Archive of Our Own

Generally speaking there are four seasons, yet when god was creating Minnesota all he had was a blueprint of Antarctica and a couple of thumbs up from them ass-kissing angels.

If his sister hears him she’ll chant one of her 300 sermons she keeps in her back pocket on how ‘we should never underestimate god and there’s a reason behind everything bleh bleh’ but his darling sister isn’t driving down the unshovelled roads of a fucking state that looks like a baby born after Canada and Japan consummated. All so he could reach the brewery that is an hour and a half away from their home. 

But he has to drive slowly so he doesn’t crash or slip on the ice that is taking its sweet time which is more than an hour and a half.

Mind you he has passed by 15 breweries on his way but none of them were viable options because none of them belongs to her friend, Alex. 

Nepotism at its finest. 

He can’t cry and complain about it as he forgot his damn phone at home because she literally dragged him off the couch, shoved him out the door and threw her purse, jacket, keys and his trainers after him because, “I’m already so late and I have to buy flowers and set the candles and prepare food and this is the wine she likes and–”

And Louis’ brain is on a loop of I will die today I will die today I will die today. He’ll haunt the shit out of her house if he dies today.

When he pushes play on the radio to distract himself, the distinct voice that fills the car is saying,

If you could have anything, what would you want?
You say you wanna die young
Wanna die young
You say, "I wanna die young"
Wanna die young

He turns it off with a curse.

What are the chances for god sake?

When the road looks a bit less threatening to his mortality his eyes wanders to the snow-covered trees on both sides filled with god knows what. His over active imagination tells him if he slows down more he’ll probably get eaten by a snow leopard or a bald eagle. So instead of relaxing his muscles he further tenses them and drives as fast (he’s moving like a snail) as he can to get out of this snowy boulevard. 

If he moves fast he’s sure he will fulfill every prophecy of early death that had been made for him since he was born.

He’d like it if his brain could stop telling him every new experience will end up with him dying somehow. 

To stop thinking about carnivorous animals, he looks at the inside of Janet’s car and a laugh escapes him. For someone who prefers every place to be manically clean her car looks like a toddler's playroom. He makes a mental note of teasing her over it once he’s home.

700 hours later he sees the green leafy logo of the store dusted with the overnight snow. A smile pulls at his lips that he will later deny about.  

Fern Styles

He’s been here a handful of times, all due to Janet liking everything from here and him being her ultimate and only victim to drive for hours, whenever he’s home. Mind you it has always been during warmer days so his whinging and whining is usually at minimum.

Which brings him to the only silver line in this snowy hell.

Alex Styles. 

A weird friendship he developed over wine tasting and buying.

How they went from teasing and annoying to discussing Janet’s dating life to his lack thereof, he doesn’t know but he knows he likes it. He really likes her. 

He knows she likes him because he lets her gush about her perfect husband and her babies (cats and mini humans both) and in return he can moan and cry about the lack of good men and awfulness of single life. 

“I’ve got eight years on you kid, trust me that is not what you want.” She had said about the guy he was hooking up with and rapidly developing a massive crush on. He had rolled his eyes and told her, “You are not right about everything.” Only for that guy to run for the hills the moment he mentioned a friendly date.

So, he would’ve visited her soon anyway, but never in this cold. 

He doesn’t do cold. No thank you, sir.

Therefore today he’s already got a list of complaints for Alex and she will have to hear it all with a smile. In normal circumstances she’d throw him out claiming she’s busy but he knows she’d just write her gay little fanfics(He wonders if he’s the inspiration. If that’s true then at least someone is finding him useful for more than buying things from stores that are miles away.)

But nothing will happen today, because he made a quick trip to Kwick Trip and bought her favourite Cheese. Ha, Alex!

He pushes the entrance door to the store or tries to push it open but it doesn't budge. He rattles it lightly, then forcefully but it doesn’t move an inch.

“No, no, no, no.” This can’t possibly be happening right now. He has driven two hours on gauntlet-like road just to get to this goddamn store, he’s not going back empty handed. “Open up, open up, open up.”

Where the fuck is Alex?

His breath fogs in front of him and he pulls the beanie over his eyebrows. If the roads spared him, this living breathing freezer would kill him. He goes to the windows to peek in only to be met by the CLOSED sign.

“For fucksake, Alex!” 

Because he can be a toddler he frees his hand from Janet's purse by hanging it around his neck. Now with both hands at his disposal he curls them around his eyes to look inside. From his fleshy binoculars he finds the lights all switched on. 

If nobody is inside, why are all the lights on?

“Oh for godsake Alex open the fuck up!” He knocks so hard the glass rattles. 

This is what Alex does, she’ll put on the closed sign when it’s a slow day and write her fics. 

He knocks with both his fists without giving a second of breath. “I’m freezing Alex, open up!”

On receiving no results he goes around to the back door to find it also being the victim of Alex’s literary genius. “I’ll leave a bad review on your site, I'm not kidding!”

Nothing.

See this is why phones were invented. For this exact reason. 

He looks around at the snow-covered benches and his eyes find the Taproom. He doesn’t want to go there because it looks closed, the lights are off. Still for the peace of his mind he knocks at the door and with a dejected sigh comes back to the front.

Two options; One, he could wait in his– Janet’s trashy car.

Staring at the car he loudly exhales out. He was having a go at Samuel, his mortal enemy, in his dream (because he can only do that in his dream, in real life Samuel is thrice his size) and she woke him up and sent him into the wild just to go to a shop who’s owner either left all the lights on last night, but he knows Alex is anything but irresponsible when it comes to her work so that means SHE IS INSIDE AND ISN’T OPENING BECAUSE SHE’S GOT HER MUSIC ON.

Taking a deep breath and then another, and one more he thinks over his second option; go back to the gas station and beg someone for a phone call and hope Janet picks up before he throws himself into the forest and asks an animal to devour him.

It’s when he’s patting his pockets for his keys to operate option two that he sees the purse around his neck. So he had been running around with a green purse hanging on his chest. Totally normal.

But then option three is born. 

Unzipping the purse, among the mess of makeup, tissues, pens and a pocket knife he finds his weapon. Bobby pins. A lot of them at that.

Those filmmakers can’t be that dumb. They’ve shown this trick in almost every film. It must be useful or god help the profanities that will flow out of his mouth if this didn’t work.

So because he is smart, brave and absolutely desperate he lowers himself to come in eyelevel with the lock on the door and begins poking. When he’s halfway through his frustration and at the verge of banging his forehead in the door, it clicks open. 

For a second he thinks it’s Alex who opened it, but when he pushes it and finds no one on the other side, the happy scream he lets out spooks a striped skunk from the corner. He quickly shuffles in before it could see him or do something like attack his recently jovial self.

Grumbling at the snow clinging to his unlaced trainers, another courtesy of being shoved out of the door, he enters. He finds the counter or Alex’s usual throne being currently deserted. 

Placing the purse and cheese on top of the counter Louis begins to poke in the little trinkets there. He knows there's a box under here somewhere with the fake IDs she has collected over the years. “She wants a bottle of French Malbec.” He calls out, knowing she is in the backroom. 

“She’s got plans with some girl she’s probably told you about. I have mixed feelings but it’s better than the last one. I hope she won't make J pronounce kitchen utensils just to hear her accent.” Wellie was weird and Louis hopes she’s never in Janet’s vicinity ever again. She deserves someone as great as herself, not someone with internalized homophobia and freaky fetishes.

“Have you seen this girl though?” There have been some significant additions on the frame wall behind the counter since the last time he came here about seven months ago. But it’s still nothing new, it’s Alex’s family, chickens, dog, different snaps of the places she visited over the years, and most importantly, her herd of cats. 

But his favorite is one tiny polaroid of her holding a ukulele and posing not looking in the camera. He had decided when he’ll get some free time he would paint that and bring it to her, maybe on her birthday.

“She’s manically cleaning her apartment and storing all the crap in my room because it is ‘closer than the storage room.’” He rolls his eyes.

He is almost about to ask outloud, ‘Where the hell are you?’ When he hears a door closing.

He goes to the window where he previously peeked from and flips the sign to OPEN just to annoy her. 

Now that he is in the warmth of the store, looking at the white coldness outside gives him shivers.

Checking the label he picks up a beer from an already opened pack. “Alex as much as I’m content in talking to myself I’d–”

“I’m so sorry, I’m late. Have you been here for long?”

Louis looks up from the beer-can he was trying to open and….

Let’s just say he doesn’t look back at the beer again, or at any beer, or at anything. Actually he decides to not look away ever again. Or at least until he’s got a restraining order signed against himself for staring like a creep. Do they have restraining orders for staring?

Because he will make anyone run naked in this cold state if they disagree with him over the just-now-researched-and-proven fact that the man in front of him is the most beautiful human god has ever created.

Maybe he could forgive him for making Minnesota this cold. Clearly he was busy making…this.

“Hi,” Louis can bet every last penny in Janet’s purse that he squeaked.

The beautiful beautiful man chuckles and steps forward. God, he’s coming towards Louis. 

Louis doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They are still on the beer but he can’t look away from him to tell his hands to not embarrass him. The beautiful beautiful man is closer, closer, closer clo– and he stumbles.

“Oh shit,” Louis reaches out to help but the beautiful beautiful man catches himself and straightens smoothly- wow pretty and strong, Louis wants him to manhandle Louis right now.

“Oops.” he looks up as a kissable flush climbs in his cheeks and runs one hand in his beautiful beautiful hair. Is he trying to hide his embarrassment? That is so cute.

“Nobody has done it like you.” Louis grins in hopes of lessening his embarrassment while simultaneously praying the flush remains. Which is not odd at all.

But then something catastrophically disgusting, earth-shattering, totally Armageddon-coded happens, something that tilts his world upside down, something that almost makes him cry. The beautiful beautiful man goes behind the counter and now there's a counter between them.

Nooooooooooo

A whole ass (three feet) counter. Three feet of distance if Louis attached his front to his side of the counter and the beautiful beautiful man attaches his to the other. Which he isn’t doing, so there are about six bloody feet among them.

“So..how can I help you?”

We can start with a date night. 

Louis puts the can in front of him and tries to piece together a sentence that is not an attempt at flirting. What will he say, I’m here to pick up...you and leave the country. No. My sister sent me ‘cause...she thinks we are soulmates. No. Where is Alex? She...told me to give you a blow– No, for fuck sake!

And apparently he zones out for long enough staring at the beer that the man asks, “Hey, are you ok?”

In front of you, no. I’m not even decent enough for you. Not even mid. Am I your type? Would you make out with me? Date me? Marry me? Pregnant me?

“Are you lost?” 

In your eyes. In your forest green eyes that reminds me of the tropicals I’ve never been to but I feel like I have.

“My name’s Harry.”

Louis wants to wipe away the hypothetical tear at the timbre of that tone and the name that got voiced and at the lips that keep parting.

“Mate, are you with me?”

For the rest of your life if you let me– Louis snaps his jaw and swallows spit that had gathered on his tongue before he drools.

“I’m yeah. I’m–I’m ok? I’m Louis.” He extends his hand after wiping them as discreetly as he could. He’s sure there’s a creepy ass smile on his face and his cheeks are that of a clown.

Harry sheepishly raises his hands that are holding a heavy bundle of papers that Louis didn’t even see before. Louis quickly puts his hand away.

Harry, bless him, gives a small smiles and Louis puts one hand on the counter so he doesn’t faint and collapse or do something like lay prostrate.

“How are you, Louis?” Harry asks just as Louis asks, “Can I have your number?”

Silence.

The wind blows outside.

Silence.

Harry’s eyebrows reach his beautiful hairline.

Silence

Louis blinks

Silence.

Harry parts his beautiful lips, “Louis, I think–” 

Before Harry can finish the cursed sentence Louis cuts him way too loudly. Talk about being embarrassed. “Ha! Got you! I’m kidding! I have a boyfriend! We met two months ago. I love him! He’ll propose to me in spring! Yay! Lol!”

See, sometimes Louis forgets if he’s talking in-person or texting on phone. Example; just right now. Also, he lies through his teeth when he’s embarrassed. Quick, detailed, strong lies. Hence he now has a boyfriend or a soon-to-be fiancé. An imaginary, ghost boyfriend or a ghost soon-to-be fiancé.

Also, can I have your number? What in the cheap heterosexual flirting was that? 

Before any more sounds could be produced from Harry’s probably beautiful vocal cords Louis barrels on, “Anyways! Where is Alex? I was here to buy a Malbec for my sister.”

“Er..Alex..she’s busy with her– nevermind. I’m her brother. I’m covering for her right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They stand in silence.

See, Louis didn’t consider that when he asked for his number. He thought Harry was her employee. So maybe things do happen for good. And Harry is probably straight. Obviously he is straight. He is straight because…..Alex is straight too. Maybe it’s a sibling thing. Janet’s gay, so is Louis. Alex’s straight– STOP THINKING FOR FUCKSAKE.

Obviously when god was distributing common sense along with good luck Louis was holding a big perforated bucket.

Shaking a crooked finger raised at the poor beautiful man, Louis says as if he's 87 years old. “Well tell her that..she should do her job. I’m also a little brother so I know how sucky that gets.” If they make a film named Awkward, this right here will be the opening scene.

He's never wanted to sew his lips and then pour hot wax on them more than right now. He shouldn't be allowed to interact with humans, especially beautiful tall humans with curly hair.  

Louis looks at the purse resting on the counter and quickly pulls out a few bills. He needs to get what he came for then run out like that skunk, and then do mushrooms to forget this.

Janet had asked him to leave the house before her date arrives. Now he has a plan on how he'll be spending his night.

Harry chuckles and it’s tense on so many levels that Louis wants to scratch his own face off.

“So..Malbec. French. One bottle.” He pushes the money towards him and doesn’t look up from the notes. The founding fathers are judging the shit out of him. If he hadn’t already embarrassed himself enough in front of Harry he would’ve done something like flipped them all off.

When Harry doesn’t accept the money, he looks up.

A nervous smile takes over Harry’s face that's borderline apologetic. The kind that you give to those guests whose ill-mannered kids break your expensive flower vase and you can’t do anything like beat that kid to a pulp.

Is Harry about to tell him he doesn’t have the wine? Louis will kill himself right here because fucking shit this day is turning out to be.

“I can’t sell you. You're illegal according to the Natural Minimum Drinking Age Act of 1984.”

Louis is sure his face is mimicking his thoughts but still if it’s unclear he voices, “Huh?”

Harry picks up the beer can Louis had put down and places it out of reach from Louis, “I can hear your accent and I know its ok in UK but here-”

“Are you–”

“21 is the legal age.”

“I’m 23!”

Harry snaps his mouth shut, looks at Louis up and down and then says, “No.”

That's it. Nothing before or after. Just a plain ‘No.’

