of protesting. He felt cold at of a sudden, and got hot again when
Harry was placing small kisses and bite marks over the back of his shoulder. Louis was probably
expected to push him away, but he didn’t, an obvious choice to him.

“I care,” Harry smiled. “I like your kisses. I wouldn’t mind getting them every morning and every
night.”

“Luckily enough it’s not night then,” Louis muttered. Harry chuckled softly then and he slid his
hand up Louis’ stomach, breathing out hot air onto Louis’ neck that made him shudder. The skin
got sticky and the blue eyed boy grimaced a little, grinding his cheek on his shoulder in an attempt
to make it go away.

“I find it weird,” Harry said lowly, “That you said that you wouldn’t mind kisses from me, in the
stable some time ago when I gave you my necklace, and now you’re so distant.”

“It’s because you’re so touchy-feely,” Louis mumbled. “I told you to not think about our kisses.”

Harry sighed. “Maybe I don’t want to forget.” Louis looked down on the path again and then to
Caeruleus’ mane again.
Knowing that he could as well have the word ‘liar’ written on his forehead, Louis shrugged and
said: “It won’t happen again.” Both Harry and Louis knew that it wasn’t the truth. Especially Louis
did, remembering how he had been stirring in his bed the night after the kiss with burning lips and
tickling fingertips. He had been shaking so much he hadn’t dreamt a single normal dream. He had
stirred around and had pulled his shirt off and on after he had grown sweaty and cold at the same
time. It was ridiculous – and it had made Louis wonder if he actually needed kisses from Harry
more than he wanted to admit. Louis turned to Harry again when he heard a small sigh and how he
leaned closer, Louis having to lean slightly forward so they wouldn’t touch too much. Harry was
rather warm, still.

“You’re cold,” Harry mumbled. “Should we go home? I don’t want you to get sick.”

Louis just shrugged, and apparently Harry took that as a yes – because just two seconds later Harry
had turned the horse around and they were on their way back, Louis’ heart punching the insides of
his chest when Harry’s hand never moved from his body.

It took them about half an hour for them to get back to the house, Louis waiting until Harry was
done in the stable before they both started walking towards the porch. It was starting to get darker
and Louis didn’t like it, looking around from time to time and flinched every time something
cracked out in the forest.
Stepping out of his shoes, Louis walked into their living room and ran a hand through his fringe,
looking up at Harry as he did the same. He smiled down at him, his head tilting just a little when
his lips parted. “Do you want anything?” he asked and Louis shook his head, starting to move
towards the stairs.

“Sleep, if anything,” he said and placed his hand on the railing as he started pulling himself up the
staircase. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Louis looked up as he took the third step, locking his eyes on the upper floor. He wanted, or maybe
not, that Harry would say goodnight. He always had and he probably always would, and Louis had
grown used to it. A simple “Sleep well,” was all he needed, but tonight Harry didn’t say anything.
Louis even slowed down a little just so Harry would get more time – but he stayed there in the
middle of the room. Louis looked at him and he wondered if something was wrong, just watching
when Harry strolled over and looked up at him, the green eyed boy smiling softly when he reached
out and placed his hand on Louis’. It was warm and big. It felt wonderful, even if Louis knew that
something was about to happen. Maybe it was the pressure of his hand or the expression that Harry
had on his face, or even the fact that Harry leaned up and pressed a kiss to his chin. Louis hoped
that he wouldn’t think of it and just continue to walk up the stairs, but he went down instead and let
Harry slide a hand around the back of his head and pull him closer. Harry’s lips were cold, but
Louis’ were too, so Louis just imagined them being warm instead when he shyly reached his own
hand out and placed it on the side of Harry’s jaw. He had proved his lie about not kissing him
again already, and Louis felt like he couldn’t keep it up anymore. Breaking lies. He would have to
stop since he was sure that he was giving in – being in denial every single day even if Harry was so
wonderful and lovely to him. Louis’ eyes had fallen shut a long time ago and he was kissing Harry
back, parting his lips slightly so that Harry could nibble on his bottom lip before he kissed him
again.

Louis’ breath hitched when Harry pulled away and circled the railing, taking two steps up on the
staircase so that Louis would be just a little taller. Louis appreciated it, assuming that Harry knew
that he didn’t like that Harry was taller. He had always been the tallest one in his relationships. He
didn’t really notice that he was starting to back up the stairs, both of his hands holding Harry’s cold
cheeks as they kissed again and again and again. He heard Harry chuckle and then he felt two large
hands on his hips, stumbling just a little when he got pulled closer and almost lifted up, pretty
much walking around on his tiptoes.

“It’s starting to get cold on the couch,” Harry mumbled when he had pulled away and brushed his
lips down Louis’ jaw and ear and finally his neck, Louis’ eyes fluttering open so that he could look
up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, it’s… It’s cold in the bed too,” he whispered, breath hitching when his skin got sucked on
and then released, Harry’s wet tongue gently sliding along it.

“How about I help you warm it up then?”

Louis didn’t say anything. He only nodded. He felt a little dizzy as he danced around on his toes
into the bedroom with Harry still taking care of his neck, Harry stopping for just a moment and
kicked the door shut after them. Louis would have touched Harry too if his hands hadn’t been so
cold, closing his eyes again when one of Harry’s hands slid around his thigh and lifted him up,
Louis’ legs brushing Harry’s sides when he wrapped them around his waist and hooked his ankles
behind him. The room was spinning and Louis felt weaker than usual. Somehow he didn’t really
know what he was doing, but he knew that he wouldn’t regret this. Harry was the right person. He
was the right person to do this with. He wanted Harry and not just some random bloke at the bar,
only Harry.

Louis let go of him when he got set down on the bed, helping himself by propping himself up on
one of his elbows. He was nervous. He could feel that Harry was too, judging from how his hands
were shaking when they placed on Louis’ stomach and slid up over his chest, finally placing on the
nape of his neck, fingertips just gently rushing along his jawline, chin and earlobes. He felt warm,
warmer than normal, when Harry’s breath ghosted on his lips, Louis’ eyes falling shut again when
his head tipped back just a little. Harry smelled like smoke and dirt still, his pale skin smelling like
snow and ice. Louis breathed out and wrapped one of his arms around Harry’s neck, holding him
close when he received another kiss.

It was dark in the room, the sun going down quicker and quicker for every day that passed. Louis
was happy that the moon was out because of that, looking up at Harry when he pulled away after
another tug on his lower lip. Louis shuddered softly, his blue gaze locking at Harry’s green one
when he got lifted again just a little bit further onto the bed, landing softly in the thick and white
covers. He had to swallow many times just so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by choking on his
own spit. Louis’ lips parted when Harry’s hands suddenly were on his inner thighs, the blue eyed
boy taking a deep breath as he spread them for the boy above him so that he could slip between
them. Harry seemed satisfied, smiling softly when he straightened and ran his hands down Louis’
sides.

“You’re blushing,” he said lowly and Louis realized that he actually did, looking away with a small
frown.

“Shut up,” he mumbled instead, letting Harry pull up his shirt just like he had done that day on the
couch, feeling how he started kissing him from his hip and up his stomach, stopping right at his
ribs for a moment and just brushed his lips along them. Louis whimpered and felt how his nails
dug into Harry’s shoulders, Harry softly wincing, too. Louis then tried to calm down, relieved that
Harry just started kissing up his chest, thumbs and fingertips only going over Louis two nipples
teasingly softly. Louis could do nothing but gasp, body tightening when Harry started to nibble on
his collar bones.

“No marks,” he breathed. “Please, Harry.”

Harry didn’t necessarily seem to listen, or maybe Louis just didn’t speak loudly enough, because
soon he felt how Harry planted a mark that was sure would shift to blue and purple on the bottom
of his neck. Louis just breathed out at it and looked up at the ceiling, a quiet and small moan
dropping from his red-kissed lips as Harry found his way to the spot just under his ear. His back
arched and Harry grabbed his hips, lifting him a little. Louis had to wrap both his arms around
Harry this time just so he wouldn’t fall off, sitting down in Harry’s lap when Harry straightened
and sat up. He took another shaky breath and tilted his head, letting Harry make bruises and marks
on him however he wanted by now. It felt good. He had never been treated like this before either,
especially not by Eleanor. She usually just started nibbling on his earlobe and on the shell of his
ear just so Louis would get worked up and sure, it worked, but maybe he wanted more attention
like that. That was what Harry gave him. Warm, gentle and loving attention, something that Louis
thought that he had lost, to some extent, at least.

Louis found himself pulling on Harry’s clothes soon enough, his heart racing in his chest,
something that had happened every time Harry looked at him for this past month. Maybe he even
had started to admit it to himself.

Louis leaned back when he felt that Harry started to move around, removing his arms from Harry’s
neck when Harry hooked his fingers onto the hem of his own shirt and pulled it off, Louis
swallowing nervously. He finally realized what was actually about to happen and he looked up at
Harry in an attempt to find a glimpse of hesitation. Something, at least, but he found nothing. Not
within himself, and not within of Harry. All he found was wide blown pupils and parted lips, them
being just as red and Louis’. Harry was panting too and Louis had to look away, eyes somehow
getting stuck on the tattoos that Harry had on his chest. Sparrows and quotes, roses and ships
covered his chest and arms and Louis reached out, feeling them over his fingertips with a
tightening feeling in his stomach and thighs. Harry took one of Louis’ hands then and held it for a
moment, Louis feeling his pulse in his thumb.

“We can stop of you don’t want to,” he said quietly and Louis looked down at their thighs, heart
fluttering because Harry cared. He cared about Louis, about his feelings and his wellbeing and his
needs and not about the sex, the kisses or the occasional hugs they shared. It was Louis, and not
someone else.

“No,” Louis breathed then with a shake of his head, fingers closing a little around Harry’s hand. “I
want to. I just haven’t done this with a boy before.”

Harry smiled then and gently slid his fingers round Louis’ cheek and tilted it up, making Louis
look at him dead in the eye. He raised his eyebrows and Louis blinked a little when Harry smiled
and shrugged. “Nor have I, to be honest,” he whispered with a kiss to Louis’ forehead. Louis’ hand
tightened on Harry.

“Have you done it with a girl?” he breathed. Harry shook his head. “Harry, are you… Are you a
virgin?”

Harry chuckled then, sounding a little nervous if Louis wasn’t mistaken. Louis’ eyes widened and
he didn’t really know what to do. Finally, Harry nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I
never got the chance before I got here, and I’ve been here up until now.”

Louis felt like he lost his ability to speak. “But,” he managed to croak, “Are you… Are you giving
your virginity to me?”

Harry smiled a little then and just rested his forehead to Louis. They probably sat like that for
many minutes, Louis just blinking at him. He had never taken someone’s virginity before. It was a
big thing, wasn’t it? “I would rather give it to you than to someone on the streets,” Harry
whispered, gently twisting one of Louis’ hair strands between his fingers. Louis felt how he
blushed red once again and he let go of Harry, placing his hand on the side of Harry’s neck instead
of his hand.

“Are you sure?” he simply whispered. Harry only nodded, and Louis gave in, letting Harry pull on
his sweatpants so they slid down his thighs and ankles, his hands going down Harry’s shoulders
and arms. Louis felt calm again, like he had done this a million times before. Like he didn’t need to
be nervous around Harry anymore.

It felt good, and Louis was happy.

