In Too Deep (Dancing With The Shadows)

one

The baby blue sky is dusted in white clouds that barely even smother the sky. Not even enough to bring the sticky heat from the sun to subside. The rustling leaves on the trees that surround the estate cause a warm breeze to pass through, no chill cooling the sweaty skin.

The fields that scatter here and there have yellowing grass, which sprinklers spurt water with all their might to keep green. The concrete floors making up the paths—towards the different fields, houses, and eventually, the top of the drive that's just almost a mile long— ripple heat waves, cooking in the sun and the smell of hot tarmac as well as the scent of the flowers peppering the gardens waft into the nose.

The gutters sitting idle on both the main house, and the cottages that surround the estate, creak and expand from where the sun heats them up, click and crack echoing in the sky. The birds tweet musically from the tree branches, with an odd pigeon's who giving that nostalgic feeling of the British Summer time.

Louis looks out from his bedroom window, the panels that of the Victorian era, much like the rest of this place. The red bricks of the mansion he calls home, as well as the wooden doors that separate all the rooms and the high beamed ceilings, are of the same timeframe.

He enjoys it though. Likes the ancient feel it gives to the place, makes it seem as though the estate hasn't caught up with the times. Well, despite the new lights in each room, and the automatic lights in the night not being a dead give away, that is.

He looks out to the meadow across the back garden, the lake shallow with the lack of rain. There's a family of Canadian geese pecking away at the grass, their goslings all fluffy bodies and small wings.

He heaves out a sigh, gives his aloe vera a light caress with the pad of his finger before frowning, grabbing the water spray bottle and giving the aloe a spritz.

"Louis!" a voice yells from downstairs, and Louis instantly rolls his eyes and groans exasperately.

He walks out his room, the floorboards creaking. He never really has to leave the upstairs.

Half the upstairs is practically his. There's a kitchenette up here, and living room, a bathroom, not to mention each room has an en suite. The three other bedrooms up here are for his sisters, but they're with his mum in Doncaster.

He decided to live with his dad here in Surrey because... well there's no need to get into that. Doncaster may have held many great memories, but there's a few that will forever haunt him. There's scars to prove it.

He steps down the carpeted stairs, going through the hallway and into his dad's study that is to the left of the stairs.

It's not exactly a big room, but it's bigger than his bedroom back at Doncaster. The deep leather chair swivels around with his dad perched upon it, rubbing his stubbled jaw.

Louis takes a deep breath in, the scent of the musky books sitting in the bookcase behind his dad's desk lifts into his nose. He gives a smile, which Peter returns.

"Would you be able to change the sheets in the cottage?" Peter asks, tapping away at his laptop on the oak desk, the clanking of the keyboard filling the silence.

Louis breathes a sigh. "They're not covered in... bodily fluid are they?"

Peter gives him a stern look, but Louis sees the humour and amusement behind his blue eyes.

Louis swivels on his heel. "Is there a new customer coming today?"

His dad hums. "Tomorrow morning, early rise for us."

Louis groans. "God, it's not Tom Holland again is it? Because I swear I'll push him in the pool next time I see him, because he's always coming here so early."