Maybe his non-beautiful head doesn’t have a brain in it.

“No, what? I’m not tricking you mate. I’m legal.”

“Can you show me your ID?”

“Of course, I can.” Louis immediately pulls his wallet from his pocket, only his hand comes out empty.

Oh yeah. He has a purse…Janet’s green purse that contains probably everything except his ID. 

AHHHHHH

He will burn every baked good she will make and make her watch.

“I forgot it at home.” He grits out knowing well what's coming.

What’s worse is that Harry makes a smug face that says I knew it. And fuck Louis wants to backspace the entire essay he wrote over his non-existing beauty(it’s not). 

Let it be written to never appreciate first appearances ever again.

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything then.” He folds his arms on his chest, the white tee stretching give Louis an immaculate view of his peaked nipples–

“Where the fuck is Alex?”

Where Louis expects an answer Harry just smirks. What is wrong with this guy? It’s like somebody took every quote they had heard about people's personalities going to shit the minute they open their mouth and made a person out of it and called him Harry.

“Where is she?”

“Busy.” He replies. A useless reply.

The thing is Louis’ been itching to have an argument and Harry is providing an opportunity on a silver platter.

“Call her. Call her and tell her I’m here.”

“She’s off work.”

“Of work my arse. Grab your phone and call her right now so I can go back to the warmth of my house instead of freezing in this shitty weather.”

“What did you just call the weather?”

“Call her.”

“No.”

“Harry, I’ve driven for more than 2 hours at a 40 km/hr to come here because my sister wouldn’t buy wine from anybody else. Her and Alex are best friends. Janet. Janet Tomlinson. You must have heard it if you talk to your sister.”

“I’ve never heard Alex say that name.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Louis wants to tangle his fingers in Harry’s stupid curls but not for the reason one who knows Louis would think, instead so he could shake his head and see if it’s actually hollow or Harry is suffering through an episode of brain freeze. 

Ok, ok, maybe Alex has not mentioned Janet. Maybe they don’t have the brightest sibling relation. Louis will figure this out, he will. He just needs a calm mind and sentences that do not end with an exclamation mark. “Look, I know Alex. We are friends, not the bestest of friends but I know her, ok.”

“Sure.”

“I'm not lying!”

This has the potential to go to shit very easily and quickly.

“‘Course you are not.” Harry is an arrogant piece of brain rot.

Louis glares. “The fuck is your problem?”

“Right now, you sweetie.” He leans on the counter and rests his fuckface on his fist, batting his eyelashes. “You're interrupting my lunch break. You're trying to con me to buy alcohol. And you're refusing to leave. Not to mention, you also tried to drink. Underage.” Why is his voice so sweet, as if he’s not making Louis want to smash every bottle in the store on his head and drown him in alcohol.

“I'm. Not. Underage.” Louis is gripping the wood of the counter so hard when he leans in to match Harry.

He grins and winks. “Prove it, then.”

Louis inhales to hold himself back from launching on Harry. “I see how it looks to you but you really have to trust me when I say I'm not underage. I've bought alcohol before. I’ve been doing that even before I was legal–”

“Not a smart thing to say right now.”

“Fuck! No listen, I'm old ok. And– and Alex knows me. Ask her. Just call her and tell her I'm here and she'll tell you,” he swallows and leans further in until his and Harry’s face has questionable distance between them and says, “to not be a little pig.”

Harry’s entire face contorts as he straightens like Louis electrocuted him. “Excuse me.”

This time Louis smirks. “I don't want to waste my time either sweetie. My sister’s date will start in three hours and it'll take me two alone to take this home so don't be such a pain in my arse and gimme the damn bottle.”

“You have absolutely zero negotiation skills,” Harry muses, moving away from the counter to get to the other side. “You’re not leaving this store with any alcohol, I promise you that. No matter how many tantrums you throw.” He bypasses Louis like he is part of the store and not a human who Harry is technically holding hostage right now.

“Where are you going?” Louis follows him, right on his heels.

Without an answer he goes to the shop window and flips back the sign to CLOSED. Louis’ eyes catch his own reflection that he had ignored before and he bites back a curse. 

He’s wearing a beanie with the words, I’m a cute cow, he nicked from one of Liam’s nephews. And it gets worse when he takes it off, his hair is all matted back and he looks like an evil Disney villain. He puts it back.

Then he looks down on himself and realizes why saying he is in fact legal is useless right now.

Louis-no sense of fashion-Tomlinson is wearing three different tees, all visible at the hem because of their different sizes and over that he is wearing a coat too big for him. Janet and her obsession with coats double her size. Because that wasn’t enough to humiliate him, he’s got yellow PJs on his legs with orange dots. 

Who the fuck make these things? Why do people consume these? What happened to clothes that were more than cute? When did he boughs these PJs? Why wouldn't Janet throw his own coat after him instead of hers? Where the fuck is Alex? 

He wants to apologize to God for every sarcastic thing he said on his way over.

Alex was supposed to be here, because she would never judge him for his clothes and she’s not his recently developed & dead potential crush who he was moments ago trying to impress. 

He turns around to find Harry again behind the counter setting crates.

No surprise he said no to Louis, Louis looks like a kid who got separated at an amusement park.

“I know the name of that emu,“ when Harry looks up, Louis points at the corner where a cardboard cut out of an emu stands, “Luupa. He’s called Luupa. See! I know that because I've been here before.”

Harry raises an unimpressed brow and nods towards the foot of the cardboard. Louis frowns and looks at what the fuck Harry is saying now only to see the words LUUPA LOOPS scribbled with a sharpie in Alex’s handwriting.

“For fuck sake.”

“You can leave now.”

“Why are you not calling her?”

“My phone's dead.”

“Then charge it.”

“I will, once you leave.”

“Charge it now, and call her.”

“I'm not disturbing her–”

“Bullshit!”

“Hey–”

“I know her! She has seven hundred cats and one dog which is my favorite if I add–”

Harry turns to the picture frames of all the cats gracing the wall behind the counter and a few with a Saint Bernard.

“She thinks that’s the cutest piece of furniture.” Louis points to the purple trolley Alex didn’t let him touch last year when he offered to ride it down the aisles.

Harry doesn’t budge.

Louis groans, “ok she loves Minnesota. And, and, hates capitalism and loves wine–” 

“That's the recipe of every Minnesotan.”

“She doesn’t like my favourite singer–”

Interrupting with a self-assured nod Harry says, “Yeah, me too.”

“Oh fuck you, you don’t even know who I’m talking about!”

He shrugs, totally unbothered. Louis wants to repeatedly punch him.

“I wish you go bald.” 

“Back at ya!” Harry blows a kiss.

Louis’ jaw aches from how hard and how much he is clenching it.

“Her husband is a potential gay awakening of all of Minnesota and if Instagram can be trusted then a lot of people world wide, too. He’s hot!”

If Louis had had a minute crush on him when Alex had shown him a picture of them then that’s Louis’ secret and he will have to drain every bottle in this store into himself in order to say that out loud. Considering the current conundrum, that isn’t happening.  

“That literally makes you sound like a stalker.”

Louis groans, louder, about to tug at his own hair roots. He would’ve already done it if not for the beanie. His gesticulative tendencies are compromised by a lot.

As a last ditch effort he looks around, to get anything. Any idea to persuade the human shaped ass in front of him. Why did they not talk more about childhood stories so he could give Harry–

“Fanfics! She writes fics! About..about boybands! She writes them with Janet! They both do!”

Louis should've started with that. That’s not something that every random customer would know. A short-lived happiness courses through his body only to be crushed because as he said before, Harry is an ass with a severe deficiency of the empathy-hormone because he says, “Well, that still doesn't prove your age.”

“Harry tell me why would I be in a liquor store so far from my home if I couldn't buy any?”

“There are a hundred scenarios –”

Stretching himself, Louis quickly finds the beer Harry had placed away from him, opens it, “Cheers.” He drinks it. 

Harry’s mouth falls open and Louis holds the beer tight, ready to run behind the aisles if Harry will try to snatch it from him. 

See, these thoughts and the potential that Louis might do something like this is the reason he’s assumed to be fucking underage. 

God why make him short? If he was giving more than five feet to Janet and they were meant to be siblings then what was the grudge with Louis? What did he do? Why? And if that’s how he was supposed to be then why make every other member of his fucked up specie tall. Why not make him a girl, huh? At least then Harry wouldn't be so impervious? 

And then they say Louis’ a whiny bitch. What they don’t get is that he can’t intimidate people so he has to annoy the fuck out of them, which 9 out of 10 times works.

“Are you serious?” Harry is more shocked than angry.

Why is it not working?

“Very.” Louis takes another sip.

Harry clicks his tongue, “I will report–”

“Good luck with that.” Louis gives him a thumbs up and turns his face up gulping down more beer, just to make a point.

When he brings his hand down, Harry is not in sight. “Hey!”

Louis sees the backdoor shutting close and his feet move on their own accord. He supports their decision.

He’ll commit theft if he has to but he will not get out of here until the bottle is sitting in his passenger seat.

“You are not getting rid of me, Styles.” He threatens Harry's back as his stupid damningly long legs carry him at a speed that Louis’ still-chilly joints refuse to.

Because he is a certified ass he doesn’t stop, and because so is Louis, neither does he. He turns a corner and Louis speeds up.

So Harry is the 10th case, doesn’t matter, Louis may be sickeningly single, but he’s never on the losing side. He always finds benefit in everything.

When he turns the corner after him, it’s empty. He’s in the back of the store with a bunch of doors and he doesn’t know which one Harry went in. “Fucker,” he mutters and starts opening every door.  

Every room is lit up and shows an absence of the giraffe Louis followed here.

“Where the fuck did you go, you clown?”

A loud thud sounds from the room he had just peered into and Louis opens it again to see him standing beside the table.

“What the fuck? You weren't here a second ago?”

Harry smirks.

“Weirdo.” He looks at the contents on the table, the bottle horizontal and rolling towards the edge. “Wow, hiding under the table isn't childish at all. Yet somehow I am still underage to buy wine that I won’t even drink.”

“You are drinking beer.” He nods to the can in Louis’ hand.

“Oh fuckoff. It’s shit anyway.” It’s not.

“Yet you are still here.” The bottle almost falls off the edge but Harry only, carelessly, leans against the wall. 

Louis catches it before it could fall. He places it back on the table along with his beer. Beside the beer resides a half-eaten sandwich on a plate. 

He looks at Harry who’s looking at him already and without breaking eye-contact picks his sandwich and takes an obnoxiously big bite.

Harry just stares at him with wide eyes. 

“That was lunch.”

Louis answers with his cheeks filled, “I know, hence the eating.” A tiny bit of lettuce falls out and he doesn’t bother cleaning it, trying his best to irritate Harry. And considering the way his eyes zeroes in on the micromillimeter of shred, it’s working.

After swallowing Louis asks, “Why the fuck were you eating a cold sandwich? Isn’t the weather doing that enough for you?”

“What do you have against the weather?” He asks as if he’s personally offended.

Isn’t weather a small talk type of topic? Well the amount of negative and immensely strong opinions Louis has for it, it's not actually.

“It’s shitty.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“There’s snow.”

Harry furrows his brow and makes his way over. “What's wrong with snow?”

Louis tries to not show the effect Harry low-key has on him as he folds his hand on his chest after putting down the half-eaten cold sandwich. “When was the last time you drove?”

Harry doesn’t answer and Louis sees the way he clenches his jaw.

“I could’ve died coming here.” Louis adds.

“Lucky me, then.” Harry looks annoyingly pretty- decent, he looks decent when he rolls his eyes, Louis decides.

Before that thread of thought increases in length he picks up the can, “Cheers, again.”

“If our weather is so shit then why are you here?” Oh, Harry is irritated by this. Oh wow. Fantastic.

Hanging his free arm by his side, Louis shakes his hand to bring his sleeve to his fingers and holds the hem of it. “Our? You live here? How come I’ve never seen you before?” He pouts and bats his eyelashes, just to get under his skin.

“Maybe because you had your head up your arse.”

Louis narrows his eyes, places the beer back and gets on his tippy toes, “Or maybe, you're not her brother at all, considering I’ve never heard her talk about you once.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Louis smiles like Janet's cat, Yankee, when he sees anyone eating in his presence. 

One thing Louis is good at, is never letting go of a circumstance where he could bring in a reference of his favourite things.

So with his best imitation of a southern accent he puts his hands on his hips and says, “well if the boot fits.” 

His victory, as has been the culture of the hour, is short-lived because the reference goes over Harry’s head and he stares blankly. “Oh dear god you don’t know what I’m talking about. Have you never watched Modern Family?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“And you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“I have a great memory and that scene wasn’t in it.”

“Cam says it to Pam when–”

“Who’s Pam?”

Louis stares at him. “How many seasons have you watched?”

“The one that’s out.”

“There are eleven!”

“Oh.”

“Wow. Forget you doubting me, I’m doubting you. Are you even Alex’s brother? What happened to her taste? I thought she was literally scarily up to date with stuff.”

Harry’s got that greenish-bluish quality to his eyes but his are still greener than hers, they’ve got a similar face, but how the hell Harry’s lips are so plump is a mystery.

His running mouth is an indication as well but where Alex makes him laugh, he is infuriating Louis to no end.

Harry rolls his eyes (pretty) and turns to the open door to leave. Just like that. As if Louis is not here, talking to him. “Hey!” Again for some reason Louis is left following him. “Where are you going?”

Harry doesn’t stop. 

“Are you deaf from behind?”

Finally Harry stops in front of a door. 

“Does this work?” He raises his hand to flick Harry’s ear but he frowns and steps back as if Louis just crossed some sacred line he didn’t even know existed. 

“I’ll show you how great Minnesota is.” He tells him with a raised chin.

“I don’t care! I just want–

Nodding towards the door he smirks, “If you do this I’ll give you what you want.” 

Eyes narrowed, Louis tentatively opens the door to reveal stairs, going up.

“That leads to?”

“Roof.” Harry answers like it’s obvious. 

“No thank you, Grandpa.”

There’s a plate on the door Louis didn’t notice before that says ‘Roof’ but under it says, RESTRICTED in bright red.

“It’s restricted.”

“You don’t want your precious wine?”

Louis bites the insides of his cheeks, probably exhaling like a bull in an arena. He leans out and looks at the stairs again. It’s not that many, so he sighs and turns to Harry with a raised finger. “I want my bottle the moment we are back in here.”

“Pinky promise, kid.” Harry smirks and again leaves Louis to follow him.

“Aww, you falling in your role of grandpa, sweetie.” What he doesn’t say is how much he sounds like Alex when he says ‘kid.’

As usual Harry ignores him, his steps so easy like he has done this plenty of times.

