By The Hillside

Chapter 27

Ai refuses to make pictures with real people anymore. Kill me. Enjoy!

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They were back at the ranch in the early morning hours, and with the arrival, the storm had finally fully passed them by, leaving the ground wet, and the sky blue. There even was a rainbow. From where Louis was standing in front of the ranch, it almost looked like the end of it touched down in the forest. As if it was a bridge just for Billy to gallop over and enter the heaven of horses. Louis shook the thought of himself.

He looked at Harry who was next to him. His body was shivering, his gaze far away. Everyone else was back in the house, Conny making food for all of them. Rose had left minutes earlier with the command that Louis and Harry should shower immediately, get dressed in warm wear, and eat as much soup as possible. Yet they had not moved.

"Haz," Louis spoke softly, his hand finding Harry's hand. It was cold between Louis' fingers, even colder than his own. "We need to get in and shower."

Harry looked at him, his expression almost monotone. It almost reminded Louis of how Harry had looked in his dream. Harry nodded.

Louis guided Harry inside, through the hallway, up the stairs, into their—his—room. He guided him to sit on the bed. Harry did.

"We need to shower," Louis said. "We need to... try not to be too sick." Louis shook his head. "That sounded idiotic."

The ghost of a smile touched Harry's lips. "You never sound idiotic. You sound quite lovely."

Something warm spread in Louis' body. Under all the sadness, his Harry was still there.

He cupped Harry's jaw, placing a kiss on the other man's forehead. "Let's get in the shower, yeah?"

Louis helped Harry undress, not that Harry asked him to, but he needed to be as close as possible to Harry when he was like this. Sad, stricken with grief. So unlike himself.

Harry wasn't complaining, and he, too, helped Louis out of his clothes. Hand in hand, without another word said between them, they stepped into the bathroom. Louis turned on the faucet, turning the temperature to almost maximum. Though not fully. Harry didn't like it that way. He had told Louis so once.

Once the water had the right temperature, they stepped under. It burned at first, like fire to their skin, but soon Louis and Harry relaxed into it. They stood close, holding each other so they both could be sprayed on. Harry, even though taller than Louis, hid his face in the crook of Louis' neck. Louis could feel some warm droplets hit his collarbones as Harry stood there, and he suspected that it wasn't the water from the faucet. He held Harry tighter, stroking his hair.

Louis had no idea what to say. He didn't know how to help other people handle grief, and it wasn't like he was going to hand Harry some cocaine and say, "Take this, it will make you feel better." It would make him feel like a drug addict version of Remus Lupin.

He had a feeling Harry just needed to be held, to be able to express his grief silently into Louis' embrace. So Louis let him do so.

Finally, the water was beginning to turn cold, and Louis pulled Harry away from the spray. They dried themselves in some clean towels and then went to the bedroom. Louis gave Harry a hoodie, boxers, sweatpants, and fluffy socks to put on. He took a pair of his own sweatpants and boxers, but then stole one of Harry's hoodies—it had a cute dog on it—and also a pair of his fluffy socks—with watermelons.

Louis got on the bed with Harry once dressed, scurrying under the blanket.

"Can you spoon me, please?" asked Harry, his voice low. So low it was barely there.