He softly moaned when Harry only decided to pull up his shirt and let it pool around his chest,
Louis watching as Harry struggled to get his own jeans off. Louis sat up and helped him because of
it, feeling how he got more excited than he probably should be over something like this. It seemed
like Harry barely noticed it since the only thing he was watching was Louis’ hands, how they
unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, hesitating just a little before he did the same with the
grey boxer briefs he was wearing. Still, he had no regrets. Not even when he rested back on the bed
again and let Harry spread his legs, Louis hugging Harry’s chest with his thighs as his hands placed
on his biceps. He glanced up and him and Harry seemed to have calmed down too, dark gaze
flickering to Louis’ for only a second.

“Take them off,” he breathed and Louis did as he was told, raising his hips and pulled the
underwear he was wearing, that actually were Harry’s, and let them fall to the floor. His heart was
punching his chest, fingers trembling of embarrassment when his cock fell against his stomach and
when Harry licked his lips. Louis took a shaky breath and decided to let Harry do whatever he
wanted with him. He knew that he would be careful after all. This must be just as frightening for
Harry as it was for Louis.

“I don’t have any lube,” he mumbled then and Louis just shook his head, pulling Harry closer. He
pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Use saliva,” he trembled, closing his eyes. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re careful.” Harry
apparently thought that it was better than nothing because soon he leaned up and spit into his hand,
making sure that they were as coated as they could possibly get and lined one of his fingers up by
Louis. He was suddenly anxious, worried that it would hurt.

“Be careful,” he said then and Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to Louis’ knee cap.

“I will,” he smiled. “Tell me if it starts hurting, alright?”

Louis could only nod and tried to relax as much as possible, eyes squeezing shut when he felt how
the tip of Harry’s finger pressed inside. Louis immediately winced and Harry stopped, yet didn’t
pull out. It was for the best, Harry only continuing when Louis nodded.

It took them about ten minutes to help Louis get used to it but Harry was patient. He stopped and
continued when Louis told him to, never adding an additional finger if the blue eyed boy told him
not to. But soon enough Louis took a deep breath and stopped him, just letting his gaze speak for
itself along with the nod he made. Harry got it and he pulled his three fingers out, coating himself
up and gently rubbed Louis’ thighs as softly as he could. Louis stared up at the ceiling when Harry
pushed inside of him and he hissed, slapping both his hands over his mouth. His eyelids started
burning and he didn’t really want to, but he started crying, cheeks getting wet. Harry stopped the
single movement he had made too and reached out, drying Louis’ tears away.

“Does it hurt?” he wondered and Louis nodded, breathing out a small sob. “Do you want me to
stop?”
At that, Louis shook his head and tried to take calm and deep breaths. He opened his eyes when
two big and strong hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him up, Louis blinking at Harry
who was sitting on his bum, back to the headoard. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and
wondered if he did something wrong.

“Ride me,” Harry whispered then and Louis parted his lips, circling his arms around Harry’s neck
again. “I want you to decide the pace. I don’t want you to get hurt, Louis.”

Louis couldn’t help but smile then and he let out a small chuckle, nodding as he folded his legs at
Harry’s sides on the bed. His hand held onto Harry’s shoulders with his arms still wrapped around
Harry’s neck when he slowly sank down all the way and he let out a quiet and dragged-out groan.
He sat there, on Harry’s hips for a while and tried to get used to the feeling, only rolling his hips so
he could feel him moving just a little. Harry rubbed his back in comfort while he did so, Louis
breathing an unsteady breath onto Louis’ neck.

Soon enough he started to move properly, making Harry kiss him again by placing a hand on his
cheek. Harry’s lips were warm and swollen by now, the curly haired boy biting them from
nervousness so much it was a wonder that he didn’t start to bleed. He pulled away from deep kisses
when Louis started to move a little faster as he rode him, sliding up and down on his cock. Louis
himself was clawing and scratching on Harry’s shoulders and back, eyebrows furrowed in
concentration once again. He didn’t find the motivation to hold back anymore, wanting Harry to
know how good he did and how good it felt, moaning soft curses and whimpers into his neck and
his ear and his mouth every time they kissed.

Harry slid his hands from Louis’ back to his hips and he helped him by thrusting his hips up,
Louis’ head being thrown back as he moaned. His thighs were trembling when Louis continued to
raise and lower himself, looking back at Harry when he felt his hand in his hair. Harry was flushed
and he almost looked like he was in pain, but Louis was sure that that wasn’t the case. Louis parted
his lips then when Harry leaned closer, thinking that he was about to kiss him. He did, Louis
feeling like he could as well be poisonous. But, he pulled away again and left Louis’ lips cold, their
only heat source being Harry’s hot breath that still was hitting them. He felt that Harry took a deep
breath, Louis whimpering softly when he felt how his whole body started to tremble and how his
stomach just got warmer and warmer.

“Stay with me,” Harry whispered then and Louis twitched, his eyes just squeezing more tightly
together and he felt himself gag for Harry, trying to meet his thrusts as good as he could. “Stay
with me, Louis. Stay here and love me.”

Louis’ fingernails dug into Harry’s back then again and he dragged them along the back of his
shoulders, Harry hissing against Louis’ thin lips. Louis almost expected him to stop him, but he
didn’t, Louis whimpering high in his throat. He knew that Harry was close too from the fact that
his hands were tightening on Louis’ hips and that one of them wrapped around Louis’ cock and
started stroking him, Louis clenching around Harry as he came over his hand and over his own
thighs. He stopped moving himself, letting Harry thrust up into him until he came too, pulling out
before he did so and came over Louis’ thighs also. Louis felt tired and exhausted and he collapsed
against Harry’s chest, trying to calm his heart down. Harry ran his clean hand through Louis’ hair
and he rolled them over after a few minutes, both of them going under the covers, Harry holding
Louis close with a hand on his lower back. Louis was just going in and out of sleep, head slowly
moving up and down in a nod.

“Okay,” he whispered against Harry’s chest, his hand fumbling to find where Harry’s heart is,
feeling how fast it was beating when he finally found it. He felt happy. “…Okay.”
 Chapter 19

Louis woke up with a stir the next day, pulling and tugging on the sheets. It was surprisingly sunny
outside and Louis had to blink his eyes open just so he wouldn’t be completely blinded by the
sunshine. He rolled over when he felt like he wasn’t going in and out of consciousness anymore
and groaned into the pillow, stretching his aching legs and arms. For a moment Louis couldn’t
figure out why he was hurting so much, breathing out when he opened his eyes properly. He
frowned a little when he found a sleeping Harry next to him, half his face resting on the pillow
with his arm curled underneath it. His lips were parted in a small pout and he looked pale, Louis
biting his lip as he let him eyes roam down Harry’s body. The covers were only covering Harry’s
legs and the curve of his bum, Louis reaching out and placed a warm hand on his back. He was
warm and Louis had to move it when Harry stirred and turned away from him, Louis swallowing
when he saw the long and red marks that were all over his shoulders and upper back. He blushed
heavily. They really went down last night, didn’t they?

Louis didn’t dare to move, afraid of waking Harry up. He looked so peaceful, and Louis didn’t
want to disturb that. He winced a little when he pulled the cover up both their bodies, his lower
back hurting. You really couldn’t blame him for thinking that Harry had taken advantage of him
when he first had gotten here. This was exactly how it had felt by then. He wasn’t paralyzed at
least, so that was something that Louis felt relieved for. It took Harry another half an hour to wake
up, him muttering small words as he rolled into his stomach again and buried himself under the
blanket, only peeking up at Louis where he was still laying, terrified of moving still. Harry smiled
and blinked tiredly, rusting around under the covers.

“Good morning,” he rasped with a voice that made Louis shiver, letting the curly haired boy pull
him closer to his chest, feeling Harry’s naked flesh press against his thighs and hips. “Did you
sleep well?” Louis nodded and sank down into the mattress, shyly moving a leg around Harry’s
waist. It would be more comfortable like this, and since Louis literally had promised to stay with
Harry and live here with him, he could as well do it. Was that what they were doing? Living with
each other? Louis thought about it for a moment, feeling Harry’s heart pound against his forehead.
This was probably as close to something more than just a hostage and a capturer as they would
ever get, so Louis chose to accept it. Staying with Harry, didn’t seem so bad now. He could get
used to it.

Louis swallowed and pushed closer to Harry, brushing his thin lips along one of the two tattooed
sparrows on Harry’s chest and kissed it, wrapping his arms around his neck. No, that wasn’t the
case. Leaving Harry was out of the question. He had been in denial, and now Louis was aching
both for and from him, and waking up without Harry in the kitchen making crappy tea or perfect
pancakes and strawberry jam… No, Louis wouldn’t be able to do that.

He took a shaky breath, feeling how his hands tightened on Harry’s back. The curly hissed. “Louis,
baby, it hurts. I have marks.” Louis blinked up at him, letting go for only a moment. Harry looked
down at him too and Louis couldn’t really help it, fingers shaking a little.

“Come with me to London,” he whispered. Harry smiled and shook his head, bringing a hand up to
Louis’ cheek. A soft thumb ran across his cheekbone and over the slight stubble that Louis hadn’t
shaved yet. He had borrowed a few one-time razors from Harry before, because he didn’t really
want to look like Santa Claus.

“I can’t,” he shrugged and pressed a kiss to Louis’ forehead. “If anyone finds out that I’m the one
that stole you, I’ll go straight to prison. Stay with me here instead.”
Louis swallowed thickly, placing his own hand on Harry’s. He shook his head too. “I don’t want to
be here,” he said. “I want a flat, Harry, or a house. I want a house with three children and a dog
where I can walk around in sweatpants all day without having to worry about someone leaving
me.”

Harry smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying that you-?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Louis mumbled and hid in the pillow again, listening to the rumble
that Harry’s chest made when he laughed. “I’m just saying that I don’t want to give my whole life
up… because of you.”

A silence fell into the room and Louis closed his eyes, relaxing against the pillow and sheets. For
some reason it was a pleasant silence and he laid there for a while until he heard Harry move next
to him, pulling a little on the sheets. He bit his lip when he felt small kisses press along the back of
his neck and his back.

“I’ll go and make some breakfast,” Harry whispered and rolled out of bed, Louis turning his head
to watch him. The green eyed boy with the red lines on his back went over to the closet and Louis
noticed that he was still naked. It didn’t surprise him since Louis was too. Still.

Harry pulled on a pair of white boxer briefs then and an old and dark grey band shirt, Louis finally
sitting up on the bed then with small whimpers and winces. Harry didn’t say anything and just
disappeared, Louis pulling his knees to his chest. He knew what he wanted. A life in England. That
was all. Louis sighed a little and let his forehead rest to his knees, slowly but surely moving his
blanket, blushing lightly when he saw that both his and Harry’s dried come still was on his thighs.
He bit his lip and just covered them again, stretching them out against the mattress until Harry
returned.

He set the same silver tray that he had used for this past month down on the bed with a small hum,
his hair set into a ponytail again. He always looked like that in the morning. “Here’s your
breakfast,” Harry said quietly. “Canadian coffee, just like you want it. Milk and two sugar cubes.”

Louis blinked up at Harry. “You remember my order?”

“Of course,” Harry smiled weakly and sat down next to Louis. “How could I forget?”

Louis just smiled and shook his head, carefully sliding out of bed too with his cover still around
him. He glanced at Harry, his lips making a line when he noticed that he was, in fact, watching
him.

“Don’t look,” he said with a mutter. “I’m getting changed.”

“If you don’t remember,” Harry said and raised his eyebrows. “I was actually inside you yesterday.
I have seen it all.”

“Well, you’re not anymore,” Louis mumbled and rolled his eyes, standing up. “Just don’t look.”

Harry sighed then and shrugged, looking out the window while Louis limped over to the still
opened closet. He made sure that Harry still wasn’t watching as he let the white sheet drop to the
floor and he quickly fumbled after some clean underwear and a sweater, breathing out in relief
when it went down his thighs.