“This is not safe.” Louis says the moment he steps on the boundary-less roof covered in a thick blanket of snow. One misstep and he's dead.

“And neither is life, yet you're living.”

Louis gives him a somber look. Harry stays as unaffected as ever and steps in the Narnia. 

It’s so cold, even when there’s no active snow fall. Soon his teeth will begin clattering like a fuel-deprived generator.

He doesn't move until he hears Harry's voice getting an alluring quality to it, “do it for the wine, come on.” Like Louis is some hesitant pet who needs nudges or Ariel from The Little Mermaid.

He tells himself that shoving Harry off the roof is enticing indeed, but he can never hurt Alex even if Harry will only break his legs potentially. So with every step he murmurs, “Do it for Alex. Do it for wine. On Janet's cake squeeze a big lime.”

Walking like he’s got a diaper on, he finally reaches the center where Harry is waiting for him. Muttering and mumbling at the snow covering half his calves, he covers his ears and pulls his sleeves over his hand and holds the hem in his fists. The beanie forces his eyes into tiny slits and he probably looks like some ugly ass …something.

Wow he can’t even think.

Fuck this temperature. Fuck the snow. 

He looks up to voice it, not caring if he looks like an ugly-ass-something to Harry. 

But Harry is a cheater who does the worst thing one could do when one is freezing their tits off.

Harry smiles.

Big and real. Two dimples pop in his cheeks as if they came to witness it too. Like townspeople coming to see a new shop opening. Like a mother seeing her baby stand up for the first time. Like two lovers meeting after a long while.

And Louis…Louis forgets everything. The anger, the snow, the wine, all just misted away and he is left staring.

Probably like a lunatic his eyes trace the curls that are falling over Harry’s forehead and then getting swept with the wind. The eyes he could swear will match the trees if the fucking snow could melt away for a second. He wonders what Harry’s eyes will look like in the light of the summer sun. What he will look like? 

Louis wants to paint him. Not to gift him or impress anyone, just because he wants to. He needs to paint. He needs to paint Harry.

He stops himself at that. 

What? 

Jesus, shut up. He’s Alex’s brother, don't be creepy. Stop it, Louis. Put the feelings in a bottle and bury it in the 28 inches of snow Minnesota has on a regular basis.      

“Come on.” Harry moves towards the edge of the roof.

“No, no, no. This seems like your plan to kill me. I look small but trust me I know martial arts.” He raises his arms and tries to take the position because he is dramatic.

Harry laughs and Louis’ hands fall at his side with double the speed with which they were raised with. The thing about snow is, even when it's 28 inches that it melts. 

He wants to stare at Harry for hours. Freeze him and place him in the center of a window that has a view of two waterfalls at the sides. 

There is no visible sun but the sky is still lit, and Harry’s features are welcoming the soft lights so beautifully. His face, his body, him entirely, feels like at home. Like the snow and whiteness is where Harry was made to exist.

Snapping out of his haze he tells Harry. “I’m not kidding, Styles. Don’t laugh at me. Me and Janet got black belts.” If he's blushing that’s also on– yes you’re right. Fucking snow.

Harry rolls his eyes like Louis said the most ridiculous thing ever. As if he himself doesn't look like those alluring sirens who eat the pirates raw. Not that he thinks it'll be any different if they deep fried them. Jesus, he needs to stop thinking. 

“Trust me the last thing I want is for you to be dead.”

Louis runs a tongue over his lips, “So you do want it.”

“Would you come here already?”

“How come you are not cold?”

He’s wearing a single tee and jeans that will probably take three people to take off of him.

Stop thinking of taking off Harry’s jeans.

Grumbling Louis goes because he’s weak for beautiful men. He’s weak and pathetic.

Still staying several feet away from the edge he puts his feet down. “Not moving an inch from here.” Stomping his foot wasn’t a good idea because the snow flies and gets caught on his clothes. He quickly dusts it off before it melts.

“That’s fine, now look there.”

Glaring first and then following Harry’s finger he audibly gasps, the snow on his clothes forgotten, “Ohmygod!”

In the distance on the frozen floor of Minnesota some idiot has cut a huge circle on the ice and has gotten a tent set over it. And somehow the circle is moving. Rotating.

“What? How? How is it moving?”

“Motor.”

He sputters. “And that- that’s allowed? Like– just allowed. Like that?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don’t know, ‘cause it’s a safety hazard. He could drown." The ice could break and he could drown in icy water.

Harry’s face remains in its amused glory. “A, if it happens he’ll swim. B, it won’t happen.”

“Do you know him?” Louis turns to him.

He shakes his head.

“Then how do you know he won’t drown and die!”

“You’re awfully obsessed with death.” He tilts his head like a bird.

Louis looks away. “I’m not obsessed."

“So if I ask you to do that, will you?”

“Over my dead body.” He snaps.

Harry grins and Louis wants to punch it right off.

“It’s called an ice carousel. And it’s not done on thin ice,” he scoffs. “You check the thickness first and then…you know.” He waves his arms towards what Louis could only just stare at. “It won’t drown–”

“God, what is he doing now?” Louis is actually worried for the man’s life now.

He hears Harry chuckling, “fishing.”

“I…”

“You don’t like that.”

“I don’t.” He says quickly. “I’m..just anxious. It’s not as harmless as you are making it out to be.”

“And I just think you don’t take risks.”

Louis gets an ugly feeling in his chest he ignores. Louis takes risks, he's taken plenty.

“Not the intentional ones.” Harry says like he heard him. Louis grits his teeth and remains silent.

For some reason Harry suddenly starts talking about the procedure of how it’s done, ignoring the internal sinking he has triggered in Louis. “You dig a pole in the center, then you mark the circle around it. You get a chainsaw and cut the ice, then push the pieces of ice under the carousel to entirely separate it from the rest of the ground. Then dig another tiny hole and put a motor inside, voilà!”

Louis blinks.

“People gather around, set a fire. It’s fun. Dad used to do it when we were kids. It was the highlight of our winters. Best time ever.”

Louis’ mind absolutely forgets what he was getting anxious over. He blames it on Harry’s voice, it’s annoyingly soothing and doesn’t fluctuate like Louis’. “That..that doesn’t sound that bad.”

“It’s a sort of a tradition, really. You’ve never seen it before?”

“I..I’m not from here. I mean duh,” he rolls his eyes at himself, “My uni’s back in Cotswolds and we do other shit. Surprisingly as an arts major I’m really ..not much of an adventurer. Not like that at least. When I’m here I prefer spending time with my family– Janet I mean. She…”

He looks over at Harry and finds him already focused on him. He quickly looks away, thinking over if he should tell about his family to a mere stranger, then he tells himself that it’s Alex’s brother. He can trust him, right? But not every sibling is the same. He knows that. 

Somebody make him stop thinking.

“She shifted from there to here three years ago for a job. I didn’t. I had uni,” that is not the entire reason but that’s staying inside. “So... Don’t usually have time to ..do this.”

Why is he feeling guilty?

“Aren’t art majors supposed to be, I don't know, more chill.”

“Yeah.”

They stay in silence and see the man finally catch a fish. Louis uncontrollably lets out a loud yell. “He did it!”

“Yep.”

“Shit. Will my voice reach him?”

Harry purses his lips like he’s trying to not show he’s amused. “I don’t know.”

“Can I shout?”

He chuckles finally. “Be my guest.” He says taking a step back.

“Hey! Hey mate!” Louis’ voice echoes but the man doesn’t look. To be fair he’s quite far away. “This is fucking cool what you’re doing!” Louis yells anyway. 

“He’s probably got earbuds.” 

“Probably.” Louis sighs.

After a while Harry asks, “Still hate it?”

“I didn’t say I hated it…just..” He shuts his eyes when he can’t find the word.

Ok he doesn’t hate it….anymore. He’s allowed a change of opinion, alright. He’s not doing this to please Harry. Is he?

.

.

No. He’s not. He was never been offered such a fresh and different approach before. Yes. Alex was more like ‘I’ll bang your head if you say shit about my home,’ so he didn’t. But Harry…Louis likes Harry– PLATONICALLY, obviously. 

Louis opens his eyes when he hears Harry suddenly move to the other end. Louis doesn’t cry out after him but immediately follows. When did that happen? Who knows.

He doesn’t bat an eye and starts talking like he knows Louis is right behind him. “The wilderness of Minnesota is the best part in my opinion. Lake Superior. You should visit it. It's Alex's favorite place. It'll be frozen right now. You know Black Beach, in Duluth, you must’ve heard about it at least, no?”

He plops on the edge of the roof. His legs dangling. No care for the snow that will seep in his clothes. Or the possibility of slipping to his paralysis.

“Don’t do that.” Louis’ breath hitches from panic.

Harry tsks, “I didn't do that, it's all been here forever.”

“I mean don’t sit there.”

Harry doesn’t even look, just says over his shoulder. “Oh baby, nothing will happen to me.”

BABY

“You could die–”

“Nope.” His eyes don't move away from the rows and rows of trees with white tops.

Louis swallows and tells himself that nothing will happen to Harry. Trying his best to appear non-chalant he says, “Well, I'm not sitting on the snow.”

“Bring that stool then.” He points in a random direction.

Louis follows the direction and sees a stool, in a slight bit of shade near the door they entered from, so somewhat saved from the evil snow. After reluctantly dragging it, he sets it two feet away from Harry.

“Look I know you are not scared and prolly have done this before. But I am, so can you please budge back a bit?”

Harry finally looks at him and this look is different. It’s not a glare, not curiosity, not amusement, maybe surprise, maybe something else. But whatever it is, is good because Harry shifts back blindly until he’s closer to the stool. His movements doesn't even disturb the evenly spread snow compared to the mess Louis has created around himself.

Louis props himself on the stool and Harry shifts a little bit closer, until he is between Louis’ knees with his back to him.

Louis holds back the urge to just place his hands on his shoulder, or pet his head, or stroke his scalp. Platonically. Obviously.

“I don’t know how your ass is not freezing.” He mumbles, willing his self-triggered blush to go down.

“It’s not as good as yours.” Harry stretches his head up until he sees Louis upside down.

God Louis wants nothing more than to pull the Spiderman kiss right this moment and see if Harry’s lips are cold because they look really, really warm. 

Louis looks away with a forceful chuckle. “Fuck off. Don't flirt with me,” he wets his lips.

“‘Cause you have a boyfriend.” Harry doesn’t look away, doesn’t change his position. Still stretching at, what must be a painful angle. Then he scrunches his nose, “Little cheating bastard, aren’t you?”

“Hey! I'm not cheating, I don't...” He sighs out, “I don’t have a boyfriend. You know, I don’t.” Louis holds an accusatory finger at him. Only a fool could not realize Louis was lying through his teeth.

Look, Louis said he lies, he didn’t say he was good at it. If he had been, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Not that he is complaining.

“Yeah and why’s that?”

“Cause men are ass.” Louis scoffs.

“Fair enough.” Harry nods, looking ahead again.

“Now what you’ve got me on a stool for?”

“To look.”

Finally Louis looks at the forest he had seen while driving. For some reason it still looks just as majestic even when he has a higher vantage point. The sun is playing hide and seek with the animals among the vast and tightly knitted trees.

A weird looking cat comes to the stream and Harry says, “That's a Lynx. Canada Lynx.”

Louis frowns. “It’s a cat..but big?”

“Yeah..but that’s a quite disrespectful explanation.” Harry's voice doesn’t hold any irritation but it still affects Louis just as much.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean that.” He quickly responds like a chastised child. What the hell? What is he doing?

“That’s a medium-sized cat, yes. But can’t you see the distinct features?”

Louis, because suddenly he’s got a people pleasing urge inside him, or maybe it's more specific to his company, his current company to be precise, because he finds himself really focusing to determine the features of the animal. “They’ve got..unique ears.”

“They are endangered.”

Louis is not sure when was the last time he talked about endangered animals, probably back in school in the science class he was never a fan of. But despite all of it, his heart gives a vague stutter at Harry's tone.

It’s suddenly sad, and utterly defeated.

“They have been for a long time. People used to kill them for fur. When that finally got banned, we decided to build roads. They are solitary creatures so they have their territories. These– these roads make it easier for other species to find them and attack. Coyotes, wolves, you know.”

No, Louis doesn’t. He didn’t. Still every word somehow pulls at his heart, he’s not sure if it’s the words, or the voice behind the words, or the emotion behind the voice, or. Or it’s just Harry. 

“Fragmentation also played a part and– and trapping just for the sake of quelling curiosity, can you believe it? They think they can make a pet out of them, like some house cat.” With every word his voice turns angry.

Louis doesn’t say anything, too confused, and too entranced to everything going on Harry's face. He’s leaning on one side so he can have a view of the barrage of emotions that are moving Harry’s facial features.

“We just need to have everything, don’t we? Everything from everywhere, of every age, size, color. If we don’t understand it. If we’ve never seen it. We just want it. Desire is a nasty thing. House cat.” He scoffs.

Uncontrollably Louis blurts out, “It has to be illegal. The- the roads..and the frag-fragmentation, you said. It has to be illegal.”

Harry turns his head to look up at him and with a sad tilt to his lips says, "Haven't you heard? Nothing is illegal now.”

Louis swallows.

Looking ahead he continues, “somebody could come ramming the store front and shoot over everything and there won’t be any repercussions. Sure the social media will catch fire, twitter will become a smoking place but then silence. People will forget. Out of sight, out of mind. Everything will be back to where it was.” The emotion somehow deepens and the voice lowers. “And that snow you keep cursing, if there isn’t enough of it, they’ll die. They need thick snow.”

The previously present guilt doubles and then triples. Pieces of his heart chips away with the pain and passion, accompanied with the helplessness in Harry’s voice.

He moves to put a hand on his shoulder but Harry quickly stands up. So then so does Louis. "I'm sorry, Harry. I-”

"Don't be sorry, just not be like them.”

Louis’ heart loses a bigger piece at that and he nods immediately, “I won’t. I won’t. I mean I’m a painter. I’m graduating in Arts. I’ve just told you that. But-”

“Maybe you can paint them someday.”

“Yeah, yeah. They are beautiful. They..yeah.”

They both look at the retreating figure of the animal.

“They are called Canada Lynx?” He asks.

“They are still in Canada and Alaska but many northern US states used to have an abundance of them. Here, Wisconsin, Colorado. But…now they– they are endangered and no one is fighting for them. Just not them, but the entire wildlife here. Climate change is affecting so many lives, this is just one example. Cricket frog, rattlesnake, and, and there used to be this butterfly. It was called something skipperling. I can’t remember the full name but me and Alex used to call it Skippy and chase it around as kids. But it’s..nowhere here now. They were delicate, and couldn't fly higher..and..We fucked it, like we always do.”

We fucked it, like we always do.

Sometimes Louis wants to be anything but human. 

