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"How's Cliff and Clown?" Louis suggests, the puppy close to his chest like a baby.
"Oh, I love that!" Harry cheers, "You're a Clown, aren't you?" He bops the little puppy's nose. It yelps happily, wiggling its tail.
"Mine's a Cliff." Louis decides. "I can't believe we just took them." He laughs, walking closer by Harry's side, through the woods. The path in front of them gets smaller and forks in the near distance.
"They would've died. We did the right thing." Harry reasons. The woods around them fade into a forest green metallic fence at the sides. The meadow is covered in snowflakes.
"I know, but do we keep them?" Louis asks carefully. He wants to, but expressing his want would narrow him down to an immature man without principles. At least his father called him something like that when he asked to get a dog. The snow tickles his nose, melting diwn his cheeks. His fingers are freezing, but the puppy's fur keeps them warm.
Harry shrugs, "Sure. Zayn's home most of the morning, and we're there in the evening. They won't be alone."
"But I don't even know what a dog needs. Forget two." Louis doubts, scratching Cliff's head.
"Oh, I can teach you. I had four dogs when I was a kid." Harry assures him, grinning. He balances the dog in one arm and, excitedly, pulls at Louis' coat with his free hand. "Look! Deers!"
Louis follows Harry's tugs, down a rocky trail. His feet sink into the thick snow. He looks over his shoulder, seeing their footprints in the snow. The fog thickens behind him. He breathes and sees it in front of him like smoke. His hands are blood red at the knuckles from the biting wind. In front of him stretches a wide paddock. Near the fence are two deers, a brown one and a caramel swirl one. Louis mentally names it cinnamon roll. Caramel Swirls' nose looks like a heartshaped rose. it's wet and sniffling at Louis outstretched hand. "Sweetheart." He gushes, petting the deer. It licks Louis hand happily. Harry grins beside him, his puppy yelps excitedly. It paws at Harry's arm, trying to get to the deer.
"Hold still," Harry murmurs. He balances the protesting puppy and pulls out his phone. "Smile!" He takes a quick picture of Louis, the deer, and the puppy. "Adorable!"
-
They take another picture at home, with the puppies in front of them. Before Louis goes to shower and Harry starts to prepare dinner. On their long, icy way home, the two of them picked up dog food, cinnamon buns, and a pumpkin. Harry insisted on making a homemade pumpkin soup like his mother used to when he was a kid. Louis protested at first. He hasn't tried pumpkin soup, but he's convinced he'll not like it. Harry, however, stayed persistent.
Louis listens to the mingling of the dog's paws scratching over the wooden floor, and Harry's humming to his cooking playlist. He smiles quietly to himself. Despite the weather, he feels warm. It's odd, but he's comfortable.
The shower sprays cold water onto his back. He shivers visibly, making quick work of soaping himself up and washing off. He decides to settle on a rosè peeling and the fitting conditioner. It might be Harry's conditioner. His hair intrigues Louis every day. It's so healthy and thick. He shaves his legs and puts on cream to soothe the burn. He's going to get better at it someday, not today, someday.
He rubs himself dry with a towel and puts on a fresh Umbra jumper and sweatpants. He brushes his hair on smears chapstick on his lips. He feels content. The whole self-care myth might be true after all.
"Lou! Dinner."
He hurries into the kitchen barefoot and plunges down on the chair. The warm light makes him feel sleepy. He's freshly showered, and it smells heavenly. He could get used to this. Cliff stumbles into the kitchen, it spots Louis and wanddles to his chair. Louis snatches Cliff off the ground, and the dog yelps in surprise. He places it on his lap and strokes its fur gently. "Fancy a film after?"
Harry turns around, his apron tied tightly around his waist. "Sure. What's your favorite?" He asks while placing two steaming bowls of pumpkin on the table.
"Tough. I love Grease, but Mr. And Mrs. Smith is close." Liuis answers him, shoving a spoonful soup into his mouth. "Oh my god. This is so good."
Harry chuckles. He sits down beside Louis, moving his leg up on the chair. He covers his hands with his sweater. "Thank you. And I enjoy Grease too. Always watched it with my sister."
Louis smiles fondly. The dim lights and the warm soup soak his head somewhere quiet. He isn't stressed or restless, right now, he feels sleepy. He could enjoy a movie without doing anything else.
And oh, the bitterness. The soap stings his tongue. He lifts the spoon again but pauses to look at Harry. He's mesmerizing and good. He's so good. Louis misjudged him terribly, and he can feel he's getting attached. It hasn't been long, but he's so starved of affection that this could be enough to build a bridge that won't hold. Louis has an ugly personality. He gets scared, and then he tries to cope, and sometimes people get hurt.
-
Louis rests his heavy head on a pillow. The movie is playing from the living room, voices blurring out at the edges. He snuggles into the cold cushion. The matress underneath his body is so soft. He closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of the still lingering perfume.
A cracking noise echoes through the house. Louis head snaps up.