“It’s a little big,” Harry stated.

“I thought I told you not to watch.”

“I never said that I wouldn’t,” Harry smiled when Louis turned to him. Louis just muttered and
pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

“You’re hopeless.”

Harry smiled weakly, once again. “I know. You’ve told me a million times.”

Louis hummed when he sat down on the floor a few hours later, his tan hand reaching out to pat
Whiskey’s head. The growing calf looked up at him and blinked with a small hint of wonder and
comfort, his muzzle softly poking Louis’ hand. Louis could help but smile and he pulled the baby
animal closer to his chest.

“Hi baby,” he giggled and let the animal lick his hand. “How are you doing today? I haven’t met
you for so long.”

Whiskey made a small sound then and looked around the stable, Mary coming a little closer. Louis
frowned a little and tensed up, the cow’s cheek going against Louis’. The blue eyed boy leaned
away when he felt her tongue on him too. “Okay, okay I get it, calm down,” he mumbled and dried
his cheek with his shoulder, muttering small curses. Whiskey looked up at him and for a moment
Louis thought that she smiled, quietly running his hand over its back.

“He’s grown big,” Harry quietly said from the other side of the stable, a shovel in his hands.
“Hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. He had his hand over Whiskey’s head again. “I didn’t know that they grew
up so quickly.”

Harry chuckled softly, putting the shovel back where he had first taken it. Louis hadn’t paid
attention, so he didn’t know what he had done with it, but Harry looked a little tired and pale. He
assumed that it was something exhausting. He could have asked him to help him. Louis would
have done it, no doubt. “Hey, Louis,” Harry said after a moment of silence, walking up to Louis
and sat down next to him. He was smiling, yet Louis somehow doubted him and let go of the calf,
letting Harry take his hands. He was cold. Really cold. He was usually warm. Louis found it weird.
“I’m going away for a while.”

Louis blinked. “What?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I’ll be back, alright?” Louis was astonished.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” Harry smiled. Louis rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Louis sighed and rolled his eyes for a second time, looking up at the curly when he laughed and
pressed a small kiss to Louis’ knuckles. The blue eyed boy blushed, yet let him do whatever he
wanted, barely even flinching when he brushed his lips over his ring finger. He sighed out softly,
Louis feeling his hot breath against his fingers. He breathed out too and chewed a little on his
bottom lip. “When are you coming back?” he breathed. Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he confessed with another kiss to Louis’ body, but this time on his wrist. “If I leave
within two hours I should be back pretty early in the morning.”
Louis frowned a little. “So,” he whispered, “I will have the whole house by myself for the night?”

Harry looked up at him with a weak smile and a small nod. He pressed a third kiss to the middle of
his forearms and then to his bicep, Louis watching when the curly haired boy lifted his whole arm
into his hands. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Do you think that you can survive for a whole night
without me?”

Louis muttered at him. “I’m not a kid.”

“I never said you were,” Harry said and closed his eyes, pressing five small and feather light kisses
to Louis’ shoulder. Louis looked away, glaring at Mary who was staring back. He snarled a little at
her.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll have to eat apples and fruit salads for the whole day then.”

Harry laughed into his shoulder and slid his arm around Louis’ waist, holding him close to his own
chest. Louis only pushed on Harry’s chest for a moment, staring up at him when he got placed in
his lap.

“I told you, I’m not a baby.”

“You’re my baby,” Harry smiled. He nuzzled into Louis’ hair that was getting way too long again,
the shorter one of the duo glaring down at the hay that both Mary and Whiskey was eating.

“I’m not,” he mumbled, squirming from between Harry’s legs. “I’m older than you. Learn to
respect your elders.” Harry only laughed a quiet laugh, and not the one that Louis was so used to.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Two and a half hours later Louis was sitting in the middle of the floor again with the same puzzle
he had been doing some time ago – ironically enough, when Harry had been gone. He had given up
on it and had told Harry that he could destroy it, but Harry had just carefully lifted it all up and put
it on a blanket, slowly but surely carrying it inside the storage that was behind the staircase,
something that Louis hadn’t noticed before. He felt a little stupid because of it. He had been here
for more than half a year, and still hadn’t noticed the white door right next to the kitchen. There
was nothing interesting in there, sadly enough. A few boxes of old gardening tools that apparently
couldn’t fit into the shed outside, if anything.

Louis sighed as he set one of the completely blue puzzle pieces aside; looking down at the picture
he was building up. He only had a few pieces left, but he didn’t really feel motivated. As much as
he hated to admit it, it was boring being all alone without Harry. There were no footsteps and no
pale hands running through dark brown curls. No mile-long legs and no green eyes either. Also, no
smell of tea. Louis pouted. Was he really so much in need of Harry? That couldn’t possibly be it,
right? That he wanted him here. He had kidnapped him from his family and friends and left him
with nothing but a bed and a bad water installation. He hadn’t taken a proper shower in half a year,
for God’s sake. He sighed, and stood up. There really wasn’t much to do here. He was sure that the
puzzle was missing a few pieces since it didn’t matter how much Louis looked – he couldn’t find
the windowsill to the house, or the chimney to it. The rest, he didn’t know. He gave up and jogged
up the stairs instead, collapsing onto the bed face-first. His eyes fell shut as he just laid there for a
moment, his bare feet turning slightly blue from the cold air around him. The sheets smelled like
Harry. Dirt, smoke and apples.

It didn’t take more than an hour of Louis rolling around on the bed for the sun to set and Louis
finally decided to strip down to his boxers and climb under the sheets, maybe even laying down on
Harry’s side on purpose. He didn’t really know if the side he had been laying on for all of those
weeks and months was Harry’s from the beginning. He had always been on that side in his and
Eleanor’s bed, so that was just what he had grown used to. Harry hadn’t mentioned it either, Louis
feeling bad for letting him sleep on the couch like that.

Louis put his head on the pillow that and felt himself sink down into it, pulling the blankets over
his small and now, slightly skinnier body. He had always wanted to lose just a pound of two, and
he was rather sure that he had by now. He had denied Harry’s food so much in the beginning that
he had to drop weight because of it. Harry had thrown glances on his thinner thighs and his
shrinking tummy, but never said anything about that either. Louis knew that it was true, and he
didn’t need anyone to tell him, so that was that. He wasn’t going to die, anyway, because of it.

Louis breathed out against the white sheets when he felt himself get lighter and lighter, rolling over
quite a few times before he fell asleep more properly. It was almost too quiet in the house by now,
according to Louis. Harry didn’t snore anymore. Louis didn’t like when it was quiet. Not anymore.

Louis was awoken by soft whispers of his name and the feeling of him being gently shaken,
blinking his eyes open with small moans and mutters. He glanced up at Harry who was sitting on
the edge of the bed, one hand behind Louis’ back on the mattress and one on Louis’ waist. He
looked even paler than yesterday and even a little frightened, eyes looking scared yet dead at the
same time. Louis furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, quietly rubbing the tiredness away from his
eyes.

“Harry?” he rasped and cuddled into the sheets again. He was still half asleep. “What is it?”

“Get up and get dressed,” he said softly and Louis blinked, looking up at Harry with a frown.

“What are you on about?” he wondered and looked out the window. It was cloudy. “It’s early. Too
early.”

“Just get dressed,” Harry mumbled and stood up, nervously looking out the window. Whatever was
going on, Harry didn’t seem to like it. Louis even got a little frightened himself and did as he was
told, rolling out of bed with a small yawn. It was still slightly cold and Louis wrapped his arms
around himself, shivering as he went up to the closet and put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt,
looking up at Harry when he appeared at his side and placed a hand on Louis’ lower back.

“It’s cold outside,” he mumbled and shoved a thick sweater into his arms. Louis just blinked.

“Are we going out?” he wondered carefully. Harry smiled then, and it was first by now that he saw
that his cheeks were wet and his eyes completely red. Harry refused to look at him and stared down
at the floor, but Louis still saw it.

“No, Honey,” he said shakily and immediately pulled Louis closer, Louis holding back a small
wince when the taller one’s hands tightened on his small frame. He was shaking, even if just a
little, and Louis looked up at the ceiling.

“It hurts,” he breathed softly, but Harry didn’t let go. Instead, he took a very shaky breath and Louis
stumbled when he got pulled even closer. He stood up on his tiptoes so Harry wouldn’t have to
crouch so much. Louis chose to not question it, resting his cheek to Harry’s shoulder instead.

“I didn’t want this,” Harry said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

Louis blinked and leaned away just a little, looking up at Harry. “For what to happen?” he asked as
quietly as he could, barely knowing if he wanted the answer. Harry looked down at him too, Louis
watching when a tear rolled down his cheek and onto Louis’ shirt. He didn’t say a word. Louis
couldn’t necessarily hear him breathing either; he could as well be a living statue. It wouldn’t be
too much of a difference.

Harry sniffed softly then when his lips parted and Louis frowned, shaking his head at him. “Stop
crying,” he said and dried Harry’s cheeks with the back of his hands. “Stop. Just stop. Tell me
what’s going on.” Harry took a deep breath as Louis said so, his eyes squinting in a smile that
looked genuine. But Louis knew it wasn’t.

“Go downstairs,” he whispered. Louis swallowed.

“I can’t,” he whispered back, just as quietly. “You have to let me go.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t say that,” he breathed. “Anything, but that.”

Louis immediately frowned and took a step back when Harry actually did let him go and did as he
said, walking out of the room with Harry’s sweater tightly in his hand. He counted the steps as he
walked down, keeping his gaze on his feet. They were still bare. He didn’t even look up when he
was on the floor for what felt like hours and hours, hands shaking a little. His thighs did too, and
even his whole body mimicked it like a child would do to someone else just to irritate them.

“Are you Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis closed his eyes and breathed in, holding his breath when he turned to face the man, the
stranger, before him. He absolutely refused to say anything. Partly from not wanting to talk to
someone he didn’t know, but also because he wasn’t able to. The words got stuck in his throat and
he only nodded at the police man in the light blue shirt and the red hair. He stood as straight as a
pole and he looked almost surprised that Louis had nodded, reaching for his police badge and
showed it to Louis as if it wasn’t obvious enough that he was, indeed, a police man. Louis was sure
that he was supposed to look at the badge, but he didn’t. He was staring up at the man himself
instead.

“I’m Officer Fredrick Harrison,” he said, with a deep Alaskan accent. “I’m taking you back to
England.”
 Chapter 20

Louis didn’t understand what was happening to be honest, he had been wrapped up in a blanket that
had pretty much appeared out of nowhere by Fredrick Harrison and a woman that had rushed
through the door along with two other policemen that had been running up the stairs. Both the
woman, who introduced herself as Officer Alice Watson, and Fredrick started talking into their
small radios about how they had found him and that they were taking him back and that they
would call them if they needed reinforcements.

“Are you hurt?” Alice wondered when Louis got led out, the blue eyed boy stumbling over his feet.
He felt like he was going to throw up. Was he really going back to England? Was he leaving Harry?
Louis swallowed. Was he actually leaving Harry?

“I have to throw up,” he whimpered and immediately got helped to the ground, Louis hearing how
Fredrick said “He seems to be suffering from some sort of sickness, maybe food poisoning or some
sort of other poison.” Louis hated him. He had decided, he wanted him gone. Louis doubled over
and threw up, his eyesight going white for a moment but got better when he got lifted to his feet
again, Louis refusing to move.

“Mister Tomlinson, we have to leave,” Alice said with a rather calming tone. It didn’t help, that
Louis was panicking on the inside. Leaving the house? Leaving the stable? Leaving Whiskey?
Leaving Alaska?