Some nights he feels the pain of all the humanity burdening his shoulders and he curls in himself and sobs until the exhaustion lulls him to sleep. He hates who he is, he hates everything with a burning intensity. He finds everything meaningless. There are theories and philosophies he’s too tired to search out, about this endless meaninglessness.  

Some days the slightest changes irritates him. He will see an interview of a celebrity he stans and see them dodging questions about the cruelties going on in the world and he’d be filled with such a strong contempt to burn everything. Burn them down.

Every night he becomes the self-righteous saviour of the world with policies that could save the earth and every morning he cringes at his night self, oh so arrogant thinking he is the greatest. 

His morning self is logical, it’s rational, it tells him those celebrities are trying to save their careers, save the loved ones who will face repercussions. That he needs to stop treating celebrities as politicians and politicians as celebrities. But the politicians, the so-called leaders were never an option. He doesn't even look at them let alone look up at them. The power wielders are not people, they are black holes. The faster he learns that the better.

But then comes the age old question, who is he to judge somebody he doesn’t know personally in any capacity? Who gave him the right to assume and project his frustrations on any of them? 

He tells himself that there are people capable of drinking blood, assaulting innocents, ruining lives. That there are worse people.

But silence is complicity. 

Just to lie awake that night to wonder how one human can hurt another without so much as a furrow in their brow. What type of gratification can one drive from seeing pain? What type of fucked up world is this? How can he just go about his day and not do anything? And the most painful, how can people not see? How can they ignore it?

The next morning he tells himself to shut the fuck up, keep his head down, and walk in his own lane.

The same night he’d smash his fist repeatedly in the bathroom wall and pray and wish and stay on his knees begging for something to kill him. 

Every morning he regrets his night self

Every night he hates his morning self.

Then he rinses and repeats because there’s nothing sweeter than self-victimization. Because what can he do right?

That’s why he wants to be an eagle, a horse, the plastic wrapper at the bottom of a dustbin, the last sip of wine that remains inside the bottle, the first thesis that gets rejected, a forgotten answer, a Canada lynx, a skippy. He wants to be a victim so bad, just so he could feel pain inflicted by someone else. So he could justify his emotions. He wants to cry over losing something and not because he made a scenario in his head and everybody died in that scenario.

And that’s serious. All of it is too serious, too dark, too unnecessary, too intense. He once read about a character who believed he is only acceptable in small doses and boy did he relate to that. He looks around and sees people having a much tougher life than his, much complicated, with much more severe consequences. 

So he keeps it in and then he mistakes himself as one big sufferer when he’s nothing but a criminal himself, committing crime against his own body and soul.

See he knows it. 

Self-awareness is a bitch.

And the worse part is, sometimes he gathers all the shards of braveness he has in himself and tries to say it. Tell someone. Tell that he feels it too. His pretty life wrapped in a bow is hard because there’s no barrier. That’s why the bow becomes suffocating like it’s strangling him and pretty turns so sharp he can only squint when he looks at it. 

But he can’t voice any of it when he opens his mouth because selfishness and ungratefulness are very easy to be tagged with. So it all just sticks in his vocal cords and when he forces them out his throat closes.

So he pastes a smile that has pity in it and prays there’s that manipulative hope in his eyes when he looks at Harry.

Both emotions slip his grip when he finds Harry already studying him. 

“Will you fuck it too?”

No. But I’m doing nothing to unfuck it and that makes me just as bad, innit? 

“My friend, Liam, back in London, he’s..he’ll be a lawyer. I can..I can ask him to-to..fight for them.”

What is he saying?

“Yeah…do that.” The rest of the statement doesn’t get voiced yet echoes between them. Yeah do that, but what about you? 

He hopes Harry won't ask him again. He doesn’t want to talk about himself. He’s just met Harry. Harry looks kind but he’s also Alex’s brother. Alex is friends with Janet. And Janet is his family who he can’t worry. Not anymore. Not ever again.

So he breathes in, wills his throat to relax, nothing is getting out. We are still strong, still safe. No one knows our mistakes. Everyone has anxiety and depression and colorful mental disorders, most people are worse than you. 

People are dying by too many bombs and too little breaths. Animals are serving and starving. Flowers and wilting and wasting. 

If you are not helping it, you are not adding to it either, Louis. 

He sees his breath fogging in front of him and closes his eyes. The wind chills his eyelids and he lets it. The cold couldn’t be that bad if it is saving lives too. He reopens them and stares and stares and stares at whatever his eyes find. 

He sees more people on the ice carousel now. There are kids and women. It looks like the man’s family joined him. 

He turns to look for Harry but he’s not in front of him anymore. “How can you move so silently, you freak?” He looks to his right and finds Harry staring at a heap of snow. As if feeling his eyes, he looks up. 

“Absolutely not.” Louis walks or more like waddles over to him.

“I haven't said anything.” Harry whines.

It's beautiful.

“Your stupid face did.” Louis hisses, hiding his goofy smile.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No Harry–” He only just protects himself when Harry throws a snow ball at him.

“We’ll fall to our deaths, Harold, stop it.”

Harry pauses mid-attack, “Harold?”

“Yeah, Harold, don’t do it.”

He laughs and throws another, this one hits Louis’ shoulder.

“You’ll regret it, Harold.”

“We’ll see!” 

Louis all but attacks him then. There’s no protection to hide except just keep throwing on each other.

“Careful.” Harry says dodging and Louis realizes he’s stepped closer to the edge. He quickly shuffles forward just to be met by another ball in his face.

“Fuck you, coward!”

Harry’s laugh rings and somehow Louis’ giggles twirls with it and suddenly they are two little kids. He imagines Janet and Alex bursting on the roof and chastising them. He imagines putting it all on Harry and he imagines the scowl on Harry’s face and that expression of total disbelief he so easily falls into.

“Just let me hit you once, to save my dignity.” He wails when he misses another time. For some unfathomable reason none of Louis’ aims are working. Which is unheard of because he and Zayn spend most of their time playing darts back at his house. Niall is shit, and Liam is decent, but him and Zayn are very competitive, and with good reasons. So why the fuck is his aim not reaching Harry?

He realizes he can't find the other part of the annoyance he’s outwardly showing Harry. There’s no heat in it, no actual irritation. He’s just ok, letting Harry all but pour him with snow while he doesn’t even move a single hair of his in retaliation. 

He is laughing, laughing not to adapt, or to maintain peace, or for any other reason except just because he wants to.

“Ok, ok, hold up.” Harry raises his hands and with anybody else Louis would’ve not even care about it but with Harry he stops. Immediately. Embarrassingly.

What is happening to him?

“Aw you knew you'd lose if you didn’t stop.” Louis coos, trying to hide his embarrassment at his stream of thoughts, his fond at the way Harry has his hands up, and at his flush that is refusing to go down. 

What's the worst that could happen? Harry could reject him. Isn't that already done? So what else? Harry could like him. Maybe Alex could tell Harry that Louis is infact not underage, instead he's old, responsible, and hot and Louis should just kill himself because damn gang he's reached new heights of shameless!

“Got to show something." Harry comes to stand in front of him.

“Now what?” He dares a step closer to him. Closer than he has been. He raises his face with a defiant smirk.

Let's just take a chance, he tells himself. One risk. 

Harry’s gaze makes him blush and he stops himself before he bites his lip. 

“That.” He whispers, a slight nod to the side.

Reluctantly Louis looks away to see the trees he has already spent countless minutes staring at. It’s just the same.

“Don’t look away.” Harry murmurs.

Louis tells every joint of his body to still.

“Wait.” Harry whispers, the air wooshes past them. “There.” he says and like a clockwork a group of tiny birds take flight together. 

“Woah!”

It’s unbelievable how in sync they are, and Louis can’t look away.

“Piping Plovers. They are migrating.”

“That’s– wow. I– wow.”

The birds fly away in the distance and make these distinct calls making them both giggle. It fills the entire sky with their ricocheting sounds.

“How do you know they were about to fly?” Harry looks like someone who’d have a time table of which animal comes when.

“Do you still hate Minnesota?” Harry asks, instead.

“I never said–” He interrupts himself at the look Harry gives him. “Ok fine…but..”

“I know it might not be enough to change your mind. But..”

“I don’t hate it here, Harry. I just…miss being in Cotswolds, I guess." All air leaves him at the small insignificant admission, he's been avoiding even from himself.

No going back now.

Technically he can back track but he looks at Harry, who has all his attention zeroed in on him, hopeful curiosity burning in his eyes. And Louis can't, he just can't disappoint him.

"I miss that more and J moving here felt like… she moved on from something I still haven’t and I might never. I think I just..held a grudge against this place because we were happy. And now she’s happy and I call this place my home because she’s here but I...don’t feel it.”

It's all-out now.

“You feel your home is?”

“Cotswold. Duh.”

“Then that’s your home.”

“But my family is here.” He whines, looking at his feet. 

“So?” Harry bends down a little to catch his eyes.

“So you can’t have a family and not call their place a home. It’s home where she is.”

“Then you have two homes.”

“I- I…”

Harry nods like his word is final. Then sits on the ground blinking up at Louis. 

“I’m not sitting there.”

“Hence we placed your throne here, your highness.” He waves towards the rickety stool and Louis rolls his eyes, ignoring the warmth that’s coming from the inside.

“I..my friends. The lads, they are family too. We all live at my house.” He sets the stool in front of Harry.

“Lucky you, no? You’ve got two places to call home now and neither of them have to be cancelled for the other to feel important.” Harry says it like it’s so easy. Just like that.

Louis exhales out of his mouth, and sits down. “I should’ve thought of that myself. I had thought of it, I swear, but then I..”

“Sometimes your own words are not enough. Even when you’re right, you need someone else to tell you you’re right for that ‘I know, right’ moment to happen. Little validation doesn’t hurt anyone. We all need that.” Harry shrugs. “I’m happy to help.”

Louis huffs out a laugh.

It disturbs him in the best ways how Harry communicates. Like everything is simple. His sentences ends with periods, where Louis' ends with question marks.

He sees the way Harry’s hair hangs on his back when he looks up. The way it curls this way and that looking messily perfect. He wonders if it tickles Harry when he shakes his head, or shrugs, or gives those thoughtful little nods.

Realizing he’s staring at his hair for a minute he flushes and speaks before thinking. “There are things I don’t want to let go of. But– but I should. Because I’m not 12 and naive, or 15 and blind. I’m not even 18 and scared. I’m twenty fuckin’ three and still…”

“Growing?”

“Will you call it growing? The constant absence of knowing. Figuring it out when I already know because I doubt everything.” 

“Absolutely. I mean I’m not a specialist but..pretty sure that’s growing.”

“And–” he laughs humorlessly. “Regret. Regretting everything you do. Pretty fucking sure that’s not growing.”

“The good and bad thing about regret is that it’s rooted in knowledge. ‘I would’ve done it differently, if I knew better.’ But newsflash, you didn’t. For that age, you knew enough. How can I protect myself from a flood, when I don't know one’s coming.” He widens his eyes as if to drive his point home.

“You can be cautious.” Louis mumbles.

Clicking his tongue, he says, “You mean to say, I could leave my home and get shelter somewhere else, wear floaters all around, keep emergency food on me. All the time.”

“I have an answer for that but I don’t know what it is.”

“‘Course you do, the human brain knows everything.”

“Stop talking!” Louis glares but there’s no heat in it. There can’t be when there’s a little smile blooming. Harry motions of zipping his lips, mirroring his smile, but bigger.

They sit in the soft silence, Louis’ eyes tracing an outline on the white tree tops. After a while he whispers, “I’m not a good person.”

“..and that is said by?” The question comes immediately like Harry was waiting for him.

He turns to him. “Me. And- and I’m pretty sure everyone else thinks it too, they just don’t say it.”

“A, you're not a specialist in you, because you are biased.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

“Biased doesn’t mean you love yourself only. It could easily mean you don’t.”

“I don’t–”

He raises a finger and Louis quietens, “A, you're not a specialist and B, not everyone is thinking about you, baby.”

Louis swallows.

“Do you think about everyone all the time?”

Louis stays silent. He knows he has an answer, or a pathetic attempt at that, but right now it’s not making it to his mouth.

“Cut yourself some slack.”

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to get second chances,” he says.

“Oh, I know. But…there’s no recipe to who gets to be the lucky one. That means it’s experimental, that means trial and error is allowed at that stage. If you’re so sure you’ll fail, how come you can’t be just as sure for the opposite as well?”

“You’re way too optimistic and I don’t have a history of–” He cuts himself because what is he saying? He’s got a fantastic luck. He’s got a fucking fantastic luck. He’s got a long history of having the best luck in the world. 

“I am optimistic, you’re right at that and history? History repeats itself when you forget it. You clearly can’t. That means, you can take a risk,” Harry’s face morphs into a mischievous one as he says, “even at the ripe age of 18.”

All the troubling thoughts evaporate him and a surprising cackle leaves him. “I’ll throw this stool on your face.”

“Ok, I’ll give it 20. But that’s–”

Louis grabs a fistful of snow and throws it at him. Harry quickly rolls on his side and throws one back. And just like that, they are at it again.

Louis is shouting and wheezing when Harry falls face first, he is doubled over himself trying to catch his breath instead of helping Harry, who's got a scowl that is not looking like a scowl at all. He just looks like a disgruntled frog. Louis cackles further and it's surprising when he hears the music.

Wilson(Expensive mistakes) blaring in a car that’s moving as smoothly as a knife on butter. He’s never seen her drive but he’s still not surprised. The fucking snow– no. The snow is practically making way for her.

Louis' smile is uncontrollable. Maybe he missed her. Yeah, he did. He really did. And after spending so much time with Harry he missed her more than he knew he could. Harry’s quiet like her.

“She’s here!” He yells to Harry, who’s now on his back on the ground discarding his attempt to get up, but now he's propped by his elbows, looking like a model. The snow is rearranging itself for him too. Somebody should cast the siblings in Frozen 3 at this point. “She’s here, Harry!”

Harry just quietly smiles up at him. Louis quite frankly thinks that that’s the most beautiful thing in all of Minnesota and nothing can change his mind. Not even Harry’s passionate rants for its wildlife and beaches.

Louis props his hands on his hips, leaning over him, he smugly says, “I’ll get that wine now.”

“Sure.” He smirks and gives him a two finger mocking salute.

“Because I’m not underage."

“Sure.” He nods the way one placates a child and salutes again. Louis can see the way he's barely keeping in his laughter.

“Fuck off, I’m not. Now get up.”

He laughs, his whole body moving with it and then in a soft voice that leaves Louis frozen in awe he says, “You go, I’ll be there in a moment.”

His features still seem perfectly at home, a little happy, a little sad, but entirely peaceful. Beautiful, beautiful man, indeed. 

