69 For 28 || l.s

57.

Louis wakes up under a tree, the stream in front of him babbles lively. Drops of water fall onto the clear surface. Clifford jumps onto his belly and licks his face.

The sun has long since set. The first glimmer of moonlight can be glimpsed behind the gloomy grey rain clouds. An ice-cold wind brushes Louis' arms. He hears the waves crashing against the rocks from afar.

Slowly he stands up, resting one hand on Clifford's as his field of vision crinkles with small black dots. He feels the fear creep up the back of his neck as he takes in the darkness. The paranoia in the back of his mind takes over his rational thinking in seconds.

He lights a cigarette and heads home with Clifford by his side. Halfway home, Louis takes pity on his faithful dog and lifts him into his arms. Clifford yelps happily and nuzzles his snout over Louis' broken shoulder. Louis draws in a sharp breath as a sharp pain runs through his left side. He grits his teeth and carries Clifford the rest of the way.

The front door is in front of him but it doesn't feel like home. The winter months make him sluggish and depressed. He misses his family more and more with each passing day. In the months in the hospital he had learned what it means not to be loved. With each passing day, like every other, the door to his room remained closed. Harry came and went because he felt guilty. Chrissi cared for him, but was careful to touch him a little too hard, or twist the equipment a little, or jam the needle deeper into Louis' vein.

He couldn't and wouldn't fight back. One day he saw Lottie come through the door, he saw her crying at his bedside and felt her warm hand on his cold arm. It tore him up inside not being able to be there for her now that he had the chance.

Quietly he finds the courage and knocks on the wooden door. Immediately he hears footsteps on the other side, then the door is opened in front of him. He looks into Harry's green gleaming eyes, his lashes wet with tears reshaping his clear eyes. Louis feels Harry's embrace but cannot take it in. He is paralyzed standing in the doorway but also somewhere else.

"I was worried about you! You've been gone all day!"

His curls have grown longer Louis notices intently. He sets Clifford down and hands Harry the pack of cigarettes.

"Sorry."

"Mmm. Gemma's here, we made pancakes."

His memory jumps to the day he had sat on the floor with Niall, Harry tied to the stairs. And Harry wouldn't eat the pancakes. He remembered a bit of the feeling that had filled him then. So many years ago and Harry was still in his life.

"I'm going to go wash my hands. Have you set the table yet?" He asked tiredly.

"Yeah, sure. Hurry up, Lou."

Louis nods. He walks up the stairs and changes his soaked shirt. He takes one of Harry's pressed hoodies off the hanger and slides the soft material over his body. Finished changing he goes down to the kitchen where Harry and Gemma are sitting at the table. Gemma stands up with a way too big smile and hugs Louis warmly.

"Hello, you look much better! How are you?"

Her hands are on his upper arms and her eyes search his.

"Fine." Louis replies, "You?"

"Oh yeah, good too actually. The kids are a real challenge."

"Kids?"

Harry and Gemma look at each other, Louis does not understand what they want to say with their worried look. Gemma has no children, she never wanted any.

"Phoebe and Daisy, Lou. Your sisters, don't you remember?"

Louis shakes his head as he sits down, trying hard to block out the emptiness in his head.

"We took them in after the wedding." Gemma says carefully, her hand on Louis'. "After your father-"

Harry shakes his head vigorously ubd everyone in the room falls silent. Louis feels like an outsider in his own life. Like a child not old enough to handle the truth. In silence he eats half a pancake. Then they play several rounds of cards together. Gemma wins three rounds, Louis wins three. Harry, well, he's a little behind.

Each game has a stake. Gemma wishes for their winnings to go to early sports together on holiday. Louis wishes Harry would do the dishes and clean up. For the first time in so many months Louis has to smile at Harry's losing. One round at a time. It's amusing, almost reminding him of the time he played cards with Niall. Niall and his mother would sometimes put him up for days, and in the evenings when Louis didn't want to go home, they would play cards together.

"I'll open a bottle of wine, anyone?"

Louis lifts his glass, Harry doesn't. He looks at Louis with wide eyes. The strange silence fades as Gemma returns and reshuffles the cards.

After three more rounds, which Harry doesn't win either, Louis almost falls asleep on the table. His head feels heavy and the wine on top of the little food in his stomach wasn't doing him any good anyway. So he made his way up to the bedroom after saying goodnight to Gemma and Harry. His heart pulled, a twinge running through him as he sat down. He held his hand against his chest and breathed deeply until the stinging slowly subsided.

He washed his face and dabbed the cream from the scar on his eyebrow. Then he changes the bandage around his tattoo and puts some ointment on the inflamed line. Louis sighs. With the three packets of tablets in front of him, he reads the note with the dosages and generously leaves out two tablets. He knows it's wrong, but he's only in his early 30's. The amount of pills he has to take is like that of an 80 year old.

Slowly he presses the shaver over his dry skin. He shaves his legs and his intimate area, showers and goes to the bedroom in boxers. Where he leaves a wet trail of footprints.

The warm blanket he curls up in almost lulls him straight to sleep. But to disturb his rest, five minutes later Harry steps through the door. Naked. Except for a long tank top that doesn't even come to his waist. Their eyes meet for a brief moment. Louis blushes and averts his eyes.

"Jesus. Like you've never seen me naked." Harry shakes his head with a smirk and lies down in bed next to Louis. He turns the light back on and begins to read on his cell phone, which is also bright.

"Can you maybe turn that off?" Louis asks, annoyed. He angles his left leg under his warm, comfortable blanket and pushes his head deeper into his pillow. He lies on the book, his hair messy and unstyled.

"I want to read for a few more minutes."

"But I don't?"

"I do?"

"Harry." He sighs in exasperation.

"Louis." Grins Harry, mocking Louis facial expression.

"At least read out loud." He mutters, snuggling lower in the bed. Harry looks puzzled, but then begins to dim the lights and read aloud the article on castration.

The next morning Harry wakes up with his cheek on Louis' thigh. His skin smells like spring. Harry closes his eyes again. And enjoys the warmth that spreads through him. It's as if everything were as it used to be for the blink of an eye.