Leaving Harry? Louis shook his head and the two policemen seemed confused, looking at each
other before they started pulling on him again. “Stop,” Louis choked then, realizing that he was
crying. But they didn’t hear. They stopped though as if to let Louis breathe, the blue eyed boy
looking back at the house that had been his home for so long. He felt horrible that he couldn’t
remember how his apartment in England looked like. He frowned when Harry suddenly got thrown
out the door and onto the grass that was wet from rain and melting snow, squirming against it when
another woman sat on his back and tugged on his wrists. She put a pair of handcuffs on him and
Louis shook his head again, tugging himself towards him so he could help him, but he got held
back.

“You have been charged,” she simply said to Harry and Louis absolutely loathed her too.

Soon enough Harry got lifted onto his feet again, his whole front covered in mud and water. He
looked cold and pale and tired, eyes red from crying and his head hanged low just so no one would
see it. He got led to one of the two police cars that stood right there in the grass next to the lake,
Louis thinking that the woman and the second male policeman was unnecessarily rough with him.

Louis started to walk towards that car too then but got pulled to the other one, sitting down in the
backseat of it. “We will leave soon,” Fredrick said then and smiled a little, closing the door. Louis
heard a small click and he realized that they were locked; that he was isolated from the outside
world, even if it was just for a moment. He got to his knees on the car seat then and looked through
the rear window, watching how Harry just sat in the car and glared out to nothing, his forehead
resting to the head rest on the driver seat. He looked devastated, and Louis hated it. He glanced up
at Alice through the car window, watching how she spoke with the other policeman that he didn’t
know the name of. Thankfully enough he had his badge out, conveniently enough, Louis having to
squint his eyes just to see it. He had been without contact lenses for so long that he had even grown
used to it.

Jackson Owen. Louis frowned and sat back, staring up and the rather good looking male that kept
throwing glances at him, blond hair being slicked back in the same ponytail that Harry had worn.
Louis looked out through the rear window again then when Harry’s police car started, Harry just
sinking back in his seat and looked out too, catching Louis’ gaze for a second when they passed.

“Sorry for the wait,” Jackson said when he sat down in the driver’s seat, Alice sitting down in the
passenger seat. She smiled at him in the rear view mirror. Louis just glared at her.

“You’re safe now, Louis. We’re taking you home,” Jackson said with a small smirk. “You will
never have to worry about that guy again.”

The car ride was dreadful to Louis, the boy looking down at Harry’s sweater that still was in his
hands. He didn’t want to admit that he cried because he had to leave him, and definitely not to
Alice and Jackson. Not even when they asked what was wrong, and Louis just continued to stare
out the window. They had mumbled about it being “the shock,” and hadn’t talked to him anymore
after that, Louis kicking the car seat when Jackson put the radio on. He was stupid, that guy. Alice
seemed to think so too since she slapped his thigh and glared at him too, just giving Louis an
apologetic smile.

“Do you want anything?” she had asked kindly. “We can stop somewhere and buy you something,
if you’d like.” But Louis had only shaken his head.

Louis hadn’t thought about how empty Alaska could be, felling like it was hours between every
city until they reached Anchorage’s airport, and somehow that had forced Louis to eat a sandwich
since the plane ride would be long. He was set down into one of those chairs that stood in long
lines, looking around in an attempt to even get a glimpse of Harry. “Don’t worry,” Alice said and
sat down next to him, looking down at the sandwich in Louis’ hand that wasn’t even touched.
“He’s taking another plane. We’re leaving you with two new policemen that will take you to New
York, alright? When you get there, there will be a police car waiting for you. Does that sound
good?”

No. “Yes.”

“Good.”

The new police men were both male and they looked tired, Louis hearing that they were from
England when they started speaking. “Hello, Louis,” one of them said and sank to his knees in
front of him, smiling up at him with a tilt of his head. “I’m Elias, and this is Tim. We’re going to
come with you on the plane.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Louis spat and looked around again, knowing that he actually
was like a child that had lost his mother or something like that.

“My apologies,” Elias said and stood up, Louis’ hands tightening on the sweater. They had all
asked him if they should leave it behind, but Louis shook his head every time they wondered.

“Is Harry here?” Louis asked.

All four of them quieted down and just looked at him, Alice gently playing with the back of her
short and black hair. She was pretty. “Yes, somewhere,” she said. “But he won’t come here. You
don’t have to worry.” Louis swallowed and looked down at the sweater again, remaining silent for
the rest of the forty minutes that it took for their flight to arrive. He got to borrow a pair of shoes
before they stepped onto the plane, Louis seeing how the passengers stared at the sight of Elias and
Tim in their uniforms. Louis felt embarrassed.
“Here’s your seat,” they said sooner than Louis had hoped, sitting down in the middle seat after
Tim had taken the one the closest to the window.

“Can I have that seat?” Louis asked, and Tim had agreed, Louis curling together after he had put on
his seat belt and switched places with him. It was late by now, afternoon, the sun starting to set in
the distance. Louis closed his eyes and rested his temple to the window.

“Louis,” Elias said and leaned over Tim so that he would be able to hear him. “If you need
anything – anything, just tell us. We will get it for you.”

Louis just nodded and looked out again, blinking when the airplane started to move and soon lifted
into the air, Louis squeezing his eyes shut when his head started pounding. “I want water,” he said
and within a minute he had a bottle before him, just holding onto it. He took a sip and grimaced. He
wasn’t used to regular bottle water anymore. He flinched a little when the wheels of the plane got
folded in, fingers once again tightening on the sweater that was being held close to his chest. It
smelled like apples, still, and Louis turned to Tim. “What is going to happen to Harry?” he
whispered and had to repeat it, since he couldn’t hear him.

“I don’t know,” Tim said honestly, scratching his stubble. He needed to shave. “That’s up to the
Judge.”

Louis frowned. “Do I have to be in court?”

“Sadly, yes,” Tim smiled and looked at him, dimples coming through. Louis wanted to throw up
again. “But it will go fine. You will just answer a few questions, and then you’re done.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. “You do.”

Louis leaned back again and glared out the window, looking down at the snow that still hadn’t
gone away. It was orange and pink and Louis found it beautiful, watching how the buildings below
him slowly but surely moved away. He asked for a blanket, receiving that and a pillow. Never
actually using the pillow he placed it in his lap, Louis folding Harry’s sweater together and used it
as a pillow instead, putting the seat of his down so that he could lay down without having to arch
his back in a very uncomfortable manner. He didn’t fall asleep in those hours that it took for them
to get to New York and switch flights, Louis dragging his feet along the floor in the airport in the
direction of his new flight. The thought of getting closer and closer to England didn’t really excite
Louis as much as he thought it would.

“The shock,” Elias had said. “Probably.”

More like hopefully.

Louis got sent home to England exactly three months and two days after the police had found him,
and he almost had to be carried out of the plane when they landed in London, barely knowing what
was happening when he got guided to the police car that was waiting for him. He heard that
someone greeted him and he thought that he had nodded, being so tired it wasn’t even funny.

“I’m driving you home,” someone said. “We will give you a week or two to catch up with your
normal life.”

Louis opened his eyes at that and looked up at the very beautiful girl in the driver’s seat, her hair in
a ponytail and her eyes very large and brown. Louis smiled at her and just nodded, falling in and
out of sleep for the whole ride. He was actually sleeping and got awoken when the car had
stopped, glancing out the window and up at the white building that he knew so well.

“You’re home, Louis,” the girl said softly and stepped out, Louis feeling himself getting tugged out
of the car by her and another male that was about three buildings tall. Louis shrugged them off of
him with a whimper, thankful that they seemed to understand that he actually could walk of his
own. He was tired, not drugged after all. “Do you want us to follow you in?”

Louis shook his head, looking down into his hands, gaze falling on the sweater that looked yellow
in the lights from the streets. He took a shaky breath. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The two police officers nodded then and wished him good luck in life, and that they would make
sure that no media would reach him for a few weeks. Louis said a short thank you and started
going up the stairs, feeling their stares on his back. Louis was shaking when he rang the telephone
number that was connected to his and Eleanor’s flat, shivering as the cold air that went up his
sleeves and chest. It took a generous amount of seconds before someone answered, Louis
recognizing Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hello?” she rasped into the phone, Louis chuckling softly. He rested his forehead to the stone
wall, feeling how his eyes started burning and soon he was even crying freely.

“Hi baby,” he said, closing his eyes. “Care to buzz me in?”

It didn’t take more than ten seconds until the door flew open and Eleanor threw herself around
Louis’ neck, crying into his shoulder like she wasn’t supposed to do anything else. She was cursing
about how she hated him for leaving her and how she had been so lonely and sad while he was
gone. Louis just sobbed into her hair that was just as soft as he remembered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his arms that he had wrapped around her waist tightening on her. “I’m
so sorry, baby.”

She whimpered into his chest and started hitting it, lightly of course, clawing on his arms and
shoulders. “I thought I would never see you again,” she sobbed. “Fucking hell, Louis.”

Louis laughed softly. “I’m sorry,” he said again, leaning away and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I
really am.”

As promised, not a single reporter or journalist called for three weeks, Louis sitting on their couch
almost every day. He had thought that he would be happy again when he came back, but instead he
couldn’t get anything of Alaska out of his head. He started to have the nightmares he thought he
had lost a long time ago, barely eating anymore since he didn’t move from the couch. Eleanor
asked him multiple times per day if he wanted to see a movie or something, but Louis either
remained silent or shook his head. Every time Eleanor made dinner she had to place it on the coffee
table in front of her boyfriend and just leave it there until Louis took it to the microwave and
warmed it up, or she had to throw it away. That was when Louis realized what Harry had done the
day when Louis came down to the kitchen, one week after he had beaten him up. He had made
dinner for him, and had thrown it away when Louis didn’t come down. It had made Louis sit there
on the couch, face buried in the sweater that barely even reminded him of his time up there
anymore. It was just Harry.

Louis wondered what he was doing. How he was and what he was thinking. Was he happy? Sad?
Angry? Scared, maybe. Louis didn’t stop thinking about him for even a second, sitting there and
fiddled with a loose thread on the sweater. Eleanor noticed that he wasn’t like before and that he
didn’t want to talk at all, so she stopped talking to him too, until Louis stumbled into the bedroom
one night and collapsed onto her. She let him stay there for the whole night apparently, because the
next day she was gone because she needed to go to work. So Louis stayed there for a few hours and
then got up and went over to his working desk that hadn’t been touched at all, wiping dust off his
desk lamp with his fingertips. He fumbled through his desk until he found the small and black box
that he had expected to give to Eleanor on their next anniversary, but by now Louis knew that he
didn’t want it anymore. So he opened it and took the silver ring out, going out onto the streets with
no shoes and no jacket until he reached the nearest sewer system and just dropped it down there,
staring down at it until he could hear it fall into the water and he never thought about it again.

It was on the forth Wednesday that they got a phone call from the police station and said that they
had to go out with Louis being home again, Louis agreeing to it. He knew that it would quiet down
at some point, so getting it over with was the best solution. It started on the third of June, three
days after Louis had met his family again, that Louis got called in to be on TV. A talk show
actually, where celebrities would come and get interviewed. Louis had never liked it, but Eleanor
adored it, so at least Louis knew what it was about. He didn’t have much saying in it to be honest,
apparently accepting it and got driven there by Eleanor herself before she had to go to work again.