Louis stares at him until Harry tilts his head and gives him a funny look. Louis quickly clears his throat and straightens. 

He quickly moves and goes to open the door to get back in. Once he’s inside, just before closing the door he sees Harry’s figure peacefully lying in the snow. He becomes a part of it almost with his arms behind his head.

He looks beautiful, ethereal even, with his closed eyes and slightly parted lips. He's so still that he almost looks like he’s not breathing. Louis wonders if a snowflake fell on his lip will it melt and trickle in his mouth or will it cocoon itself in the bow of his lower lip. 

Louis wants to be snow, now. He wants to be snow, so bad.

“This counts as cheating too.” His voice travels over and Louis' ears go red. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend, you ass.” He says and without waiting for a reply he runs down.

He’s not flirting with Alex’s brother. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? 

Sure he's obnoxious, and stubborn, and passionate for the wildlife, and smart, and peaceful, and he makes Louis' mind go quiet, and because apparently god was in a great mood during the Harry-manufacturing process he also made him fucking beautiful.

Out of breath and more flushed than he has ever been, he enters the store again to find Alex frowning down at Janet's purse that Louis had left on the counter.

“It’s rude to touch a lady’s purse without her permission.”

She jumps up with a shriek and stumbles back as her eyes find him. Her back slams with the two barrels behind her. A full 53-gallon under a mini one. While the big one doesn't even budge, the small one topples over, and rolls on the floor slamming into other shelves.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Louis runs while she saves herself from falling.

The barrel cracks and the tiny splinter spills a thin stream of wine, making everything worse.

Louis quickly tries to put it back in standing position. He silently thanks God that Harry didn’t follow him down because this would’ve been embarrassing, he can't lift a few pounds of barrel, "Could you help me instead of standing there?” He snaps when he sees Alex staring at him, frozen.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“I need help,” Louis grits out, pushing it halfway up.

“No shit, dude.”

“Ohmygod with this barrel, help me!”

She quickly comes over and they hoist it to up while the thin trickle of wine continues to leak. Standing in the red wine and rapidly dampening cloths, Louis wants to laugh. He should be irritated, he is irritated but- It's alright. It's not the end of the world.

“How did you get in?”

“Your lock’s crap. I just inserted a bobby pin and it,” he clicks his tongue, grabbing tissues to clean his hands and passes a few to her as well.

“The door locks automatically.” She says, wiping her hands. Except for a few drops here and there, they are both clean.

“I’m not kidding babe, I inserted–"

“When it opens without me entering the passcode, it rings the alarm, Louis."

“Why would you keep it locked with your brother inside?” He asks and grimaces when he feels the wetness in his shoes of the rapidly melting snow. It creeped in his socks and it's squelching, giving Louis the ick. See this is why he hated snow. But he can’t even do that.

“What?” She asks, the tissues halfway to her hand.

“What?”

“What are you saying?”

Louis fish-mouths because what was he saying. Quite frankly he doesn’t remember.

“What do you mean with my brother inside?”

“With Harry inside, I mean. How many brothers do you have? And I’ve never been this humbled in my life Alex, he didn't even know who I was. Like no idea. I mean of course, we’ve met like six times but,” he barely holds back the pout. “He has been an ass if you want to know. Janet sent me to get Malbec and you weren’t here but I thought you were ‘cause the lights were on so I poked with the lock and it opened. Which, I think, is a flaw in your system. I can ask Niall, my friend back in uni–”

“You..where’s Harry?" She asks with an unsettling look.

“What’s with the look?”

“Where is he?”

“Lying in the snow on the roof.” He shakes his head to make sure the little smile doesn’t creep back on.

“You were on the roof.”

“Yeah, but hey, he took me so blame him if that's not allowed. I-he..just wanted to show me stuff. But that’s besides the point. The point is he called me underage, Alex. Me! And I would've been on my way home but he wouldn’t give me the goddamn wine.” He widens his eyes and waves his hand to emphasize the point but it feels like there’s some invisible communication barrier among them because Alex is showing zero expressions for some reason. “Why are you acting weird?” He says tiptoeing away from the wine, but keeping an eye on her.

Still she stares at him wordlessly. 

“Did you have too much alcohol on your date or what?” He chuckles to ease the weird feeling his sixth sense is picking up on.

“Are you fucking with me, Louis?” Her voice is harsh and her features set in an expression Louis has always known she can have but never that it will be aimed at him.

“What? No. What do you even mean–”

“You're telling me you saw Harry?”

“He’s on the roof–”

“He’s dead.”

Louis shuts his lips and tries to think if he had gotten water in his ear from that stupid snow fight. He wants to smack Harry because now he’s hearing things.

Still all his mouth forms is a, “Huh?”

“Harry’s dead.”

Louis wets his lips and looks around then back at the immoveable figure who is talking absolute shit in Louis’ opinion. Actually that’s a fact, not an opinion. Alex is acting mental, and blurting things. “What– what are you playing at?”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” She glares.

“Nothing! I’m playing at nothing, you are. Is it some kind of prank? Did Harry set you up to it? Wait, did J do it?”

Alex breathes out shakily and blindly reaches for a stool, her face rapidly turning pale.

In a few quick steps he finds himself at her side. “Hey, hey. Do you..Should I call someone? You are not ok. I should call Calum.”

“He’s dead, Louis.” 

“For fucksake, Alex, Calum’s alive–”

“Harry is dead.”

“The fuck he is. I just saw him. He’s literally on the roof.” His voice uncontrollably raises.

With a look that Louis doesn’t even want to decipher Alex says, “Show me, then.” Her tone sends chills down his spine.

Louis stares as she stands up looking at him in a way that if he didn’t know her he’d think she hates him and only wants to go to the roof to push him off. 

Quietly he moves towards the back, his hands in fists and his heart drumming in his ears. Fuck anxiety, this is not the time. Standing in front of the door he looks back to find her hauntingly stilled eyes on him.  

Without a word he goes. She follows.

He slams open the door of the roof.

The very empty roof.

“Harry.” He calls out, his voice shaky. Clearing his throat he repeats, this time less weak and less doubtful. He is here, Louis just left him here. He cautiously makes his way around as Alex stays near the door. “Harry.”

A wind blows over and tickles his hair and Louis buttons his coat. “Harry?” His steps quicken as he circles the entire place, the snow and the struggle he has to do it order to move, forgotten. “Harry!” He wants to say more than his name but Alex’s eyes are drilling a hole in his skull and he can’t think of anything. 

Turning to her he sharply says, “He was here, I’m not lying and I’m not blind.” She says nothing. “He's probably down. Toilet or something. Or eating that fuckin’ sandwich.” He slams open the door and descends the stairs. Without a word Alex follows him as he tries to calm his panicky steps.

“Harry!” He calls in the hallway knowing Harry will pop out of one of the rooms.

When he doesn’t Louis' heart rate increases and in his ears starts that familiar ringing, but he keeps slamming doors open only to be met by more emptiness and turned off lights. When he reaches the breakroom, it’s dark, the lights are off.

He slams his hand on the switchboard to turn them on and sees the cold sandwich that's less than two bites. “See! He was here, we were eating that.” He picks up the sandwich and the beer, “I was annoying him. See. He wouldn’t give me Malbec so I just took a can and drank in front of him, to get a rise out of him. It worked, somewhat. He’s infuriating.” He chuckles, half nervous, half relieved.

“I ate that sandwich yesterday and forgot to finish it.”

“That's– no. Harry said it's his lunch.”

“It's not.” Her face set, her tone stern.

“It is! He said it himself. He said it was lunch– it– What is wrong with you?” 

“I draw gratification from lying about my brother’s death. Are you fuckin insane!” Her voice raises and Louis flinches.

The silence that engulfs where both of them stare at the other with wide eyes is deafening. 

He tells himself to not step back when she steps towards him, her voice dangerously low. “I’m coming from a late lunch with Calum and kids. We went out for a picnic to the park and then I got a call from Janet and she told me you left for here hours ago without your phone. So I left them and made my way here to open the store for you because we are closed today.”

Louis opens his mouth then closes it. Then he says, “I don’t believe you.”

Alex lets out an angry laugh and then takes out her phone, swiping on it crazily. Then she steps towards him and puts the phone in his face. “Look at this.”

“That’s him right there.”

It's Harry just like Louis had seen him. The curls, the wild eyes, the pretty mouth stretched in a toothy grin. Fuck, he can even see the bunny teeth. Louis’ ringing ears calm down.

“Yeah,” Alex says, “And who’s beside him.”

He sees dark red hair and then the features, similar to Harry’s, similar to the woman standing in front of him right now. It’s Alex with Harry. Siblings. He’s got his arms around her and she’s got a peace sign with her hip propped and a smug pout. 

“It’s you. Both of you.”

“Louis, don't be so fucking dense, and look at it.”

He’s looking at it and it's a normal picture just like the countless he’s got with Janet– 

His brows furrow, the ringing in his ears coming back.

Harry..Harry is just as he saw right now but Alex…is young. She’s as young as he is right now. He quickly sees the fuckass filter that will be considered cringe nowadays. He sees the grainy retroness of it. It’s old. He’s young. She’s young.

He looks at her. 

“Some..some people age slower..”

“You are hearing yourself, right?” Louis’ knees weaken and he takes the phone from her hand. Zooming in and out. “You don’t outgrow your twin, do you?”

His breath hitches. “I saw him,” he whispers. “I’m not lying.”

She purses her lips and looks away. “I know.”

“You..”

She looks around for a second then picks up the half eaten sandwich and beer, throwing it in the bin. “I haven’t locked the front door, I need to..” She points over her shoulder and before Louis could respond she leaves. 

He looks back at the picture. Harry is wearing a shirt that says, UPSET ALL THE KARENS. Alex’s is printed with, Goesth and fucketh thyself. 

They are the same age. They look the same age. They are even the same fucking height. 

But Harry looked just like this to him a few moments ago. 

For a second he looks around at the empty room, the bin where the sandwich is, the lights that they never turned off but still weren’t on when he and Alex came back.

Suddenly the horror grips at his insides and his weakened knees move on their own. He’s sprinting down the hallway to get to the shop. To get out of the shop.

How could Alex leave him? He's alone in the back of a store that harbours a ghost.

It could stretch the halls, burst the bulbs, lock the doors. He could get stuck and slowly die in ways he would only wish on his worst enemies. 

His chest burns from the way his heart is beating, he feels pressure building in the center, like the blood pump wants to tear out of his skin, breaking his bones. His wobbly steps are quivering every time they touch the floor. His hands uselessly scratching at the walls for a purchase that doesn't exist. He's loudly heaving from his mouth while simultaneously trying to stay quiet and smaller. Trying to stay unnoticed, trying to–

“Hey, hey, hey.” She’s in front of him holding him by his shoulders. “It’s ok, it’s..you’re ok. It’s not gonna hurt you. Louis, calm down–”

He takes a step back from her, and another, and another, manically looking around. Harry’s voice rings in his ear. 

The counter where he stood and told Louis he can't sell him wine. The sign he flipped to CLOSED. The bundle of papers he kept shuffling. He did, Louis remembers it. He was right here. And that hallway, he was going down that hallway and Louis followed him. He saw it. 

His back hits a shelf and his knees finally give out, pulling him to the floor.

His eyes are open but he can’t see anything. It's a blur of Harry and him moving around. Why did he not turn away? Why did he have to force and play smart? He has known the sudden bravery he's always the victim of results in nothing but blinding ruin. Every-fucking-time.

Now he's scattered on the floor as if someone sucked the life out of him. He’s been here before. It’s pathetic and it’s not his first time. They can x-ray his chest, test his blood, ultrasound his heart, and scan his brain, but they won't find it. The source of all the pain he feels. They never fucking do. 

He's hurting so much, so unnecessarily, but so immensely.

He can’t see her shadow but he feels her presence towering over him.

Feeling too exposed he wills his knees to come closer to his chest, holding them in a death grip. Hiding half his face in them is the only thing he could do. It's like his chest is rapidly pumped with air he didn't inhale but can’t exhale, no matter what he does. 

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. 

He's burning, it's suffocating him. He wants to pull out his sternum and everything under it, until he finds his back bone. 

With shaking hurried hands he takes off his jacket, then his shoes and socks. Blindly he throws his beanie and the other items like they are on fire. All whilst an ear-piercing noise fills his head. He covers his ears with both his hands and tightly shuts his eyes.

While in his tightly coiled form, a cooling effect begins spreading over his eyes and ear like he’s hit by a snowball and he’s falling from the impact of it. He is falling, and falling, and falling, while spiraling at the same time.

Trying to snap out of it he forcefully jolts himself and cracks his eyes open, like he’s done countless times in his dreams whenever he’s falling.

Once the bridge between his brain and the rest of the body is reconnected he realizes his stomach’s churning with an unwelcome pressure building up. He’s…nauseous, he’s fucking quizzy.

“Here.” A bin is pushed in front of him by a hand. He doesn’t recognise the hand, Liam and Zayn don't have those tattoos, and Janet and Niall have none. Who fucking cares? He grabs the bin and hurls up his breakfast. It’s more bile than anything, bitter and nasty, like an internal revenge as his body convulses and leaves his throat scratchy.

It wasn’t his fault that he just got haunted. Oh fuck, he got haunted. Is that how you say it? You got haunted?

He flinches and almost drops the bin when he feels a hand on his back. Is that Harry? Fuck, he can’t hear whatever he is saying over his own loud heaves. 

But Harry is dead.

He hurls again, holding back his cough so he doesn’t swallow his puke or accidentally shove it down his windpipe.

There's a bottle in his hand, it’s cold, just like the rest of his body. Fuck, he’s freezing now. He doesn’t need another frozen thing in his hand, what the fuck is Zayn doing? He knows Louis gets cold easily when he’s like this. He throws the bottle blindly.

There’s a sound cutting through his hazy mind. It takes a second for him to realize his teeth are clattering. Jesus, he’s a mess, shivering and trembling, practically buzzin–

“Come on, Louis, help me here a bit.”

Alex.

He finds her kneeling beside him holding his jacket like an invitation.

Oh for fucksake! Not in front of Alex. He gets nauseous again and heaves, Alex immediately brings the bin in front of him but nothing comes out, there’s nothing in him now.

Only Zayn is allowed to see him like this. Only Zayn. Not Janet and not Alex of all people.

He wipes his sleeve over his mouth and without meeting her eyes takes the jacket from her. His shoes and socks are strewn over the floor as if he’s had the most intense sex. If he was in his room he would’ve made himself believe that was the case, and the exhaustion he’s feeling would’ve only vouched for that too. 

But that didn’t happen, because he’d certainly not have Alex anywhere near him if that had happened.

He haphazardly picks them up and puts them on. He’s 99% sure both the socks inside out. Who cares, he tells himself as he pushes the laces inside the shoes instead of tying them. His hands are still shaking.

