By The Hillside

Prologue

Mark had other things to do than visit his son in the hospital, but alas, here he was. He had come directly from work when the hospital had called him, having to have cancelled the rest of his meetings for the day. It would probably destroy the chances of a great deal with his company, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

His steps sounded loudly in the wide hallway, nurses and doctors walking around him. The one he had met at the reception had offered to show him the way to where his son was, but he had declined; he had learned the insides of the hospital inside-out last year when his wife was hospitalised.

He let out a breath, his fingers fanning over his cufflinks. He was angry, annoyed, frustrated, and rather sad, all the feelings mixing together into one as he neared the hallway where Louis was; rage.

Finally, he reached the door that would lead him to his son's room. Before entering, he breathed and exhaled deeply a couple of times, clenching and unclenching his hands. He grabbed the handle and pressed down.

He went inside.

Beeping sounds reached his ears; monitors. He closed his eyes, exhaling once again. He hated hospitals. And he hated the sight of his son on the bed, looking so small, fragile.

Louis looked thinner, his cheeks hollowed out. His skin was pale, and his eyes faint open. They were settled on Mark, but his lips had yet to form words. He simply looked, something not far from disgust ghosting his irises.

"Louis," Mark spoke, voice strained with emotion. "What the fuck did you do?"

Louis cleared his throat. "You should know, but I'm not surprised if you don't. You after all have never tried to learn anything about me."

Mark sighed, fisting his hands behind his back. "You overdosed, Louis. You could have died."

"Would you notice if I did?" Louis croaked. His voice was weak, his whole body looked like it was. "Or do you only care how this is gonna look for your image?"

"Louis, don't talk to me like that," Mark ordered. "I raised you better."

"You didn't raise me at all. Mom did." Louis adverted his eyes from Mark.

"Louis, I know this last year has been hard—"

"Oh, do you!" Louis hissed. "'Cause it seems like you have only spent it ignoring my existence."

"I haven't—"

"If you had paid attention, you would notice your son was killing himself with drugs!" Louis almost yelled.

"Is that why you did this?" Mark asked, rage in his voice. "To get attention?"

"I did it to forget about the fact that my only parent doesn't care about me," Louis spit out. "God, why was it Mom who had to die and not you?"

"You don't mean that," Mark spoke.

"I think I do," Louis said, his eyes angry. "Mom always cared." His voice grew small, vulnerable. "She didn't only care about my grades and her own reputation."

"Louis, I'm warning you—"

"Or what! You will ground me?" Louis sighed, throwing his head back against the pillow. "Just leave, Dad. Don't you have some important meeting to attend?"

"If you want me to leave so badly, I will in a few minutes—"

"Oh, I'm so thankful."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Will you stop the sass for just a moment?"

"Let me be, I almost just died."

"How are you my son—"

"You really want me to explain that to you?"

"For fucks sake, Louis! Shut up and listen to what I have to say!" Mark barked.

Louis looked down but didn't reply.

"Good," Mark said, voice still harsh. "Now, I have had enough of this behaviour from you. Skipping school to party and get drunk, high—"

"Don't forget the sex part," Louis added.

"Louis!"

"Sorry, Dad." He didn't sound sorry at all.

"I'm sending you away for the summer, immediately," Mark said. "As soon as you're out of this hospital. The school doesn't want you back. You have been skipping classes too much."

Louis' eyes opened wide. "What the actual fuck—"

"Language."

"You're sending me away?" Louis questioned. "Got sick of looking at me finally?"

"You need some change," Mark replied. "This isn't healthy for you."

"No fucking shit, Dad," Louis hissed.

"Don't talk to me like that, Louis," Mark sighed, trying to keep his temper in control.

"Don't you tell me how to act," Louis snapped. "You haven't spoken to me in months."

Mark sat up straighter in his chair. "I was grieving."

"Well, so was I." Louis' eyes had turned wet. "And it almost got me killed, and it's first now you care." He shook his head lightly, blinking away tears.

"Louis, I do care—"

"When was the last time you spoke to me about something unrelated to my grades? My behaviour?"

Mark opened his mouth and then closed it. He had no reply.

Louis scoffed. "That's what I thought. Now, please leave."

Slowly, Mark rose from his chair, looking down at his son. "I do love you, you know."

"Sure, pops."

Mark swallowed, tears forming in his eyes. "As soon as you leave this bed, I will be sending you on a plane to Texas. My old college mate has—had a ranch up there. He passed away three years ago. Now, um, now his son takes care of it, and he has agreed to let you stay for the summer as a favour on his father's behalf."

"Uh-huh." Louis looked down at where his hands were folded in his lap. "All sounds very interesting. Now leave."

"Right. Goodbye, Louis." Mark slowly approached the door, casting a glance back at his son. His eyes caught Louis', but all Louis did was flip him off.

Mark left.