It was a large and rather boring building, Louis struggling with even finding his way through
narrow corridors and up empty staircases. Staff members had been looking at him quite strangely,
Louis had thought. Cold stares that almost felt like they were dripping of sympathy. He didn’t
know how “famous” he had gotten over these past weeks since he didn’t want to read all of those
articles that would describe Harry as a psychopath and a freak and Louis as a poor and innocent
boy that had been dragged away and drugged down. He had learnt that newspapers and magazines
were pretty much pure bullshit, even if Eleanor seemed to believe in them. Louis had completely
refused to comment on them whenever a journalist of a reporter asked about it. They often ended
up sending emails and sometimes even calling on the phone, literally demanding an interview with
him. Mostly he scolded them and simply hung up, but from time to time he had to answer them.

“How were you treated?” was the most common question. Louis knew the answer by heart by now.

“Wonderfully, actually. He’s hopeless, but he treated me like I deserve to be treated. More or less.”
After that they kept asking why he had said “more or less,” and it was by then that Louis just
disconnected and went back to whatever he was doing before. That was his days.

Louis sighed and ran a hand through his hair when he glanced down at the card that was hanging
in a string around his neck. “TV guest,” it said. Next to it was a studio number; the one that Louis
was looking for. It took him another ten minutes before a short and slightly overweight woman
patted his shoulder.

“Louis Tomlinson?” she asked. Louis nodded. “You’re late.”

“I couldn’t find my way,” he said and ran a hand through his freshly washed hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said and waved him over, guiding him through corridors and up a few staircases.
“We just have a time due, that’s it.”

Louis just followed with his hands deep in his pockets of the new suit that he had received. He had
been feeling warm earlier this working, him being nervous obviously, hating the fact that he was
about to be on live TV over the whole world. Apparently his story was that interesting, something
that he didn’t quite understand. Louis simply nodded at her when she opened a door that said
“Studio 8,” the blue eyed boy muttering at it. People with headsets were running around with
cables and papers and coffee cups from all kinds of directions. “Is this all for one show?” Louis
wondered as he followed the woman through it all, stepping over a cable that was stretching across
the floor. A man with a microphone glared at him.
“Yeah,” the woman shrugged, thanking another woman that gave her a white paper cup with a lid
on. Coffee, probably. “Most of them will leave while the show is on though, so don’t worry about
it.”

Louis only nodded and crossed his arms as he walked after her, looking around unsurely. It was a
scary thought that he would have to talk about this. He had prayed to nothing that he wouldn’t ask
personal questions. That was the last thing he needed. A few minutes later he got placed in a chair
where his hair got dried and styled and then got what felt like a pound of makeup on him. Louis
grimaced at his mirror reflection. He felt like he was wearing mask that didn’t need to be there.

“Are you ready, Louis?” the woman from before, Charlotte, said when Louis apparently was done.
He nodded and stood up; drinking from the bottle of water that he was given before he gave it
back, nervously tugging on his blazer. Someone placed a small microphone onto the collar of his
shirt and some sort of radio thing onto the back of his jeans. He was suddenly more nervous than
before, palms sweating and teeth clattering a little.

“You will be fine,” Charlotte said with a smile, adjusting his blazer for a moment. “Just answer his
questions until we go to commercial, alright? Then you can leave.”

Louis swallowed and nodded, trying to catch a glimpse of the stage that was right behind some sort
of black curtain, but he couldn’t. “What if I don’t want to answer?” he wondered.

“Just reply with ‘I don’t know.’ That usually works.”

It was a plan good enough for Louis, glancing at Charlotte when she moved the curtain aside for
him and Louis assumed that it was his turn to go out, taking a few careful steps out onto the dark
wooden floor. The audience was suddenly applauding and some of them even stood up, Louis
keeping his eyes away from them as good as he could as he took the man in a suit’s hand, shaking
it.

“Louis,” he said and the man smiled, nodding.

“Carl,” he replied and gestured to the couch so Louis would sit down, completely blinded by the
lights. The audience calmed down and a silence followed, Louis awkwardly playing with his
fingers.

“First of all, I’m very sorry that this all happened to you, Louis,” Carl said and Louis just nodded,
smiling a little. “You didn’t deserve anything of it.”

“Well, it can happen to the best of us,” Louis laughed softly, looking down at his feet. He shouldn’t
have picked converse today.

“The question we all want the answer to is what exactly happened? Where were you?”

Louis cleared his throat. “In Alaska,” he said. “I had just arrived at the LAX when I met Harry
and… well.”

“Did he kidnap you there?”

Louis shook his head. “No, he… No. We just talked there and I went to my hotel and slept there,
and the next day I went to my job interview. When I got out of there a few hours later I bumped
into him on the street and he took me to a café.”

“And that’s where he took you away?”

“Yeah.”

Carl seemed satisfied with that answer, so Louis assumed that he was too. He continued to fiddle
with his thumbs, just sitting there in the wait for the next question. “Did he treat you badly?” he
asked then. Louis shook his head.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Louis mumbled, looking down on his lap. “He was surprisingly nice.”

“Even a monster like him?” Carl laughed. “Did you ever try to run away?”

He’s not a monster, Louis thought. “Yeah, I did,” Louis mumbled and glared up at him. “The first
day, and then a second time, and then for a third time.”

“And you never succeeded?”

“Obviously not,” Louis snarled.

Carl frowned then but Louis noticed how he quickly raised his guard again. He had to be used to
things like this, his guests getting irritated. “Did he ever hurt you?”

“Yes,” Louis said honestly.

“How badly?”

“Badly.”

“Have you forgiven him?” Carl asked then, leaning forwards a little, as if he was more interested
than before. Louis leaned back on the couch, looking away and straight into the camera that had
the red light above it. He tore his eyes away, down on the monitor, watching himself. The camera
was too close.

“I don’t know,” Louis confessed.

“But if he badly injured you, you can’t forgive him, can you? He did so many horrible things!”

“Only two,” he mumbled. “Stole me and beat me.” Carl furrowed his eyebrows while he studied
Louis, the blue eyed boy, blinking away the water that was threatening to leave his eyes. It didn’t
go so well it seemed, because the room felt tense as soon as he started.

“You don’t hate him?” the interviewer asked.

Louis shook his head. “No,” he whimpered, taking the white handkerchief that Carl gave him. Still,
he didn’t dry his cheeks, just held it in his hand as he rested them onto his thighs. He stared down
at the floor and breathed out, feeling his cheeks get wetter and wetter. “I wish that I didn’t like him
as much as I actually do.”
 Chapter 21

The date of the court came sooner than Louis had wanted to, standing in front of the mirror with
Eleanor tying his tie about a month after the interview. She looked stressed, large bags underneath
her eyes. “I can’t believe that they put it on a fucking Friday,” she muttered and pulled on the black
tie, Louis coughing. She apologized and loosened it, Louis looking over her head at himself in the
mirror. He looked just as awful, if not worse. He was pale and his eyes were red from no sleep and
all the crying sessions that Eleanor didn’t know about. He didn’t have the heart to tell her either,
just putting on the shower every time he felt like he needed a moment or two. She always accepted
it with a sigh and ended up spending most of her days alone, going to work or made dinner that
Louis didn’t eat. It often ended up with Louis warming up some noodles instead, eating it while he
sat on the toilet with wet cheeks and chin.

“Better now than never,” Louis mumbled with a shrug, looking down on Eleanor when she decided
that she was done. He didn’t look too bad, and he didn’t really have the energy to change it either.

“I guess so,” Eleanor sighed and walked out of the room and into the bathroom to do her makeup,
Louis glaring at himself in the mirror once again.

It had almost been half a year without Harry, and Louis was absolutely miserable. He felt pathetic
and useless and he felt like a failure when he never got to hear those stupid compliments and pick
up lines that Harry always threw at him. Louis sighed and spun a little in the mirror, making sure
that he looked presentable. They said that this wouldn’t take more than two hours, so even if Louis
really didn’t want to go, he had to. He didn’t want to watch Harry get punished or something like
that, because he didn’t think that he deserved it. What he did was wrong, but he had been nice.
Louis looked up when Eleanor stood in the doorway again; straightening out the purple dress she
was wearing. She looked back at him and smiled a little, walking over. Louis closed his eyes when
a small kiss was pressed to his cheek. “You know, your mom and your sisters called yesterday,”
she said, looking at the two of them in the mirror. “Your mother will come to court.”

Louis nodded, lifting his chin to make sure that he shaved properly. “Hopefully,” he mumbled.

“Jay was working,” Eleanor hummed and stepped away from him, taking his hands. Louis
swallowed. “She got a job in France, but when you came home she wanted to quit early. She didn’t
tell you?”

Louis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You seem to be more in touch with her than I am.”

“Of course,” Eleanor laughed. “She’s my boyfriend’s mother. I have to.”

Louis chuckled when Eleanor kissed his chin, biting down on his bottom lip. He didn’t need this
right now. Reminders. He hated them. “Are you ready to leave?” he said instead and gently pushed
her off, running a gentle hand through her curls. She smiled and tilted her head a little.

“It’s still a little early,” she said, yet, she shrugged. “But I understand that you’re nervous. We can
go if you want to.”

Louis nodded and let her go, walking into the hallway and took his car keys that were on the
counter in there. Maybe it was the fact that his heart was racing, or the fact that his hands were
trembling, but he knew one thing. He needed to see Harry again. Even if it just was for a second.

It was really crowded in the courtroom and Louis was shaking his leg, Eleanor’s hand that was
placed on it following it up and down. Louis had already been drinking a large amount of water, so
calming down wasn’t really an option. “Louis, you have to calm down,” Eleanor mumbled into his
ear. “It will just take a little while, alright? Then we can get out of here as soon as possible.” The
blue eyed boy looked up at her and nodded, really liking that idea. This whole place made him
shake and sweat and everyone that was in there seemed to notice. Louis had been turning to the
door more than necessary, just to see if Harry had entered yet, but he never did. He leaned back and
let Eleanor continue to pat his thigh, the girl leaning forwards a little to catch a glimpse of Louis’
face. She smiled when he looked up.

“It will all be over soon,” she said softly. “Then you will never have to think about this again.”

Louis was sure that she was attempting to be comforting, but it wasn’t helping. Not at all, actually.
He hadn’t slept for two days at all and he had sneaked to his closet and pulled out Harry’s sweater
more than he wanted to admit, crying into it and locked himself into the bathroom just so Eleanor
wouldn’t wake up and find him. He really did feel pathetic. Too pathetic, and he hated it.

“Silence,” a large man suddenly said and everyone in the room immediately fell silent, Louis
feeling sick. This was really happening, wasn’t it? “All rise.”

Louis stood up along with Eleanor, the female shyly taking his hand. She seemed just as nervous as
Louis, setting the fact that this was actually about him aside. He watched as a woman in her fifties
walked in with black clothes and glasses low on her nose, sitting down in her chair on the podium
with a small cough. The large man gave her some papers and said a loud and clear, “Case four
hundred and thirty-one, Tomlinson against Styles.”

Louis had to glare holes onto the floor just so he wouldn’t turn around when the doors behind him
swung open, Louis closing his eyes when he heard the weak sound of chains and handcuffs.
Stumbling footsteps came closer and closer, huffs and harsh mutters following. Louis only looked
up when they actually were where he could see them, frowning when he saw a pale white Harry in
an orange overall and his curls pushed back in some sort of quiff. He looked horrible. Sick.

“So, Mister Tomlinson, I want to start off by saying that I’m sorry for everything that has happened
to you,” the Judge started and Louis looked up at her, nodding. The Judge nodded too. “From what
I understand, this is your first time in a court, isn’t it?”

“Yes, your honor,” Louis said clearly.

“We are simply going to ask you a few questions, and you will have to answer them truthfully,
understood?”

“Understood.”

“Then we seem to be ready to start.”