“You are a cute cow?” 

She’s holding his beanie and cocking one brow with a small smirk, that is more for his benefit then a real reaction of her own. 

The red of embarrassment is not going anywhere he knows that, so he ignores his flushed face and snatches it from her to pull it over his head. “I wish.” He mumbles to himself.

If she hears it, she doesn’t say anything.

She stands up instead and Louis feels his heart halting, his body moving forward on its own.

Her eyes widen and she sits back in front of him and in a voice he wouldn’t have ever, ever, expected to be subjected to, she says softly, “Just grabbing water, babe. You're dehydrated. It’s right there. You threw the other one and it went under the shelf.” 

He needs Zayn.

“Ok? Not going anywhere.”

He nods, using the remnants of dignity he didn’t puke out. 

Fucking pull yourself together, Louis.

His body takes that literally, and he’s got his knees against his chest again. 

As promised she comes back and he visibly lets out a breath. She doesn’t comment on it and Louis sends his silent gratitude to her. He doesn’t take the bottle when she offers it, knowing his hands will shake when he’ll reach. “In a minute.” he tells her. 

She doesn’t force him, instead slowly sits opposite to him, with her back to the other shelf. Her legs extended in front of her.

From the corner of his eye he sees the thin stream of wine travelling towards them. He clutches his legs tighter. 

There’s silence. Silence that comes after a flood takes everything away, the silence that comes after a war has ended and people are piecing together the torn apart pieces of their folks, the silence that comes in the form of disbeief.

Wasn’t he just there? Moving around. Moving things. Looking so tangible with all those emotions and all those words.

“So..you’re..” Louis breathes out and unfists his hands just to fist them again, “I saw a ..ghost,” he whispers, finally meeting her eyes unprovoked. 

He sees her twisting her mouth this way and that like keeping the words from spilling.

“It was real. He was real. So fuckin' real..he..”

“The door doesn’t open without me, Louis. And your pickpocketing couldn't've done it. People don’t break in is the reason I've installed the system and even if by some miracle it failed, only I have the key, and the lock is certainly not in the door. It’s just a handle, nothing more.”

He’s got no clue what the fuck she’s saying. It doesn't make any sense except that she’s got tight security. 

“Why? So nobody steals your ghost.” He makes a pathetic attempt at joking and then freezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

Alex cuts him off. “Makes it bearable, doesn’t it? Making fun of it. God knows the shit ton of jokes I make on a daily basis. Back when it was fresh, you know, when he had just died, people, my relatives and .. and some so called friends thought I should be in a psyche ward with the way I use to tackle my emotions. But it’s a way of coping, albeit unhealthy. Cal gets it. He doesn’t get bothered.”

“Not entirely unhealthy.” 

The corner of her mouth curls slightly. “‘Course.”

Running his tongue over his lips he tastes the vomit and seizes the urge to gag again. To distract himself he starts, “Alex…I..”

She patiently waits.

Collecting all the parts of him that are not covered in cowardice he begins again. “Are you ..sure?" Before she snaps again he rushes to add, "I just mean I wasn’t high..I’m not high, I’m sober, and I’m not lying. He was right here, I saw him, I touched–”

Touched him? Did he? 

.

.

No he didn’t. He didn’t touch him once. Harry evaded it every time. 

Fuck he’ll lose his fucking mind.

His eyes find the wine travelling, inches away from Alex’s knees and focuses on that. What else could he do? 

“He was stubborn.” She says, after a while. After Louis runs out of ways to show his disbelief tightly wrapped in fear.

The wine stains her, she either ignores it or doesn’t register it. Either way Louis finds himself suddenly so attentive to her words. He doesn’t look at her face, he’s selfish, it hurts when he looks and he’s already hurting on his own. She looks like Harry and she looks in pain. Louis hates both, individually and together. He hates it.

So he focuses on her voice, instead.

“If he wanted something, he’d get it. Kinda like you in a way.” Kinda like you, Alex, he wants to say but he doesn’t. 

He hears her exhale and it sounds like she’s hurting in ways Louis can’t comprehend. He doesn’t want to.

”He’ll find ways, different creative ways to get what he wants. It was annoying as fuck and lead to…him haunting the store.” Her dark jeans don't even show the stain red, it all but absorbs it like it’s nothing.

“I was older by 28 minutes but he still acted all…big brotherly. It was annoying and it never worked. We used to beat the shit out of each other. He’d do everything I did. All my friends were his friends and he’d get so cheeky with them, we’d be constantly fighting. I had ripped all his shirts once and he painted a pink dick on my ceiling and.." She chuckles and it’s painfully genuine. Louis finally looks up and sees tears painting her face. “And then he took all my polaroids and stuck them on the outline of ..the fucking dick. It was fucking baby pink and so, so bad. I didn’t sleep on my back for weeks, and didn't invited anyone over.”

She furiously wipes her face that’s now blotted and puffy.

“He could be a prick and I miss him. I..fucking miss him ruining my things and stealing my cloths and then stealing my style. He’d copy me so much, Louis. My bands, my books, my food, he wanted everything I had and I’d give him everything if he could just come back.” She sniffles and Louis wants to go to her. Hug her, wipe her face, tell her a joke and say it’ll be ok but he’s scared. So he sits there and watches one of his favorite people on earth breaking down in front of him and he’s helpless and useless. 

They sit in silence as the wine reaches Louis and he sees the hem of his yellow PJs red now. The wetness will irritate soon, he knows.

“He…” Alex breathes out.

He says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. I..I..don’t want to hurt you, more than I already have.”

“Do you not want to know?” Her words are falling over each other in their lightness.

He sputters, “I-I don’t want you to- you know- say–”

“So you don’t want to know.”

He’s got his hands uncurled from his legs now, waving in front of him. “That’s not what I’m saying, I just–”

“You just what?”

Jesus, talk about being stubborn.

He raises his hand, “I don’t want to cause you pain! That’s all!” His body is warmed now.

She rolls her eyes. "Just say you don’t want to know–”

“For fucksake I want to know!” He slams his head in the shelf behind him, “Fuck! Tell me! Just-tell me. Please.” He wipes at his nose. 

They are both out of breath and distraught in more ways than one.

Then with her eyes at his feet she whispers, “he was murdered by the Retree Co. for fighting against them.”

Louis' blood runs cold, the feeling of the wine no more bothering him.

“He was a legal practitioner under Bina Rez's supervision and they brought a plaintiff for a judicial review against the corporation for killing the endangered wildlife of Minnesota by their plethora of projects they got approved from the federal government.”

Louis fists his hands, his lungs seizing.

“We had asked him to stay out of trouble when he first went to the school. You know, stay out of drug deal projects, murders and shit like that. At least for his practitioner time period. He was pissed but then I suggested him to look into the wildlife side of it. There are cases like that. I had…” She purses her lips and then meets Louis' eyes. “I had thought it'd be less dangerous. I was fucking wrong.”

Louis is frozen now, by some miracle he’s breathing again but that’s all.

“And him, he was winning. He was the smartest among his colleagues, interviewing citizens, and corporations who had previously shut down projects to save the forests. He had collected so much data that fuck knows they were going down. He was so fuckin’ passionate, hungry and- and fucking fearless.” Her eyes were shining, and it reminded him of the way Harry’s eyes looked when he spoke about the Lynx.

“But…” She swallows. “Guess none of it works when you have a gun point to your chest.”

A loud sob tears through him as tears now mark his face too. Harry, sweet Harry.

“There were no repercussions for them. No charge. They stole his evidence. Bina tried to fight but she has children of her own. She stepped back.”

She brings her knees closer to her face and rests her chin on them, a far off look on her face.

“I…I gave him an extra shift here because I had this date I really wanted to go to. He told me he won’t go but I knew he would. Too much of a disciplined bastard he was. It was a slow day so he brought his laptop to work. His workaholic arse. You know, he’d come to my room sometimes and tell me that the best thing I did in my whole life was tell him to fight for the wildlife and then give me a sloppy kiss on the cheek despite me slapping him and then leave laughing, ‘You’ll miss me and my kisses when I’m rich and famous and entirely out of reach.’”

Louis can’t decide if he wants to listen more or stop all of a sudden. He can’t decide if he wants a cigarette or knife.

“That day…When he was closing the shop they barged in, all armed, probably to threaten him or torture him if the threat didn’t work. He ran. Adrenaline makes you do stupid things you know.” Her eyes take over a haunted hue. “He went to the roof.”

Louis rubs at his chest because it is on fire. Why is it not stopping?

“Stupid things.” She sniffles, shaking her head. “It was like everything fell into place for them. He went there and he was trying to protect himself I’m sure, but then…he couldn’t.”

“They shot him?” 

She looks him in the eye, tears falling uncontrollably as she speaks. “He fell.”

The entire PJ was stained now and he couldn’t feel a thing. He just stares and stares and the only thing he sees is Harry. Harry. Harry.

Is that why he took Louis to the roof? Is that why he didn't come down with him? Will he still be there if Louis goes up alone?

She quickly rummages through her pockets until she comes with a bottle of tablets Louis’ vision is too blurry to read. She puts two of it in her mouth and swallows with the water she had offered him earlier.

“What a perfect cover, no?” She says, furiously wiping at her mouth. “I remember calling his phone but as usual it was dead, so I checked the cameras of the shop just to check if he had closed or not because it was late. And then..I ran.”

“But there is proof that they–” Louis is on his knees now, not a care on how much wine his clothes are soaked in. He’s making a mess but–

“No camera on the roof.”

He fists his hand, his mind working. “But they had a gun. The footage from here could show–”

“They never took the gun out here. He was smart, you know. Harry. He could sense slight shifts in demeanors and intentions, that was his job for a reason. So if he ran without them pulling a gun means he knew they would’ve soon. I just fuckin’ wished he hadn’t. If he had to fuckin’ die then he at least should’ve died for something not not..not as an example that people give their kids now when they want them to stop them from pursuing what they love!”

Louis wants the earth to tear open and engulf all of them, just so he could stop feeling so fucking useless and so much pain.

“We filed a case because there was no proof that he killed himself. I witnessed them coming here. But the trial was quick and cutting like a pre-planned game show. They called it a suicide and brought these fuckass proofs that he was doing illegal shit, drug trafficking, assaults, and whatnot, which is hilarious ‘cause he had a total of one relationship in his entire life and he was a mama’s boy who turned his nose up when somebody smoked.”

It's shocking how perfectly Louis can picture Harry grimacing if he had smoked in front of him.

“They said he was probably worried we’ll figure it out and bring it to the court. We lost that. The case was closed and then we lost the other one too because fuck knows they took his computer. They…wiped everything from it and– and there should be stuff in the others right? But god…the news of his death, by the time it reached them they had already opened emails sent from his computer with his name that wiped all their records. Fuck technology.” 

The fight had left her body and she went slack with her head hitting the shelf behind her.

“The evidence they were left with was minimal at best. And nobody researched further, scared for their lives. And– and the funny part is he shouldn’t have died…the roof is not that far. He should’ve gotten some serious injury but– but not…death. It was– it was the fucking blood loss.”

“Did they run away after they–” 

“Yes.”

His gestures were wilder as every word left his mouth. “But you could’ve shown the footage that they are the last seen with–”

“The thing is, Louis, when you see your baby brother bleeding in front of you, your first and only thought is to save him.”

Louis slumps back. “They took the footage.”

“They removed it. Deleted it. God knows what they did with it and now he is..he is stuck here or I don’t know he chooses to stay here. In this fucking liquor store when he himself never even got the chance to drink after turning 21!”

“Fuck!”

Everything Harry had told him runs amok in his brain. His drawled words accompanied by that attracting intensity to it. The desperation that Louis detected after just the way he ended his first sentence. 

They sit there in silence until her phone rings again. 

Alex looks at the screen and hands the phone to him, “It’s Janet.”

With a loud exhale he receives it and hears her before he’s even brought it near his ear. “Alex, are you at the store, yet? Lou still hadn't come–”

“I’m here.”

Her worried voice transforms immediately. “Why the fuck are you still there? Did something happen?"

Louis swallows the words against his nature, never one to keep things to himself. Does he really want to spoil everybody’s holiday spirit? And Janet’s date. “Got a puncture. Alex is fixing it.”

Alex nods with her eyes still closed.

“Oh…so you are just waiting for the tire to be fixed for ..two hours now.” The I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me tone, that Louis is not in the mood to handle right now, very prominent.

“Don't you have a date?” He snarks.

“Cancelled it.”

“What?" He straightens. "‘Cause of a goddamn wine. J what the–”

“‘Cause you weren’t home for five hours without your phone. You could be dead in some ditch.”

Rolling his eyes he mumbles, “You have a serious obsession with death.” 

From the corner of his eyes he sees a bottle of red that was snugly sitting on the shelf, fall all of a sudden, crashing and splashing it around. Where Louis shrieks with a little jump, Alex just turns her head to look at it and then with a roll of her eyes like this is absolutely normal, goes back to resting her head against the shelves.  

“What happened?”

He stares at the bottle and then his mind runs to the words he had said to Harry and a chuckle that was more air than anything leaves him.

“Yeah, yea, I’m ok. A ..bottle just fell. In the shop.”

There is silence as he stares at the new liquid painting the floor. 

“Listen J, I’ll be there in a few so don’t worry–”

“Don't bother, I’m coming.”

“What?”

“I’m in a cab, almost there, don’t leave till I’m there.”

“Are you–”

She hangs up. He stares at the phone trying to process but at the same time not shocked in the least. If he shared blood with her he'd even say that the anxiety is genetical.

“She’s coming here.” He tells Alex. Who gives a nod and mumbles, “good.”

“Does J know about it?”

“She’s my best friend, Louis.” She doesn't open her eyes when she answers.

“That’s he’s still here.”

She nods again. So Louis closes his eyes or at least tries to. But the slightest sound gets his hair stand on end. Even when it’s wind, or heaters.

“What..what did he say? If..you talked to him.”

Louis stares at her. “Do you not see him?” He whispers. Is he trying to hide from Harry?

Her silence answers for her.

Sounds leave him but it’s incoherent even to himself. "But- you...you..I.."

Alex takes pity on him. “I saw him..after. You know. Right after. And add that to me going 'psycho' allegations but..I talked. To him. Isolated myself. Stayed weeks in here. Didn’t see my parents or anyone. He..We’ve always been together. I’ve not spent more than those early 28 minutes without his existence. There were days when we both wished death on each other," She lets out a wet laughs. “But it was always us. Always. He was my bestfriend– you know I had performed in a school tableau at five and he was in the audience and I had a small singing part and he had started singing with me from the audience. Just like that. And everybody was mesmerized. He was always better at everything and I was so- so fucking proud of him. If I could I’d tell him that every single day but..”

