69 For 28 || l.s

36.

This morning, as Louis woke up, he saw land. Far away he could see a line that separated the endless water from a coast. Wide away he could make out the outline of a lighthouse, at night he swore the glimpse of its light would've shone inside the cold cabin.

A shimmer of hope run through his body at the marvelous sight of the snow, lingering over the wooden deck.
There's nothing he loves more than this, the cold air, and the scent of frozen rain. It's clear and see-through.

Much better compared to a hot greasy summer.

His nails dig through the thick layer of snow placed on the railing. His teary gaze flows over the half frozen water.
His nails look bluish, he's out here for far too long.

But he just can't leave the sight, it's far too beautiful to believe, it hadn't snowed in ages, this was definitely a sign.

A grin plastered his features. Snowflakes were falling down on his eyelashes. His whole back is white, his track pants soaking wet from the melted snow. It's really uncomfortable. Although he loves it, the peaceful nature, nothing compared to his usual Christmas depression where he'd lay in bed all day and just do nothing. It happened every Christmas, since the day he turned 17. Which is ironic, his birthday is on Christmas eve.

Everyone around him just stopped celebrating him when he reached an age where you are no longer loved and celebrated. There was no need to win his approval anymore, he had sisters. Those sweet, adorable things, and God forbid, he's the oldest.

It's not jealousy, well maybe, but sometimes he just felt how undesirable he was in certain situations. So when he left after a big fight, he thought they would be looking for him, filling reports, worrying.
It just never happened. When he looked through the big window one night and saw them all happy together, he knew he had better not come back.

Louis was an exile in his own family. He was replaceable.

A tear ran down his cheek, he quickly reached to wipe it away. Turning, he saw Harry standing on the threshold of the slightly ajar door.

Snow is reelingp from the roof of the cabin onto his tousled curls, Harry squinted his eyes and tried to shrug it off as if it hadn't happened. Then he slipped and landed on his butt, the snow still swirling on his head.

Louis looks at him. He was sitting in the snow, rubbing his butt. He hurried over to him, a puzzled expression covering his amused features. He really wanted to laugh.

People, especially kids, falling brought him joy.

Instead, he reached out his hand to Harry, "Are you okay?" he asked, helping Harry up. His warm hand rests on Harry's a little too long for his liking.

"Hurt my bloody butt." A smile creeps onto his face, one of those silly ones where his dimples show, and the little lines in his eyes deepen. It's Louis' favorite.

Sadly the moment were the two stare intensely into each others eyes forgets to appear.

"Oh great heavens!" Harry's eyes widen, as the ship does an enormous swing to the right. He tries to hold himself upright by grasping his long fingers in Louis hoodie. It's far too late, he yanks Louis down on top of himself.

The smaller one breathes heavily on top, he's laying between Harrys sprawled legs, his stomach against Harrys dick.

Louis cheeks flame. He never blushed that hard before, his whole face feels on fire, while his stomach won't stop tingling.

"Sorry!" Harry apologizes instantly, he gently places his large hands on Louis hips and pushes him down, so he himself can stand up and pull Louis up too. It's still slick, his knees wobble a little as he tries to stand, and maybe even get out of this dangerous position.