The whole thing was an absolute nightmare, Louis staring at Harry pretty much the whole time
when he wasn’t supposed to talk, the curly haired just sitting there with a blank expression and
stared out into nothing. He looked miserable and Louis sure noticed, blinking in surprise when he
suddenly moved and looked up at the Judge. “Mister Styles, so you admit that you did, in fact,
kidnap this man?” she asked, Harry’s lips parting. He sighed, Louis’ hands tightening on the table
in front of him.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, rustling with his handcuffs. “I did.”

“Then, did you ever physically abuse him in any way?”

“Yes,” Harry muttered. “Once. Almost twice. He got bruises and he bled and he didn’t talk with
me for a week. He was limping.”

Louis shook his head. He knew what he was doing. Making himself look worse than he actually
were. “Any sexual assaults?”

“Yes,” Harry said then and seemed to hold back a smile; Louis looking away in a deep blush. He
didn’t dare to look at Eleanor. The Judge seemed a little taken aback, clearing her throat before she
continued.

“How many times?”

“Once.” Louis grimaced in embarrassment, looking down at the table. It had quite a lot of
fingernail markings on it. It didn’t seem like he had been the only nervous one standing at this
table.

“Are you sure that it wasn’t mutual?”

“I hope so,” Harry laughed, but it quickly died down and he looked away. Louis licked his lips. He
wanted to add his own comment, but he knew that he wasn’t allowed to. The questions and
answers continued like that for both Harry and Louis and soon Louis’ lawyer sat down, and Harry’s
did too.

“Now, Mister Tomlinson,” the Judge said and Louis looked up watched her smile and raise her
eyebrows. “Did you ever assault Mister Styles?”

Louis bit his lip. “Uh, yes,” he said, feeling ashamed. “Once.”

“Just once?” she questioned.

“Actually twice,” he continued with a small sigh. “…Maybe there were more. I don’t really
remember.” The Judge nodded and wrote something down on what Louis only could guess was a
piece of paper, wishing that he knew what was going to happen.

“Now, Mister Tomlinson, is it something additional that you want to be brought up into this?

Louis swallowed. “Is that allowed, your Honor?” he asked. She just nodded. Louis had to think for
a moment. He literally had a million questions, like why he had chosen him, why he had done it,
what was in the third drawer and why he had been so nice to him. He couldn’t figure out which one
he wanted to know the most, so he just took a deep breath.

“How many years will he get?” The whole court died down and Louis stopped breathing himself,
heart racing when Harry softly smiled and him when he caught his eye, tilting his head. He looked
even sicker within seconds, and soon enough he grimaced.

“As for now, I would say more than five years,” the Judge said with a small nod, rolling her pencil
between her fingers. “He will get some psychological help too.”

Louis breathed out and it literally felt like he was getting lighter by the second. He started
trembling again, knees going weak and he had to hold himself up by the table and his hands only,
just looking at the curly haired but that looked just as devastated as him. The courtroom started
mumbling and the Judge slammed her hand into her podium a few times, making everyone quiet
down again. She snarled a little.

“And you, Mister Styles, do you want to bring something up?” Harry hadn’t moved his eyes from
Louis for the whole time and Louis hadn’t either, the blue eyed one barely noticing when Harry
started to speak.

“If you had the choice of staying, would you have done it?” he wondered. Of course I would, Louis
thought. Of course, fucking hell, I can’t function without you. I still have your sweater. Louis
frowned and glanced back at Eleanor who was crying next to him, Louis knowing that it was
because of him and Harry. It had always been Louis and Eleanor, and Louis knew that he didn’t
like that thought anymore.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back at Harry. “Yeah, I would.” Harry beamed and the mumbling got
even louder, but Louis couldn’t bring himself to smile. He knew what was going to happen. Harry
would end up in prison.

Louis looked up at Eleanor when she started stuffing things into her bag, her sobbing and sniffling
echoing through the flat. Louis had his arms crossed as he watched her, guilt washing over him
again and again. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, stomping over to her closet and pulled out
multiple t-shirts and a cardigan. “Fuck you, Louis. Fuck.”

“You don’t have to swear,” Louis mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, El. I was
going to tell you. I just didn’t…”

“You were going to tell me?” Eleanor spat, shoving her clothes into the bag. “When, exactly,
Louis? When were you going to tell me that you cheated on me with some psychopath that literally
drugged you down and carried you into another state and kept you there for half a year? Huh? I
have been sitting here crying my eyes out because of you while you spread your legs for some
twat.”

“He’s not a twat.” Eleanor groaned and flipped him off, closing the bag and started tugging it out
of the bedroom. “Save it, Louis. I don’t even want to hear it.” Louis quietly followed as Eleanor
struggled with her bag. He offered to help, but she just glared at him with an “I can do this myself.”
Louis stopped in the hallway and watched when she started pulling on her shoes and her jacket that
she had gotten from Louis just last Christmas, but stopped in her tracks and pulled it off again.

“Take it,” she muttered. “I don’t want it. Just take it. Take it.”

“Fine, I’m taking it,” he replied and caught it when she threw it at him. He watched her shove the
bag out the door and into the corridor outside, pressing the elevator button. She turned to Louis
again, still crying.

“Never call me again,” she said. “Delete my number. I never want to see you again.”

Louis sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking up at her then. “Eleanor, I am really sorry, okay? You
have to believe me.”

“Yeah sure, I believe you,” she spat. “Why don’t you take that apology and shove it up your ass?”

Louis just shook his head, waiting until Eleanor was inside the elevator before he put his hand in
his pocket. “Take care, okay?”

Eleanor seemed to soften then and shook her head, pressing a button. She ran a hand through her
own hair too, wiping her cheeks. “You too,” she mumbled and that was it, Eleanor disappearing
out of Louis’ life.

“So she just walked out?” Louis’ mother Jay after two days later when she visited Louis’ flat,
pouring him a cup of coffee. Louis nodded.
“Pretty much,” he said. “I can’t say that she did it without a reason though.”

“I suppose so.” The two had remained silent for the majority of the time that Jay had been here,
both of them just hugging and chanting “I missed you,” and “I’m sorry I left,” to each other for the
second time. It was a wonder that Jay had even let him go, Louis giving her a whole roll of paper
towels so she wouldn’t have to ruin her makeup.

“Do you regret it?” she asked then. “Letting her leave, I mean.”

Louis sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Not really,” he confessed, spinning his cup between his hands,
He bit his lip. “I don’t think that I ever liked her that much to be honest.”

Jay laughed softly. “Still you went and bought her a ring.”

“But I never gave it to her.” Jay smiled and shrugged, reaching for her coffee and took a small sip.
She then shook her head and watched her son. She looked a little worried, and Louis had already
prepared an answer.

“Are you sure that you know what you’re doing? I mean, this Harry guy…”

“Mom, I’m sure, okay? I would only make Eleanor unhappy if I had stayed with her.”

Jay raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes then. “It’s not that, it’s just…” she said, a strand of hair
falling from behind her ear. She set it back with a sigh. “He’s a criminal, Louis, whether you like it
or not. Can you really be happy if you stay with him?”

“I think so,” Louis nodded.

“He did abuse you quite badly,” she continued, a crack in her voice. Louis just nodded and rolled
the paper towel roll towards her. He smiled. “I just want you to be safe, Louis.”

“I know mom,” he sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “But… I know that he’s not
dangerous. He’s nice, and funny and kind. He likes animals. Sure, he might make horrible tea and
he eats like a fucking giraffe, but…”

“Language,” Jay said, glancing at Louis’ little sisters that were sitting on his couch watching
cartoons. Louis laughed softly and held his hands up in a sarcastic apology.

“Mom, believe me when I say that I want to be with this guy, okay? I don’t know how far we will
go, but we can at least try.”

Jay smiled and nodded. “You know that as long as you’re happy, I’ll stand behind you.” Louis
nodded and that and placed his hand of his mother’s, looking out the window for a moment as he
took another sip of his coffee. Johanna was quiet, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched her son.
“What do you mean that he eats like a giraffe?” Louis just laughed.

Louis ended up calling Niall three days after court, the two of them catching up where things left
off and ended up watching the whole Fast and the Furious series with two pizzas and a few beers,
Niall sprawled out on the couch with Louis pressed into the corner of it.

“So, you just let El go?” Niall wondered when Louis shifted on the couch. “Like, no fight?”

“I didn’t feel the need to,” Louis shrugged, taking another sip from his bottle, swallowing thickly.
“I knew what I wanted.”
“Being with Harry?”

“Being with Harry.” Louis was happy that Niall accepted it so easily, remembering all the times
that he had been judgmental to people that were randomly passing by on the streets when they had
gone to the movies or just went out to order some takeout. One time an old man with a long beard
had walked past them while they were in the carwash, and Niall had immediately thought that he
was homeless. He ended up being a banker that was making one of those ‘One year of beard
growing in 60 seconds,” videos. Louis had been laughing for ages after that while Niall was just
trying to make him shut up by throwing wet sponges on him.

“How is he?” Niall wondered when the credits finally started to roll over the screen and Louis got
up to put the next disc in.

“Harry you mean?” he asked and Niall hummed, Louis smiling a little. “He’s quite special.”

“Like?”

“Special as in he sticks his tongue out while he eats.”

“Oh wow,” Niall laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch and stretched, crossing his
arms behind his head. “You got yourself a real keeper.”

“Shut up,” Louis laughed and walked over again, sitting down on Niall’s thighs. The blond huffed
and shoved him off, just lifting his legs so he could place them on Louis’ lap instead.

“Really though, what is he like?”

Louis rested his head back against the couch, blinking up at the ceiling and at the small hole that a
lamp had previously had been hanging in. “Well, he’s flirty. Goddamn, he’s flirty. He can cook
and he’s good with housework, like cleaning and making beds.”

“Oh that’s perfect,” Niall stated. “You can’t do anything of that for shit.”

“I can’t flirt?”

“Please, it’s a wonder you got Eleanor.”

Louis laughed and rolled his eyes, throwing one of the pillows from the couch on him. “At least I
had a girlfriend.”

“I’m just not the settling down type.”

Louis smiled and breathed out then, ignoring the movie by now. “I never said that I would settle
down with Harry either.”

Niall let out a short laugh, Louis slapping his foot. Niall looked down at him then and Louis
looked back, smiling a little as he tilted his head. “What?”

“Are you sure that you will be happy with him though?” he wondered. “I mean… He doesn’t seem
like he have treated you the best.”

Louis smiled. “Thank you for caring, Ni. But I know what I’m doing. I know why he did it too, so I
know that it won’t happen again.”

Niall sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If you say so. Be careful.” Louis leaned back,
nodding to himself. Yes, he could deal with it. He was sure of it. Really sure.
 Chapter 22

Louis’ heart was pounding when his fingers tightened on the hem of his jacket, the poor boy
feeling like the walls were closing in on him. Shaken, frightened and just simply scared, he had
somehow managed to literally force himself here, to London’s local Police station. The one where
Harry was going to spend a large amount of his life, away from Louis and to any humans over all,
setting the other prisoners aside. It had been a month since the trial, and Louis was surprised that
he even had gotten there from his own free will. He wanted to see Harry, even if he had an orange
overall on and his hair standing in every possible direction. Being without him for another month
or two was something that he didn’t want. He may not be able to hear or touch him like before
again, but this was just as good as it was going to get. The walls were white inside the building and
the floor was in some ugly beige cardboard. It looked absolutely hideous and Louis hated it,
feeling how his whole body started trembling more than necessary. He made his way up to the
desk where a blonde woman sat, her sitting up more properly when he got closer.