Louis imagines them as little kids, running after butterflies and Harry getting the spotlight while Alex cheers him on. And just like that he misses his sister.

“I haven’t seen him in 17 months now. I’ve felt him but not seen, or heard from him and I was devastated when I realized it but then…Cal..he said that maybe he had moved on. You know. And that was a bitter pill to swallow but I felt lighter after knowing that. But then you just..you saw him..”

“I’m not lying.”

“I know babes. I know. I’m just..it’s fucked. I don’t know if I’m sad or relieved that he’s still here, still being our guardian angel. Still protecting me. I know it sounds delusional–”

“It doesn’t.”

“Yeah..so what did he say?”

“He..” Louis wipes his face with the rough fabric of his coat and it feels like he’s scratched his skin. “He was very vocal about Minnesota when I said you’ve got a shit weather. I just..I didn’t realize…I just thought it’s a thing for all of you, you know. Being undoubtedly loyal to your land.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known. But that was a thing..among us. Still is..but..”

“Yeah.”

“Did he look alright?”

Louis can't help his smile this time. “Just like that picture you showed me. Maybe..”

“Maybe?”

“A bit more ..beautiful. Unreal now that I look at it again.”

She smiles and it's so sad and so defeated. “It was two months after that picture was taken.”

Louis looks at the ceiling before the new wave of tears spill out.

“Ten years and I still can’t get over it.”

“It’s not something you get–”

“I know but I–” She curls her fingers in her hair and holds tightly, “It was so sudden. One moment he was here the next he wasn’t– just vanished, for- forever. No goodbye, nothing. Just…But then he’s here. He’s never talked to me but I’ve heard him, felt him, fuck knows how many bottles he’s pushed off my shelves! And..and there’s some horrible satisfaction in it..and I’m fuckin’ ashamed of that. He’s stuck and I’m happy. I'm fuckin' awful.” Releasing her hair she drags her hands down her face.

“You’re not bad for that and if anybody says that then they are lucky because they’ve never felt that level of pain. If you don’t feel that … satisfaction, you call it. If you don’t feel that– fuck Alex you might as well be a god then because people are not that strong..that’s..a godly expectation to hold a person at.”

She doesn’t say anything after that and Louis runs out of words. 

“21..” Louis says to himself after a little while with a chuckle. “It’s–It’s just he kept telling me a baby..” 

A small wistful smile takes over her face. “He took the shifts very seriously, more than me. It's not like he wanted to work here. Not at all. But we had this graduation plan of how we'll make a tub of alcohol and bathe in it to celebrate it.”

Graduation. Harry didn't even get to see his graduation. 21, just fucking 21. The protectiveness he feels surprises him in its intensity. 

Alex breathes in loudly and then sits up straight, “alright, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ve probably got spare sweats in the back.” She stands up and holds out her hand.

Louis' mind flashes to Harry laying down in the snow and him holding out his hand.

Harry didn’t take it. 

Louis does.

He’s changing in the back room playing everything when he wonders if his hand would have passed through Harry like in movies or would he have felt him solid.

He turns the beanie inside out but it looks more ridiculous so he just wears the I'm a cute cow on the back of his neck.

Standing in the room, he breathes in for the first time since he came here without anybody hovering over his shoulder. There's a nagging fear in the back of his mind of Harry killing him. But he pushes it aside to catch his breath. 

He saw Harry. Harry talked to him. Harry is dead. 

Harry is dead.

Harry has been dead for ten years.

His heart speeds up again. 

“For fuck sake, stop this.” He quickly moves to get out of the room just to find Alex standing right outside. “You keeping a guard?” He tries to appear ok, he really does.

“Was worried you might spook yourself.” She says as if she didn't notice his wide eyes and breathlessness.

Evading her eyes he murmurs his question, “he..he doesn't hurt anyone..right?”

He doesn't look up until she answers. “He just annoys the shit out of me,” she says louder, with a hint of annoyance and Louis focuses on that and tries to ignore the hurt.

Swallowing, he asks, “Would you mind if I … for a minute, you know?” He nods to the end of the hallway.

Her eyes widened. “You wanna go to the roof?” 

Even Louis gets surprised by his own question when he hears it from her. Breathing through the heaviness he feels in his chest he nods, “For a minute.”

She swallows then looks around releasing a breath, clearly reluctant.

"I won't do anything, just.."

“Don't fall, Louis.” Her eyes are both sterner and wilder when she says it. God, she reminds him of Harry.

“I won’t.”

She doesn’t seem convinced. “Harry, don't fuckin’ scare him.” 

The lights flicker and Louis flinches.

“You sure you wanna go.” She looks like she’s about to drag him back into the store.

“Don't worry, Alex." He says before he could chicken out and leaves before she can stop him.

The last thing he hears before ascending is her yelling. “Don’t fuckin’ die, Louis. I swear to god I’ll kill you!”

When he opens the door to the roof he realizes the sun is on its way down, no wonder Janet was freaking out. Even a light snow fall has begun.

He tiptoes around the snow Harry laid on and goes towards the edge, bypassing the stool, and peers down at the white-covered driveway and their cars parked.

“Wasn’t the snow a cushion?” He asks out loud.

Silence.

The birds leave for their homes.

Silence.

The stream keeps flowing.

Silence.

“Feels a bit like a betrayal.” He mumbles selfishly, because it does. It feels like spending a very beautiful time with someone that you start telling yourself you are never going to forget them, and you can't wait to tell your friends about them, and you’ll hope they stay in your life a little longer just for them to turn around and fall off the roof and die. 

He stomps back to his stool and plops himself unceremoniously, no care of the snow gathered on it, around it, around him. Not a care for anything. “But I guess I should’ve known people are not that beautiful.” 

Fuck, he was attracted to a fucking ghost. Fuck! He doesn’t know if he should bury himself in the snow and never come out or apologize louder. Alex said Harry had a relationship, so..makes sense. He would’ve said no anyways. It would’ve been a crime if he was single. 

God, Louis is a pathetic disgusting person. He has the audacity to criticize others. Disgusting.

A whispery thought breaks him; Harry would’ve been 31. He would’ve had a career, a life, friends, and a family. Alex would have a brother.

His eyes burn but he doesn’t care. He just wants to cry now. 

He use to cry so easily when he was a kid, a stern glance from his teacher, a little while of Janet ignoring him because he pissed her off, a slight bruise on his knee, a toy he wanted but Janet wouldn’t buy it, a friend who doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore, a textbook he lost, a juice he spilled, a stubbed toe.

He hates how they’ll think he’s weak and naive when he cries easily, or laughs loudly, or makes silly jokes. It’s incomprehensible for people to have a firefighter who also likes to giggle–

Stop Louis.

But he knows people will laugh if he tells them that his heart is hurting for a stranger he knows, who died before they met.

He roughly rubs his nose with the back of his hands and sniffles loudly. The cold air burns the inside of his nose but he doesn’t go back. 

“You’re wisdom will go to waste, I have ADHD I forget shit like that,” He snaps his fingers in the air and ignores the way his voice keeps cracking. “You need to repeat it, all the shit about growing up. And-and Alex didn’t get pissed at me for buying the wine. That’s ‘cause I’m twenty three, like I had said. You are not right about everything.” Wiping his tears aggressively he hopes Harry will come back. Hopes he will appear the way he had disappeared from his side before the snow fight, or when Louis was drinking the beer and he was suddenly in the back room, or when he wasn't in the break room when Louis checked it first but then there he was leaning– cockily leaning against the wall. He hopes, and hopes, and hopes. 

He doesn’t look up, thinking Harry will not appear if he sees Louis looking for him.

His heart sinks with the sun as more time passes. 

Finally hitting his breaking point he yells, “Come on! I want to see you! Please!”

This time he wildly looks around, hoping, begging, wishing, he’ll come.

“Harry!”

The people on the carousel have lit up a fire and they are sitting around it. In the all consuming silence Louis can hear the faint murmur of music from them. 

“I think they’ll all sink and die.” He tries pathetically. “I think Lynx are ugly fuckers. Minnesota sucks! Snow’s shit! Your weather is shit! I–I think they should make more roads in the forest! I think the government is good! I- I- Harry, please. Please.” Gasping for air he repeats, “please.”

The intensity of the loss he feels over the small fact that he can't but he wants to make a carousel with Harry knocks the breath out of his chest, because it's not just want, it's writhing, beating want, so much so that it almost looks like a need. 

“Fucking fix this! Fix me! I need to do that with you! I need to know things! I have questions, please. I have things to tell. Bad things happened to me and I can’t tell anyone but it was easy with you. Harry, fix me, fix me please.” He sways on the stool and almost falls face first. “Fuck!”

He stays alone while the birds reach their homes, the wind picks up, the snow falls a little bit faster.

“I can’t protect all of them,” he says louder even when his throat hurts. The woods will soon be engulfed in darkness. Can Harry goe there, or is he confined to these four walls? Another wind touches him, and he whispers, “but I’ll try my best.”

Slowly he treks back to the door. 

The words are out of his mouth before he's even thought them. “You are really brave.” You were really brave. He shakes his head at himself and whispers again, “You are really brave. I don't think I am.” He swallows and his eyes find the space in the snow where he had laid. He looks at it like he is talking to Harry. “I’ll try my best. It might not be enough so don't count on me. But I'll do–”

With one more exhale he promises, “I’ll do my best, Harold.”

He leaves but doesn’t close the door behind him.

Back in the store he’s welcomed by voices- one voice to be fair, all low and serious while the other is just humming along. He tries to compose himself, pathetically fails at that, gives up, and turns the corner.

Janet looks like she just crashed her car and Alex looks like she's the one who will have to pay for the new one.

He's about to voice his attempt at humor when Janet’s eyes find him before he’s even fully entered. She comes rushing, “Are you ok? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Lou. I'm so–” 

Louis instantly grimaces, “I’m not a baby. Jesus, I’m ok.”

Funny when that’s all he wanted to be a second ago.

Janet fixes him one of her stares and repeats, “baby jesus?”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.” He tiptoes in the mess of wine and glass around to reach Alex. Janet on his heels. 

To get her of his tail he picks up the mop and starts wiping the sticky floor as best as he can and prays Janet wouldn't poke and prod, at least not right now. 

Luckily it's impossible to clean in her presence and not have her join it. Therefore in the silence that follows, all of them wash the mess Louis made. 

When that silence extends into the post-cleaning room it grates on Louis' nerve. They both are just staring at the tiled floor as if they stared hard enough another spot will pop up for them to wipe off. “Seriously, It’s ok, guys. We don’t have to stand and stare.”

Alex deadpans him with, “We are waiting for Calum.”

“Oh.”

“But you are free to leave.” 

“We are staying until he’s here.” Janet says before he could even come up with a response.

“Babes, I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine.” Alex looks away.

“I don’t doubt that but right now I’m here and I’m staying.” Janet’s scowl is enough to put an end to the discussion.

Seeing the tension between the two Louis slowly steps back, trying to get out of the indecipherable staring contest thy've have going on.

“Where the hell are you going? Sit down.” Janet's tone is enough for Louis to stop his sneaking out. Although superficially he rolls his eyes just to keep up the appearances. He's 23, he's not scared of his big sister, thank you very much.

“What were you thinking trying to break in?” She says it in a way that makes him feel 7 years old, of the particular evening when he had stumbled on her doorstep and burdened her with taking care of him for the rest of her life. She isn’t, not anymore. He’s fine on his own.

He bites his tongue to prevent any mean words he is susceptible to let out. They hardly fight now, but even if they would, he doesn't want it to be in front of Alex. He's shown enough of his ugly self to last her a lifetime.  But he’s emotional, vulnerable and Janet's hitting when he's already sore. 

"He..uh, H, Harry probably opened it. It couldn't have opened by- what were you trying to poke in it?"

Louis' mind goes blank. 

H. Alex calls Harry, H. What else was Harry called? Did he have anymore nicknames? What was his favorite food? Color? Car? Season? 

Well he knows the last one. 

“You could’ve gone to the gas station and called from there.” Alex says, when Louis doesn't answer.

And fuck Louis has not been more ashamed than he is right now. He wants to crawl out of his skin, leave his body behind, take the car and go back all the way to Cotswold, to the honey colored walls of his house. He needs to get away. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Lou,” Janet calls.

“In a sec.” He moves to the door but then his eyes catch on Janet’s purse. Beside which is the cheese from the gas station he should’ve gone to.

He snatches it from the counter and almost throws it away knowing damn well both the women are still looking at him. Fuck he feels stupid for even bringing this.

Chewing his lips until they bleed he turns around and makes his way over to them and silently extends the plastic bag to Alex and leaves despite her calling his name.

The light from inside lights up the driveway and he stands there, shivering. It’s better. He can breathe. 

He’s made a new friend today. The snow. It’s suddenly just as comforting as it was irritating a few hours ago. Fuck it feels like an eternity ago. 

He should’ve gone to the gas station. He should’ve gone to the gas station. He should’ve–

No. He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have broken in here, but he did and he …he doesn't want to regret it.

He doesn't want– No. He doesn’t regret it.

He will grieve it, but he doesn't regret it.

The realization is striking and scares him. Is he a monster and a man for thinking like this? He doesn’t regret coming here, he certainly doesn’t regret meeting Harry. And most importantly he doesn’t want to forget. Anything.

Louis wants to remember every emotion that crossed his face, the timber of his voice, the squeal and giggles he let out, and the things he spoke so passionately about. He will grieve all of it and it will be bitter and inexplainable but there will be no thread of regret in the memory of Harry. And Louis will cradle it despite it leaving a paper cut every time.

The headlights of Calum’s bronco slashes his train of thought and he steps away to make space for it. He doesn’t go inside because that will be awkward when Calum has already seen him standing. And going in to just the two of them makes him nauseous so he stays rooted as Calum gets out and comes to him with a polite smile.

This is the first time he is seeing him in person and he's annoyingly tall. Louis slips his cold hand in his warm one. “Hi, I’m Calum. Alex’s husband.”

Louis tries to mirror his genuine smile, “Louis–”

“I know, Louis, Janet talks about you a lot. You’re freezing, mate.”

“Uh–I…yeah. Let’s er..”

“I’m gonna go inside, you coming?"

Thank you for not making me keep using my vocal chords, I’m a toddler with a speaking disability when under pressure. He nods dumbly and follows.

He had left like a sheep and he enters like one. Trailing behind Calum, with his tail between his legs. But sheep don't have long tails– or do they? Suddenly he doesn't remember what a sheep looks like. There's a lot of wool and a goat like face–

Stop thinking!

Maybe they do have a long tail in which case he's very much on point.

“Babe.” Calum makes a beeline for Alex with open arms. Louis looks away as to not intrude on their private moment and finds Janet looking at them with her own smile.

Why is he feeling like rain on everyone's parade? Didn't he just figured out a bunch of things, about his emotions, on his own. Liam's posh ass would've gone to therapy for this. Louis should play trumpets in the speaker to celebrate the amount of growth he's done in the past six or so hours. But no, for some inexplainable reason his heart is still in a vice grip of some invisible hand and he is still feeling so much. Why is he feeling so much? Why is he feeling, question mark.

If he smiles too wide, he'll look manic. If he keeps his frown, he'll look jealous or a recipient of an anxiety attack. So he just busies himself with poking and prodding at the bottles, checking labels and prices and tries to make it believable. 

“Hey.” 

“Can we leave now? If you want to stay with Alex then I can call a cab–”

“Can you stop being so fucking awkward for a second and talk to me.” Janet hisses.

He sees a bottle of Lanson with a price tag he cannot afford and doesn’t touch it again. “I said I’m fucking fine.”

She scoffs.

“What do you want?” He turns to her fully.

Crossing her arms, she literally looks down at him with a stare that opposes what she says, “I want you to talk to me.”

He rolls his eyes, not making it easy for her. “About what?”

Uncrossing her arms, she softens her eyes. “About you? Are you actually ok? Are you hurt, disturbed, in pain, anything Lou, come on.”

He turns away. “I'm ok. I'm sorry. To you and her. I'll pay for all the ..the stuff I ruined.”

“Yes, because that is my biggest concern–”

“Guys?”

They turn to see Calum and Alex. Both smiling, but where Calum has a small, soft, welcoming grin, Alex looks two seconds away from throwing their asses out in the cold.

“Hey Cal.” Janet grins as she walks up to him. “You need to teach me those fishing techniques too.”

“I could teach you and your date both.” He says easily and then gets excited turning to Alex, “Oh, babe, we should have a double date.”

They have been married for seven years now, Louis wants to roll his eyes again.

Stop being so bitter, for fuck sake.

Alex smiles, the real one that lights up her eyes and nods. “Sounds like a plan. I've told her she can join us for fishing too. Rory will love to have you.”

“I haven't seen the kid in a month, I need to come over just to meet her.” Janet responds easily.

It's all so easy, why is it so easy? He feels excluded, and it looks very easy for them to do so. 

“She misses you. Always wanting to be like Aunt Jenny. Wilma on the other hand would like to compete with you on who could eat more Ramen in a minute.”

Janet laughs.

Louis zones out and focuses on Janet's shoes instead. If they move, he'll move.

His jealousy is weird. He was horrified when he thought if he was jealous of Janet, but it was just his rapid stream of consciousness thinking every guess is the most important. He’s not jealous of his sister he realized later, instead it’s the fear that he always harbours that makes him assume the worst.

The fear that if Janet finds people better than him, she’ll forget him. At the end of the day there’s nothing binding them together, except a piece of contract and everyone knows how weak they can be. And after today everything looks possible in the worst ways.

The jealousy isn’t directed at her but the people important to her. It’s pathetic, like him.

But he’s lost his family once, he wouldn’t survive it again. So that's his irrational fear, Janet forgetting him and finding people who are nicer, simpler, easier and less overwhelming than him. 

And this Rory, she could easily replace him–

Stop! Enough!

Janet is the best sister in the world who is not leaving you. Just because she shifted doesn’t mean she hates you. 

Damn Harry was right, he is a child. Damn you Harry for making these thoughts resurface, it took so much in him to bury them. 

He needs his friends. He needs Niall’s laugh and all-accepting arms, Liam’s constant worry so he could focus on him then his own, and Zayn voicing things he is too chicken to say himself.

He sees the shoes moving towards the door and he shuffles after them.

He mutters a goodbye to Calum and Alex, who comes out with them as Janet makes her way over to the driver’s seat.

“Louis?” He hears Alex, louder as if she's already called him a few times.

He turns to see her looking at him with something other than frustration and deep rooted sadness. “No try to grab a hug this time?”

Call him a baby but that statement melts his heart and warms him despite the snow sticking to his lashes. Three big steps and he slams himself into her, holding her like this is the last time. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–”

“There's nothing to be sorry for babes.”

“I'm sorry you lost your brother. I'm sorry for Harry. I'm so so sorry Alex. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I wasn't trying– I didn't know–”

He feels her exhale.

“I know. I know, honey. I know.”

They unlatch and she ruffles his hair, dusting out the snow. “I wonder if you two would've been friends, despite the fuckass age gap.”

“I did ask for his number.” Alex lets out an incredulous laugh. “He looked my age, ok!”

“Wow. No thank you, I don't want to imagine– Nope. Too young. I even hate age gap fics, you think–”

“You don’t have to imagine, Jesus, stop.” They fall into a fit of giggles. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after recovering, feeling lighter. “I know it must've sucked. I know it. You know I know how it feels.”

“I do.” She says, as Calum finally comes close to them and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“So I know there's nothing I or you could've done differently. It was ten years ago, you were 21–”

“Now don't make me feel so old.” Then she holds up a finger at Calum just as he’s opening his mouth to probably deny her statement. “Not a word.”

Calum pouts, and drops a kiss on her temple laughing.

Louis smiles. “I just. I just want you to not blame yourself. Please don't. There's no fuckin’ way you could've known.”

“Thanks Lou. And thanks for the cheese too.”

“I'll bring more the next time.”

“You better.”

“Love you.” He blows a kiss with both his hands because damn him, his heart is finally free from the fist that was suffocating it.

“Love you babes.”

“See you soon, Louis.” Calum waves as Louis walks backwards to the car. His steps are lighter this time when he walks up to the passenger seat.

Once they are inside the car and Janet's got it ignited Louis looks out at them, wrapped in each other back in the warmth of the store and a weird but not unwelcome rush of feelings flood through his system. He's happy Alex is happy and he's happy she has Calum. Not because he's hot, which he is, but because she looks at peace with him. She looks in love but not in a loud obnoxious way that makes Louis roll his eyes because he gets jealous and pretends love is a sham. But in a way that says routine, the way he goes for the shoulders and she goes for the waist, the way she knows what he's going to say, and he rushes to her defense knowing well and good she doesn't need it. In a way that will spread a smile at your face even involuntarily.

Suddenly his eyes catch on something and he cranes his neck to look at the roof edge to see two dangling legs and the rest of Harry’s body sitting safely, staring back.

Louis' body seizes, and his heart beats in his ears. His hand flies to Janet’s on the gear stick, halting her.

There’s no dam of expressions on Harry’s face and Louis can’t look away from him. He's paralyzed with the fear that if if he moves Harry will move, and Louis will lose him again.

The tips of his fingers of his other hand are resting on the button to lower the windows, so without even blinking he presses on it ignoring when Janet calls his name.

For some reason his body moves on autopilot and he's bringing his two fingers to his temple and doing the salute Harry had last done to him.

Like magic Harry's whole face lights up and he immediately does it back.

A surprising chuckle leaves Louis' lips and he suddenly doesn't want to go. He wants to talk to Harry more. Hear everything he has to say. Even if he only has opinions on Minnesota and it’s wildlife, Louis will listen, and if that’s all he’s capable of repeating then Louis will listen to him repeat a thousand times.

He can’t leave him. How can he leave him? 

But then he sees him mouth out, Bye.

Louis swallows and is not surprised by the sudden burn behind his eyes. He’s crying for a ghost.

But how can he say that when Harry looks so fucking healthy and perfect and beautiful and…alive. Alive as the living beating heart in his chest.

With strength he didn’t know he had, he nods and mouths back, “bye.” 

One blink and his vision is blurred, he quickly wipes it away, worried Harry will vanish.

But Harry is still there, still looking, still smiling, his legs still moving to a music none of them can hear.

His eyes flicks down to see Alex still engulfed in a hug from Calum, but her eyes on him. He gives her a smile and with a small smile of her own she turns her head in his neck.

“Drive, J.” He says, not looking away from Harry’s smiling form, and taking his hand away from Janet's.

“Window?”

“Yeah.”

And they drive away. He twists until Harry is out of sight and then he stares more at the rapidly darkening roads the car is leaving in its wake.

After a while he rests his head on the headset, his body finally making it known now that he is not wound up anymore, how exhausted he is. A blooming headache finds him and his eyes hurt from all the tears he has shed. 

“Tired?”

“Back’s sore, throat hurts, headache, eyes are so fucking dry. I’m thirsty."

She reaches a hand to the backseat and tosses him her water bottle. He gulps it down, not caring when it flows from the sides of his mouth. “The next time you tell me to not trash me apartment, I’ll send you a picture of this,” he waves around at the mess inside her car.

“This is the one place. You trash everywhere.”

“Yeah but I’m not the self righteous cleaner either. So…”

“I can dump your arse in the snow.”

He almost says that he’d like it but he stops himself. Not ready to talk about that.

It’s several minutes in when he says, “Sorry for ..you know.” He shakes his head, motioning to all the shit he did.

“Shut up.” She dismisses easily, then with a giggle adds, “we made them awkward.”

Louis laughs, his whole body shaking. “Poor Calum.” He hiccups but he can't keep it in. Janet joins in, both of them going mental. She slows the car and then stops it entirely as she's doubled over the steering wheel.

“They– they would've– kicked us–” she's heaving more than speaking.

“Stop! You'll piss yourself.” He says between his fits, just to throw them into another round of breathless giggles.

They calm down after a while, only their sniffles filling the surrounding. 

In the relatively quiet she says, “I get it,” Louis sees her stroking her thumb on the steering wheel, a nervous tactic. “I get it if you don’t wanna talk to me. But do talk to somebody about it, ok? When Alex had told me for the first time, I hadn’t come to the store for a month. I still get a creepy shiver when I go in.”

“He’s not violent.” He blurts out, way too defensively. The laughter forgotten.

Janet turns to him with wide eyes and Louis slumps further in his seat. He needs to stop being so transparent.

“I did not say that, chill dude. I mean I can’t not think about the paranormality of it all. It’s not like a grocery item that could slip outta my mind like that.”

He wants to point out the edge of her accent turning American but it doesn’t annoy her anymore. So it’s boring now.

“Why would you ditch the date?”

Her fingers tighten on the wheel and that answers his question. She starts the car. 

“Oh come on!”

“Would you get down from your judgmental horse for a second.”

Louis shuts up then mumbles, “Wasn’t being judgmental.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Just wanted to know how many things I’ve fucked up today.”

“You didn’t..I just. I got scared.”

“Of your date? Ohmygod was she like Wellie? How do you find these scarecrows J–”

“Of you.” He looks at her then as her gaze turns serious, not leaving the road. “You practically vanished Lou. I- I called Alex like three hours after you had left and she told me the store was closed. And then she didn't receive my call–”

“She–”

“She was with you I know now but…I panicked. I’m allowed to panic alright.”

And Louis was worried she’d ever leave him.

“Called a cab, called Maria, rainchecked, and just…”

They sit quietly, the headlights shining on the white roads.

The sudden bravery comes over him and he blurts out, “I sometimes think you’ll leave me.”

“What?”

“That because we are not blood related you’ll, I don't know, get bored or some shit or like…it’s childish, irrational I know that. But I think that and it scares me.”

“Louis, I’d never–”

“I know, I know, I know J. I know that, but it's irrational. So what I’m saying is that I panic too.”

“Yeah, but your panic is bullshit.”

“Wow.”

“No wow. It is. Why would I ever- Louis.” Her voice pitches high, and fists and unfists her hands on the wheel.

“Remind me to make you look up, Irrational. I-R-R-A-T-I-”

She cuts him off by raising her voice, “I’m never leaving you and it goes both ways, so neither are you. Just because I shifted doesn’t mean I left you. You were at uni, I was by myself and my job–”

“I’m not blaming J!”

“I know! But I want you to know this.”

“You’ve told me this before.”

“And I don’t mind repeating it. I shifted because I got a better job. But that doesn’t mean I cut some invisible ties between us. There are no invisible ties here. It's tangible, all of it. You are my brother, alright. You share my last name. Nothing’s changing that, got it?”

He nods and breathes in so that the little water he drank wouldn’t come out rushing from his eyes. 

They drive in peaceful silence until he pokes her shoulder. “You panicked for meeeee, sista!”

She groans. He laughs. Guess he’s got something new to tease her with. 

“Stop talking and put something on.”

He moves to turn on the radio.

“Spotify.”

“I don’t have–”

She throws his phone in his lap.

Twisting his mouth for a second he decides to just say it. “I was wondering if we could…spend Christmas at the house. We could invite Alex over, too. All of them, not just Alex. The kids and Calum, even her dog.” He connects the Bluetooth.

“At Cotswolds?”

“No, the other 75 acres of land I have in here.”

“Fuck off,” she turns right. “But that's a good idea, you sure you don't want to spend it with the lads.”

Searching the song, he doesn’t look at her to see her expression. “My anxiety wants to witness how much you love me.” He means it as a joke but Janet doesn't take it as one. 

“I love you, Lou.”

“Disgusting behavior,” he gags before traitor tears arrive and before she can say something hits play at Sunsetter at full volume. Janet smacks him with her purse and he's laughing and everything is alright.

“Stop at the waffle house, I'm hungry.” He shouts over the music before closing his eyes and resting his head against the cool glass of the window.

There's always been one question nagging at his mind the most, How did I get here? Everything that happened to him, if studied individually would never account to the sum of life he's created for himself with the help of those around him. But he did. The question still remains in his brain, alive and patient, but the answer doesn't bother him anymore. 

Telling this all to the lads will be like a field trip with toddlers. It will throw Liam in the grasp of  constant paranoia (a clean opening for Louis to prank and scare the shit out of him at every turn), Niall will get the best material for his stand-up living-room comedy that they all become the victim of once a week, and Zayn will bury himself in his philosophy books for hours and only come out when he’s at the verge of passing out from starvation. That’s his family.

Cooking was never an option so he decides to book a place for Janet and Maria in the best restaurant he can afford. Janet will throw a strop about it but he knows she’ll secretly be so endeared that she’ll be telling all of her co-workers about it. That’s his family.

With that comes the hilarious realization that they never bought the wine. 

He could look at the rational evidence of how Janet didn’t need the wine at the moment, or how emotional they were when they left so they forgot the wine and all that. 

Or he could think of it as Harry’s doing. To be fair he did say ‘You’re not leaving this store with any alcohol, I promise you that.’ He chooses to believe the latter and makes a note to not forget his ID the next time he visits the store. 

He has to visit again before he leaves, after all he has two reasons to do so now.

—

-Thank You-

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If you do love torture then I'd like you to take a look at Alex's fic that made me sob in my bed at 1 in the morning. It was just Red Love you sooooooooooooo much sis <3

If you want some more angst from me, then I'd like to guide you to, Violet. Lilacs. Hyacinths.