“Hi,” he said quietly, looking at her. “I’m a visitor for Harry Styles. I have an appointment.”

The woman looked confused at first and typed something on her computer, her teeth scraping
slowly and unsurely over her full lips. Her lipstick got a little smudged. Louis wanted to tell her, but
even if he didn’t want it to happen, he knew that his voice would crack as soon as he used it.

“You’re Louis Tomlinson?” she questioned. Louis just nodded. “The Louis Tomlinson?”

“I suppose I am,” he mumbled back, managing to hold his voice steady. “Can I see him?”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked. “This will be your last chance.”

“I’m sure.”

She looked up at him, her thin eyebrows rising when she continued to type away on her computer.
Her gaze flickered back to the screen only when Louis turned away and stared at nothing,
fingertips finding their way to the hem of his shirt. He pulled on it and tugged, listening to her
fingernails click against the buttons on the keyboard. Soon enough she handed him a few paper
sheets and told him to, quote, “Sign it for safety purposes so that you agree to have guards around
you.” Louis had no choice but to sign it, because obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t see Harry. She
thanked him when he gave the now signed papers back and told him to sit down on one of the
couches while she made a few calls. Louis didn’t find it necessary to have policemen with him
since he knew with two hundred and fifty two percent that Harry wouldn’t lay a single hurtful
finger on him, yet, Louis had to sit down and wait there for at least forty minutes before one man
and one woman in police uniforms appeared in front of him and told him to come with them.

“You get thirty minutes,” they said. Louis would have to make the best out of the situation.

He got led into a room full of doors and minimal windows, Louis seeing how some prisoners hit
the windows and slammed at the doors. They were prison cells, Louis guessed. It echoed in the
whole hallway and maybe Louis even moved closer to the police officers. It was like he couldn’t
feel a single thing. He felt blank and cold. He didn’t even know if he was happy or unhappy. Louis
looked up when the woman stopped and started looking through a large amount of keys locked
onto a key ring, moving off to the side. She started unlocking a door. Louis immediately got
warmer when the thought of Harry being in there crossed his mind and he was about to walk up to
her side, but got pulled away by the man. He said that they would go into a separate room so that
they could talk freely through a phone, Louis knowing exactly what he was talking about. He had
never done something like this before. He felt cold again.

“Do I really only get thirty minutes?” he wondered quietly, looking up at the taller man. He was
really thin and dark skinned. He had brown eyes. He was rather good-looking.

“Yeah,” he responded, Louis looking up and down his body in the search for a name tag or
something, but he couldn’t find anything. “If you would’ve been a family member you could have
gotten an hour. But since you’re in such a dangerous relationship with him we can’t offer you
more.” Louis looked up at him then again, barely noticing that he had looked away. The police
man was looking down at him too. Louis hated that he was taller. It was like only Harry was
allowed to.

“Why?” Louis asked.

“We don’t know what he can do.”

“Maybe he won’t do anything.”

“Maybe he will.”

Louis snarled a little at him but quickly let it go when he heard cursing and the sound of stumbling
feet in the corridors once again, “Let me go,” and “I can walk by myself,” echoing between the
walls. He knew that it was Harry. He would have recognized that voice and those mutters from a
mile away. Harry. Louis took a shaky breath when the man opened a door and suddenly they were
in a rectangular room that was divided by some sort of glass and wooden benches along with chairs
on either sides of it. There weren’t many people there. Five of them, actually. They were talking
with all kinds of people. Some of them looked sad and a red haired woman with a large baby
stomach was crying together with the man on another side in an orange overall. Louis could only
assume that he was the father. He didn’t want to eavesdrop.

“You can sit down here,” the policeman said and pulled out a chair for Louis right next to a
brunette man in his fifties that were talking with a young woman. His daughter, probably.

Louis did, looking up at the empty seat in front of him. Harry hadn’t arrived yet, it seemed. “The
conversation will be recorded. You can talk freely even though we will be here,” the officer said
then and smiled a little, Louis just looking at him with a blank expression. That was when he
finally saw the name badge on his left hip. Clark Johnson.

“Is there something I’m not allowed to say?”

“Personal information,” Clark said. Louis just nodded. He didn’t really hear anything when the
large double doors on the other side opened and Harry was led in, his expression just as blank as
Louis’ with his hair starting to grow back after it had been cut off. Louis was happy that you at
least could see that he had curls. His cheeks were rosy and he looked stern, looking up at Louis
who was staring back. The woman spoke to Harry, the same things as Clark said to Louis,
probably. He didn’t seem to listen, Louis watching when he reached for the white phone on his
side. It took him a moment to understand that he was supposed to do the same thing. He moved his
chair closer to the wooden desk and took his own phone with a shaky hand, staring at Harry
through the glass. It took them both a minute or two to figure out that they were allowed to talk,
Harry being the first to break the silence.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Louis responded. Silence again, Louis fiddled with his jacket. His own, this time.
“I wrote the article,” he informed.

“Ah, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat. He looked so goddamn sick Louis could barely even look at him.
He had gotten thinner and paler, green eyes looking dead.

“What is it about?” he wondered, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he started
to fiddle with the sleeve of his hideous overall. It was baggy on him.

“You,” Louis simply responded. “Us.”

Harry only nodded, sinking down in his seat. His handcuffs looked tight on his wrists even though
they had gotten narrower. Louis felt a lump in his throat that he had felt so much more after he had
left Harry. The curly haired boy just sat there while Louis turned away and glared at his feet, trying
to think of something to say. He still wanted so many answers, yet he only had another few
minutes. “How much time do I have left?” he mumbled to Clark, glancing up at him for only a
second. He looked at a clock was that hanging on the wall.

“Twenty minutes,” he said and Louis sighed, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going
like he had planned. Still with a blank expression, Louis turned back to Harry. He was shaking just
as much as Louis was. His mouth kept opening and closing as if he wanted to say something, but
every time he tried it was like someone held him back. He choked and cleared his throat, and Louis
whimpered into the phone.

“You’re so thin,” Harry whispered just when Louis was about to say the same.

“You too,” he replied, pulling a little on his sleeves. “You’re eating, right?”

“Not really,” Harry confessed, Louis seeing the very small twitch that his whole body made. “I
can’t anymore.”

“How long was it since last time?” Louis asked carefully, getting worried. “You have to take care
of yourself, Harry.”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, chuckling nervously. “Three days, maybe.”

Louis knew that what Harry said was true. Let’s say that he ate three days ago. Maybe he didn’t eat
for four days before that. Then two days before that. Louis felt sick; like he needed to throw up. He
knew how horrible he had felt when he hadn’t eaten for a week himself. He had survived by eating
fruit and had sneaked a can of food up to his room from time to time. It was a wonder that he
hadn’t grown mad.

“Why did you stop?” Louis wondered.

“Because I miss you,” Harry replied. Louis grimaced and looked away, placing his hand over his
eyes. It grew wet within seconds.

“Stop it,” he said into the phone. “Stop it. Just stop.”

He looked up when he heard whimpers and sobs from Harry too, keeping his hand over his mouth
as he watched him. Harry didn’t hold the phone to his ear anymore, just holding it in his hand as he
pressed both of his hands to his eyes. He was shaking and his curls were doing the same, the
orange fabric of his overall getting small wet dots all over it. His breath caught in his throat and the
horrible sound of it echoed in Louis’ ear.
“I just wanted a friend, or someone,” he said weakly, but Louis still heard it. “I didn’t want it to
turn out like this.”

Louis stayed quiet, staring at the crying Harry that leaned forward and crossed his arms on the
desk, his forehead being placed on his forearms. He sat there for a while and just cried, Louis
doing the same. But he managed to keep quiet, yet he refused to take the handkerchief that Clark
gave him. The police man just shrugged, completely untouched by all of this. Louis didn’t
understand him.

“We went to school together,” Harry said shakily. “I was two classes below you. You never noticed
me, but still I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I didn’t know why, since I had never had a crush
on anyone before, so I just thought that it was because I looked up to you because you were older.”

Louis swallowed, but kept quiet. He would get the answer to all of his questions now, wouldn’t he?
“You moved on the 14th of June, the day after graduation,” Harry continued, glancing up at Louis.
Louis looked back. “I stayed in London and got sent away after a while by my mother one day
when she got drunk. She just threw me out and I went to a friend’s house and lived there for a
while so that I could make up a plan. That plan was Gemma. I flew to the States and stayed with
her for the remaining time that I thought that I needed, but it wasn’t for very long. I found a house
in Alaska and stayed there for four years, but then I had enough.”

“What happened?” Louis breathed, fingers tightening on his phone.

“I started to feel lonely. I needed company,” Harry sobbed, wiping his cheeks. “So I went to Los
Angeles. I needed something. Someone. Then I saw you. I recognized you immediately but,
obviously, my crush had worn off.”

Louis blushed lightly, playing with a loose string on his jacket. “So,” Harry said softly. “…I took
you with me. I knew who you were so that would be less dangerous, I thought. You know the
rest.” Louis just blinked, his hands and phone falling to his lap. He stared at the curly haired boy
who was trembling and whimpering and crying like he had never done anything else. He was
happy that he couldn’t hear him anymore. He calmed down after a few minutes even if he still was
sobbing, quietly reaching out and knocked his fingertip to the glass between them, or whatever it
was. Louis didn’t have the energy to ask.

Louis licked his lips as he watched Harry nod down to his phone. He guessed that he wanted him to
listen so he did, lifting the phone to his ear, taking a deep breath. Harry did the same and looked
away for a second, Louis wanting to reach out and dry his cheeks. The prisoner was silent for
many minutes, before he actually got the courage to speak again.

“I love you,” he said after a million years, Louis dropping the phone is surprise. “I love you so
much, Louis.” That was when he understood. His heart stopped and Louis thought that he was
going to die for a moment, blushing heavily as he choked back to him, Harry breaking down right
then and there. He was smiling and crying at the same time and a punched the glass wall that
separated them, kicking at the wooden desk. The police officer on Harry’s side grabbed him and
held him back and two more officers appeared out of nowhere, holding him back too. They started
pulling him up from the chair too and Louis shook his head, slapping his hand to the wall too.

“We still have five minutes!” he screamed into the phone and apparently they could hear it,
stopping for a moment and looked at each other. They both sighed and let go of Harry who
immediately took the phone again, stumbling over the chair and fell to his knees. Louis moved
closer.

“I didn’t,” Harry panted. “I didn’t know that I would fall in love with you either, alright?”
“I don’t care,” Louis cried, glaring at him. “You can’t just say things like that and then just leave!”

Harry smiled sadly and laughed, shrugging. “I’m sorry,” he said, his fist slamming to the wall.
“I’m so sorry, Louis.”

Louis swallowed, drying his own cheeks. “How many years did you get?”

“Twelve,” Harry said, voice cracking. His bottom lip quivered. “For kidnapping, abuse and a
billion other things that I didn’t even listen too.”

Louis covered his face with his hand again, biting down on his bottom lip so that he wouldn’t let a
new set of tears fall down his already wet cheeks. “You can’t expect me to wait for you for twelve
years,” he whimpered. Harry let out a breathy chuckle.

“Try, Louis,” he begged, Louis glancing up when he heard small knocks on the glass. He couldn’t
help but smile when he saw Harry’s hand being flat against it. “Please?”

“You act like we’re in a Disney movie,” he laughed, placing his own hand on the glass – over
Harry’s. It was cold.

Harry smiled too. “Then wait for me like the princesses do,” he whispered, Louis understanding
that he was afraid of the policemen hearing him. Louis figured that he should be quiet too.

“Are you seriously expecting me to go twelve years without a single kiss or a single cup of your
horrible tea?”

Harry laughed, looking genuinely happy for the first time in many months. “Try, Louis. I beg you
to wait for me.”

Louis sighed, rubbing his eyes. He felt like he was dreaming. He didn’t know if it was a happy
dream or a nightmare. Both, maybe. “I’ll try,” he agreed then, looking at him. He smiled a little.
“But if I have moved on, then I don’t want you to try and get me back, alright?”

Harry nodded, smiling himself. “Alright,” he said. “Deal.”

Louis nodded and licked his lips, looking down on his hand. He really got gotten thin and pale. His
mother had asked many times why he looked like he did., but he never had the heart to tell her that
he had lost his appetite because of Harry not being there.

“Hey Louis,” Harry said then, tilting his head. “Do you love me too?”

Louis looked up at him, then up to Clark. He looked impatient. He must have passed the last
couple of minutes of their half an hour. He felt warm. Loved. Wanted. Needed. Everything.
“Yeah,” he nodded, resting his lips to his forearm that was resting on the desk too. He hadn’t even
noticed that he had sunk to the floor.

Harry smiled, looking away for a second or two, and then up to Louis again. All his color seemed
to come back. Louis was sick. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did. He loved Harry, and Harry loved
him. That was all there was to it.

“I want to kiss you,” Harry said, Louis laughing softly.

“Sorry,” he simply said. “Maybe some other day.”

Louis had to leave exactly three minutes later. Anyone that had gone through the same thing would
have cried and screamed, but Louis didn’t. He knew that Harry wanted him just as much as Louis
wanted him. He smiled, crossing his arms across his chest. He had promised Harry to try, so that
was the least he could do. He promised him to visit from time to time too, even if it wouldn’t be
every day. That, too, was something that Louis felt was his responsibility.

“Have a good day, Mister Tomlinson,” Clark said when they reached the reception again, Louis
looking up at him. He smiled, tilting his head just a little. He felt good. He wasn’t empty anymore.

“You too, Clark,” he responded, the man nodding at him. That was that, Louis starting to back
away.

The sun was shining when he got out again, moving his jacket a little on his shoulders. It was warm
outside even if it was a little cloudy, Louis taking a deep breath. “Excuse me?” Louis blinked as he
turned his head to look down the stairs, eyes falling on a very beautiful woman, a short green
summer dress on her body along with a grey hat on her naked head. Louis swallowed, immediately
seeing the similarity between her and Harry. It was Harry’s sister, no doubt about it.

“Hello,” he said, walking down three steps so that he could be at her level.

“You’re Louis Tomlinson, right?” she asked, tilting her head a little. He smiled. “The one that
Harry Styles took away?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

“No reason,” she smiled, crossing her own arms over her chest. She was truly beautiful, even if she
had a bald head underneath that hat. “I just didn’t think that he would actually do it.”

Louis licked his lips. “You knew about it?”

“Not really,” she shrugged. She stumbled a little when the wind pulled on her. She placed a hand
on the railing next to them. “He just wrote me letters, complaining about how he didn’t want to be
alone.” Louis tilted his own head. Harry had told him the same thing, how he wanted to be alone
but not lonely. How he had done bad things because of it. It made sense that he had written to his
sister about it. Louis was happy that someone had kept contact with him through all these years.

“He has autophobia, you see,” she said, spinning a little on her heels. “Not many people take it
seriously, but I believe that it’s a real sickness. He wouldn’t have gotten so extreme if he was just
making it up.”

Louis nodded, running a hand through his hair. Autophobia’s the fear of being alone. Lottie, his
sister, had it too. She always walked around with a girl or a boy on her arm, claiming it to be the
love of her life every time. It was because of that, Louis could only assume. “He quite likes you,
you know,” Gemma said then, smiling at him. “He’s not crazy. Just desperate.”

“Are you sure about that?” Louis laughed unsurely. “I mean… He did some nasty things.”

“I’m sure,” Gemma nodded, looking down at her feet. “He’s still a teenager. He’s still learning.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen,” Gemma said, glancing up at him. “He’s been through more than you ever have, so
don’t think that he’s immature or anything.”

“I’m not,” Louis smiled. “I promise.”

Gemma laughed too and nodded, walking past him. Louis watched after her, smiling a little when
she turned around. She looked at him, then went down those steps and wrapped her arms around
his body. She hugged him for at least twenty seconds, Louis carefully holding her around her
waist. “Thank you,” she said. “Without you he probably would have been dead.”

“Dead?” Louis asked. Gemma nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “I assume that you found the drawer?”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows. “What about it?”

“Heroin,” she said, smiling sadly. “If he had been alone for another month or two, he probably
wouldn’t have been here anymore.”

Louis swallowed and looked down at the steps, then to the street. A taxi cab passed them and
honked at a woman that was walking on the street with a poodle. “No problem,” he mumbled,
Gemma hugging him again and said a small “Bye,” before hurrying into the station. She was
probably going to visit Harry too. Louis sighed, but decided to not think about it. Harry was better.
That was what was important.

The thing about the following twelve years was that technically, Louis didn’t wait for Harry. It
took him two years to find a new woman, Elise, who was a teacher. She was loving and caring and
even funny, but still, even if Louis liked her a lot, he wasn’t happy. They were together for about
three years before she had enough of him and simply left, and Louis didn’t cry a single tear.

Then it was Richard, the web designer that had a scar over his shoulder from a childhood trauma.
Louis wondered many times if he even liked him, but figured that he didn’t when Richard one day
asked him if he, quote; “Wants to have some fun with two of my friends.” It only lasted for three
months, and Louis figured that he actually only was gay for Harry. Harry was special. He had taken
care of him like no one else ever had, even if the two of them had their ugly moments. Louis knew
that that was just a part of a relationship – and that Harry was very extreme. But he knew the cause,
and it didn’t matter to him if people said that he was “dangerous.”

It was on the fourteenth of August when Louis finally realized that he didn’t want anyone but
Harry. He continued to meet up with Gemma, who apparently spoke with Harry on the phone on
the twentieth of every month. Sometimes Gemma even invited Louis along so that he, too, could
talk with him, but it only happened twice before the policemen found out. But Louis wanted to talk
to him more.That was why he waited for four more years, staying single and spent time with his
friends, waiting until the day that Harry would come up to his door and just spend the rest of his
life with him.

It was the nineteenth of September when Louis was sitting in his apartment that he had bought just
a year or two ago, petting the dog that he had owned for about four years by then. That was also
the day when it rang on the door and Louis looked up from his book, glasses low on his nose. He
pushed them up as he rose from the couch and told Ellen, the dog, to stop barking at the door.
Louis ran a hand through his hair when he reached for the handle and twisted it, just shoving Ellen
back with his foot. “Calm down,” he muttered but the dog didn’t listen, jumping up on the person
by his door’s legs. Louis looked up at him then too, and couldn’t say a word for the few seconds
that it took him to see who it was, staring at the man with the chocolate brown curls and green eyes
that was standing outside his door.

“Hi,” the man said, and Louis was happy for the first time in a long, long time, even if he started
crying.
 Epilogue
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It was August 29th, and I had traveled here for one reason, and one reason only – to write an
article. The boss had asked me to write an article about Los Angeles, what there was to see,
experience and visit. I wish that I had been here for more than just two days so I could actually do
what I was supposed to do.
Instead I met a man with dark curls and the most stunning green eyes you could ever imagine. His
skin was white like snow and he looked a little tired, his bags under his eyes being rather visible.
He told me that it usually was more people on the airport, and he said that he traveled a lot and
that that was why he knew. I wish that I had doubted him already then, but the stress and
exhaustion from my side had completely taken over me.

I offered him to sit down with me and he had accepted, something that could seem perfectly normal
to anyone. He chatted and I upset him once, and I didn’t really know how to deal with it, so I just
walked away and stepped into a cab.

The next day I got taken to the Los Angeles Times building and there I met Mister Payne and I got
this mission, and it only took about one hour for us to exchange whatever information I needed. I
wish that I had been more careful to be honest, and that I had gone back to England instead of
accepting, but somehow I decided that I would do it.

So, I stepped outside. It was about to rain, I remember, and I started walking down the street just
to see if there was anything interesting to see around the area that I was in. That was where I
bumped into him again and he was so beautiful, something that I didn’t realize by then. I had never
considered boys being handsome or beautiful before, and I didn’t at this time either.

But still I accepted to come with him to a café as long as he paid, because I was broke. It started
raining while we were on our way and he had so much longer legs than me I could barely follow
him. He slowed down when I told him to though and soon we entered a cozy little café. I told him
what I wanted and sat down, and he soon came back with coffee and sandwiches.

He told me that his name was Harry and that he hated it. I didn’t find a problem with his name
since I have always liked unusual names. He had moved here because he was bored of England
and that he got here with his sister, but lost contact with her.

It took half an hour or less for me to start to feel dizzy, my eyes darting everywhere and the world
moving underneath my feet. Somehow I even stood up and stumbled into Harry’s arms. He let me
wear his jacket as I got lead out.
He told me what he was taking me home. I didn’t believe him.

I feel asleep many times during the time I got stolen away, never fully knowing where I was since I
couldn’t open by eyes. The one time I woke up properly was when I was already there, in a large
and soft bed that was completely drenched in my own body fluids. I was paralyzed, yet managed to
roll out of bed and down in the floor. He found me, probably hearing the sounds that I made
upstairs. He gave me water but I refused to drink it and I looked up at him and he was smiling so
beautifully with his hair in that dumbass ponytail that he insisted on having for those six months
that followed.

He took care of me in a way that no one else had ever done before. I would say that he behaved
 like a mom, but still he didn’t. Sure, he gave me food and a bed to sleep in while he slept on the
couch and he cleaned up after me – but something about him just made me thinking that he wasn’t
like a mother or the father that I never had.

Not even on the one night I got so mad at him for telling me about my whole life that I slapped him
until he stopped me himself and shoved me onto the staircase and raised his hand, but never hit
me. I’m thankful that he didn’t at the moment, because many months later he did. I still have scars
and bruises after him. I feel like I got over it faster than I should, but by that time I knew that
something wasn’t right with me, so I’m going to blame it on that.

I asked him to kiss me once too, on Christmas Eve. There were northern lights that night and he
woke me up by knocking on my window. I was angry at first but I calmed down and listened while
he talked about his family – the truth this time. I was happy about it, and still frightened since I got
to know why I actually was there. Because he didn’t want be alone anymore, that he didn’t want to
talk to animals and walls for another year. At the time I told myself that it was out of sympathy –
but now I know it wasn’t.

Somehow, in some bizarre way, I had stopped hating him. I liked him. It was more than ‘like,’ even,
and that was why I didn’t get afraid of him after he had bruised me up. I knew that he was sweet
and caring, that he liked animals and that he cared for me, too. I knew that he that wasn’t him
since he told me that he would never hurt me just for the sake of hurting me.

I know he loves me. I just didn’t know that I loved him too.

But I do now, and I wish that I didn’t. That I didn’t need him as much as I actually do, that I didn’t
need his disgusting tea and horrible apple pie.
But I know that there’s not much that I can do by now since he got twelve years in jail, and waiting
for him is something that I can’t promise. But I’ll have to do my best, because I know that I can’t
continue without at least saying a proper goodbye.

Louis Tomlinson, 24, England

Los Angeles Times, 13.09.15.

Chapter End Notes

I just want to say thank you for bearing with me for all these months. Even if I kind of
lost interest at the end I did as good as I could and I know that most of you will
apprectiate that.
When I first started this I didn't know that it would get so many reads. I was screaming
in my room when it got 98 over just one night. So thank you.
So much.

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